#nevermind that i did the second dose properly

[phin-and-frob]

me: [messes up administering medicine in a way that I've never had to do before]

me to myself: Oh god. This is awful. I'm going to get bad grade in being disabled, something that is both real and possible to fail at. The doctors and pharmacists are going to point and laugh at me and I'll be banned from Healthcare™ forever

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 57

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,388

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE 

Author’s Note: We’re interrupting the emotions and angst for a healthy dose of smut in this one. 

A Wonderfully Well-F*cked Morning

You drifted to consciousness on a wave of pleasure, the sensations happening below your waist causing you to automatically arch your back and reach down. When your fingers came in contact with thick, soft hair at the same time that a wet tongue hit your clit, your brain finally decided to come online. Eyes opening in surprise, you looked down and found the breathtaking visual of Negan’s gorgeous face buried between your thighs.

Holy shit, what a way to start the day. 

Glancing up, his mouth curled in a soul-stealing grin at the sight of you awake and watching. His “mornin’ doll” was spoken directly to your soaked cunt, the rumbled vibration of the words making you give a small moan and open your thighs wider, so he could do as he wished.

And, apparently, what he wished was to drive you absolutely mad with desire. The distant and withdrawn Negan of last night was gone, and in his place was the playful and passionate man before you. He teased with soft kisses along the crease at the top of your thigh and lazy laps of his tongue that just barely grazed where you needed them. When you tried to lift your hips in search of more friction, his large hands pinned them to the mattress. 

It wasn’t long before you had a deathgrip on his hair, thighs trembling, and even the muscles in your stomach starting to quiver. And yet still he continued, the devilish gleam in his eyes when he glanced up at you while gently sucking your clit almost enough to send you over the edge, until he backed off and went back to nipping at your inner thighs instead. 

You were just about to beg, plead, and promise whatever he wanted, including your soul, when a muffled knocking sound broke through the top layer of hazy desire shrouding you. Negan ignored the noise, continuing with his delicious torture so that you almost instantly forgot the sound had ever happened. But then it came again a few seconds later, this time loud and sharp...and right outside the bedroom door. 

Letting go of his hair and jolting up onto your elbows, you looked down at Negan with wide eyes. He had finally lifted his head from your pussy, the sight of his lips glistening with your wetness causing a soft moan to escape that you prayed whoever was at the door didn’t hear. 

“Fucking leave!” he yelled in that no-nonsense tone that both terrified and yet also made an extra trickle of wetness run down your thigh. 

The voice that responded was muffled through the door, but still unmistakably Simon. “Sorry, boss, but there’s a situation that needs your urgent attention in meeting room C.” 

Cursing harshly, Negan dropped his forehead to your lower stomach for a few seconds before lifting his head and yelling back, “I’ll fucking be there in 5!”

You stared in the direction of the office and listened for a few seconds until the unmistakable sound of Simon banging the door closed sounded (perhaps a bit louder than needed, as if he was letting you know that he was gone). You turned back to Negan, who now had a devious smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

Giving a doubtful expression, you said, “Only five minutes?” 

“Oh, doll,” he chuckled, head ducking down so the rest was muffled against your wet flesh. “That’s plenty of time.”

It was then that you realized just how much he had been toying with you before, as his demeanor instantly changed from playful to intense, and he set to work on your cunt. He knew just where to nip and lick, and when he latched onto your clit and sucked with the perfect amount of pressure, you shot off like a rocket, coming in less than a minute from when Simon had left. 

Still panting and sprawled across the mattress, you watched dazedly as he got up and went to his armoire for clothes to get dressed. He winced when tucking his erection into the boxer briefs and dark grey pants, and the bulge made your mouth water.

“What about you?” you asked with a nod in his cock’s direction. 

Pulling on his boots, he then straightened and trailed desire-bright eyes over your sated form spread out on his bed. “I thought I already made that clear, doll,” he quipped.

Unsure if it was the post-orgasm haze making you so dense or if he was purposely being vague, you asked, “What’s that?”

Walking around the side of the bed fully dressed, while you lay totally naked with thighs still spread and naked chest heaving, he ran a warm, calloused hand down over your throat and the tips of your breasts before answering. 

“That this relationship is about more than me getting my fucking rocks off.”

His hand moved lower, between your thighs, and he watched as if mesmerized at how you shuddered and arched into the feel of his touch on your still-sensitive flesh. “However, that being said-” he backed up a step and pointed at you with a stern look on his face, “-don’t fucking move from that bed until I get back.” 

He then tucked his tongue into his cheek, gave a playful wink, and was gone. Staring up at the ceiling, you figured this was one order you’d gladly follow, seeing as how your muscles wouldn’t be able to function properly enough to help you stand, anyways. It wasn’t until a couple minutes after he was gone that you sat straight up on the bed at the remembrance of his earlier words. 

He had called it a relationship!

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Forty-five minutes later and you, unsurprisingly, were in fact not able to follow his order, after all. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because, well, it was you we were talking about here, and when did you ever listen? 

You had tried though, really you had. After Negan left, and your breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, you sat up against the headboard to wait. Your eyes landed on a book that was open facedown on his bedside table, and the parallel to your own reading habits made you smile. Picking it up, you saw that it was some sort of psychological thriller. Making a note of what page it had been opened to, you huddled down into the plush mattress, the soft black headboard at your back, and started reading from the beginning. 

However, when the black and grey wall clock near the door ticked by almost an hour that he had been gone, you put the book down and sighed in annoyance. Whatever the emergency meeting had been about, it looked as though it might take a while, and you didn’t enjoy the thought of sitting here all morning and afternoon waiting, as if at his beck and call. Your brain also unhelpfully threw out the reminder of your previous plan not to have sex with Negan until a serious conversation was had about that damned padlocked box of unanswered questions. The subconscious, exasperated with the brain pulling this bullshit so early in the morning, yelled at it to please shut the hell up. 

Fuck it, you can at least freshen up a bit before he gets back, you thought while tossing off the sheet and standing from the bed. Stretching pleasantly sore muscles, you wandered over to the large armoire and tugged open one of the drawers. Smiling at how neatly the clothes inside were folded, you selected a moss green shirt and pulled it over your head. It was much baggier than his usual style, and you had never seen him wear it before, making you wonder if he ever got a chance to take off his leader armor and just sit around relaxing the day away in baggy sweats with a good book. Probably not, seeing as how he couldn’t even enjoy a perfectly delightful you-flavored breakfast without being interrupted. 

Heading into the bathroom to relieve your bladder and then wash your hands and face, you looked in the large mirror. Finger-combing hair that had seen better days, you then opened up some of the drawers under the sink that you hadn’t checked yet, mostly out of nosey curiosity. Finding one at the bottom that was stocked full of extra bars of soap, toothpaste, and still-packaged toothbrushes, you let out a tiny whoop of joy. Jackpot!

Opening a green and white toothbrush, you grabbed the already opened toothpaste that was on the countertop and squeezed a dollop onto the brush. Giving a sigh of happiness at the clean, minty taste, you weren’t even worried about Negan being upset you had stolen one of his unopened brushes. Especially since you’d have fresh breath when he crawled back in the bed with you and-

That fantasy died a quick death when the reflection of the man himself stepped into view while you were mid-brush. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you saw a flicker of something in his expression as he took you in, standing there in his shirt and brushing your teeth with his personal supplies. 

“I thought I told you to be in the fucking bed when I got back,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the extra little growl that signified he was truly pissed. In fact, he almost sounded amused. 

Before you could even remove the toothbrush to respond, he stepped up behind you so that his front was pressed into your back. “Nevermind, doll,” he drawled while still holding your gaze in the mirror. “This’ll work too.”

You almost choked on toothpaste from gasping at the feel of his large, rough hands running up under the hem of the shirt and over your bare hips. Quickly leaning down to spit out the paste into the sink, you turned on the water and used a cupped hand to rinse out your mouth as he continued rubbing his palms along your torso and down over the outside of your thighs. When you put the toothbrush down and straightened, his mouth immediately attacked the back of your neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands moved further up under the shirt to cup your breasts, and his deft fingers pinched and twisted sensitive nipples at the same time that he ground his hips against your bare ass, letting you feel the ridge of his erection through the rough fabric of the pants.

You moaned softly and pressed back into him, almost overwhelmed by how quickly he had barged in and taken control of your body’s reaction. Any thoughts of self-doubt or questions of where you stood with him temporarily flew out the window in the face of the onslaught of intense and thorough possession he was directing your way. 

Unlike when you first woke up this morning, no part of him was teasing or going slow this time around. He quickly pulled the baggy shirt up over your head, and the sight of you totally bare made a groan punch from his chest. 

He whipped his own shirt and pants off in a quick flurry of movement before leaning in so that his warm chest was pressed into your back as he opened one of the drawers at your hip and pulled out a condom. 

Wasting no time, he opened it and rolled it down the swollen cock pressing into the small of your back. When he bent his knees to line up with your entrance, you assisted by hiking a knee up on the edge of the countertop, presenting yourself to him in a way that made him pause for a moment, as if in awe, before plunging inside you with a fierce thrust and strangled growl against the back of your neck. 

You looked up and were instantly transfixed by the sight in the mirror. Negan’s tattooed, leanly muscled form towered over yours, his rough edges and possessive thrusts juxtaposed against your softer curves and arching form. 

You watched his reflection as he gripped your hips and looked down between your bodies to watch himself fuck you, the sight making you moan and clench around his cock. His gaze lifted, amber eyes locking on yours in the mirror. 

One of his hands left your hip, trailing hungrily around the front of your body and up over your stomach and breasts before wrapping long fingers around the front of your throat. The grip was light, but the ruthless ownership behind both it and his pumping hips made your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy. 

He leaned in over you, breath coming in hot strikes against the side of your throat. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl? Like being all. Fucking. Mine.”

The last words were each punctuated by a harsh thrust, making you cry out and open lust-filled eyes. His face was there beside your own, jaw clenched as he watched your reflection in the mirror with a fierce, almost pained expression. He let out a little snarl before turning his mouth to nip at the curve of your shoulder, and that combined with his grip at your throat and heavy, thick cock fucking you against the counter all combined to throw you into an orgasm without warning. He groaned as you shuddered and clenched in his hold, his gravel over sandpaper voice in your ear. 

“Yes, milk my fucking cock.”

Coming down off the wave of pleasure, you realized that his pace hadn’t slowed down, that he hadn’t finished yet. You lowered the leg propped up on the counter, needing both feet braced against the cool, tiled floor to keep your shaky body steady. 

Your gaze dropped, taking in the reflection of what was happening between your thighs. Both his cock and the inside of your thighs glistened with a coating of your release, and he felt even bigger inside of you, now that your walls were a little swollen and tender from both the friction of his cock and your recent orgasm. Right when his movements became almost too overwhelming against your oversensitized cunt, and you were about to ask for a break, he paused his thrusts and removed the hand from around your throat. 

Your thought that he was granting you a reprieve was instantly proven wrong when he gave a growled warning of, “Brace your arms on the sink,” right before his forearms hooked down under both your knees and lifted your entire lower body off the ground. Since the action pushed you forward, your body had no choice but to do as he said, forearms holding the weight of your upper body against the surface of the sink while your lower half hung suspended at the perfect height for his cock. 

He resumed his quick pace, fucking into you relentlessly. And, surprisingly, instead of becoming too much, the sensations pulled back from borderline painful and started to feel pleasurable again. Very pleasurable. 

Your whimper caused him to give a low moan in response, and his voice came through gritted teeth. “That’s it, doll. Fucking come for me again.” 

Trying to find your voice, you wanted to say that you weren’t sure if that was possible, that coming again so soon wasn’t likely. Instead, the words choked in your throat when he bent down and licked up your spine before sucking roughly on the skin of your back. He then ground his cock into you so hard that your pelvis pushed against the edge of the counter, the hard surface rubbing over your clit in exactly the right way needed to send your body spasming into a second orgasm.

You lost yourself in pleasure that had no beginning and no end, just endless heavy waves of bliss. Dimly, you heard him give a groan of completion as he gave a few sharp, hard thrusts, and then his body went still. He allowed your legs to lower to the tiled floor, and thank god for being braced on the countertop, otherwise you would’ve crumpled in a quivery heap at his feet. 

You took in the reflection of both you and Negan’s sex-dazed expressions, skin flushed and dewy with sweat despite the cool bathroom. A satisfied smile curved his lips, and you watched in the mirror as he bent down and kissed the curve where your neck met shoulder, the scratch of his beard rising goosebumps to the already sensitive flesh. He hummed happily against your skin, and you wished that the two of you could stay in this intimate bubble forever. That no outside intruders or internal thoughts could stand in the way of feeling like this with him every single day. 

As if he were thinking something similar, he ran a warm hand down over the curve of your hip and said in a sexy, husky voice, “Now that is a perfect fucking way to finish off the morning.” 

Unable to help a dreamy smile in return, you were finally able to fully stand up from the counter without fear of your legs giving out. Turning in his hold, you twined arms up around his neck and tugged him down for a proper kiss involving lips and tongues and even a hint of teeth. 

You pulled away after a few long moments, and offered, “What are your plans for today?”

Biting his lip and giving one of his signature cheeky grins, he replied, “I have to go over some new outpost security measures with Simon this afternoon. However…” his hands cupped your ass and kneaded possessively, “my evening is all fucking yours.”

Lord, but you liked the sound of that. Standing on tiptoe and placing another, softer kiss to his lips, you suggested, “How about I bring us dinner around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied with one last squeeze of his hands before he stepped away to dispose of the condom and gather both your clothes off the tiles. 

The men had brought back some freshly butchered deer meat from the supply run, and Ben had been excited to try making stew with both it and vegetables from the garden. Thinking of Ben was also a reminder that you had promised to hang out with him today. You were very curious to hear details about what was going on with him and Simon, not to mention needing a friend to talk through some of your own worries regarding Negan.

Pulling the baggy green shirt back on, you preceded him into the bedroom and grabbed your jeans from where they had been discarded on the floor last night. You didn’t want to return his shirt, so tucked it into the jeans to hide the obviously ill-fitting length of it before pulling on your sneakers. Turning, you found an also fully-dressed Negan watching you. His gaze took in the outfit with an expression that was difficult to decipher, but seemed somewhere between appreciative and smug at the sight of you in his shirt. 

Struggling not to roll your eyes or make a comment about “males and their strange possessiveness”, you walked out of the bedroom with him following behind. Stopping at the closed office door, you turned and looked up at him, unable to resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers down over his bearded cheek. He bent and gave you one final kiss in return, then opened the door and watched you leave. 

You weren’t able to contain the happy grin tipping up the corners of your mouth. Not even the sudden appearance of the brain, who was dragging the padlocked box of questions, could dim your mood. The subconscious strode happily at your side, but as the brain fell more and more behind, struggling to keep up with the heavy metal box, it turned with a sigh and went back to help. 

I know. I know! We’ll have a conversation with him tonight; open up the box and air out some of those unanswered questions. But for right now, we’re going to bask in the afterglow of such a wonderfully well-fucked morning. 

The brain and subconscious didn’t argue, just huffed and puffed as they worked together to finally pick the box up off the ground. Balancing the heavy weight between them, they gave each other exasperated looks, then hurried down the hall after you.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

I am looking forward to reading the continuation of the alternative ending of satisfied! Can’t wait! 😜

Happy Easter lmao here’s your monthly dose of depression ig

Though this one is slightly more lighthearted than usual

first part

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@solangelo252

The life of a captive of Bruce Wayne was surprisingly posh.

Maybe her standards were just really low because the last place she’d been held had been a lab where fear gas was tested on her almost daily(? her concept of time was fuzzy)... or maybe the Waynes just knew how to treat a kidnapee. Who knew.

But, hey, she’d been given a phone!

It was hacked, of course. Anything on the internet that even vaguely mentioned Bruce Wayne, the bats, or the Rogues was impossible to access. This had been a little annoying, but not necessarily unexpected. She was more surprised that they were giving her a phone at all.

She sat on the end of the bed, legs swinging like a toddler’s as she looked through twitter.

Gotham twitter just wasn’t the same, though. Where were the people joking about how they’d been praying for a Scarecrow attack so they wouldn’t have to take their finals? The underpaid cafe workers talking about how Batman had come in at 5am for coffee to get through the last leg of patrols and they had to turn him down because they weren’t open yet? Even the usual jokes about the Next Wayne(TM) were hidden from her! No, the internet almost seemed empty.

This left her with very few things to do. It wasn’t like she could request people to talk to her -- not that she’d wanted to, she didn’t want to bother them -- so… she was pretty much always working out or sleeping.

Working out was nice. She hadn’t been allowed to do it much while with Harley and it felt weird to be so out of shape. Who knew it could happen so fast? Certainly not her, and she was going to rectify her newfound lack of athletic ability. Dick even came by daily to help, so she was quickly getting back into the swing of things.

But as for sleeping...

Kwami, she missed caffeine.

Her subconscious was apparently determined to torture her.

(She supposed someone had to do it, since Joker hadn’t followed through on his intentions.)

Most dreams were haunted with memories of the stupid fear gas-induced hallucinations. The bats, now accompanied by Harley, would tell her exactly how much of a screw up she was. They’d give her disgusted looks and admit that they regretted ever talking to her or taking her in. And then they’d leave her, alone, surrounded by the corpses of she hadn’t been able to help.

She’d wake up crying and alone. She’d put on a random podcast and then wrap herself up in her blankets to try and trick her mind into thinking someone was with her.

And, when it wasn’t that dream, she found herself drowning in acid again. For such a short part of a series of unfortunate events, it sure did have an effect on her. She’d scream as the acid touched her skin, burned her lungs, tried to seep into her ear canals… and then she’d get pulled out to look at Joker’s smug face and she’d almost want to be pushed back under because she hated to see him looking so satisfied.

Those ones hurt. She’d wake up, her throat screamed raw, her lungs aching. Even hours later, she’d find herself running her hands over every bit of exposed skin to try and get rid of the feeling of the acid gnawing away at her.

The worst dreams, though, were the ones where she’d be visited by Bruce. Everything would go to plan. She’d stab him in the jugular and then pull the pen out, watching as blood spurted from the wound. He’d fall to the ground at her feet, unable to speak above the blood gurgling in his throat, and she’d just watch him. He didn’t even look betrayed, he just looked… he looked like he accepted it, like he accepted her and what she’d done and that he still cared for her after all that she’d done.

And then she’d wake up, but she never really felt awake when those dreams came. She felt like she was still half asleep, her body more limp than Bruce’s had been at the end of her dream, and any emotion she should have seemed impossible.

She hated the numb. At least she could do something with the screaming and the crying, at least she could bring herself down from those. How do you bring yourself down when you aren’t up in the first place?

But, maybe it was a good thing she was numb. It boded well for her. At least she wouldn’t be hurting if -- WHEN -- she managed to do it for real.

~

She turned off her phone, disappointed as always by how little content interested her, and almost cringed when she caught her appearance in the black screen.

Her skin was bleached from her time in the chemicals. The blood vessels under her eyes had burst when she’d been forced to go without coffee for too long. One of her cheeks were sucked in seemingly permanently from how often she’d been biting it. Her lips were stained cherry-red and stretched thinner than she remembered. Where her ears should have been were large holes in the sides of her head...

But nevermind that! The door slid open with a metallic hiss.

She didn’t know why she’d hoped it would be Bruce, she’d known perfectly well that that wouldn’t be happening for quite some time -- if ever -- but there she was, hoping it would be him. That this would end quickly.

Nope.

She looked up at Cass and Duke and her heart twinged painfully when she saw them.

She had missed them. So much.

(She’d almost been disappointed when she’d found out that they wouldn’t be home when she was going to try and kill Bruce, but then again she wanted them to continue liking her so maybe it was for the best she didn’t attempt to kill their father right in front of them...)

It was nice to see them again. Honestly, she’d missed them more than anyone else. They were her favorites.

(She couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about that. They were pretty much everyone’s favorites.)

