#that would mean that sixth grade was. almost ten years ago yeah.

[nexus-nebulae]

i hate that when you figure out how much time away something is. that number does not Stay The Same. I've been saying sixth grade was "six years ago" for like. five years now 😭

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 11

hope u enjoy this :D and please comment and reblog! each and every one of them warms my heart up so much <3

credit to @brekitten for betaing this. Seriously she was lowkey amazing and i exploded from it

and by lowkey amazing i mean just straight up amazing

credit to @adonneniel (at least I think that's them. I'll correct it next chapter if not) for the I Spy joke inspiration :3

MASTAPOST

Jack Fenton’s mad driving had them racing up the mountain path. Bruce couldn’t even enjoy the beautiful scenery as every corner seemed to invite a brush with death. He wasn’t sure if the orange man was insane and lucky or one of the best drivers he’d met in his life. In no time at all, they reached the top of the mountain, a noted campsite for many an adventurous teen or young couple.

Many teens, except for the missing trio at this moment.

Bruce already knew Daniel Fenton wouldn’t be here in all likelihood. And if he wasn’t here, there was little chance his two closest friends would, either. No, it was almost certainly a lie to disguise some other kind of activity, but it didn’t sit right with him that they might be doing something normal for a rebellious teen. Gangs, drugs, petty vandalism, dares. Something about their secretive demeanour and false aloofness pointed to a more fantastical answer. A more dangerous one.

As Bruce and the Fentons hopped off the SAV, they confirmed his suspicions. All he could see was trees, campfire stones, and bits of litter.

From his profile of Sam Manson, she would never tolerate such a thing. Every time he saw her, it was a protest of some kind, or loudly accosting litterers and people wearing leather jackets and carrying crocodile handbags, which practically confirmed his suspicions.

“Let’s spread out, we’ll cover more ground, and then meet back here in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, the three parents returned to the SAV, utterly empty-handed. Jack looked distraught, and Madeline was idly squeezing the handle of another gun. He hadn’t noticed that before. How many weapons did these people have?

“No sign. Nothing. Zilch.” Madeline muttered. “Why would they lie to us?”

Why wouldn’t a teenager lie, to be honest?

“Have you ever seen them do anything strange or out of the ordinary?” Bruce asked, the softer voice of a worried father.

Jack gasped. “What, like drugs?! Gangs? We chased those suckers out of town years ago! Danno would never get tangled with them!”

That was a story that Bruce would probably have to look into later.

At the same time, Madeline’s brow furrowed. “He did go missing half a year ago…”

Jack’s expression softened. “Yeah, kid was so shaken he never spoke about it. Can you imagine? Gone for a week, then shows up back home outta nowhere and didn’t even wanna talk about it.”

Bruce nodded, understanding fully what they had felt. Jack punched his open palm. “I oughta find whoever was responsible and tear them apart. Molecule by molecule.” His body slumped, voice losing its vigour again. “But Jazzy told us it was only gonna hurt him, pressing for info, so we haven’t.”

“After that, his grades started dropping. Danny’s a genius I tell you. A Fenton in every way, but after we got him back, he started skipping class, and making vague excuses all the time…” She shook her head and sat down, body seeming to gain days of exhaustion in a second. “It’s like he’s changed, somehow.”

Bruce considered this info… Sixth months ago? The timeline was suspicious. Six months ago, Daniel Fenton had gone missing. A week later, he shows up out of nowhere, refusing to speak of his experience. Soon after, sirens began to terrorise the city, with Phantom playing sometimes hero, sometimes criminal. Daniel Fenton’s behaviour changes drastically. Daniel, his two friends and Damian disappear on the same day. What was the connection?

Jack Fenton crouched on the ground beside his wife, frowning. “But that’s surely gotta be some kind of trauma response, right? That’s what Jazzy always says.”

“Maybe…” Bruce muttered.

Jack picked up on this, and looked up to where Bruce was still standing. “Maybe what, Brucie?”

“No, it was just a curiosity I had. I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering about Phantom. Didn’t he appear six months ago too?”

Instantly, the Fenton parents scowled. Madeline clenched her fist around the gun. “That damned fishboy. He parades himself as a hero but we all know he’s a menace! Just last week he stole one of the prototypes for the Fenton Wrist Ray! How?! He doesn’t even have legs!”

And that right there was the big question, but there were a few hang-ups before he could move forward with his theory.

“I thought some of the previous sirens who attacked had legs.”

Jack shrugged, his hands making a so-so motion. “Well it’s actually kind of interesting. See, sirens’ bodies are based on a-“

Maddie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Honey, maybe we should keep the explanation short this time.”

“Right! The answer is we don’t know!”