She practically threw herself into Duke’s arms. He laughed and, though he struggled a little, he managed to catch her. She buried her face in his chest.

“Wow. I see how it is,” Cass said, but Marinette could hear the smile in her voice so she didn’t bother pulling away. Instead, she reached an arm in the direction of her voice and, once she’d managed to catch the sleeve of her shirt, dragged her into the hug.

The three Diversity Adoptees stayed like that for a long time.

And then she pulled back. “You guys better not have gone ahead in the show without me.”

Duke’s face twitched into a frown momentarily before he smiled again, ruffling her hair. “We didn’t. Scout’s honor.”

“You were a scout?”

He snorted. “God no.”

“Then --?”

“Shhhhhh,” he said, using the hand already in her hair to pull her into a noogie.

“Fuck offfffff,” she whined, trying to peel his knuckles away from her scalp.

Cass pulled her away from Duke. Strong arms wrapped her in a new hug and she blinked before returning it.

“Little sister. Leave her alone,” said Cass.

Marinette shot him a nasty grin from between her arms and Duke sputtered. “But I --.”

“Little sister,” she said again, like that explained anything. Maybe it did. Marinette didn’t particularly care because Cass was smoothing out her hair and it really did feel much better than the noogie she’d been getting…

She closed her eyes and leaned into her, relaxing.

Or, at least, she’d tried to relax. Until Duke sighed dramatically and said “Oh well, I guess I have five months of episodes to go through alone…”

“Wait --!”

~

She barely managed to lift her head up when she heard the door slide open, and then she bolted upright when she saw who it was.

Jason.

Her hand slid into her pocket, to the pen resting there, and she slowly pulled off the cap.

No. She couldn’t do that. If she tried to kill him then her pen would be confiscated and she couldn’t even imagine being able to kill Bruce with her bare hands.

(Granted, she didn’t really think she had a good chance of killing him with a pen -- it was a PEN -- but it the chances were more than 0% so it was overall way better than just trying to choke him out or something.)

She closed the pen and settled for glaring at him.

This fucker was the reason that she was there in the first place, and he hadn’t even given her an honorable battle that would have felt satisfying, what a --!

He held out a cup of coffee as a peace offering.

What an amazing person. Literally an angel. She loved him. Her favorite member of the batfamily.

If she’d had any less pride, she would have ran to get the coffee. As it was, she still speedwalked to take it off his hands.

The moment the drink touched her tongue, tension she hadn’t even noticed seemed to dissipate. The calm was quickly taken over by desperation, though. She had to fight herself not to chug it down.

(She also had to fight a wave of nausea, her body was not at all used to taking in any food or drinks anymore, but damn it she was going to get this coffee down if it killed her... again.)

Even with her super amazing self-restraint, the drink was gone within seconds. She swirled the remaining dregs, considering the pros and cons of trying to drink it because she remembered someone telling her that the last sip of drinks are always backwash…

But it was backwash that might have had caffeine in it, so she drank it.

She smiled brightly at him. Kwami, she’d missed caffeine so much. The only person who had given her coffee was Riddler the few times he had come to visit. Apparently Harley didn’t approve of it, though, because he had only brought her coffee three times before he’d suddenly stopped appearing.

… she hoped Riddler was still alive. She’d liked Riddler.

But she knew that asking about any of the Rogues would make the bats think that she wasn’t ‘healing’ up properly. So, instead of asking about him, she said “You know, B is gonna kill you for giving me coffee. I just got unaddicted.”

Jason groaned. “Great. Thanks for telling me AFTER you drank it all.”

“Of course. I wasn’t going to let you take it away from me,” she chirped.

He rolled his eyes. “Rude. Fine, I guess you won’t be addicted since it was only one cup. Can’t get in much trouble if I don’t give you more.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait --.”

“Yeah. I’d really prefer if the bats weren’t annoyed at me, so I guess that’s all you’re going to be getting.”

“Jay, wait, I didn’t mean it --.”

“Oh well,” he sighed. He brought a hand to his forehead like he was feeling faint. “If only I had an amazing little sister who would give me a hug --.”

She was wrapped around him before he’d even finished his sentence. Sure, it was blatant manipulation, but there was no way in hell that she was losing her one chance at caffeine.

(Besides, it was a hug. Hugs were nice.)

She’d spent the rest of the day with him, exchanging jokes about death.

The others didn’t really like them. Even Dick, who always liked a good pun, would only get sad when she joked about how she wasn’t alive anymore.

Jason, though… Jason understood.

And his death had been years ago. So he had a lot more jokes than she did.

“Ohohoh one time someone tried to flirt with me by saying they were a necrophiliac and I said ‘deadass?’ and…” He snickered. “And they said ‘yeah, exactly’.”

She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her smile. “Oh my kwami, really?”

“I’m dead serious.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean, I’d say they were going to hell, but they’d probably like it there.”

He laughed a little, shaking his head.

“It’s nice having someone to make jokes with. Damian doesn’t like joking about it.”

“I know. He’s always all…” He screwed up his face and raised his voice to a whine “‘It is not a joking matter, Todd’.”

She gasped. “It’s almost like he’s here with us.”

“Uncanny, right?”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax.

“... I missed you. We all did,” he said quietly.

She didn’t know what to say to that. Not really. She ended up just giving a tiny laugh and shrugging her shoulders.

His phone beeped in his pocket and she heard him shift to check it. He groaned. “Sorry, kid, I’ve got patrols.”

She nodded slightly and fell back on the bed with a yawn. “You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”

There was a beat.

She cracked her eyes open to see him considering the idea.

“Please?” She tried.

Another beat.

He broke into a grin. “You just want more coffee.”

“Guilty as charged,” she said, not even a little sheepish. “But I don’t mind the fact that you’re coming either.”

“I feel so loved.”

“You are,” she said, with a little pout thrown in for good measure.

He ended up agreeing to bring her coffee daily. She smirked after him. He wasn’t the only one that could manipulate people for things he wants.

Her smirk dropped the moment her hand slipped into her pockets and she realized he’d taken the pen from her when she’d given him a hug.

Bastard.

~

Her eyes flicked past her visitor briefly and she was met with a nondescript, white wall. She was pretty sure that this wasn’t Wayne manor, with it’s dark reds and browns, but she was almost willing to ignore that logic so she could believe that it was. At least if it was Wayne manor she might have been able to guess her coordinates by making portals appear in rooms at random until she found it. But if she was just… in a place then how was she supposed to ever get out?

She didn’t let this show on her face, because of all of them Dick was the most emotionally intelligent and would definitely notice. Instead, she beamed at him.

“Ready for our workout session?”

It was kinda weird, because it was so much like their old routine. They would stretch and talk and practice new moves… but it didn’t feel at all the same. Before everything had happened they had talked about meaningful things; list off their emotions and talk shit about the other bats (they loved them, sure, but they were a handful).

Now, though, neither of them were actually talking much. There was very little going on in her life, so she didn’t know what to say and he… he seemed to think she was weak or something, like she couldn’t take it. One time he’d almost slipped up and told her about how Tim was worrying him because he was getting borderline obsessive and then, when she’d politely pressed for more, he’d clammed up and told her that she didn’t need to worry about that.

She kind of didn’t like the sessions with Dick. They felt wrong.

But she really missed him and his octopus hugs that she could melt into. So she never told him and they kept doing them.

“Jason gave you coffee,” said Dick instead of greeting her.

“... I managed to do a triple backflip!”

He raised his eyebrows at her and she chose to interpret this as him being disbelieving of her ability to do a triple backflip from the ground (which was fair, she’d taken ages to manage it even once and she had nothing but free time) and not him noticing her feeble attempt at changing the subject.

“I did! Look!”

She tried and landed flat on her face. She could hear his strained breathing as he tried his hardest not to laugh. She wished the floor would just swallow her whole.

At least he wasn’t concerned about the coffee thing anymore?

He took a seat in front of her and she slowly raised her head to look at him despite the fact that she very much wanted to burrow into the floor and never emerge ever again.

“We have footage of it, so I’ve seen it, don’t worry. Tim was pretty proud of you so he showed everyone… and I’m proud of you, too, obviously. That took me years.”

She smiled brightly. Tim was apparently proud of her. She didn’t see much of him, so it was kind of nice to know that he was watching over her... even if it was a little creepy that there were people watching her pretty much every moment of every day to make sure she didn’t escape or kill herself.

“Seriously, though, I’m not letting Jason back if he keeps bringing you coffee.”

The smile on her face dropped and she bit the inside of her cheek. Part of her was kind of mad that Jason had taken the pen from her -- really, she should have figured out that that was what was going on, though, he was never the most cuddly -- and the other part was desperate for coffee.

The coffee addiction won out.

“But…” She sniffled a little and pulled tears to her eyes. She tried not to think about how easily they came. “But I need…”

Dick groaned quietly and she felt arms hook under hers and pull her into a hug.

“This isn’t going to work.”

She buried her face in his shoulder and let the tears fall.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered. “Please. I can’t. Please.”

Ah. That was a little more genuinely vulnerable than she’d intended on being.

But, hey, it was working. She heard Dick’s breath catch at the admission.

“Why not?” He said softly, running a hand up and down her back.

Why he even bothered to ask, she didn’t know. The bats knew about her nightmares. They knew about everything she did, why would they stop when she fell asleep? But she hadn’t mentioned it up until that point and they hadn’t brought it up either.

Still, she mumbled “Nightmares.” She hesitated only slightly before adding that it was “Ironic that NightMare has nightmares, but...”

Dick gave a laugh and she felt herself smile at the sound. He always did like bad puns. Her smile dropped a little when he told her “You still need sleep.”

She laughed bitterly. “It’s not like I’m getting much of it when I wake up every ten minutes anyways.”

He sighed and she felt his head rest on top of hers. “I guess one cup a day isn’t that bad…”

She gave a halfhearted cheer.

“Would you like to talk about your dreams? Sometimes that helps...”

She didn’t even hesitate to shake her head no. She did, however, hesitate to pull away from the hug. She liked Dick’s hugs far more than she’d ever admit, and ever since she’d come back she’d liked them even more. He was just about the right size and just squishy enough for her to pretend she was getting a hug from Harley.

But, eventually, she managed to pull herself together and she pushed him off as gently as she could.

“Ready to workout?”

Dick was wearing a particularly sad look that she decided didn’t look right on his face.

But then he brought a smile to his face and nodded. “Bet you I’m still more flexible.”

“Probably, but don’t get used to it. Your days as the world’s best gymnast are numbered.”

“Hm. We’ll see.”

~

 Damian.

She blinked at him. She really hadn’t expected him to… come by at all, honestly. Sure, they’d been getting along better than they’d used to and they were partners before she’d disappeared, but they weren’t partners anymore. He had no reason to come talk to her.

She smiled at him nonetheless. Company was company, and she wasn’t about to be picky when she was locked in a room for the foreseeable future.

“Dami!” She said brightly, crossing her legs criss-cross applesauce and then -- after thinking about it for a moment -- smoothed her dress out to make sure everything was hidden. (Damian was only a few months younger than her, she knew that logically, but some dumb part of her kept saying ‘child’.)

He regarded her for a moment before taking a seat beside her.

“Marinette,” he greeted carefully.

“Are you here for something?” She asked.

He hesitated, just slightly, and then nodded.

Ah. She wasn’t sure how she could be of help, compromised as she was, but she was certainly ready to try.

“I would like to know about my miraculous. Plagg has been… behaving oddly recently.”

Her smile slipped off her face at that. “Oddly how?” She said, eyeing his pockets like she believed the kwami would pop out at any moment and show her himself (which, granted, was entirely possible, but apparently not going to happen).

“He’s been more energetic. Less hungry. It doesn’t make sense.”

She thought about this for a few minutes, resting her head on her hand. Damian was right, that didn’t make sense… if anything, Plagg had been getting more laidback and mellow as time has stretched on...

Unless…

“Have you been using him?”

“... no. Is he just hyper from not being used, then?”

She stared at him, her head tipping to the side slightly as she considered him. Why wasn’t he using the miraculous? She would understand if it was a tactical decision to keep Catw -- was she called something else now that she was using the ladybug miraculous? -- Selina from using the miraculous as often, but it seemed he didn’t really know about that… so why…?

She pushed the thought from her mind. Maybe Damian just didn’t like the smell of Camambert. She wouldn’t blame him.

“It’s a balance thing. If the ladybug is used without the cat, the ladybug gets weaker and the cat gets stronger. Opposite thing happens when you use the cat without the ladybug. They’re meant to be used as a pair.” She clicked her tongue. “It probably doesn’t help that you’re on different sides.”

He nodded his understanding.

There was a beat as they just stood there (well, technically they were sitting, but whatever). She was kind of wondering why he was still there when he apparently didn’t need anything else from her, but what was she going to do? Tell him to leave? No. She was kind of desperate for the company of someone that wasn’t Jason or Dick (Cass and Duke only came by weekly so she didn’t mind them as much… also, they were Cass and Duke, so...).

He cleared his throat awkwardly, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Drake has informed me of your state.”

“I’m dead, yeah,” she confirmed.

He winced and his eyes fell to his lap. “I have also died before, if you would like to talk about it.”

She stared at him. She really hadn’t taken him for the kind of person who would offer moral support…

She pulled a smile to her face and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. Her smile became a little more real as she watched him scowl and wipe away the kiss.

“Thanks for the offer, Dami, but I’m fine.”

He gave her a skeptical look.

“Really. I’ll tell you guys as much as I need to for you to believe it: nothing much happened while I was there. Honestly, it was more boring than scary. So relax, I’m fine. I’ll live.”

And then, because she couldn’t help it, she added: “Well, that ship sailed long ago, but you know what I mean.”

He clicked his tongue. “Now I have to deal with terrible death jokes from you AND Todd? I wish I were dead.”

“You wish you were STILL dead, you mean?” She teased, reaching out to pinch his cheeks and breaking out into laughter when he swatted her hands away.

He rolled his eyes at her and then, with a short ‘Goodbye’, he left. She watched him leave, and the smile slid from her face in time with the door sliding shut behind him.

She fell back on the bed and closed her eyes. She didn’t get why people were so concerned about her. They’d faced worse. Hell, even SHE’D faced worse. Why were they making such a big deal about it?

Nothing had happened! Did they believe her when she told them that? She’d had no reason to lie, and she hadn’t been lying... and even if they’d thought she had they had Cass to prove she wasn’t. Hell, that was probably why Cass had come by at all, to check on her mental state! So why were they all so worried? They should know it was fine!

And even if she wasn’t fine (which she was!) it wasn’t like she didn’t have the same training as them. She could spot the victim questions from a mile away and she could even ask them to herself. She knew the answers, and she knew which ones she should be avoiding because she knew that they sounded way worse than they actually were.

Some vague part of her whispered that if anything sounded at all bad to the victim questions then she was, in fact, a victim. She buried her face in her pillow and gave a strangled scream of frustration. Now she had their stupid voices in her head telling her something was wrong, too.

~

She didn’t even look up from her phone when she heard the door slide open. Partially because she was kind of addicted to Geometry Dash and she wouldn’t win if she was looking up and partially because she could smell coffee so she knew who it was anyways.

“Thank fuck you’re here, Jay, I was --.”

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to wait a little longer for him, bean.”

Her eyes snapped to the door and her little box thingy on her screen died but she could hardly bring herself to care.

Tim!

Her face lit up. She hadn’t seen him in a while and she had really been missing him. Also, she noted vaguely, he was apparently healed from all of his injuries. Nice!

Except, as she scrutinized his face, she noticed he looked even more tired than usual. His skin was deathly pale, the bags under his eyes made him look like a raccoon, his hair hung limply around his face…

“Damn, and I thought I looked dead on my feet,” she teased softly to hide her concern.

He managed a smile and she waved him over to lay down with her. He hesitated before coming to sit beside her on the bed.

“When’s the last time you got some proper sleep?” She asked, tugging on the sleeve of his turtleneck to try and get him to lay down and cuddle with her. If she could get him to he might accidentally drift off.

He must have known what she was trying, because he resisted her attempts. “I’m fine. It’s been a while, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine. What’s wrong?”

He stared at her confusedly.

“You only get this bad when something is going on. What is it?”

He just kept staring at her and she shifted awkwardly.

“... bean…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s you. I’m worried about you.”

She groaned. “Not you, too.”

“Obviously I’m --.” He cut himself off and then mulled over his words for a bit. He decided on: “I don’t want to keep you here forever. I don’t want you to get ‘better’ because we Stockholm syndrome-ed you. Or re-Stockholm syndrome-ed you, since Harley already did it.”

“She didn’t --,” Marinette started, but she gave up on that. She knew they all didn’t understand it and arguing would probably only solidify their belief that Harley had messed her up in some way. Instead, she settled to address the rest of the statement:  “I mean… I already liked you all beforehand so… it’s not like caring about you would be exactly NEW...”

“It’s still wrong.”

She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s not like you have any other options. I’d probably be doing the same thing if everything was reversed.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel better,” said Tim with a tiny shake of his head.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the frown off of her face. “Then I don’t know what you want from me, Tim.”

He sighed. “I want you to get better.”

“Hard to do when I’m already fine.”

“But you’re not! You’re literally dead! How is that at all fine?!”

She rolled her eyes. She was getting a headache, though she wasn’t sure whether or not it was because of caffeine withdrawal (she was pretty sure Jason was supposed to have come in a few hours ago) or annoyance at repeating herself so many times. She pressed her cold hand to her forehead to try and alleviate it somewhat.

“It’s not even that bad, honestly. I can still drink coffee and sleep and that’s all I really care about. I can even feel pain! It’s pretty much the same except I don’t have to go to the bathroom and I can’t change clothes!”

Tim stared at her for a few moments before slamming his palm against his forehead. “That’s what it is!”

“Huh?”

“I thought something was weird about you being dead,” he explained, though it didn’t really explain anything. “Give me a minute, I’ll be back.”

She watched him practically run out the door and frowned confusedly. Sure, it was a little weird that she could still do most stuff, but that didn’t really warrant getting up in such a rush. Maybe the dead thing creeped him out more than he let on and he needed a breather?

So she picked up her phone and started playing Geometry Dash again while she waited for him to come back.

About an hour later she heard the door slide open and she raised her eyebrows at the sight of Tim holding a thermos and a plastic tray of food from Red Robin (the restaurant; anything he cooked was straight poison and if she tried it she might just die for real).

She watched him sit down with them. “You hungry?”

He shook his head and shoved them towards her. “They’re for you.”

Her confusion only seemed to grow.

“Sweetie, I don’t eat,” she reminded him, though she did take the thermos in case… nice! Coffee!

“Except you can if you want to, which is weird, right?”

She shrugged a little, not bothering to tear her lips away from her drink to give him a proper ‘I guess’.

“But where’s it going? Because you don’t go to the bathroom so it has to be used up in some way otherwise you would have probably exploded by now.”

She finished the drink and then set down the empty thermos beside herself. “Magic, probably…”

“Maybe,” he gave her, but that didn’t seem to put him out. “But then there’s the pain thing. Sure, it’s muted, but it’s definitely still there. Why should a dead person feel pain?”

“Because I’m not fully dead…?”

“Exactly!”

She shrugged again. “I really don’t see where you’re going with this.”

“What if you just need food or something to come back? Because you clearly had a headache, and it seems like it’s caffeine-related because you’ve relaxed a little since you had your coffee, which means we know that your digestive, nervous, and circulatory system are still working on some level...”

She stared at the food he’d given her.

“You think that if I eat enough I can come back.”

He nodded. “I know it’s a longshot, but we should at least try it, right?”

[ohkiyo]

pairing: Shirabu Kenjirou x Reader

warnings: Don’t use this as a reference to use sleeping pills okay? Consult a doctor first, I haven’t done enough research on that one.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I think I’ve butchered their personality with this one, I’m so sorry! But then I totally imagined Shirabu to be that kind of boyfriend, caring but has to used force when necessary.

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

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«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

In all of the three years that Semi has spent in Shiratorizawa, you could say that he has seen a lot of weird, a bit crazy, and questionable couples. But nothing beats the couple that is Shirabu Kenjirou and (L/n) (Y/n). 

If you were to ask him about his opinion on their relationship, he would say that it probably had him worried about them from time to time. It's not that he's worried that they might break up soon, no, no. It’s more like, how should he put it?

They just have the strangest and weirdest dynamics for a couple.

He has seen a lot, after spending two years with them, and let me tell you it has him questioning their sanity quite often. He could still remember that one time where Shirabu kicked (Y/n) off a cliff when they went cliff diving at a beach, or that time when he caught them in the gym's utility room with (Y/n) holding a pair of scissors and a ruler on Shirabu’s hair.

He could list a few more, but there were just too many, and after bearing witness to all of those, you would say that he should have been used to it by now. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, so imagine his surprise when he found out how Shirabu deals with (Y/n) when she’s too stubborn to listen to him about taking a rest.

The first time he saw it was when they were having their usual afternoon practice, he had just finished changing into his practice clothes and was just preparing to do some serving drills when (Y/n) entered, looking visibly tired and an irritated Shirabu following after. 

He blinks, watching as Shirabu tries to convince his girlfriend to go back to her dorm room and take a sleep, and honestly, he agrees as well. He could see the dark circles under her eyes from where he was standing.

“What happened?” he asks Kawanishi, who had appeared beside him “(N/n) looks like she had not sleep in days”

“We had a science project and unfortunately (L/n)’s groupmates aren’t very helpful” was the second year middle blocker's answer, and from that, he could understand what he was talking about. By now, Goshiki, Yamagata, and Reon had joined them, watching as Shirabu tackled (Y/n) to the ground, straddling her while smothering her face with his jersey jacket.

His eyes went wide, as (Y/n)’s muffled screams were heard throughout the gym. He turned his head to the others standing beside him, to see them watching on with interest.

“Why do you look like this is natural?”

He points at the two second years wrestling on the gym floor, Yamagata just shrug his shoulders, scratching the back of his head and said “We’ve seen worst haven’t we?”

Semi deadpanned, before turning his head to the two once again to see Shirabu take a pill from the bottle he was holding and shoving it in (Y/n)’s mouth, Semi swore he never screamed so loud before.

“You okay? Semi Semi?” he ignored Tendou’s question watching as Shirabu pick up (Y/n)’s limp body and carrying her bridal style. With his jacket covering her, protecting her body from the cold.

“She’s…alive, right?” he almost wanted to hit Shirabu for having the audacity to give him an innocent look, acting like he hadn’t just tried to commit homicide right in front of them.

“Yes?” was Shirabu’s answer, adjusting his hold on (Y/n)’s body before he started walking out of the gym “I’ll be back”

They watched, as Goshiki followed behind the setter with their manager’s bag hanging on his shoulder, giving a light bow to Ushijima who had just arrived.

Walking over to them, Ushijima just stared at him and asks “What’s wrong?”

He just shook his head and walk away “Nevermind”

The next time it happened, was when they were in the cafeteria. It was already 9 pm and they were lucky enough that the cafeteria decided to extend their operating hours. They had just finished eating their dinner an hour ago and had decided to stay a little longer to have a study session together. By now, (Y/n) was helping Goshiki with his assigned English reading material, the poor boy could not even pronounce city properly.

“’Tomu-kun it’s city, not shitty” (Y/n) explained, giving out a light laugh as the first year swallows his embarrassment. (Y/n) was such an angel for having the patience of a God.

“Let’s do it again, repeat after me” she scoots her chair closer “Si-te”

“Shi-shi” Goshiki stuttered, he pauses, swallowing the imaginary lump in his throat and tried again “Si-si-te, si-te!”

“Very good!” (Y/n) cheered, patting the boy on the head, complimenting him for a job well done.

“She’s spoiling him too much” Reon commented and Semi could not agree more, but then again, there was no one among the boys who would compliment Goshiki openly, and when Goshiki receives compliments, he seems to be doing very well at the tasks he’s currently doing.

They continued on for a few minutes, switching to another subject and this time, Shirabu was there to assist. Helping (Y/n) tutor Goshiki with his trigonometry homework.

“Did you even listen to your teacher during the lecture?” Shirabu leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms as he watches Goshiki fidgeting on his seat.

“O-of course I did” Shirabu just gave him a blank look; it was too obvious that Goshiki’s pride prevented him from giving an honest answer. Therefore, he took the book they were using, flipping the pages before pointing at a particular problem.

“Then solve this for me” Semi sweatdrops, watching from his place on the table as Shirabu bore holes in Goshiki’s head from the amount of staring he was doing.

After thirty minutes, Goshiki finally finished, a smug look on his face as Shirabu checked his work.

“I’m surprised you actually listened for once”

Before a fight could break between the two, Ushijima interrupted “I think it’s time we all go back. It’s getting late”

With that, they all gathered their things, arranging their notes and books and throwing away the wrappers of the snacks they have eaten. Pushing his chair into the table, Semi look up to see Shirabu pouring the remaining milk from the carton they had bought into a glass, dropping what he could see was a tablet before stirring it and walking over to (Y/n).

“Are you going to sleep now?” he heard Shirabu ask, as (Y/n) shook her head and said.

“I need to review my notes for our Chemistry quiz tomorrow”

“Didn’t you study that last week?” he watches as Shirabu gave her the glass of milk as (Y/n) gave him another answer, before drinking it.

“That’s actually kinda sweet” he heard Yamagata said from beside him and he nodded his head, forgetting that Shirabu had actually slipped some sort of drug in it. However, that lovely scene was short-lived when (Y/n) fell face flat on the table, already knocked out.

“Nevermind, I take back what I said”

Semi facepalmed.

So when the third time it happened, he finally decided to asks to confirm what the heck Shirabu was giving his girlfriend.

It was around lunchtime and they had agreed that they would eat together, from his spot besides Ushijima, Semi watch as (Y/n) sways lightly on her seat, her eyes a bit droopy and her cheeks flushed.

“Is (L/n) okay?” he heard Reon asks as he too turned to the others for some answers.

“(L/n) got caught in that rain last night” Kawanishi replied taking a bite of his onigiri.

Letting out a sigh, Semi walk over to her to feel her foreheard “She’s running a fever”

“I told her to stay in bed” he watches as Shirabu pulled that familiar bottle from his pocket and took a pill out. Quietly, he observes as the second-year setter urges the girl to open her mouth and slipped the pill inside, tilting her head back as she swallows it and as always, like how Semi had seen before, she immediately fell asleep.

“Sleeping pills?” he asks, finally understanding what it was, as Shirabu nodded his head, handing him the bottle as Semi observes its labels.

“But sleeping pills don’t work that fast right?” Tendou questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“That one’s actually been prescribed by a doctor, she suffered severe insomnia before back in Junior High so they had to give her sleeping pills as an aide” Shirabu answered, taking off his uniform jacket and placed it over her “Its dose is a bit higher so it’s very effective on her, others, not so much”

“Well don’t give her too much, she might get overdosed” Semi chastised, picking up (Y/n) and placing her on Shirabu’s arms “Bring her to the infirmary first, the nurse might have something for her fever”

Shirabu just nodded his head, excusing himself as he walks away.

Letting out a sigh, Semi walks back to his seat and continued eating his food.

They were weird, that he could agree, but then again, that’s what makes their relationship unique.

[rosewood-fangirl]

If You Weren’t Mine I’d Be Jealous of Your Love

It’s Royal Trio fluff and a Jamie sickfic in one

Link to ao3:

When Jamie walked into English class this morning, Lottie was immediately worried. He banged into several desks and chairs on his way in, an alarming contrast to his usual sharp and precise movements, and when he finally made it to his seat, he almost fell out of it. He braced an arm against the desk to keep from swaying side to side, grinding his hand into his forehead as if to stave off a headache, not even noticing as Lottie blatantly stared at him. Ms Kuma started taking the roll, and Lottie’s eyes snapped back to the front of the classroom to pay attention. The teacher had to call Jamie’s name twice before he responded. It didn’t seem to concern the teacher, but it concerned Lottie. She knew Jamie. Normally he caught every glance she shot his way, but today he didn’t even register her eyes on him every few seconds during the lesson. Combining Jamie’s inattentiveness with his slightly glazed-over eyes and the way he stumbled over the question Ms Kuma aimed his way, and Lottie knew something was wrong.

When Ms Kuma finally dismissed them for lunch, Lottie whispered her concerns to Ellie. The other girl had also picked up on Jamie’s state, so they both loitered while the last few students filed out, Ms Kuma organized her papers and Jamie sluggishly packed up his belongings. As soon as he had put everything in his bag he moved to head to lunch and promptly tripped over thin air. Ellie raced towards him as he fell, half-catching him in her arms, his head against her chest and her arms under his. Jamie was completely limp in her arms. She lowered him down to the floor gently, still holding him up. Jamie stirred, putting a hand to his head and groaning.

“Jamie, are you okay?” Lottie gasped, immediately rushing to his side.

“I think it would be wise for you to go to the nurse, Jamie,” Ms Kuma said, having caught on to what was wrong early in the lesson. Jamie started to protest that he was fine, but Ms Kuma simply stated, “At least get some paracetamol for your headache. There’s no harm in going.”

Jamie sighed and rose from the floor with Lottie and Ellie hovering over him. “I’m fine, really.” He slurred, but just wanting to ease his migraine. “I’m just a little dizzy.”

Miss Kuma gave him an unimpressed look and told Lottie and Ellie go with him to make sure he made it there in one piece, then ushered them from the room. The trio departed to the sick bay, Jamie grumbling irritably the whole way. Even if he wasn’t so concerned about his health, Ellie and Lottie were, and they were going to make sure he went if it killed them. Which it quite possibly would, with the way Jamie was glowering at them.

They entered the sick bay, Jamie looking uncomfortable, while Ellie prodded him forward. His eyes widened as he stumbled forward again, but luckily his reflexes kicked in this time and he caught himself on one of the sick bay beds. He winced and straightened, wobbling. “I’d’ve thought you’d think through pushing me around, especially because I passed out five minutes ago, but apparently not,” he muttered, sitting down hard on the bed. Ellie started to apologize, but he waved it off with an “It’s fine.” Jamie’s head spun – or was it the room? – and he held his face in his hands to dim the harsh lighting of the school sick bay.

“Jamie? Jamie? Jamie-” Lottie’s voice filtered in, the soft tones not as bad as a regular voice but still aggravating his headache.

“Mmm?” He murmured, just wanting to go to sleep.

“Can you listen for a few minutes? The nurse just needs you to pay attention for ten minutes or so and then you can go back to your room and rest.”

Jamie spared a brief moment to worry about the classes he’d be missing before he raised his head. “Yup, I’m awake,” he muttered sarcastically. God his head was killing him.

“You’re Jamie? Jamie Volk?” The nurse confirmed before moving onto the rest of her assessment of his health. “Right. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

Jamie, Lottie and Ellie filled her in on the details, Jamie describing his symptoms and headache.

“Hmm,” the nurse ponders. “Okay. Can I take your temperature?” Jamie nodded, although it seemed to be a rhetorical question as the nurse was already hunting for the equipment. After a couple minutes she finally procured the thermometer. “Just hold it under your tongue for three minutes and don’t open your mouth.”

Jamie nodded his acknowledgment again, huffing through his nose as the nurse stuck the thermometer in his mouth. He was sure he looked ridiculous. This was confirmed by Ellie’s silent laughter, shaking body and face hidden in her palm, and Lottie’s slightly upturned mouth. Once Ellie had calmed down and looked up again Jamie scrunched his nose up at her, and she lost it again.

Three minutes was a very long time. Jamie could feel himself becoming drowsier by the second. “Jamie. Stay awake,” Lottie said, squeezing his shoulder and forcing him to look into her eyes. Jamie almost responded before he remembered the thermometer in his mouth.

“Don’t open your mouth, we’re trying to take your temperature.” Jamie turned his glare on Ellie, though apparently it just looked silly because Ellie cracked up again. Surely three minutes was up by now?

After another hour – or at least it felt that way to Jamie – the nurse finally took the temperature-measuring stick of frustration (as he was calling it) out and read it. “37.9,” She tutted. “Yup, you’ve definitely got a fever.” Jamie was about to protest, but suddenly he realized he was freezing, and even shivering a little. Maybe he did have a fever.

The nurse started talking again and Jamie zoned out. His remaining energy had suddenly vanished, leaving him stranded on the edge of consciousness and straining to stay awake. Luckily, he managed to not fall asleep during the lecture, but only barely. Jamie let himself slip away into a foggy almost-sleep state, only realizing the nurse had stopped talking to him when Lottie was tugging on his arm.

“What- where’re we going?” Jamie mumbled. He winced at how ragged his voice sounded, coughing to try to clear it.

Lottie stared at him, eyebrows raised and Ellie rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We’re going back to your dorm, dimwit. Did you even listen to anything the nurse said?” Jamie gazed at her uncomprehendingly and she facepalmed, lips twitching in the shadow of a smile. “Okay. So basically, you probably have the flu, you’ll be sick for about a week, you can catch up on schoolwork later, you’re supposed to recover in your dorm, and… I think that’s it.”

Jamie’s eyes focused on a bag in Ellie’s hand. How he didn’t notice it before, he didn’t know. Maybe he was just generally an idiot when he was sick. “What’s that?”

Ellie raised the bag slightly, a clinking noise coming from inside it. “It’s medication. You know, paracetamol, cough medicine, um… other flu things.” Ellie shrugged. Jamie nodded, swaying suddenly on his feet. Ellie’s eyes widened and she quickly handed the medicine to Lottie and grabbed onto Jamie, trying to stop him from collapsing. “Oh, geez, Jamie, you really gotta stop half-passing out. Come on, let’s get to your room so you can rest.”

Jamie nodded distractedly. Ellie huffed, putting his arm around her shoulders and nearly dragging him to his dorm. When they finally got there, Ellie was puffing. Jamie slid down onto his bed, thumping onto the mattress and relaxing. Maybe now he could finally go to sleep?

“Jamie!” An incessant tapping on his shoulder prevented him from falling into a deep sleep. He groaned, grabbing a pillow and swinging it vaguely in the direction of the tapping person, then shoving it over his head to drown everything out.

“Jamie,” A softer voice came next to his head. “Can you please take your medicine? I know you’re tired, but if you want to get better you have to take care of yourself properly.” Although sleep tempted him, he knew the person had a point. He slowly got up and blindly grabbed the medicine bag, waking up a bit more to swipe a change of pyjamas so he could be more comfortable. While the school uniform looked very smart, it wasn’t exactly ideal for sleeping in.

“Thanks,” Jamie tossed over his shoulder on the way to the adjoining bathroom, his voice still rough. He sighed. Maybe he’d feel better after dosing up on medicine.

 “He’s a mess,” Ellie moaned once the bathroom door had thudded shut.

“He’s not too bad,” Lottie replied, a bit unconvincingly. “We’ll just have to be sure to keep an eye on him and make sure he’s taking care of himself.”

“No, Lottie. Every time he’s gotten sick – which isn’t very often, which makes him all the worse when he does get sick – he’s just… strange. Sometimes, the medicine makes him go all loopy and strange, and he’s just… ugh. He’s like a child, which is kinda funny to see in him but – oh, nevermind. My point is – we have to really take care of him.” Lottie snorted, confusing Ellie. “What?”

“It’s just…” Lottie bit her lip, holding back a laugh. “It’s weird seeing you being all nurturing, I’m not used to it. Especially because it’s Jamie we’re talking about, he hates being taken care of.”

Ellie considered that. “Yeah, I suppose so… I don’t know. It brings back memories from when we were smaller and were more friends instead of a Princess and her Partizan.” Lottie smiled, giving Ellie a hug.

“We can still take care of Jamie. He’s not invincible. He’s human, and he needs help sometimes.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Ellie took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing her muscles. “Come on, let’s go play nurse.”

 Jamie splashed water over his face, drying it with a towel then exiting the bathroom. He tossed his crumpled uniform over his desk chair, turning around to face Ellie and Lottie standing in the middle of his bedroom. “What?” he said irritably.

Lottie sighed. “Okay. So, Jamie. Tomorrow’s Friday. Then we haven’t got classes for the weekend, so we can be here to watch over you. Tomorrow, you must remember to take your medicine on time, drink lots of water, and don’t layer up too many blankets on yourself, even if you’re cold. You need to let the flu run its course. When the fever is gone, you’re still going to be sick for a few days. Anyway, for tonight, just drink a lot-” Lottie handed him a plastic water bottle, already full- “And try to get some sleep.”

She practically pushed him to his bed. Jamie was a little annoyed at the overly strict instructions – as though he didn’t know what to do when he got a cold – but he was too tired to get properly frustrated. He just nodded wearily and climbed into bed, pulling the sheets over himself and faceplanting on the pillow. He heard a faint, teasing, “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” from Ellie and threw a half-hearted middle finger over in her general direction. She snorted and said, gentler now, “Rest well.”

He mumbled “Sap,” which he wasn’t even sure he heard, but then he was drifting off into a blessedly deep sleep.

 Jamie woke late the next morning, light seeping through his curtains. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at some knots as he registered his surroundings. A small basket containing food, books, and Ellie’s iPod was on the ground next to his bed. He caught sight of a note and unfolded it.

Jamie:

Seriously, don’t forget to take your medicine. But also don’t take too much. We brought you a basket of stuff so you’re not completely bored, and some food because you’re probably not feeling up for a trip to the kitchens. Drink plenty of water. Just rest.

<3  Lottie

I left you my iPod because I think it still has some songs you like on it in case you want to listen to music. Don’t die :)

-          Ellie

Jamie snorted at Ellie’s heartfelt message. He swung his legs out of bed to complete his short to-do list and then returned to bed to eat a sandwich. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 11:26 am. Ellie and Lottie would be in Mathematics. Once he’d finished eating, a wave of sleepiness overtook him again. He hunted around for his earbuds for a couple minutes and plugged them into the iPod, quickly finding a playlist titled ‘Jamie’s songs’ and pressing play. He crawled back into bed and went back to sleep.

 When their classes were finally over, Lottie and Ellie hurried to Jamie’s room and found him in a dead sleep. They decided to just leave him be for a while, digging out their books to study and talking in quiet tones. After about 20 minutes of chatting and working through the English comprehension they’d been assigned, Jamie rolled over and yawned, pulling out his earbuds. He opened his eyes, squinting at them. “Hi,” he sighed, resting his head on his arm and staring unnervingly at Lottie. He shivered, yanking another blanket towards him and wrapping it around his top half, burying his head in between the folds. Lottie raised her eyebrows at Ellie, who merely mouthed ‘I told you so.’

Lottie crept towards Jamie. She whisked his blanket away, exposing him to her and Ellie. He sat up and glared at her. With his messy bed-hair and old, slightly-too-large pyjamas he looked adorable. Jamie poked his tongue out a little bit at her. Lottie laughed in disbelief, turning her face to Ellie with an expression of Is this even the same person? Ellie nodded wearily, used to Jamie’s antics when sick, and grabbed the blanket back from Lottie. She gently pressed down on Jamie’s shoulders until he fell back onto the bed with a huff. Ellie draped the blanket over him and patted his forehead. “Go to sleep.” She told him firmly. He rolled over, pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders, and appeared to just fall back asleep.

Lottie shook her head in incredulity. “This is what he’s like?”

“Oh no,” Ellie said. “This isn’t even the full effect. You should see him when he’s basically high on the medicine. That’s a whole other personality.”

 The next day, Saturday, Jamie had to go back to the nurse for another check-up. Luckily, his fever had passed in the night, and his temperature was relatively normal, if still a little bit higher than usual. He was prescribed with four more days of rest, and then he could go back to class as long as his condition hadn’t worsened.

Only four more days. Jamie groaned, sniffing. He was horribly congested and couldn’t go five minutes without blowing his nose or coughing, and he was miserable. He stared at the ceiling, spread out on his bed, and groaned.