Madeline face-palmed. “Some sirens demonstrate the ability to shift between their true form and a human-passing form. That being said, we’ve never seen Phantom’s human form, so we don’t even know if he can’t, or just hasn’t. We know for a fact there are some sirens that straight up can’t shift, but what determines that fact is unclear.”

Bruce hummed. A moment of pause before the next thought. “What if he didn’t need to shift?”

The Fentons’ mouths gaped open. “Are you saying…?”

“The last time I talked to your son before he disappeared, he didn’t seem to share most of your opinions towards the siren race. He seemed… evasive.” More than that. Daniel Fenton looked like he had the world on his shoulders, and he couldn’t share it with anyone. Or rather: couldn’t share it with his parents.

“That’s impossible! Danno would never-” But Madeline interrupted her husband.

“He has been running off a lot. Jack, how else would our inventions get into Phantom’s hands?”

Jack Fenton stared at his wife for a minute, eyes slowly opening in horror. “Floundering fishes. The punk’s brainwashed him!”

Bruce waved his hands back and forth frantically. “Maybe that’s going a bit far, don’t you think? I’m sure there’s-”

Madeline grabbed his arm and yanked him into the SAV with surprising might. “No time! I know where the kids are!”

Bruce startled, even as Jack Fenton jumped into the driver’s seat. How on earth did she make that deduction?

Of course, he didn’t doubt their intelligence, only their sanity. They were smart enough to figure out all of this tech, but detectives they were not (the profile he had done on them was thorough). Perhaps he underestimated them.

Hold on, what was he thinking? His deduction was that the kids were somewhere on the coast, in one of the many coves around Amity Bay, where they likely snuck out often to contact Phantom.

In that case, why on earth was Jack not turning the duckboat around?

“Dr Fenton, what are you doing?!” The high-pitched squeak at the end of his question was regrettably not entirely fake.

“The fastest way to rescue the kids!” Jack said, a manic gleam in his eyes visible via the rear view mirror. The mad scientist slammed the gas. Bruce’s seat slammed into his back. The billionaire braced himself.

The SAV charged through the campsite, weaving in between trees and rocks and debris. Up ahead the woods cleared to reveal the ocean over a cliff.

Jack did not slow down. He sped up. The cliff came closer. And closer. Jack sped up further.

There was no longer any ground beneath the wheels.

We cut to preserve Bruce Wayne’s dignity.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the ocean…

Damian scanned his left. He scanned the right. He glanced up into the clear sky. He peered down at the dark. He took a peek behind his shoulders. With his decision made, he made his declaration with poise and finality.

“I spy with my little eye, something b-”

“IT’S THE WATER!”

Damian’s eye twitched.

Danny nodded eagerly, like a lost puppy begging for attention. Scratch that. Lost puppies were far more lovable. “Come on. It’s the water, right? Right??”

“I spy. With my. Little. Eye. Something beating. You imbecile.”

“Crap. Uhhhmm…” Danny blinked, eyes turning sky high as he searched for answers. “Is it a bird? Because some people call their movements wingbeats.”

Damian’s jaw dropped. “No! It was your heart! Your heart beating!” He punctuated every word with an aggressive tap at Danny’s translucent chest, a still frighteningly visceral display case for his blue heart.

“That’s stupid! I could’ve come up with a better one!”

“The last three you did were the water, the sky and the sun respectively.”

“I said I could, not that I would!”

…

“I do admit. I did not account for birds’ wingbeats.”

“HAH!”

Back to the parents…

Never had Bruce ever feared for his life more than what just happened.

May he never speak of it again.

“See Brucie? Jack Fenton is an ace driver. You’ll never fear for your life in my capable hands!”

Madeline nudged her husband. “Honey, focus.”

“Oh sorry. Where to, sweetie?”

“The cove!”

Bruce shook the adrenaline off. Back to business. Coincidentally, he’d just received a pertinent message from the Cave.

“Hey B.” Tim’s voice filtered through the tiny ear piece Bruce kept at all times, accompanied by rapid clacking, almost fast enough to merge into a continuous clackackckackackack. “Half the footage you sent was corrupted. I saved the other half, but I haven’t been able to look through it. Currently fighting a hacker and trying to get back into Amity’s servers. Just got a breakthrough though. He’s based in Amity, currently location: the cove just underneath the mountain on the main island. RR Out.”

Bingo.

That cove being a hollow space in the mountain carved out by seawater and erosion. There was a small waterfall covering the entrance and obscuring view. As the SAV drove past the barrier, Bruce heard two gasps of shock.

There they were. A black boy in a yellow shirt and red beret, skin caked in sweat, hunched over a desk with a laptop glaring brightly in the otherwise-dimly lit room. Beside him, a pale girl in all black, clutching an old tome and glaring viciously at him.