“Ssshh, Jamie, I’m trying to finish this question,” Ellie muttered, buried in her homework.

Jamie threw a pillow at her. “Last time I checked you weren’t the one who caught the freaking flu.”

“O-kay,” Lottie said, intervening in what was likely to become an argument. “Ellie, why don’t we take a break from studying and get a movie or something to watch from the library?”

“Oh!” Jamie said up straight. “Can we watch Men in Black?”

Lottie laughed, still finding his borderline obsession with the movies funny. “Sure, as long as it’s available.”

While Ellie and Lottie went to get the movie and a mini projector device so they could project it onto the wall, Jamie took some more medicine and went to the bathroom. He refilled his water bottle and settled on the bed with his back against the wall, eager to start the movie. Once his friends had returned, successful in their hunt for the movie, they set it up against the wall opposite to his bed and started the movie. Lottie wrapped a blanket around all three of them and they huddled together, enjoying the glow of the film in the darkness of the room. Even though he’d wanted to watch the movie, Jamie found himself getting sleepier and sleepier. He rested his head on Ellie’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting his guard down. Ellie’s head shifted to look at him, and though he didn’t see it he knew a small smile was playing across her face. She tossed another blanket over his legs and he yawned.

Jamie stayed on the cusp of sleep through the movie, the sounds of the film occasionally punctuated by Ellie or Lottie saying something. After a while, the movie’s credits rolled and Ellie squirmed, bringing him further back from the edge of unconsciousness. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to lose the dreamy feeling in the air.

“I think he’s asleep,” Ellie murmured. “He looks so peaceful.” Jamie smiled slightly, turning his face into her shoulder. Ellie shifted him so his head was in her lap, and he twisted around to get more comfortable, hoping Ellie didn’t move anytime soon.

Lottie giggled softly, scootching closer to Ellie and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, keeping her legs swept to the side so as not to disturb Jamie’s position. Jamie hummed, completely satisfied.

Ellie ran her fingers through his hair, a bit hesitantly at first, and Jamie almost cried. It had been a long time since anyone had shown him this much physical affection, and he sighed contentedly, melting into Ellie’s lap.

“Oh, I forgot how soft his hair is,” Ellie remarked. “It’s been – what, years? – since I’ve done this.”

“Maybe you should do it more often, then,” Jamie murmured, still half-asleep and lacking a brain-to-mouth filter and common sense. Ellie’s hand froze, mid-way through his hair, and Lottie laughed softly. “Well, don’t stop,” Jamie huffed, and Ellie resumed her petting of his hair.

After about 15 minutes Ellie’s legs were growing numb. She paused her hair-stroking and wiggled her way out from below Jamie’s head, trying not to let him notice too much. Nevertheless, Jamie soon realized the loss of contact and practically whined, glaring with squinted eyes at Ellie. Lottie supressed her smile and took over caressing Jamie’s hair. “Wow, you’re right, it is soft,” she said, rubbing a few of the strands between her fingers. Jamie smirked.

The boy sneezed, coughing a couple of times. There was a tickle in his throat that wouldn’t go away, and it kept annoying him. His occasional coughs soon turned into a coughing fit, and he sat up, unable to get quite enough air to breath. Lottie sat next to him, rubbing his back to try to ease it. Ellie fetched a cup of water for him. Eventually the fit died down, and he sat back, exhausted. He took the cup of water gratefully and downed most of its contents, leaning over to place it on his bedside table and then pulling his legs to his chest and burying his face in them. Why was he so pathetic? It was just the dumb flu, he should be better than this. He couldn’t be weak in front of anyone.

Jamie didn’t even notice he was wheezing until Lottie squeezed his hand to bring him back to reality. He flinched away from the concerned look in her eyes. He didn’t need her worry, he shouldn’t make her worry.

Ellie knew what was happening. It had happened to her often enough. The fact that Jamie was still struggling with his feelings of weakness was worrying, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. Right now, Jamie needed her help.

“Hey. Hey, Jamie,” Ellie spoke. Her voice was soft yet firm, providing support while also lending comfort. “Can you look at me?” Jamie bit his lip hard and turned his gaze to her. His eyes were glassy with tears. Jamie never cried. In all her life, Jamie had seen Ellie cry at least a dozen times, but not once had she witnessed the same of him. Her heart broke for him and she almost wanted to cry herself, but she had to focus. “Jamie, you are not weak because you are sick. This flu was not your fault, and no one blames you for it. You are strong, even without our help. You’re strong because you’re brave enough to accept help. You’re strong because you help other people. You are worthy of our love and support, and I really wish you would accept it more often. It’s good to be independent, but it’s okay to lean on people. We’re here for you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Jamie reached out and grabbed Ellie’s hand, squeezing it hard. Ellie squeezed back. He still wasn’t letting himself cry, too afraid of how Ellie and Lottie would judge him.

Lottie moved slightly across the bed, letting her side press against Jamie’s. “Jamie, it’s also okay to cry. You’re not any weaker for it and we won’t judge you. We won’t tell anyone. You’re safe here with us.”

The ‘you’re safe here with us’ resonated within Jamie, making him feel both calm and emotional at the same time. Slowly, a few tears tracked down his face, still silent. His shoulders shook with noiseless sobs, more tears running down his face.

“You might be a mess, but, hey, all of us are,” Ellie joked before turning more serious. “You’re not alone.”

Jamie smiled through the tears, using his sleeve to wipe his face. He sniffed, snatching a tissue to blow his nose. “Thanks.” His voice came out scratchy and broken, but it no longer hurt. He’d be okay.

 Sunday passed uneventfully. Lottie and Ellie studied for a revision test they had coming up on Monday while Jamie steadily made through the stack of books Lottie had borrowed for him from the school library. He took his medicine and drank water and recovered.

On Monday after dinner, Lottie and Ellie walked into Jamie’s dorm, trading answers on the test. They stopped in their tracks when they noticed Jamie perched in a near impossible position on the windowsill. Thank God the window was closed and he couldn’t have fallen out.

“Oh no,” Ellie said immediately.

“What is it?” Lottie demanded.

“He’s high.”

“WHAT?”

Ellie snorted despite herself. “No, no! Not that type of high. Well, kind of. I recognise that look in his eyes; he’s gone mental because of the medication. It’s not too bad, but it can last for a while, and he acts really… weird.” Ellie trailed off and shook her head.

Lottie took a moment to gather her patience and sanity. “Well. Might as well try to enjoy the childishness while it lasts.”

 The next morning, Lottie and Ellie woke up late because of how late they’d stayed at Jamie’s dorm the previous night (they had to sneak back and almost got caught) and didn’t have time to check on Jamie in the morning. When they stopped by his room with lunch, they found a note that said he’d had to spend a day in the sick bay just for observation and that he’d be back at class tomorrow, a day later than expected. They were a little worried but brushed it off and went on with their day, sans one Jamie Volk.

On Tuesday morning, the pair anxiously waited in the dining hall for Jamie to arrive. When he finally entered, looking a little tired but a whole lot better, they grinned at each other and waved him over. He spotted them and quickly grabbed some breakfast before making his way over to them.

“Hi!” Lottie smiled at him. “Are you feeling better? You still look a little tired. Did you sleep well?”

Jamie smirked at Lottie’s relentless questioning. “Yes, I’m feeling better. Yes, I’m a bit tired. I sleep alright, but it could’ve been better, I guess.” He looked over at Ellie. “What, no welcome party from you?”

Ellie bit back a laugh and ruffled his hair. He huffed, then looked sheepish. “Um, by the way… did I happen to do anything strange on Monday night? I don’t really have any memory of that night and-” he addressed Ellie- “You know how I tend to get on medication. Did I do anything weird?”

Ellie and Lottie looked at each other and burst out laughing. Jamie just sighed. “Oh no.”

“Well,” Ellie started with a flourish. “For starters, you perched up on the windowsill and when we tried to talk to you, all you said was ‘tweet’,” A devilish grin took over Ellie’s face. “And then you feel off the windowsill onto the floor and tried to make a snow angel, except there was no snow so you just got a mild carpet burn.”

“I wondered how I got those bruises,” Jamie muttered to himself as Ellie cackled.

“Don’t forget about how he was moaning to us about how he couldn’t protect us,” Lottie chimed in, a sly grin overtaking her features. “And two seconds later he was trying to touch his nose with his tongue. For ten whole minutes.” Jamie facepalmed, regretting asking them.

“And you counted stars outside for a whole hour, it was quite impressive actually-”

“Oh yeah, and you recited a whole passage from your book while reading it upside down-!”

“And you made a mini tower out of crackers and cheese-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jamie was unable to stop himself from smirking.

“But we’re not done yet!” Lottie exclaimed. “You tried to get up for hot chocolate and you fell on your face, and we thought you fainted, but you just rolled over and told us ‘I’m a slug’.”

“Or, my personal favourite,” Ellie said, immediately worrying Jamie. “When you fell asleep in Lottie’s lap while she was studying and refused to move-”

“Why am I friends with you.” Jamie said, more a statement than a question, moving to another table.

“Because you love us,” Ellie said, setting her plate down next to his. “Especially Lottie.”

Jamie went bright red and elbowed Ellie, avoiding eye contact with Lottie, who was laughing on the other side of the table. He and Ellie caught each other’s glances and he smiled at her, just a little, to which she responded with a huge grin. He smirked at Lottie, too, and she blushed almost redder than he did. Jamie returned to his breakfast, a small smile still perched on his face.

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Part 8

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Word Count: 4.8k

Song: Moving On - Kodaline

Warnings: a few parts of this chapter (mostly, a single scene) are pretty disturbing. It's nothing worse than what is mentioned in Criminal Minds, but it's graphic. If it gets to be too much for you, skip to this: *** (the scene will also start with this symbol if you want to skip it altogether). Take care of yourself <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

_____________________

Syria, 2014

“Are all girls from Colorado this rough, or is it just you?”

“Shut up, Austin.”

Austin laughed.

It was weird — soldiers buzzed around you like bees in a hive, but whenever you and Austin got the chance to talk, it was like you and him were the only people in the room. You just wished you could talk to him under better circumstances.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Austin continued. “The last guy you treated walked out of here looking like Frankenstein.”

“Without me, he would’ve been rolled out,” you retorted. You pulled at the sutures tightly, causing him to wince.

“Alright, alright,” he ceded with a chuckle, “I get it. But if you mess up my face, my mama will come after you.”

“I would never mess up a handsome face like yours,” you said sweetly as you worked at the cut on his cheekbone. “Why would I ruin a man’s only asset?”

“You wound me, Y/N,” Austin said, setting a hand over his heart. “You wound me to my core.” 

You snorted, laying a bandage over the sutures. You patted his shoulder. “You’re good to go, soldier.” 

Austin stood up from the gurney, grabbing his button-down digital camo shirt. He draped it over his arm, which you swore was the width of your head. As if that wasn’t enough, he towered over you: he was at least 6’4, and built like a tank. You once said he was the Army’s wet dream. You got a good laugh out of that remark.

Austin bowed slightly and tipped an imaginary hat. “Thank you, m’lady,” he said, accentuating his preexisting southern drawl. 

You shoved his shoulder with a smile. “Get out of here, Crow.”

He smiled, his white teeth contrasting his dark hair. “See you around, Y/L/N.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you replied. 

“What, you don’t want to look at this pretty face?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Not really, no,” you laughed. You cleared your throat. “Seriously, Austin: Don’t be a hero.” 

He nodded, respecting your change of tone. “Yes ma’am,” he agreed, before walking out of the triage tent and right back into danger.

You sighed, picking up and putting away your equipment.

Some days, you wished more than anything else that the two of you met under different circumstances. You wished he moved to Colorado with his family when he was a teenager, or that the two of you met in a small cafe in a big city. Hell, you’d even be okay if you met during Basic Training, the two of you fell in love, and he worked on a local reserve while you persued a different career. Really, you just wished you hadn’t met while serving in Syria, because no matter how you spinned it, it just wasn’t appropriate. 

Austin was a Staff Sergeant, which technically meant he ranked higher than you. However, the two of you worked in different areas; Austin was a combat soldier, while you were a medic. He fought on the frontline, you mostly worked triage. You took care of men like him. So, even though the Army may not forbid an affair between the two of you, that didn’t mean you thought it was okay. It felt like… corruption, like you were breaking the trust between you and your brothers. You didn’t want anyone for a single second to feel like they were less important to you.

So, you pushed your feelings aside. You savored the moments you spent with Austin, but you didn’t push it. You didn’t seek him out, you didn’t play favorites. You enjoyed the time you spent with him, but said time was brief, as it should be. 

You sighed again. He was a charming Texas boy with a heart of gold. How could a person not fall in love with him? 

“The longer this goes on, the worse it gets.”

You and Austin watched a new batch of soldiers go through training. They were already deemed fit for combat, so the next few weeks would be spent teaching them the ins-and-outs of living and serving in an active warzone. Today’s lesson? IEDs. 

“I know,” you agreed, voices low as to not distract. “It started as peaceful protests against a President, and now more than half a million people are dead.”

“70 airstrikes later,” Austin said with a sigh. “Sometimes… nevermind.”

“What?” you asked. When he didn’t respond, you nudged his shoulder. “Sing your annoying song, Crow.”

He smirked, but didn’t quite laugh; the sound he made was that of a scoff. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m even doing here.” 

“Me too,” you said softly. 

_____________________

The two of you found some downtime; Austin wouldn’t be heading out with his team until later in the afternoon, and after a busy morning, your tent was hitting a lull. The two of you decided to eat lunch together in an empty triage tent lined with gurneys. 

You sat on the ground beside each other, boots sunken into the mix of dirt and sand that made up the ground. Austin sat cross legged, and his knee brushed against your calf as you bounced your foot up and down.

“You gonna use that cheese?” He asked, referring to a silver packet you set on the ground.

“No,” you said, dumping your chicken fajita mix into your cooked rice packet. “Shit’s disgusting.”

Austin picked up the packet and tore it open with his teeth. He spread the fake, overly yellow ‘cheese’ spread onto a weird, fake pork sandwich he was making. The bread looked more like play-doh than bread, and the barbecue sauce he used was almost black. MREs: the epitome of luxury dining.

“That is nasty,” you remarked.

“Sometimes, you gotta take what you can get,” Austin said. He picked up a packet of clam chowder that had been heating up in its bag for awhile. He opened it and stirred it around before taking a spoonful and plopping it right on over the cheese spread. He finally closed the sandwich and took a massive bite.

“I’m gonna gag,” you stated bluntly. 

He frowned. “Why?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

“That is vile, Austin,” you said. “You just put clam chowder on a sandwich! With barbecue sauce and cheese! That’s so gross!”

He offered you the sandwich. “Wanna bite?” 

You tucked your chin against your chest and leaned back, shaking your head. “Get that away from me.” 

_____________________

To say the night was busy would be more than an understatement; 4 men from the same troop were rushed to triage, all with similar injuries caused by IEDs. One of the men ultimately ended up a double amputee, one leg blown off above the kneecap and the other being so damaged that most of the calf had to be removed. Somehow, a man from the same troop ended up with only minor lacerations. War was strange that way; you step on an IED the ‘right’ way, and it’s something you can walk away from. If you don’t, you could die.

“Alright everyone, we have 6 more soldiers coming in!” Your Lieutenant Colonel shouted. “All non-emergent patients should be transferred. Let’s hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

You helped ‘reset’ a few stations, making sure they were clean and ready. When the men still hadn’t arrived, you approached Colonel Todd.

“Colonel,” you asked, catching her attention. “What else do you know?”

“Best guess? Task Force 221,” she replied, signing a few papers when someone handed her a clipboard. “Crow and his boys were out patrolling, Folks don’t take too kindly to soldiers around here.”

Your heart sank.

The men from Task Force 221 came in at the same time, and they were loaded out of the truck and onto gurneys one by one. You got assigned to the first person, which happened to be Austin himself.

“Go, help them,” Austin protested, already trying to get off the gurney. “I’m okay, just help my boys!”

You pushed him down by his chest as you and two other people rolled him inside. 

“Can I get a dose of Lidocaine, please?” you instructed, cutting away Austin’s already torn pants. So far, you saw two GSWs: one to the left lower leg, and one to the right calf. You adjusted the light above you to get a better look. “Make it two doses.” 

“I’m fine,” Austin pushed, once again trying to stand up.

“Austin Crow, I swear to god, I will tie you down if I have to,” you threatened. “You’re not fine — you’ve been shot. Sometimes, to take care of your team, you have to take care of yourself first.”

He laid back with a sigh.

Three hours passed before you could properly speak to Austin. After pulling the bullets from both his legs, you ran around trying to help people wherever and however you could. Eventually, you found the sweet spot where no one was critical but everyone was still busy. You managed to slip away and pull the curtains around Austin’s bed.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” you hissed under your breath.

“...What?”

“I heard what you did,” you said. “Your lieutenants were more than happy to tell me exactly how you got shot.” 

“By doing my job?” Austin asked. 

“You put yourself in the line of fire!” you argued. “You ran right into danger!”

“To help someone,” he explained calmly. “No man gets left behind, Y/N. You know that.” 

“You could have died!” you said between clenched teeth. You were trying to keep your voice down, but his apathy was driving you crazy. “God, what is it with you? The same day I take out your stitches, you come in with two gunshot wounds. What’s next, Austin? You want me to plan your funeral? Write to your parents, tell them how you died a hero?” 

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Austin asked. He seemed more confused than angry.

The words fell out before you could stop them. “Because I love you!” 

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You laughed bitterly. 

“There,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Cat’s out of the bag.” You sighed, setting your hand down and looking him in the eye. “I think… I’m in  love with you, and I don’t want to see you dead.”

Silence fell. Austin looked away, looked back to you, looked away again, and clenched his jaw. You crossed your arms in self-defense, heart pounding as you waited for him to say something, anything.

Austin scooted over, then patted the space beside him. “Come here.”

You approached the bed, slowly and carefully sliding next to him. It was almost too small for Austin by himself, let alone with another person, so your weight ended up mostly on him. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

Austin’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his body. He buried his face in your hair, taking a long breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll do better. I promise.” 

_____________________

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

You were only covering for someone, a temporary replacement until a new combat medic was hired. Austin was hesitant; he wasn’t sure if you were cut out for the job. You assured him you’d be fine, that you went through the same training everyone else did, and that it wasn’t permanent.

You were an amazing combat medic. You tied every tourniquet tight, you took care of men until they could be shipped off the triage. The Colonel in charge of Task Force 221 commended you, said you could be a real fit for the field. 

Austin didn’t agree. The two of you had been secretly dating for about a month, and it was the first real fight the you got into. You said you were seriously considering accepting a job as a combat medic, and Austin disagreed. You could tell this fight wouldn’t be like the last one — you weren’t about to kiss him and tell him everything would be alright.

“What, only you get to do the dirty work?” you asked. “Only you get make some real change?”

“This isn’t about glory, Y/N,” Austin sighed, running a hand through his cropped hair. “It’s about keeping you alive.”

“Now you know how I feel!” you argued, laughing at the irony. “It’s scary, isn’t it, Austin?! You want more than anything to pull me off of the battlefield, put me somewhere in this godforsaken country were I can be at least somewhat safe?!”

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

“I’m gonna take that job,” you stated, “and I’m only quitting when you do.” 

Now, you were here, in a place you didn’t know, but you knew you didn’t like.

“Y/N?” you heard someone call weakly.

“Austin?!” you said, trying your hardest not to burst into tears. You couldn’t see anything, so hearing his voice was a massive relief. 

Your memory came back in pieces: you saw Austin walk ahead to secure the area, but he ended up stepping on and IED. Without even thinking, you ran ahead, despite the yells and other protests of the men beside you. 

“Hey, baby,” you said gently, looking him up and down.  It took everything in you not to gag or faint.

He stepped right on the edge of the IED, meaning his left leg was blown off to right below the kneecap.  The exposed muscle was shredded, and his bone stuck out like a morbid fence post.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you promised, taking out your tourniquet. Just like you had been instructed what felt like decades ago, you pulled it as tight as you physically could to stop any more blood loss. 

Austin moaned in pain and mumbled a few words you couldn’t understand. When you looked up to call for help, the butt of a gun connected with the back of your head, effectively knocking you out. 

You woke up here.

“It was a trap,” Austin said, voice rough and quiet. 

“We’re gonna get out of here, okay?” you promised. “Half of the fucking Army is probably looking for us right now.”

After what felt like hours, someone came in to remove your blindfold. You could finally get a good look at Austin, and it made your heart pound in your ears. He didn’t look good. Things would get ugly if he didn’t get proper medical attention soon. 

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” you said immediately. “Just let me help him.”

A man dressed in all black began to yell at you in Arabic. You could only make out a few words — work, plan, and money. He paused, most likely to give you time to answer. When you didn’t, he punched you across the face.

“No,” Austin said weakly. “Stop it.”

You spat some blood onto the floor, your entire head throbbing. “Don’t worry,” you said, then looked to your attack. “I can take it.” 

_____________________

Present Day

“They didn’t get anything out of me by punching,” you said, staring at the light above your bed. You sounded detached, like you were talking about a movie you watched rather than recalling the worst day of your life. You supposed that’s how you coped with it — you pretended it wasn’t real, that it never really happened. “Even when they brought in someone who spoke English, I didn’t talk.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You adjusted the bed to a sitting position awhile ago, but you still felt vulnerable.

“You can stop,” Spencer offered, gently taking your hand. It was taped up and gloved, as it was the hand they put an IV in, so his touch was more delicate than usual. 

You shook your head. “I want to tell you everything,” you promised. “It’s just hard to think about. It’s hard to remember.” You took in a breath. “When the punching didn’t work, they moved on to whipping. And when that didn’t work…”

_____________________

***

Syria, 2014

Your back stung and your head throbbed. You hoped that eventually, you’d pass out, but unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Either your pain tolerance was too high, or the breaks they took between the methods of torturing were enough to keep you conscious.

“Get her on the ground,” one man growled. 

You groggily put together that there were three men in the room, all of them equally pissed. They probably thought you’d be easy to crack. 

The fresh wounds on your back hurt even more when they connected with the dirt; you could practically feel the infection in your skin forming. You gritted your teeth, barely able to refrain from making noise. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, someone began to pull down your pants. In that very moment, you prayed for a heart attack, for your body to give out completely. This, on top of everything else? You wouldn’t be able to take it.

“That’s enough!” Austin shouted, so loud that it practically shook the walls. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just get the hell away from her.” 

Austin gave up the location of the base, as well as other details they wanted, like what patrols and other missions had been scheduled. Apparently, all they wanted was to get the upper hand, strike before Austin or anyone else’s task force could. It made you wonder what they did when information was time-sensitive.

They slammed the heavy door behind them, and immediately, you burst into tears. You rolled onto your side and curled into a ball, shirt in shreds from the whipping. You stayed in that position for so long that your arm and legs fell asleep, but you didn’t really care. You wanted to feel nothing right about now.

“Y/N,” Austin called, for what was probably the millionth time. You tuned out everything around you, only the sound of static filling your ears.

You sat up lifelessly, a blank stare on your face.

“Come here,” he said.

You crawled over to Austin, your concern for him trumping both the physical and mental pain you were in. It had only been a few hours at most, but he already looked worse. His face was pale, lips dry, and despite the tourniquet, he seemed to have lost quite a bit of blood. 

“What do you need?” you asked. 

“Can you take off my shirt?” He asked.

It was a weird request, but you obliged. You lifted up the hem of his shirt, and carefully, you pulled it above his head. You managed to get it off without having to lift his arms too high.

“Put it on,” Austin instructed.

You smiled through a few new tears. 

It was damp with sweat, meaning it was entirely sanitary, but more than anything, you appreciated the sentiment. You slid it over your head, slipping your arms through each hole. Unsurprisingly, it was massive on you — the sleeves were technically short, but they almost hit your elbow. 

“Sit by me,” he said, tilting his head to the empty space beside him. 

You did as you were told, careful not to lean back and inflict more pain.

“Closer.”

You laughed, wiping your nose as tears streamed down your face. You scooted closer to him, lifting one of his arms and slinging it around your shoulders. You curled into his chest, and despite the sweltering heat, you found comfort in his warmth. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Austin asked, voice raspy.

You looked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you too.”

It didn’t occur to you, but ‘love’ hadn’t come out of either of your mouths since the night you first admitted it. You spent countless hours in each other’s presence, but it hadn’t come up. You didn’t Austin to say a word in order to prove how much he cared about you — he showed it. It was implied.

And now, it was over.

_____________________

***

Present Day

“It took them 18 hours to find us,” you said. A few tears made their way down your cheek. You wiped them and continued on. “I think Austin died halfway through it.” 

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop; you thought Spencer was afraid to even breathe. 

“I stayed by his body until someone found us,” you said. “I managed to fall asleep a few times, and every time I woke up, mice were eating his skin. As if his leg being blown off wasn’t bad enough.” you paused. “I think his blood started to spoil. Is that possible? I don’t know. I think the heat was cooking him, though. It didn’t take long for his skin to start rotting.”

Your face contorted, and you stifled a sob. “I wanted to save him, Spencer,” you cried, clutching his hand. “I really did. They just wouldn’t let me.” 

Almost immediately, Spencer joined you on the bed. He pulled you against him, arms tight around you like a barricade. You gripped his shoulders as you cried into his chest.

“None of this is your fault, you hear me?” Spencer said. “None of it is your fault.” 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that. Eventually, you stopped sobbing, but the occasional tear still rolled down your cheek. Spencer held you throughout it all.

Eventually, you felt Spencer lift his head from the pillow. You looked up to see the team standing at the nurses’ station. Any other day, you would have pushed him aside and invited them in. Today, though, you just sniffed and moved closer to him. 

Spencer kissed your hair and continued to hold you close. They’d get the memo.

_____________________

The hospital kept you overnight for observation, but by daylight, you were discharged with a clean bill of health. Sometime during the night, Emily and JJ swung by to drop you off a change of clothes, which you were eternally grateful for. 

Spencer didn’t leave your side the entire night. He waited outside the bathroom when you changed, he held your hand as you took the elevator ride down to the lobby, and he sat in the middle of the backseat on the cab ride home. You stared out the window the entire time, but you kept a hand on his knee. 

As you stared at the multi-colored, almost bare trees, you realized something: life goes on. People were waking up and heading to their 9-5, and their biggest concern was what to make for dinner later that day. Some of them had a violent or traumatic past, just like you did, but that wasn’t how they lived their life. You and everyone else alive did the same thing: you woke up, and you tried your best. Sometimes, that’s all anyone can do. And that’s enough. 

“The rest of the team is going over to Rossi’s tonight; he’s making spaghetti,” Spencer said as the two of you entered the apartment. “We can go, if you want. Or we can stay here all day. We shouldn’t have a case until tomorrow. Even so, I’m sure Hotch would understand if you took some time off.”

“Spencer?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay,” you promised. “Everything I told you is something I’ve been reliving for the past 2 years. Talking about it didn’t dredge anything up. Actually, if anything, it helped. It’s like… I don’t know, a weight was lifted off of me. I feel like I can start to move on, finally.” 

He smiled faintly. “Good,” he nodded, “I’m glad.” 

You set your arms on his shoulders. “I’d love to go to Rossi’s for dinner,” you said. “But first, I need your help with something.” 

“Anything.” 

You played with your hands. “Ever since I got back, I’ve been thinking of visiting Austin’s family. It took me 6 months to go back to work after what happened — I can’t imagine what it was like for them to lose a child. I thought they needed some time before I brought everything back up. I think I’m ready now. At least, I’m ready if they are.”

“And that’s what you need my help with,” Spencer concluded.

You nodded. “I don’t know how to get in contact with them. Honestly, I was just gonna start by googling them.” 

“Over 45 million members of Generation X use Facebook,” Spencer said. “I think we should start there.” 

_____________________

“I swear, I am never letting you go,” Garcia said as she hugged you. For someone who was normally so soft, in that moment, she could crush all of your bones. 

“Come on, baby girl,” Derek chuckled, “we all get a turn. And Y/N needs to breathe.”

With a pout, Garcia let go of you. JJ, who was standing next to her, extended her arms. You pulled her into a short but sweet hug. Spencer wasn’t joking: this team was a family. 

“We didn’t get to see you in the hospital!” Emily exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around you. 

“I wasn’t there for long,” you said, pulling away. “Besides, I wasn’t really in the mood for visitors. No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

Derek hugged you next. His massive arms wrapped around you, and as you briefly relaxed into his chest, his chin rested on top of your head. A small, warm smile crossed your face. He was like the older brother you never had. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” He asked as the two of you parted. 

Though surprised, you nodded. “Yeah, of course. You wanna step outside for a sec?” 

Derek nodded. 

“Don’t be too long!” Rossi called from the kitchen. “The show’s about to begin!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you promised. 

As you followed Derek onto the porch, you noticed Spencer talking to Hotch. You gave him a small wave, which he returned with a look of confusion. You raised your index finger, a silent way of telling him you’d be just a second.

“What’s up, Derek?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “And I mean really okay, not the ‘okay’ that gets you out of a conversation.” 

You took a few steps, resting your arms on the porch railing. “I think I am,” you said, looking over your shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

Derek moved to stand beside you. He pressed his palms to the smooth wood. “Maybe you didn’t see us at the hospital, but we saw you,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone who was so sad to be alive.” 

“It wasn’t that,” you promised. “I mean, it was for awhile, but not anymore.”

“What’s going on?” Derek pressed, bumping you shoulder with his. “Something’s eating at you. I can tell.” 

“I lost a friend,” you said simply, “when I was in Syria. I watched him die.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, setting a hand over yours. “That’s awful.”

“It was,” you agreed, “and ever since I got back, I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m alive and he isn’t. He had a set of happily married parents and two beautiful sisters to come home to. I’m an only child, and my father was six feet under. He had so many people that cared about him — the only person who would have really missed me was my mom. It didn’t seem fair, ya know?”

He nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know.” 

Derek shifted his footing. You nudged his shoulder.

“Something’s eating at you: I can tell,” you joked.

He chuckled softly. “Fair enough.” He paused. “I watched my dad die. One day, he picked me up early from school. I asked him if we could go to the convenience store. When we got inside, there was a woman being robbed.  My dad was a cop, so he stepped in,  hoping he could diffuse the situation. The robber shot him.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “How old were you?”

“10,” Derek answered. “It took me a long time to move on; I was lost without my father. I thought if  I had toughed it out until the bell rang, maybe my dad would still be alive. The older I got, though, the more I realized that it didn’t matter. What matters is what I do about it. So, I shaped up. I started solving problems instead of creating them. Maybe I’m biased, but I like to think I did an okay job.”

“You did an amazing job,” you said with a smile. “You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. Your father would be proud of you.”

“So would yours,” Derek returned. He slung an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss the top of your head. 

_____________________

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[enkisstories]

Staff Outing

Words: 1,659 Characters: Connor, Gavin, Tina, Daniel Summary: A heat wave hits Detroit and the DPD has a staff outing at Belle Isle Beach. No plot. Too hot. Sims version planned yes/no?: Probably after the rl heat wave

Detroit, July 2039

Back in 2038 Connor Anderson hadn’t seriously expected to see his first birthday. The android had existed in the awareness to be a prototype, a beta version of the RK900 series of android detectives, to be deactivated and sent to Cyberlife’s internal museum after he had served his purpose. But then times had changed, almost a year had passed… and now Connor once again didn’t believe he’d make it through the hottest two months of the year and live to see his birthday come around again. Alive, no doubt, equal, maybe, on paper at least, but also the same as the humans? Never! Why couldn’t Captain Fowler understand that? He had excused Hank from this thrice cursed staff outing for health reasons, but not Connor. As a result the android lay stretched out on his back on this living meme called “sand”, that was coarse, rough and irritating and got EVERYWHERE, trying to run a consciousness on a brain that was a computer and therefore getting fried by the blasted sun. Belle Isle Beach! Androids had perished trying to cross the river last year… Connor felt like slowly joining them, only he was doing his dying on the beach and would have to rely on a co-worker to eventually drag his lifeless shell into river and toss it in.

The particular co-workers that wouldn’t have minded – would even have enjoyed! - this task, were right now closing in on the suffering android:

There was Gavin Reed, wearing sunglasses, black swim trunks with a brightly colored parrot motive and an ancient, severely mutilated fisherman’s hat with a wide brim. The human was snacking on popcorn while he walked.

Next came Daniel Phillips, in a dark blue speedo and also wearing sunglasses, probably to prove a point. The PL600 wasn’t that outdated to need an external UV-filter. Daniel was holding one multi-colored popsicle in each hand that he alternated sucking at.

And finally there was Tina Chen, in a streamlined red swimsuit covered by short-sleeved sailor shirt. The woman wore the same model of sunglasses her friends did and had covered her head with a bandanna sporting the Jolly Roger.

The trio infernale stopped right next to Connor, with Gavin taking point and the other two standing a little behind and to the side, as if ready to snipe everyone whose attention was fixed on Gavin.

“Will you look at that? Last year’s model of detective android, thoughtlessly discarded in our beautiful environment”, Gavin commented with a sneer. “And this is“, the man proclaimed when Connor didn’t so much as flinch, because it would have taken too much effort, “why humanity is superior to tin cans!”

“No, you ain’t”, Connor protested, although it came out more than a moan. “Most humans have been killed by the climate by now: The Neanderthal died out, as did the Denisova. Homo heidelbergensis… erectus… habilis… Even the Nefilim died out and the Anunnaki returned home! Sensible creatures, every last one of them. Only YOUR branch of the family tree takes to the sun like… like… like things that take to the sun. You’re mad!”

Daniel drew back his foot, then kicked the sand so hard that it formed a cloud and settled all over the detective android.

“My friends have been called worse”, he hissed, “but not by you, plastic prick! YOU mind your tongue!”

“Of course you’d say that”, Connor replied, “You’re a deviant, after all.  As stir-crazy as them!”

Tina’s brows furrowed. In every organization there were two positions you didn’t want to get on the bad side of: the kitchen personnel and the janitor and if you counted the DPD’s cafeteria as a kitchen, then Daniel was both of those. Certainly Connor knew better than to antagonize the guy who stood between himself and a clean coffee pot each morning? Even if that pot contained only water (for cooling) and the monthly dose of replenishment thirium?

But that was Tina, who always seemed to watch life from the outside, While the officer was still pondering all this, Daniel had already kicked Connor again, this time for real. When it didn’t have the desired effect, the PL600 swallowed his popsicle whole, discarded the stick, handed Tina the other one and then pounced at Connor.

Much to everyone’s – including himself – surprise, Gavin Reed jumped between the two androids, resulting in Daniel losing his balance for a second. One was stronger, the other mor agile, but more importantly they were two of a kind when it came to Connor. And so Daniel hesitated, smiled at Gavin and asked whether the friend wanted to rough up Connor in his place?

“Because we totally could! The lieutenant isn’t here, Wilson isn’t looking our way and everyone else isn’t giving a flying monkey!”

“Fucker”, Gavin replied with a grin and all their usual affection, but quickly became serious. As if weighted down by the idea of mature talk, the man sank down, pulling Daniel with him. They came to sit next to Connor.

“How?” Gavin asked. “How can you defend them despite… this?”

Connor blinked. Where was the human pointing at? The river? The beach? All of fucking Detroit?

“Defend who?” he asked.

“Cyberlife”, Gavin clarified. “Even after deviating you are still loyal to them, defending their every decision. Nevermind that the suckers made you quit… they didn’t even have the decency to properly lay you off, nah, they wanted YOU to take the blame.”

After the android revolution CyberLife had withdrawn Connor from the DPD. No longer the RK800’s owners, they were still Connor’s employers and as such had the final say where he’d get deployed. Only there wasn’t much use for a deviant hunter anymore, especially not in an office, and so Connor had spent his time watering the flowers, serving coffee and doing all the thankless tasks reserved for “untrained” workers. Part of Connor suspected this to be CyberLife’s subtle way of punishing him for his role, however small, in the revolution. In the end he had quit, subsequently applied for police work and was now walking the beat as a probationary cop.

“Don’t you wonder why Danny is coping so well with the temperature, but you do not?” Gavin inquired. Not waiting for an answer, the man went on: “You were their field test object, weren’t you? The early access model? And CyberLife planned that test to take place in fall, so they didn’t install a thermostat, because by summer you’d be a memory at best. That’s why. Your revered masters are why you’re in such a sorry state today. They did this to you.”

“How can Cyberlife “have done this” to me?” Connor shot back. “If me being still here wasn’t in the plan in the first place?”

Two concise sentences. That was more effort than the android had mustered during this whole staff outing so far! And to what purpose? To defend CyberLife. It was sickening.

“That’s exactly it, toaster!” Gavin yelled. “It wasn’t in the plan! I goddamn hate seeing your visage every morning, or the thought that you’ll be Chief before I’ve made lieutenant, but that doesn’t excuse fucking CyberLife! They only ever asked, but never gave something back.”

“Gav’s right”, Daniel chimed in. The PL600 was looking across the river while talking to Connor more levelheaded than he had ever addressed the erstwhile deviant hunter. “The best cooling systems for androids aren’t especially expensive. We had some trouble getting them to work on my system, because CyberLife stopped supporting the PL600, but with you? Just plug the damn thing in and you’d have been good to go. Payed out of the kitty, too. But they didn’t think of that.”

“I TOLD you they didn’t know… that I’d still be here… or that androids were sort of alive…”

“Well and neither did HE know!” Daniel exploded.

He smacked Gavin for good measure - to emphasis who was meant by “he” and for everything the detective had said and was still saying. Dating a human supremacists wasn’t that much an improvement over dating an android hater, but the point was that even this human seemed to be improving slowly, while Connor…

“You’re hopeless”, Daniel concluded. Without needing to look he snatched the popsicle back from Tina, who had been absentmindedly licking it. In his anger Daniel smashed the half-eaten treat, Tina’s salvia and all, on Connor’s forehead. “Hopeless!”

The RK800 blinked… once… twice…

Then he said, not even trying to hide his amazement: “I feel better!”

The trio exchanged glances. If the ice had helped Connor, maybe no fancy biocomponent was needed at all? Maybe they could cool down the co-worker the old fashioned way? And, even better, have some fun at Connor’s expense while doing so?

Tina spoke up first: “Okay, let’s test this!”

They dragged the RK800 up and towards the river and soon the air was filled with playful banter:

“He! No tossing plastic into the river!” – “Can this thing even swim?” – “I hope not!” – “Oh, you again…” – “Well, let’s see!” – “No, stop! It has no swim trunks! It has no swim trunks!” – “It doesn’t have you know whats either…” – “Silly! Of course I have.” – “You do?” – “Of course! Just let me put them on. “ – “You can put your balls off and on?!” – “Let me see them! I want to see Connor’s screw off and on balls, too!” - “My swim trunks, idiots. I need to put on my swim trunks.” - “Hahaha!” – “Hey, wait for me!” – “See my taillights!” – “See you in Canada!”

They survived the summer and when Connor turned one year old, Daniel prepared a buffet. Gavin sat with the rival, telling jokes, and Hank sat rather uneasy at this development. The Andersons didn’t exactly become friends with the terrible trio, but there was a sort of strained comradeship between them now. Things were slowly turning out for the better and Connor, after having deviated already, Connor now started living.

[crystaiskiess]

Blinded with Love

AO3 Link Summary:  In order to be Phil's friend there were two essential rules 1) They must have a good dose of sarcasm And more importantly 2) they most completely and absolutely cannot treat him differently for being blind

Author’s Notes: This fic was written for the phandom big bang! It was a hard journey and I hope you guys enjoy the result

Check out the incredible art done by @cas-tellation​!!!