But where on earth was Daniel Fenton?

And where was Damian?

[izzielizzie]

Rough on the Surface but You Cut Through Like a Knife

summary: When Bronwyn Rojas ends up next to the ever obnoxious Nate Macauley in Spanish class, she doesn’t really mean to hit him with a book. Well, she does, but she doesn’t expect to end up in the principal’s office with him. And she definitely doesn’t expect to find him amusing.

alternatively: Bronwyn hits Nate with a book and a long overdue conversation ensues (AU)

title from Willow by Taylor Swift

I’m about to drop into my regular seat in AP Spanish, my last class of the day, when Señora Trias calls “Don’t sit yet niños, we have some seat switching to do!”

I groan along with the rest of the class and catch Kate’s eye. We’ve sat together the entire year. I don’t even think I know anyone else in my class. She shrugs in a resigned sort of way. Señora Trias is a force to reckoned with, and we both know she’ll never let us stay in the same seats. We follow the teacher’s instructions, and I’m too busy trying to figure out the complicated dance we’re doing - row one to the left, row two to the right, front to back and back to front - that I don’t even notice that I’ve ended up next to a boy in a ratty leather jacket. 

Ugh. Nathaniel Macauley. The school’s notorious drug dealer/womanizer/delinquent/major headache. 

And this headache is smirking at me.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Nope, I’m all good… partner.”

I hate the way he says that word, it’s suggestive and disgusting and I suppress a shudder, turning instead to the front of the room, where we’re reviewing pluscuamperfecto. As a native Spanish speaker, I can confidently say I have no idea what the heck that is. 

“This is pointless,” Nate grumbles.

“Shhh,” I whisper back, taking a glance at his sharp jaw and deep blue eyes. I’ve known Nate from a distance my whole life, we’ve gone to the same schools since kindergarten, but this is the first time we’ve been so close - or exchanged words - in years.

I look back to the teacher, who’s now going over conjugations. I scribble them down in my notebook as Nate tips his chair back on two legs, rocking back and forth. 

“You’re going to kill yourself,” I inform him.

“Wow Rojas, I didn’t know you cared.”

I scoff and Señora Trias sends us a sharp look. “Señorita Rojas. Señor Macauley, no talking.”

I give Nate a sharp look. “Now look what you’ve done,” I hiss, feeling the reprimand as if it had been thrown at me. Nate just smirks. 

“You’ve never been in trouble have you?” he asks. I ignore him and he barks out a laugh, my silence serving as an answer. “Wow Rojas, I knew you were straight laced but I didn’t know you were that straight laced.”

And we all know you’re not I think, remembering the drug bust rumor Kate was whispering about last week. 

Nate clearly can tell I’m not interested in listening to him, so in the time it takes me to pull out the short novel we’re reading in class from my bag and read about a chapter, Nate doesn’t say a word. When I’m copying down the questions our teacher wrote on the board onto my notebook, he starts talking.

“What’s the answer to one?”

“Solo español por favor!” Señora Trias calls from the front of the class. I give Nate a triumphant look, expecting him to be unable to follow the teacher’s instruction of only talking in Spanish. Unfortunately this is Spanish class. And Nate’s not an idiot. He repeats the question in the correct language, and I decide that I’d be better off ignoring him. 

After a few moments, I can feel Nate leaning over my shoulder. I look over to see his eyes on my paper.  

“Stop that,” I whisper. 

“Spanish only,” he whispers back.

“That wasn’t even in Spanish!”

“Neither was that,” Nate points out. 

I huff and go back to my paper, flipping through my book to find the answer to my next question. 

“Help meeeee,” Nate whispers. 

“Shut up,” I say.

“Bronwynnnnnn.”

“Shhh.”

“Rrrrrrojas.”

My sister once told me about out of body experiences when we were children, and at the time I had scoffed because the supernatural does not exist. But when I close my book - marking my page with my finger because I’m not a philistine - and swing it straight into Nate’s face, I swear I’m not controlling myself at all.

“Would you shut up?” I snap as an unnatural silence overtakes the room. I look around for the first time, meeting stricken faces. Kate’s looking at me like she’s never met me before. 

“Bronwyn Rojas,” Señora Trias says dangerously. I risk a glance at Nate and feel a flash of sympathy when I see a red mark on his cheek. But he’s smirking at me so maybe he deserved it. 

I’m frozen, not quite sure what to say. Señora Trias points to the door. “Principal. Both of you.”

“Both!” Nate and I say at the same time.

“Yes, look at that you’re in sync, no use that rhythm to get to the office.” 

Not the best witty comment around, all things considered, but since Señora Trias looks like she’s ready to commit murder so I let it slide.