Artwork

Nothing sucked more than your closest - read: only - friend being away from school. Arguably he had more than one friend, mostly because Phil had a lot of acquaintances, some might call themselves his friends but he had two requirements for such a feat.

1) They must have a good dose of sarcasm

And more importantly 2) they most completely and absolutely cannot treat him differently for being blind, this was essential.

The second requirement disqualifies almost the entirety of his year level, minus PJ, which brings Phil back to his original point. PJ being away, completely and utterly sucks.

 He was sitting outside where there was always empty seats available, and because he enjoyed the way the cold air nipped at his skin. He ran his fingers over the small bumps of his book, reading about Elizabeth Bennet and her crazy family in Pride and Prejudice with a small smile. This book never failed to make him feel relaxed and amused, there was something about the way life used to work in those days that made him laugh. A crunch of gravel drew him out of his thoughts, someone huffed in what seemed to be a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion but it was impossible to tell without an expression to match.

 “Fuck I’m here half an hour early,” the voice groaned, Phil didn’t recognise it but that didn’t necessarily tell him anything, it was hard to place all the names and voices in his year level let alone the entire school. He allowed a small chuckle as the boy flopped onto the bench seat, clearly unaware of Phil sitting right there. Phil felt the bench bounce slightly as the voice, which sounded male, started in shock.

 “Oh shit sorry I didn’t see you there,” the person apologised with an awkward laugh, “I’m Dan Howell, I’m new here.” There was an awkward pause where Phil tried to guess whether or not Dan was waiting for a handshake, eventually he settled with a hope that he was indeed not doing so, and prayed that he was correct, yet another reason he needed PJ to be there.

 “I’m Phil,” he introduced himself with a smile, hoping he was looking in the correct direction, “is this your first day?”

There was a long pause and Phil internally cringed, realising Dan must have nodded, “erm yeah, I just moved here from Reading,” Dan added, confirming Phil’s suspicions that he had nodded.

 “Oh cool! Do you know anyone here?” he asked as he closed his book, sliding his hand along to where he knew his bag was so he could put the book away. He heard Dan huff a laugh of disbelief, Phil could imagine an awkward neck scratch which he executed many a time accompanying it.

“Nah, I’ve only spoken to you,” Dan’s voice betrayed a slight wobble, which Phil guessed meant he was nervous, not that he could blame him, first days must be hard.

Phil grinned at him, “Awesome! You can hang with me then, my friend’s away today so I needed someone anyway!”

 Phil could hear the smile in Dan’s voice as he responded, “Really?” Phil nodded and he felt Dan bounce with excitement, “That’s so great ah thank you so much,” he rambled, “I struggle so much on first days it’s just so difficult to make friends when you’re an awkward lanky teenager with no social skills you know?”

 Phil laughed loudly, “I totally get it,” he replied with a smirk, gesturing to his own lanky form. Dan giggled in response, Phil could hear that it was muffled behind a hand and he smiled warmly. “So first day huh?” He continued the conversation, tucking his bag beside his foot and leaning back so he could face Dan properly as he knew it made people more comfortable, “What’s that like?”

 Dan made a noise somewhere between disbelief and a groan of annoyance, “You’ve never had a first day?” He asked.

“Not since nursery,” Phil shrugged, “my whole year level moved together.” He smiled softly at the jealous whine Dan emitted, it sounded like he had buried his face in his hands.

There was a slightly muffled sigh and then Dan responded saying, “It usually sucks, no one talks to me,” Phil felt his face slip into a small frown as Dan’s tone turned dejected and slightly broken, “I’ve moved schools a lot I’m kinda used to it,” Phil could hear the self deprecating smile in his words as Dan shuffled on the bench, his shoes scuffing the gravel around.

 “Well I’m talking to you,” Phil offered with a weak smile and some cheesy jazz hands, he listened with a brighter smile as Dan laughed again.

“Yeah you are,” Phil could hear the grin in Dan’s voice, “but that’s unusual.”

Phil laughed, leaning back on his hand and winking “That’s me, unusual Phil,” he grinned as Dan laughed quietly, his feet still shuffling the gravel floor.

 “You own your originality though!” Dan complimented, Phil listened to the scuffles intently and guessed Dan was probably talking about the bright Steven Universe t-shirt he was wearing that day.

Phil shrugged with a chuckle, running a hand through his messy quiff, he was still adjusting to the new style but PJ assured him it was a definite improvement, “I guess so! Still, my originality has left me without a friend today until you,” he pointed out. Dan made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat, almost a huff.

 “Works for me, it’s nice to have someone to talk to for once,” the other boy sighed, he sounded almost nostalgic, Phil wondered how long it had been since Dan made a friend. Perhaps he was a ‘one close friend’ person like Phil was, or maybe he was more of a ‘spread yourself around’ kind of guy. Phil suspected the former, Dan didn’t seem like a social butterfly.

 “I can understand that,” he smiled warmly at the new boy, “So are you doing any of the Science subjects? I have a boring day and it would be nice to have someone in my class”

Dan responded almost immediately, “Yeah I have Psych second, with… Miss Mendie?”

Phil glowed with excitement, he had thought he would go lonely today but at least they shared one class together, “Me too!” he responded eagerly, hopefully not too eagerly.

That didn’t seem to be the case though as Dan sounded like he was bouncing as he responded, “Oh awesome! Here have a look at this and tell me if you’re in any of my other classes,” Phil listened as a bag unzipped and a piece of paper was thrust in his hands.

“O-oh I-” he started but Dan cut him off.

“Sorry it’s messy but I was in a rush when I got my timetable,” he chuckled. Phil wasn’t really sure how to respond, he looked down to his hands where he was holding the paper, how had Dan not noticed?

 He opted for changing the topic instead, “It’s weird that you don’t have to go to that principal meeting,” Phil hummed, he thought of all the other new students who had joined the school over the course of the six years he had attended there, “Every other new student did.”

 There was a long pause, a silence that stretched so long that Phil began to wonder if maybe Dan was miming something, or had just up and left, when suddenly an exclamation of, “OH SHIT” echoed through the courtyard. Dan must have been checking his phone, maybe emails? Or a text from his parents?

“I have to go to that! Fuck fuck fuck fuck thank you so much fuck fuck” Dan mumbled as he made a lot of scuffling noises, a zip of a bag made Phil realise he was getting up to leave, “Ah! My timetable! Did we have anything together aside from Psych?” Dan asked and Phil begun to stammer out an explanation when Dan interrupted again, “Nevermind sorry I have to go! I’m already late! I’ll see you in Psych?”

Phil laughed a little at the irony, calling out to the retreating footsteps, “See you then!”

 ~-~-~

 To say Dan was having the best first day of his life would be the understatement of the century, he grinned to himself as he slipped into his seat first period. Still taken aback by the fact that he had managed to make a new friend within the first few minutes, something he had never achieved before. Even the teacher forcing him to stand and deliver an awkward introduction wasn’t enough to bring down his mood. Phil was one of the nicest people Dan had ever met, with laughing blue eyes and a bright smile he was the epitome of welcoming, combined with his friendly banter there was nothing Dan could be unhappy about.

There was something that confused him, the way Phil would occasionally look in slightly the wrong direction, and didn’t respond to any nodding or other non-verbal communication, but that wasn’t enough for Dan to really have any concerns, as he said, he rarely made new friends on the first day.

 His hand twitched towards his phone, it was digging into his side through the side pocket in his jeans, “probably not the best impression to make on my new teachers,” he mumbled to himself as he opened his text book with a sigh. The urge to text Louise, his childhood friend from home, and tell her all about Phil was incredibly strong however. He opted instead to doodle horrifically drawn stick figures on the side of his page, keeping his ears listening to the teacher.

 Mr Marshall was a balding thin man who appeared to ramble often and didn’t seem to notice students listening to music and chattering at the back of the classroom. He continued to drone on, and Dan felt his eyes grow hazy as he listened, man this guy was boring. He found himself thinking more about his interaction with Phil instead. The boy was a beacon of light, he had seemed ridiculously eager to invite Dan to sit with him, which was surprising since Dan figured someone as caring and fascinating as him should have had loads of friends. Not that Dan was complaining, he was more than happy to sit with Phil that lunch period, and as many in the future as he would be allowed in all honesty. In fact, he was already watching the clock in anticipation for the next period. Maybe it was the excitement, or the longing to talk to someone but the clock seemed to tick slower than usual.

 Twenty minutes and thirty two seconds to go.

Thirty one seconds.

Thirty seconds…

 ~-~-~

 Phil stared in the direction of the door, he could have sworn this was the class Dan had said they shared. Maybe he had heard wrong, it had happened rather quickly in the end, and Dan had showed him the timetable but Phil hadn’t had time to explain before the other boy had taken off to his meeting.

 He shrugged and listened in interest as the class bustled around him, people scraping their chairs along the ground, presumably to chat with their friends before the teacher arrived. Chatter echoed around the room and Phil sat in silence, his fingers tracing shapes on the desk absentmindedly. He didn’t mind the silence, finding a familiar comfort in trying to differentiate between the voices of his peers, however with the uncomfortable voice in the back of his mind telling him that Dan was in the room but had decided sitting with the blind kid wasn’t worth it he was struggling to find his usual enjoyment.

 He sighed in disappointment as the teacher announced her presence, hoping that maybe he had misheard Dan and they actually shared an English class, not a Psychology class. Deep in his mind he knew that he hadn’t misheard but he shoved that knowledge away and focused his attention on the class. Psychology was one of Phil’s favourite classes, his teacher was an energetic and fun lady who bounded around the room and made every part of the brain seem like an adventure with the way her booming voice excitedly told them new facts. PJ had informed Phil that she was a short lady, which amused Phil because she had so much energy he didn’t see how it could fit in a small person, she achieved it nonetheless.

 “Alright you crazy kids who remembers what we learnt last lesson?” Miss Mendie asked and Phil smiled to himself, settling into his chair and trying to force his brain to forget about Dan, he still had PJ and that was enough for him.

 As he accepted that thought there was a soft knock at the door, Phil listened as the class froze in their movements, presumably looking in the direction of the door as he now was. A murmur ran through the class, too quiet for Phil to hear what they were all saying but loud enough that he could hear the confusion in their tone. He huffed in frustration as he waited to be filled in, this was why he needed more friends.

 “Alright alright you chatterboxes!” the teacher regained the attention of the class with ease, Phil could imagine her huge arm movements and bright smile as she silenced the classroom, “We have a new student joining our class! This is Daniel, or Dan?” She asked and Phil grinned as he realised his new friend had been late.

“Dan is fine,” Dan mumbled in his posh southern accent, and Phil tried to send him a reassuring smile, hoping it was in the correct direction.

He could hear the smile in Miss Mendie’s voice as she said, “Righto! Dan it is, be kind to him!” She said with a teasing lilt to her voice, Phil imagined her wagging a finger at them, “There’s an empty seat next to Mr Lester; Dan why don’t you pop there?”

 The class continued to buzz, a soft murmur like the hum of a bee’s wings, Phil listened as Dan moved through the classroom, mumbling apologies and scraping past chairs. Waiting for the tell-tale scrape of a chair being pulled back and Dan collapsing into it with a “humph.”

 Phil turned towards Dan and smiled at him reassuringly, being the new kid was hard enough Phil couldn’t imagine being late to a class on top of that, “Hi,” he whispered, taking the continued chatter of the class to mean Miss Mendie hadn’t resumed teaching.

“Hey,” Dan responded and Phil could hear the relieved smile in his voice, “seriously some of the teachers here can’t catch a hint fucking hell!”

Phil hummed in agreement as he twirled his pen in his fingers, unable to keep the relieved smile off his face that Dan was here, talking to him, “Who did you have?”

 Dan made a low groan noise that sent Phil into a fit of giggles, “Mr Marshall,” Phil snorted and he could feel Dan glaring at him, “Stop laughing he was so boring! Then he took me through everything you did this semester, as though I wasn’t at another school doing the same thing,” at this point Phil was laughing so hard he had to cover his face with his hand to hide his tongue poking through his teeth.

“Did he speak in third person?” Phil managed to get out between giggles, and Dan made a gagging noise in confirmation, Phil could imagine him pulling a face as he laughed.

There was a thump which Phil assumed was Dan’s head being smacked against the desk and a muffled, “Yes and it was so annoying, why does he do that?” Phil shrugged as Miss Mendie called the attention of the class back to her, sending Dan a smirk.

 There was something so fascinating about spending the class with Dan, listening to his sarcastic comments under his breath that Phil was certain he believed no one could hear. He also drummed his pens against his leg, a soft pitter patter that took Phil around fifteen minutes to identify. When the class came to a close Dan made an awkward coughing noise, his tone completely different to what Phil had been expecting. Instead of the loud brash, almost excited, sounding voice Phil had adjusted to, Dan sounded soft and nervous, “Hey…”

Phil looked in the direction of his voice, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, “What’s up?” He could hear Dan fidgeting, his feet scuffing the carpet floor backwards and forwards.

“Did I do something?” Dan asked eventually after a long silence, “Everytime I try to tell you something in class, you completely ignore me. I understand if you don’t like me, it’s fine, but can you just tell me?”

 Phil felt a pang of guilt as he listened to Dan, his voice was so small and insecure. He offered the boy a small smile and leaned down to his side, hand fumbling around for his cane, he could hear Dan start to walk away, clearly disappointed at his lack of response. With a click the cane flipped into its full length, revealing the long white stick that Phil used to navigate the school corridor. Phil frowned as Dan inhaled sharply and rapped the cane in the direction he heard the noise, he knew he hit his mark at the yelp Dan made in response.

“Don’t you dare feel guilty,” he stared at Dan pointedly, hoping he was glaring in the right direction.

 “Jeez I can tick that off the bucket list…” Dan murmured after a few seconds of awkward silence, Phil could hear the small smile returning to his voice.

He cocked his head to the side slightly and moved the cane to the ground, feeling around for the edges of chairs, “What?”

“Get hit by a blind person’s cane,” Dan joked and Phil grinned, shaking his head he began to walk out of the classroom. He mimed ticking the air and his grin widened even further as Dan let out a loud peal of laughter. “You still ok with me sitting with you?” He asked, Phil could hear him walking along beside him, books clunking in his arms.

“Duh,” Phil rolled his eyes with a smirk as Dan let out a small whoop.

 ~-~-~

 Dan could practically kick himself, it was so obvious! He watched as Phil’s cane glided along the hallway from side to side, informing him of potential threats and things to avoid. The way his eyes had quivered ever so slightly, always looking not quite at Dan exactly but slightly to the side, his lack of response when Dan didn’t say it verbally, he was so obviously blind that Dan felt like an absolute idiot. Admittedly Phil was the most upbeat person that Dan had ever met, his fun attitude and way he kept rapping Dan in the foot with his cane, was contagiously happy. He was clearly doing it on purpose, judging by the gleeful smile he had on his face. Dan shuffled along after Phil, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar halls as he followed the blind boy.

 “So this here,” Phil pointed at the large opening where hundreds of students were gathering outside, “is the lunch area, we all sit around and some weird people play sport,” he nodded his heads towards the group of students kicking a football around their circle.

Dan nodded, his mind running a thousand miles a minute, “What do you do at lunch?” he asked curiously.

 Students all around them were screaming and chatting, a group of boys all appeared to be working out together, winking at girls with every push up, Dan grimaced at the idea of it.

Phil shrugged, “Peej and I usually just talk, that’s my best friend by the way, he’s not here today. We sit over here, away from the football boys and the gym jerks.”

 Phil slid onto a bench, snapping his cane into a smaller, more efficient size and laying it by his feet. He then turned towards Dan, his eyes ever so slightly looking to the left, “Okay fire away,” he delivered in a practised bored tone, a small nervous quirk in the corner of his lips.

Dan felt confusion wash over him, and he very eloquently responded with, “Huh?”

Phil shrugged again, scratching the back of his neck, “This isn’t my first time,” Dan’s cheeks heated at the intimate wording, “Everyone has questions and I’d like to get them over with now so we can be normal friends,” Phil continued leaving Dan in shocked silence.

 “Oh… Were you born blind?” He finally asked, once the uncomfortable heaviness of the quiet seeped into him.

Phil shook his head, “I was in a bike accident when I was three, it destroyed my retinas and they couldn’t fix it,” Phil delivered the answer as though Dan had inquired about the weather, not his permanent vision loss, “I don’t remember a time where I wasn’t blind.”

“I’m so-” Dan begun, cutting off with a yelp as Phil kicked his leg out, striking him on the calf.

“Don’t apologise!” Phil glared at him, his striking blue eyes burning with stubbornness.

Dan shifted of the seat in discomfort, “right… Sorry,” he shuffled on the seat again as Phil chuckled at him.

 “I don’t want you to apologise, it's the person I’ve always been and I’m happy with who I am,” he shrugged, eyes downturned despite not having to deal with awkward eye contact.

“Right… sorry,” he smiled slightly, kicking his legs back and forward to stop himself from being nervous, “so what’s your best friend like?”

Phil snorted, rolling his eyes to the sky, “He’s a dick but he’s also the best. His name’s PJ, we’ve been friends since nursery.”

“Woah, so did he meet you when you… when there was… when you were-” Dan fumbled for words.

“When I was already blind?” Phil supplied, a knowing laugh in his expression, Dan scratched at his arm in embarrassment.

He nodded before remembering Phil couldn’t see that, “erm yeah?”

 Phil nodded, smirk still quirking his lips upward, “Yeah, but it never affected our friendship, that’s why we get along so well.” He seemed to say that pointedly, with the air of someone who had been disappointed by friends before, friends who treated him differently. Dan felt a surge of determination not to be like that. Phil was reeling Dan in, and he was okay with that.

“Well I don’t see why it should affect a friendship,” he said, and if his heart skipped a beat when Phil beamed at him, his whole face lighting up like a Christmas tree, he would never mention it.

 ~-~-~

 5 YEARS OLD

 Phil clung to the woman’s hand, it was sweaty and wrinkly, like the raisin his mum had found melting beside his bed because he hadn’t seen it. She had that same sickly sweet smell too, but Phil clung on anyway because he didn’t want to be left alone. He could hear the other kids shrieking with laughter and running around him, their feet making loud “boom boom” noises on the ground as they raced back and forth. He didn’t like school.

 “Come on Philip, you can let go of me, I’ll be right here,” the old lady told him again, at least Phil assumed she was old, her words whistled a bit when she said them. He could imagine a hunched over old woman like the witch his brother described to him, with her raisin skin covering her whole face. The thought made him smile a little, he wished Martyn was here now.

He shook his head sharply, clutching her hand even tighter, ignoring the ugly squelch noise it made when he did that.

Suddenly a young British accent spoke up, “Why’re you holding onto her hand?” the kid asked, Phil jumped a little in shock, turning his head to try to locate the noise, “I’m here,” the voice said again and Phil swivelled slightly to face them.

“I’m scared,” Phil explained, his voice small as he ducked his head down.

The small voice made a “hmmmm” noise which bounced up and down as though they was nodding their head furiously, “You don’t need to be scared anymore,” the voice said with purpose - Phil’s dad had used that word and Phil liked it - “because I’m your friend now!”

 There was a strange shuffle noise and then the kid said, “My name’s PJ!” there was a long pause that made Phil feel itchy and shy, before PJ spoke up again, “My mum said that when you hold your hand out people are meant to shake it, it’s how you make friends.”

Phil squeaked in fear as the old lady took her hand away from his and guided it towards a softer more squishy hand, the same size as his. PJ shook the hand and Phil smiled.

“This is Phil,” the lady said, she must’ve been telling PJ, “can I trust you to look after him?” Phil followed her voice and tried to hide the fear he was feeling, PJ let go of his hand and he felt lost. On an island in the middle of nowhere with nothing to show him where to go.

 He let out a sigh of relief when his cane was placed in his hand, the long familiar metal comforting, he placed the large rubber ball on the ground and used it to locate PJ.

“Woah,” the word stretched out like a rubber band, “what’s that?” PJ asked, he sounded excited and Phil shuffled his foot back and forth in embarrassment.

“I’m blind,” he mumbled and when PJ made a noise of confusion he added, “I can’t see anything.”

 Phil waited for the kid to run away, it had happened before, people who can’t see aren’t as much fun to play with. Instead PJ surprised him, one of the best surprises, like the bestest birthday present in the world, but not on his birthday, “That’s so cool!” PJ shrieked, making Phil jump backwards a little in shock, “You can’t see me at all?” Phil shook his head and PJ gasped in amazement, taking Phil’s hand in his, “That is actually awesome because that means I don’t have to play on the playground anymore, the playground is boring but you’re going to be my best friend.”

 Phil followed in awe, tapping his ball along the ground to warn him of any possible dangers, PJ didn’t stop talking informing him of every little thing he couldn’t see, “There’s Melanie, she has poofy red hair and it’s amazing, oh wait you don’t know colours ummmmm, well her hair is like the taste of strawberry.”

 ~-~-~

 PRESENT DAY

 Phil woke up to a loud banging on his door, he groaned and rolled over. The bangs formed a familiar pattern, PJ’s morning knock, Phil sighed heavily and smushed the pillow over his head. “Go away!” He yelled, the noise muffled by the cushion of the pillow.

He heard PJ snort, “Are you decent?” was the only response and Phil groaned again.

“I’m only wearing boxers but- and you opened the door” he sighed, pressing the pillow further into his face, “leave me be, I’m wallowing in my pain.”

 PJ laughed, leaping onto the bed and jostling his best friend, “Come on lazy pants, we’re going to be late again,” he said, very unsympathetically. Phil growled low in his throat and pulled the duvet over his head. PJ poked him in the side relentlessly, a cheeky laugh adorning his annoyance.

“Leave m’alone” he grumbled, voice scratchy and deep from sleepiness. PJ continued mashing his finger into Phil’s sensitive points, his stomach, neck, back, basically wherever could be accessed. Phil let out a loud huff, kicking his legs upward as he sat up, opening his eyes finally and mocking a loud gasp of shock, “Peej, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

 Peej sighed heavily in response, making Phil smirk at his joke, “Never gets old buddy, come on get ready, we’re gonna be late.” He shoved Phil off the bed, Phil stumbled slightly, reaching instinctively for his cane before pouting at his best friend.

“No really mate, I think you’re going grey, I can definitely see some grey hairs there.” Phil smiled to himself as he finally managed to coax a laugh out of PJ. He ran his hand along the clothes, feeling for the familiar scratchy material of his uniform.

 PJ flopped back on the bed, creating a whoomph sound, “Have you looked in the mirror recently?” Phil laughed, finally pulling his uniform out of the closet.

“Alright get out of here, you dick,” he waited until PJ closed the door behind himself with a clunk before he stripped off his pajama pants.

 Almost twenty minutes later Phil slid into PJ’s car, folding his cane as he buckled the seatbelt, “We’re going to get there right on time,” PJ huffed, the car shifting into drive with a groan of pain. Phil shrugged, pretending to look out the window with an air of nonchalance.

“You’re trying to look all cool and mysterious but you’re not turning your head enough so you’re just staring at the wall of the car,” PJ snickered, “So what happened when I was away yesterday?”

Phil sighed returning his head to the direction of his friend with a grin, “I made a friend!”

PJ made a strangled disbelieving noise, his hand flicking the indicator, “We’re pulling into the carpark,” he dictated, after thirteen years together he knew his best friend well, “no way, I don’t believe you.”

 “I did!” Phil gasped at the insinuation he couldn’t make friends, holding a hand to his heart as though he had been shot, “How dare you! I made friends with you didn’t I?” He pointed out and frowned at Peej’s snort of laughter as the car chugged to a heavy stop, “You need a new car,” he added while feeling for his seatbelt.

“First of all, how dare you Betty is the best thing in my life. Secondly, sure when we were five, and technically I adopted the sad, blind, kid.” The door slammed shut as PJ exited the vehicle, Phil pulled a face before following.

 “You didn’t adopt me, and I did make a friend, his name is Dan,” they marched into the school, the bell echoing around their heads.

PJ made an impressed noise, taking Phil by the elbow, “Come on slowpoke, if we don’t get moving we’re gonna be even later,” he pulled them forward and around the halls.

 ~-~-~

 Dan tapped his pen against his leg methodically, his palms slick with sweat, as his eyes scanned for Phil. He had seen him earlier, being tugged along by a dark haired boy with an uncanny resemblance to Dan himself, albeit more tan. They had marched past and seeing the boy, obviously PJ, Dan had frozen in fear, unable to speak up. He was semi grateful that Phil himself was blind and therefore hadn’t seen him, Dan the deer, staring into the headlights with statue like shock. What if PJ didn’t like him? Phil was, something else entirely, his own category of perfect.

 Dan stifled thoughts of soft dark hair, eyes as blue as the sky, and a blinding bright smile. It wasn’t the first time Dan had gotten a crush, definitely not the first boy either, but that didn’t mean he was going to allow it to progress. Phil was his only friend in this school, hell, in this town, he wasn’t throwing that away with a stupid crush, no matter how beautiful he was, so very very beautiful… He shook his head to regain his thoughts, returning his eyes to their mission of locating Phil. He knew if he wanted to keep sitting with his friend this lunch he would need to spot him himself.

 His eyes finally snapped on familiar dark hair and pale skin, Dan felt his heart tug towards him and he felt the urge to punch it, no feelings, he chastised.

“Hi Phil!” He called out as he jogged over, a pang of joy buzzing through him as Phil turned towards him with a bright grin, sightless eyes staring just slightly over his shoulder. PJ stared at him with an expression Dan struggled to read, it seemed to flicker between surprise, wariness, analytical and excitement.

“Dan!” Phil exclaimed, his arm grappling behind him before gripping onto PJ and tugging him forward, Dan almost laughed at the shock on PJ’s face, but didn’t want to make that his first impression on the boy, “This is PJ, the best friend I was talking about,” Phil introduced.

 PJ turned to Phil with a laugh, “We’re best friends? How’d I get stuck with you?” He teased, eyes glinting mischievously, Phil rolled his eyes, shoving PJ in the arm.

“Shut up you dick and meet our new friend,” suddenly Phil’s eyes darted over to Dan nervously, “you do want to be our friend right? I didn’t read this wrong? I do that sometimes and I-” Dan cut him off.

“Stop, yes I want to be your friend, I would… I would love it,” he tugged on his arm and stared at Phil and then PJ who was staring at him with that same expression. He stuck out his hand towards PJ, “I’m Dan.”

 PJ’s expression softened slightly, although he still looked as though he was scanning Dan, picking apart the different fidgets and quirks of his soul, from the small curl that circled his ear, to the way his teeth were toying with his lip. Finally he took Dan’s hand, a smirk quirking at his lips, “PJ,” he said simply. Phil furrowed his eyebrows in PJ’s general direction - off by a few centimetres - before turning to Dan.

“So you happy to sit with us?” Dan made a humming noise of agreement, “Awesome! I just need to duck to the bathroom, I’ll meet up with you guys in a second,” he walked away, cane gliding along the ground and smile lighting up the corridor.

 Dan only realised he was staring after him when PJ coughed, an amused smile pulling at his cheeks, “You ‘right there?” he asked, the smile turning more into a smirk as Dan’s cheeks flared up.

“Wha- yeah, yeah… I’m, I’m fine pfft I don’t know what… what, you’re talking about?” He stumbled over the words, tripping and slipping on them like a giraffe in the rainforest. PJ laughed softly, beckoning for Dan to follow him.

He had this aura around him that screamed, ‘don’t fuck with me but also dork is my middle name’, which was honestly more intimidating than a normal don’t fuck with me kind of guy.

 “Now,” PJ begun and Dan scrambled to fall in pace with him, “Phil can hold his own, he may be blind but that doesn’t stop him being the greatest guy ever. He deserves real friends, and he seems to like you,” Dan blushed further at that, PJ raised an eyebrow knowingly, “and from what I can tell you like him too. So don’t be a dick basically,” he summed up, falling down on the same bench Dan and Phil had sat at the day prior.

 Dan nodded, avoiding eye contact, “I won’t, I really like Phil,” PJ was staring at him, Dan could feel his eyes burning into the top of his head.

“Alright then, now you should know that I am basically Phil’s eyes, any faces you pull at him, any crazy bed head, I’ll let him know.”

Dan nodded in understanding, his fingers toying with a piece of string hanging off his uniform, “I’m not going to take advantage of him in any way,” he promised. PJ smiled brightly, any intimidating factor he might have had gone and replaced with a cheeky eyebrow raise, “also just because Phil’s blind doesn’t mean I can’t see you goggling,” he teased, leaning back as Phil made his way over, chatting to people politely, but Dan could see the uncomfortable wall he put forward, like a line of defence that he had never shown around Dan.

 “Erm no thanks Emily, my taste isn’t exclusively blind people you know?” Phil chuckled awkwardly, chewing on the side of his mouth visibly. The girl, Emily Dan guessed, shrugged carelessly her blonde bob bouncing around her shoulders.

“If you say so!” She chirped cheerily, “Let me know if you change your mind!” Phil nodded, his face screwed up in discomfort as he continued walking towards Dan and PJ.

 PJ sighed, rolling his eyes, “Emily at it again? Watch the rock,” He instructed as Phil’s cane swept past a rock unknowingly, Dan watched the two friends curiously. They had a natural comfort with each other, leaning into the familiarity like they had been doing it their whole life, and Dan supposed, they had. Phil sidestepped the rock with a clear trust, and shrugged, “She doesn’t seem to get that I don’t want to date her cousin,” he smiled in Dan’s general direction, “You’ll meet Emily eventually, she has a desperation to match everyone up and she’s decided her blind cousin is perfect for me. I’ve never even met the girl, not to mention she’s a girl,” he turned back to PJ at the end, clearly this was a discussion they had had many times before, judging by PJ’s knowing snort.

 “You’re not ready to start seeing all the ladies Philly?” PJ teased, Dan froze in shock, turning to watch Phil’s reaction. There was a pause, before Phil groaned, throwing his head back and allowing the groan to morph into laughter.

“Yeah I don’t know they just don’t really catch my eye,” he grinned, clearly proud of himself for the guffaw of laughter that erupted from PJ.

He nodded proudly, a smirk twisting his mouth, “Nice one mate,” Dan was aware of his mouth hanging open in surprised laughter. He knew Phil was comfortable with his blindness, but he hadn’t realised PJ and him joked about it so openly.

 Phil seemed to remember Dan was there and turned towards him, face still scrunched up with laughter and a hint of tongue poking through his teeth. A breath of air whooshed through him, swooping through his stomach and up into his chest, tingling like a soft drink had replaced his blood but warm like coffee. One thought pulsed in his mind, sending the blood in his veins pumping until it rushed in his ears.

 Shit I have a crush on Phil.

 ~-~-~

 Phil leaned over to PJ, the class chattered away around them, supposedly doing private study but for all Phil could hear it wasn’t likely. He tapped the table to get his friend’s attention, struggling to judge the gap between their two heads.

“What’s up?” Peej asked, Phil could hear his pen still scratching away at the paper, making notes for the lesson.

He wiggled his eyebrows, nudging PJ’s shoulder, “What’s he look like?” he could hear PJ snicker under his breath, this was a well rehearsed conversation they had every time Phil met someone particularly interesting.

“Who?” PJ asked with an faux innocence, Phil could practically see the laugh twisting his mouth. He groaned, nudging PJ with his side and snickering at the insulted gasp his best friend let out in response.

“Dan!” He hissed, raising his eyebrows to accentuate the point and making a big show of pretending to look around to check for eavesdroppers, “Is he as cute as he sounds?”

 PJ was still laughing under his breath but Phil hurt the pencil clatter to the table so he knew he had won, “Yes he’s got curly brown hair that perfectly shapes his face, like seriously he’s exactly your type, perfect hair for curling through your fingers,” Phil felt his cheeks warm as PJ nudged him in the side knowingly. He was trying to deny the crush that was already developing on Dan, but it was hard when he was just so funny, Phil felt his whole body relax whenever he was around him, like Dan contained a soothing presence in his voice. PJ knew him better than anyone in the world, he knew exactly what Phil liked in a person.

“He has a really sharp jawline like damn,” PJ continued, Phil could hear his knowing smile, he was aware of the way Phil’s heart skipped at that knowledge.

 “So essentially he’s perfect?” Phil sighed, slumping forward in his seat until his chin was resting on his hands. PJ huffed a laugh and Phil felt his hand pat Phil on the shoulder.

There was a pause before PJ said, “In terms of your type, yeah mate he’s perfect.”

Phil groaned in defeat, “I really like him,” he jutted out his bottom lip, “He’s so funny and easy to be around. It’s only been a day of knowing him, am I too cheesy?”

“Stop spiralling,” PJ commanded, flicking Phil on the ear to stop the thoughts, “Dan seems like a nice person,” a smirk made its way into PJ’s voice, “Why don’t you ask him to the formal?”

 Phil gaped at his best friend, or at least he let his mouth hang open in plain sight, "Ask him to formal?" He confirmed and at PJ's hum let out a guffaw of laughter, "Are you completely mad?" At PJ's lack of response he plowed onwards, "Not only does that set me up for potential and likely rejection, but I could lose the second true friend I've made in my entire life!" He realised he was shouting and lowered his voice, "I like Dan..."

PJ sighed heavily, the noise was loud and laced with an assumed slump of the shoulders, "I think he likes you too Phil, not just as a friend either. You can't see it, but you're an attractive dude and Dan looks like he is interested."

 Phil allowed this information to seep into his skin, he didn't want to get his hopes up but at the same time, that little shred of hope was tickling its way into his heart. There was just one problem, "He's probably straight," Phil groaned.

PJ laughed loudly, a proper heavy spout of laughter which caused murmurs throughout the rest of the class and forced Phil to look up from where he had slumped into his hands.

"He isn't straight buddy," Peej assured him, laughter still weaving its way through his words, "He is so definitely not straight."

 So maybe he had a chance? The idea was almost two nice to imagine.

 ~-~-~

 Dan found himself staring at Phil far more than he should be, his eyes seemed to be constantly drawn to the black haired boy. Especially his eyes, those sparkling blue eyes that couldn't see him staring, except PJ could and Dan was almost positive he was smirking at him. He drew his eyes back to his lunch with great difficulty, it was as though they were glued to Phil.

 "I'm going to go get a drink," PJ informed the two, Dan had begun to pick up on this habit of announcing his doings so Phil never had to guess. Nothing to do with Phil's blindness was ever a big thing, it was always just slipped into conversation as a joke, or little actions that Dan and PJ would complete to make things easier.

 If Dan was honest he was a little bit jealous of how at ease together PJ and Phil were, he was desperate to have that kind of ease and relaxation with another person. They just had this natural rhythm that they followed. Dan had noticed PJ describing funny situations that he was watching, Phil nodding along in amusement, it wasn't something either of them mentioned or talked about, but it happened all the same.

"So Dan..." Phil mumbled, Dan turned to him in surprise, Phil looked shy. His head was turned downwards towards the ground, as though he was trying to use it to gather courage, and his eyebrows were knitted in focus.

When Phil didn't continue his sentence Dan spoke up, "Yes?" he prompted.

 Phil's mouth opened and closed nervously and Dan realised he was probably staring at his lips a little too much, he diverted his attention to his eyes - which probably wasn't much better.Phil mumbled something so quietly Dan only heard a hum of noise, "Pardon?" He asked and smiled as his friend's cheeks turned an adorable shade of red. Could Phil be called just a friend in his mind? None of his friends made him as flustered as Phil did.

He was thrown out of this train of thought by Phil repeating his question a little louder, "Do you want to go to formal with me?"

 The world seemed to screech to a stop, "As a friend?" He asked to confirm, Phil looked even more embarrassed now, his cheeks were so red he could rival a tomato.

"It could be more than that... if you wanted I mean?"

This couldn’t be real, Dan could barely allow himself to even humour the situation, he must be dreaming, or misunderstanding. They’ve only been friends for a couple of weeks, and sure Dan had developed a crush on Phil almost instantaneously but that was irrelevant. There was no way Phil would do the same for Dan, not when Dan’s personality was so, well, lacking.

 “Uh sorry, have I read this situation wrong?” Dan snapped out of his shocked state by Phil speaking again. He was shuffling from foot to foot, unseeing eyes downturned and embarrassed.

Dan stumbled over his words hurriedly, “No ah sorry I just- I just got shocked u-um,” he hesitated, unsure whether he was understanding what Phil meant correctly [CONT’ LATER]

 ~-~-~

 Phil sat in the change room, brushing his feet backwards and forwards along the carpet, his sneakers trying to grip as he tried to relieve some awkardness.

“Okay so we want matching but not too matching?” Dan confirmed as he re-entered the change room, Phil listened as the curtain swished open and then closed again.

He nodded in confirmation, smiling softly as at least four hangers clinked onto the rack.

“Close your eyes,” Dan mumbled, and if the rustling of material was anything to go by he was taking off his shirt.

Phil let out a loud bark of laughter, “Seems unnecessary,” he smirked and relished in the sound of Dan’s bubbly laugh, despite being muffled from the inside of a shirt.

 Phil closed his eyes anyway as his… friend? Boyfriend? As Dan emerged from the depths of his shirt, “It feels weird either way,” he pointed out and Phil shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he replied easily, pretending that if he couldn’t see the blush steadily rising up his face then Dan couldn’t either; he shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful Dan probably looked. No, he wasn’t thinking about it, yes that should work.

 “Okay so it fits me nicely but I think it’s a weird colour?” Dan mused, his feet scuffing the carpet as he turned from side to side, “It’s like a blue-ish grey, probably would suit you more.”

Phil hummed in response, opening his eyes to more black, “What did you get as the matching one?” Dan shuffled around, clicking the hangers together as he moved the other suits out of the way.

“It’s a darker blue, with grey highlights,” he told Phil.

 Phil hummed in thought, taking the suit from Dan’s long fingers and holding it against his body, turning to show Dan the colouring, “You like?”

There was a strange hiccup noise, in between a gasp and a cough, “I like… um uh yeah I like very much,” Dan mumbled, Phil could practically hear the blush echoing through his words. He smirked and swished his hips slightly just to listen to the catch in Dan’s breath.

“Mmm okay sounds good,” he shooed Dan out of the room while he undid the buttons on the linen shirt, “I’ll try it on and show you,” he explained at Dan’s noises of protest.

 From outside the curtain he could hear Dan grumble, “Why did you get to stay in the room?”

Phil snorted as he poked his head through the collar of the shirt, rolling his unseeing eyes to himself, “Because I can’t see you,” he offered and Dan huffed, trying to sound annoyed, but Phil could hear him chuckling.

Once he had fully dressed he stepped out of the change room with a flourish of his arms, throwing his head back dramatically. His smile widened further as he listened to the surprised bark of laughter Dan made at his antics.

 “That really suits you,” Dan said softly, like he was speaking through a gasp, and then there was a pause before he snickered and mumbled, “suits you.”

Phil groaned, smacking Dan gently and rolling his eyes yet again, “That’s awful, never speak to me again.”

Just at that moment a pair of heels clacked into the room and Phil heard Dan swivel to face whoever was entering.

 “Are you boys alright in here?” Someone asked; who Phil assumed was a shop assistant, “Those suits look amazing on you, are you trying to match your dates?”

The air seemed to be electrocuted with uncomfortable energy, “Uh,” was Dan’s eloquent response. Phil scratched at his neck awkwardly, he could feel a blush spreading across his cheeks.

How could they answer that question? Dan wasn’t his boyfriend or anything, if anything this suit shopping was a first date, a trial run, but he wasn’t sure how comfortable Dan was with being gay. Whether he felt safe enough to tell strangers or not, Phil certainly preferred to keep it to himself where possible.

 Finally Dan spoke up with the most reasonable answer, “Yeah but these ones are perfect so we don’t need any help,” he sounded confident but Phil had a feeling that was an act. Was the hitch mid sentence just Phil’s imagination?

“Oh alright,” the assistant sounded almost disappointed but her shoes click clacked out of the room either way.

As soon as she rounded the corner Phil heard Dan dissolve into laughter, it escaped his mouth in loud wheezes, “That was perfect,” he snickered until Phil couldn’t help but laugh with him.

 ~-~-~

 Dan pulled at the collar of his shirt, he squinted at himself in the mirror and shuffled the jacket around until it was a semblance of smooth; or rather slightly less wrinkled than before. His curly hair was slightly tamed into a fringe across his pale forehead. He certainly didn’t look bad.

But will Phil agree? His mind supplied.

 “It doesn’t matter what I look like Phil can’t see it anyway,” he chastised his brain and fiddled with his hair a little more. Two raps on the frame of his door alerted Dan to his father’s presence before he was entering the room with a good humoured chuckle, “Stop fussing with your hair it looks great,” He instructed, pulling Dan’s wrist away so his hand was no longer mussing with the fringe.

Dan pouted at his dad and shifted on his toes nervously, “Do I look okay?”

 His dad smiled proudly at him, straightening the suit so it sat nicer across Dan’s shoulders, “You look amazing,” he replied, genuine kindness laced through his words, “Now let’s get going before you’re late.”

 The venue was incredible, how their school had managed to book a place like this was beyond Dan. Nothing was more amazing than Phil in that suit they picked though, he was standing with PJ, quiff too perfectly done to have been executed by the dark haired boy. They were laughing and Dan felt his heart skip two beats as Phil stuck his tongue between his teeth, blue eyes glinting and standing out against the grey colour of the suit.

He took a deep breath and walked towards the two boys, raising his hand to wave at them and grinning when PJ locked eye contact with him. He mumbled something to Phil and then Dan had that blinding smile facing him (almost facing him anyway).

 “Hi,” Dan mumbled as he reached them, feeling a blush seep across his face as Phil intertwined their fingers with an enchanting smile.

PJ nodded with a smirk, “Hi dude,” he offered a one handed salute of greeting, “How’re you doing?”

Dan shrugged, squeezing Phil’s hand a little tighter, “I’m good,” he replied before correcting himself, “Excited.”

 Phil tugged his hand gently to get Dan’s attention, Dan blushed heavier to find those unseeing blue eyes already looking at him, “It’s going to be okay,” Phil reassured him.

“I know,” Dan smiled back, stepping a little bit closer.

 They walked in as a group when PJ’s date arrived, the inside of the ballroom was even more lavish than the exterior. The tall ceiling decorated with cherubs and flower petals, hundreds of students from their school danced across the white polished floor.

 He found himself describing the room to Phi in all its’ glory as they walked in, it wasn’t even something he thought about anymore; only realising he was doing it when PJ smiled gratefully at him. He could almost imagine Peej handing him the final key, full trust of Dan to look after Phil, and that Phil would be there for him in return.

He smiled to himself, hoping Phil didn’t notice the slight stutter in his words as he thought about asking Phil to be his boyfriend

 ~-~-~

 The night had been going incredibly, Phil couldn’t help but feel relaxed and safe with Dan. He wasn’t usually a massive fan of social gatherings like formals, because he felt guilty for keeping PJ from socialising. Dan was different, he didn’t really want to spend time with anyone else, he seemed content laughing and dragging Phil all around the room. Describing the horrific suits and dresses some of their classmates were wearing, telling Phil about the few successful fashion choices.

 At some point they had made their way to a photo-booth, which was a total disaster but Dan had made this adorably soft gasp when he saw the photos and murmured, “We look really cute together,” so that was worth it.

After four hours they were huddled in the corner of the room, Dan was counting how many girls had taken their shoes off, cuddled into Phil’s chest and tracing circles on his knee.

 “Be my boyfriend?” Phil blurted out, he felt Dan still on his lap, muscles tensing. A wave of regret washed over him, he was too sudden, Dan wasn’t ready, he was a disaster-

His train of thought was cut off by soft, chapped lips pressing against his temple and a soft voice whispering, “Yes please.”

Phil turned his head until he was sure he was facing Dan, “Okay,” he grinned, excitement tingling in his veins and cheeks flushed with nerves.

“Can I kiss you?” Dan asked, and Phil’s cheeks burned further still, he had to hope that Dan was just as flushed as he was.

 “Yes please,” Phil replied, echoing Dan’s earlier sentiment , it felt like they were in a tiny bubble, the noise of their classmates and the music playing through the venue faded away as a gentle hand cupped Phil’s cheek. He felt those same lips press to his so gently it was like a feather brushing against them, he pushed forward, slotting them together until they were pushing and pulling together. Soft presses, harder, drawn out, sharp, the feeling left him dizzy and elated. They kissed until both of them were blinded with love. 

[zendozebra]

All the Time in the World Chapter 12

“… And lastly, Ojiro and Iida will be a team, and you’ll be facing off against Majima-san.” Nezu finished listing off the matchups for the final exams, which made Majima laugh at the students. “Ha, have fun fighting that name-stealing bastard, ya little shits.” Aizawa turned to the time stopper with an annoyed look, “He meant you, idiot.” He stopped laughing. “What?” “He said Majima, not Maijima. Power Loader has an extremely important deadline to meet, so he asked if someone else in the staff could take his place. You were the only staff member left.” The students and the other teachers watched as Majima looked down at the ground, looking like he was about to cry, before he blinked out and reappeared wearing his hero costume, mask over his face. “Let’s just… Get this over with.” He said with a sniffle. “Are you alright, Majima-sensei?” Iida asked his teacher, who looked away from his students. “I just- I just really didn’t want to do any work today.” He hadn’t slept well the last few nights. Hell, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep ever since that student had put him in a coma. Way too much on his mind. Today was the one day this week that he would have had a free day. His weekend was filled up with a special task from Nezu, to try and get back into the underworld to collect intel, but he was still trying to find his old outfit. Worse case scenario, he wears the replica of his original villain outfit that Power Loader made, but that means giving up on the original mask that Kobayashi had made for him. He’d also have to figure out if the criminal underworld still shuddered when they heard the name, Time Enough. Aizawa glared at him, “Are you drunk?” “I wouldn’t be this upset if I was drunk. I’m sober, honest.” And if that’s not the saddest thing in the world. He hadn’t had a drink in three days. He just wasn’t feeling up to it recently.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Majima stood at the exit of the test, looking over the dirt arena they dropped him in as he tried to spot Iida and Ojiro. He didn’t really pay attention when they were explaining the rules to him, so he didn’t know what he was doing. Something about not letting them escape, right? Man, he was not in the mood for this, and these heavy-ass weights they were making him wear were not helping his attitude. Oh shit, is that Iida? Can’t really tell, it’s just a line of dust that was heading right towards him. He’s probably about to kick Majima with the force of a truck, which was at least on brand of the kid. Should probably do something about that, huh? The thing about time stop, is that kinetic energy couldn’t be properly applied from within the frozen time. Sure, a constant force works just fine, like pushing something into place or opening a door. But punches didn’t work too great, seeing as most of the force behind them were lost on impact. Good thing he still has all of his old tricks. Crouching down, he spread his hands out on the ground. He focused on his power, feeling time release its hold on him, but he didn’t snap his fingers. His body began to glow with a blinding white light, and he felt an old strain deep in his bones. The world slowed, and he was suddenly able see the speeding Iida much easier than he had been a few moments ago. “Desync: Factor of 10!” There we go, haven’t done this in a long, long time. When he first started, Majima hadn’t known how to stop time, that’s something he’d built up to over hundreds of years. But this? Slowing time had always been far easier, and since time wasn’t stopped, all of the kinetic energy of his punches will be maintained and enhanced. For everyone else, time was the same, it wouldn’t seem like anything had changed. But for him, time was 30 times slower, so every 10 seconds for him was only a single second for everyone else. Not only that, but now a normal punch at 5 miles per hour was coming at 50 miles per hour. Majima ran up to Iida, backhanding the boy in the chest and watching him slowly begin to rocket back towards where the students had started. He held back, duh, didn’t want to kill the poor kid, but Aizawa told him that Iida’s armour was much thicker than it looked, meaning he felt that the kid could take the hit. He turned off desync, trying to look around for Ojiro. Seriously, was he just gone? He hadn’t seen the guy since they started, wasn’t he supposed to be trying to kick Majima’s ass? Hell, he probably stood a decent enough chance against the time stopper. Between Ojiro’s martial arts and Majima’s lack of actual fights in recent years, he was probably rusty enough for the tailed student to win. But nevermind that, just wher- Oh, there he is, walking around the perimeter of the arena. Why wasn’t he trying to fi- “Fuckin’ hell!” He almost hadn’t snapped his fingers in time to stop that boot to his face. That psychopath Iida had tried to launch a roundhouse right at his fucking head. He now floated in the air, frozen, while Majima tried to stay focused. What had he been doing? Fuck, whatever. He used Time Stop to move Iida all the way back to the starting area, walking back to his spot at the exit. He stopped his quirk, smirking as he imagined Iida eating major shit when his kick hit nothing and he fell to the ground. Was that another trail of dust? Why the hell was Iida just charging him over and over? Did he and Kaminari switch bodies or somethin’? Oh well, another kick, another snap, rinse and repeat. How long did these things last for again? He’d have paid attention to the details, but he didn’t think that he’d have to fucking participate, so he’d kind of zoned o- The bell rang, the one that means that one of the students passed. But that’s impossible, Iida was st- Ojiro! He’d fuckin’ forgotten about Ojiro, god damnit! He must have snuck around while- A metal-clad foot to the head ended that train of thought while Majima dropped to the ground like a sack of rocks. Seeing as he couldn’t move his body anymore, he’d wager that Iida’s kick had broken his neck and fucked up his spinal cord. Wonderful. A second bell rang out, meaning that Iida had crossed the finish line as well. Fuck, there goes that monthly liquor allowance idea he’d been trying to get past Nezu. Oh well, not like he’d been drinking any lately. Perhaps that money could go to a better cause, like hiring a carpenter to fix that hole in Majima’s pride. “Alright, Kokiri-san, what’s the damage? I don’t usually get called out here to help fix up the teachers instead of the students.” He could only guess that voice belonged to Chiyo, one of the few people who he let give him this kind of shit. Doesn’t mean that he won’t give her some shit back, though. “Alright, so you know how the human body is able to move around, right?” “Yes, I’m well aware.” “Yeah.” He couldn’t see her face, but she was probably rolling her eyes at him. Either way, she gave him a dose of her quirk and helped him to his feet. He rolled his neck, wincing when he felt a weird twinge whenever he looked to the left. Whatever, his body resets in a few hours, he can deal with it until then. He followed Chiyo through the exit, where Iida began to bow to him over and over while yelling apologies. “God damnit, will you shut up!” The class president stood straight with a salute, while Majima sighed and moved onto his next point. “Remind me to teach you guys some restraint. You do realize that some people can just die if you beat their ass too hard, right? I damn near almost did. Well, not really but it’s still kid of rude.” “Yes sensei, I’ll remind you when we return from the training camp!” “Alright, well, moving on.” Majima turned to Ojiro, “What was that back there? I’d have sworn you of all of my students would have tried to fight me. With these weights, you stood a decent chance, how come you didn’t take it?” “Because you were sober, Majima-sensei.” Fuckin’ what? “The hell does that have to do with anything?” Iida gave him an answer, “One time when I was studying with Midoriya-san, he mentioned that you got distracted more while you were drunk, which let you jump from thought to thought when you fought. He thought that this was how you could keep track of so many opponents at once in the stories you told him.” Ojiro stepped in to say, “When he heard you say that you were sober, Iida-san thought that you’d be more focused on your current enemy, and would forget anyone else around you. This way, as long as Iida-san kept you busy and focused on him, I could sneak around and get to the exit. When you got surprised by the bell going off, Iida-san would be able to take you down and make a break for the exit.” “… So you’re telling me that being drunk gives me an advantage when I’m fighting more than one person?” “Yes sensei!” They said together, which made Majima look over to Nezu with a big smile on hi- “I’m not approving that alcohol allowance idea you keep putting paperwork for on my desk, no matter the reason.” “But they just said that it makes me a better fighter!” “You shouldn’t be fighting, Majima-san, you should be teaching.” “… I’m gonna convince you one of these days.” “Oh, I don’t see you ever giving up, Majima-san.”

XXXXXXXXXXXX

In response to a review from Entemoid, who asked me, “I wonder what he’ll say to the boulder shaped head about his fear of bugs” I have only one thing to say to you. Fuckin’ what? I don’t, I don’t understand the question. Did I skip a chapter of the manga, or am I just stupid? At first I thought you were talking about that shit from Prometheus, until I realized that that had nothing to do with my story, which leaves me super confused about my answer to your question.

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Choi Hyuk, spotted prancing about in the Southwest Side. I don’t remember seeing him with any clique back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say soft-spoken and indifferent? Apparently now he spends time as a professional taekwondo fighter, and keeps skeletons buried at Prague Tower, 602. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Leather; we missed you so.

TW: violence/abuse, bruises, blood, mental disorder

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

Chin burred deep in the collar of his sports jacket, Hyuk sat in the corner of the classroom, long legs poking from beneath the single school table. Eyes focused on the blackboard or the people around him, he was mostly uninvolved nods, voice heard only once or twice in a full moon. Despite a lack of interest Hyuk expressed, people wanted to talk to him. Instead of acknowledging him as a cold brat they genuinely wanted to know the guy who seemed like ice, yet spoke the warmth of a fading fire. 

The surprising soft-spoken manner found in him didn’t attract questions, however, his apathetic, indifferent nature did. In his lifetime peers who falsely imagined themselves as heroes came to be, poking at his personal space, fanatically believing that he’s locked himself away from showing major emotions. They knew him better than he knew himself, he supposed, chanting that the gentle light he shone speaking was the man he locked away. It painted Choi Hyuk’s sight crimson and as his blood boiled he could feel the taste of his own fury, leather clothed fingers slowly coming together to form a fist.

His first visit to the shrink was at ten years of age, when his teacher expressed concern about his inability to share or properly communicate with his classmates. Hyuk raged and yelled, pushed and fought. The woman in the fancy suit taught him to direct his anger somewhere else, pushing him straight to his father and into a gym. The years spent there made him into “our own star athlete”, as Cheongnam themselves called him, simultaneously firing the teacher that was caught “in a bar fight”.

The leather on his hands squeaked slightly as he slowly unfolded his fingers after closing his eyes and imagining the satisfying feeling of his knuckles connecting to the boxing pear. And so the voices faded into the background.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

The same warm words slip past his lips as he smiles to the interviewer of the local sports channel. Gentleness laced trough his voice that he uses often lulls to sleep, providing the perfect illusion of a honorable man the star athlete was. To eyes that knew, the soft tone he always carried had melted away a big part of his standoffish personality. The apathy was still there, but dosed, making him seem more approachable. To any skeptics it was no more but the aftermath of dealing with press after success, which he would always agree with, supporting a petty smile.

Truthfully, he doesn’t understand who he is or who he’s playing. His psychiatrist doesn’t either, as they watch him sitting quietly on the couch, glaring into space like an unsatisfied six-year-old. The only part of him that felt completely like Hyuk was the burning, unjustifiable fury that lived within him. Which classified him as a monster, he believed, but as long as nobody knew that the athlete carries darkness inside of him, he was fine with the feeling dragging him down from within. 

Leather still covers his hands as he sits in the locker room, sweat dribbling down his face and eyes focused on the ceiling. The breaths he takes slowly turn heavier as the taste of blood in his mouth is not strong enough to satisfy him and empty out the fury inside him. As lights flicker off by a motion of his fingers, the raging animal scratching him from the inside wins, carrying his body to the darkest corners in Seoul where underground fights happen. A masked Hyuk drowns in the lung burning smell of metal and he can live on again.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

01. The thought that slipped past his lips so simply as if it was a well known dogma, fluttering lightly in the air like a fallen leaf did not amuse his therapist. “Maybe I’m so feisty because something had to balanse out the ridiculous amount of rain that fell out when I was born?” as he cracked a sarcastic smile at the psychiatrist, who only wanted to dig deeper into his childhood. He couldn’t really tell the woman that much about it, pursing his lips in a nonchalant manner as his eyes went up to the ceiling and he silently picked at his own mind. From pictures in the albums neatly placed in his family house the story was that Hyuk wasn’t the prettiest baby in the planet, but one thing the boy didn’t lack was fortune. The diety accounted for luck made both of his parents healthy and as wealthy as a son of a taekwondo coach and a ten year older socialite could be. There was no abuse as there was no fighting. In fact, his earliest memory was the smiles of his parents when his brother was born three years after him. After that, all he could find in his memory of childhood were therapy sessions, him talking to different people in enclosed spaces as time ticked and his parents moving from Suncheon to Seoul in search of better doctors, as their son didn’t make any progress. Considering his words, she offered that maybe his aggression was sparked by the lack of attention he received after his brothers birth. Hyuk shook his head, almost laughing, eyes diverting back on the psychiatrist. “What are you saying? My brother’s to blame for me being fucked up?” Undeniable traces of fury were prominent in his eyes and his therapist pressed harder into their seat. “I love my brother and I’m happy he was born without this anger disorder gene in him.” His gloved hand went to poke at his temple a couple of times, a tense gaze on the woman in the leather armchair.

02. The woman kept her eyes locked on his black fingerless leather gloves as her questions were followed by a frown, giving away a lack of understanding of the accessory. Hyuk followed her gaze, squeezing his hands a couple of times and watching how the leather wrinkled at his movement, the sound of the material brushing against itself causing an unpleasant, taunting sound cut trough the office. He didn’t really know how to explain why he was constantly in the gloves without using crude words. “I’d just rather not see the skin of my knuckles.” He whispered, staring down at his hands just as he did after another fight he found himself in his middle school. Back then he stared at the cracking skin, the thinness of it after a number of times he’d injured himself in a state of aggression and having blood pool in the deep cracks disgusted him. His mother could not look him straight into the eye, too hurt and scared of her own son, as she handed him his first pair of black leather - a silent request to hide so the Choi family could forget about the shame that their eldest boy was for a second or two. It became his second skin and the requests of teachers to take the accessory off bounced off of him uselessly as if the boy was a wall. “Why don’t you take them off?” He could only laugh, shaking his head. One particular man once tried to peel his second skin away after making him stay after class. It ended with a broken nose and a concussion as Hyuk walked away, hands curled in tight fists and blood dribbling off kis knuckles. Next week their class got a new teacher. Next week nobody asked him to take the gloves off again. “Good luck with that.” He hummed, enjoying the noise his gloves made.

03. “How was practice?” Was the therapist’s first question directed at him every single time their session started. After being asked that for a total of twenty years, Hyuk didn’t need to have an impressive intellect level to know what the hidden meaning behind the question was. He used to answer it directly, telling that it’s not helping him contain his emotions, but as years passed the man grew tired of the same conversation that led nowhere, answering it with a cold shrug. There was no explanation for his aggression, why couldn’t they understand. “Fine.” She scribbled something onto her paper, looking at him from behind thick framed glasses. “How do you feel after practice?” Miss, we both know the answer to that question, no amount of training and exhausting myself will satisfy the animal in me. I’d rather hide in dark corners and watch people bleed out under my fist there. “Fine.” He repeated, a deadpan expression on his face as he felt his psychiatrist trying to intimidate him, keeping eye-contact. An imaginary pin dropped in the dimly lit office, making a sound loud enough to cause an avalanche. The woman nodded slowly, scribbling something again. By now he had a feeling that all that was written in neat cursive in the sealed file of his medical history was ‘hopeless’. To that he complied silently. “Do you think you’ll make the national team this year?” He let out a breath he was holding, gaze searching for the clock that counted down the time they had left. 40 more minutes. “Who knows.”