“So let me get this straight,” Principal Gupta says, staring at Nate and I, sitting side by side in the uncomfortable chairs in Gupta’s office. “You two were partnered in Spanish class, Bronwyn you were annoyed with Nathaniel, so you hit him with a book?”

Nate tips his chair back and I kick at his ankle. He kicks back. 

“Bronwyn.”

“Yes, sorry. This is correct,” I say. Principal Gupta stares at me. I’ve been getting a lot of stares lately. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, the secretary appears at the door.

“There’s a problem in the cafeteria,” she informs Gupta, who sighs. She looks sharply at us. 

“I am going to be gone for ten minutes tops. Please refrain from murdering each other.”

I nod vehemently while Nate tips his chair back farther, his smirk growing. I count backwards from fifty in my head just to make sure Gupta is really gone before wheeling back towards him. I push down on the arm of his chair with all my might. Nate crashes to the ground, a look of shock on his face.

“Jesus Bronwyn.”

“Stop tilting your gosh darn chair” I hiss, my face only a few inches away from his. I can see myself reflected back in his dark blue eyes. I look mildly deranged. He smirks again and I raise my hand. He flinches away. Ha. Take that. 

He holds up his hands in surrender, leaning away from me. “Would it make you feel better if I sat on the floor Rojas?”

“Yes, yes it would.” 

Nate slides to the ground, and before I can realize what’s happening, he’s pulling me down by the waist. “What the heck?” I ask.

Nate shrugs. “If I have to sit on the floor, then you do too.” He pauses for a beat. “And your legs look good in that skirt.

I slap his shoulder. “Jackass!”

Nate laughs. “She swears!” he announces to an audience of… no one. 

“Why is that notable?” I ask, self-consciously tucking my legs underneath myself, ignoring my tingling waist where Nate’s fingers ended up under my shirt. 

“Because a minute ago you said ‘gosh darn’ and not even grandmothers would say that Rojas.”

I can feel my face flush, but I cross my arms anyway. My little sister always teases me about how I don’t swear. Not that she swears either. “Is it really a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

I flush more, irritated at myself that Nate’s opinion matters this much to me. He senses that I’m done talking because he looks straight ahead at Gupta’s desk, where we can just make out a picture of her and her daughter.

“How’s your sister doing? Maeve, right?” Nate asks, and I turn to stare at him in shock. My sister Maeve left elementary school with cancer a long time ago. Nate was just starting to know her - they were on the same soccer team - and I don’t expect him to remember her, let alone her name.

“Yeah, it’s Maeve,” I say, my tone considerably softer. Nothing makes me happier than my sister. “She’s okay.”

“She’s in remission right?” 

I turn my body so I’m looking straight ahead at him, a concession maybe. My anger is ebbing, and I’m sort of guilty about that bruise on his face. “She is. Thank you for asking.” Not many people do. 

“You’re welcome.” What he says next surprises me so much I almost miss what he says: “Want to talk about it?”

I look at him for a moment, at his dark eyes and smattering of freckles and his closed off expression, and I can’t help the feeling that he’s being serious. And I don’t know why that’s so off putting.

I shrug, trying to figure out what to say. “It just sucks, you know?” I finally land on.

Nate nods. “I know.” I think back to his mother’s funeral, the dark, rainy morning where he stood in an old suit, his father too drunk to even show up. I kept thinking about Maeve, about how some day I might have to stand in the same place, shouldering the burden of a million worlds. 

I imagine that’s how it feels to lose someone.

I feel the need suddenly, to make those eyes light up so I shift slightly closer to him and pluck at the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

“Hey, remember when we were locked in that music room at St. Pi?” I ask.

Nate glances over at me through hooded eyes, his eyelashes unnaturally long. He nods, a half smile on his lips. “I remember. Sixth grade right?”

“Yeah.” I remember that day like it was yesterday. We had been arguing - much like today - in the middle of a music class, and our teacher sent us to the storeroom to sort flutes until we calmed down or something. But we - and the teacher - had forgotten that the door to the store room door locked from the outside. Nate and I were locked in for nearly an hour, which to twelve year olds, felt like forever.

“It was a pretty good day you know?”

“Really? I thought I threw a clarinet case at you.”

“Well you did,” Nate says. “But you know… it was nice. You’re nice.”

“Aww.”

“But you are violent.”

“Touché,” I admit.

He smiles at me, his eyes soft, and I smile back. I’m about to reach up to touch the bruise on his face when Gupta comes back, breezing through the door like she’s floating. She groans when she sees us. 

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Heat rises,” Nate says with a shrug.

“It’s November."

Nate and I just look at each other and smile. We climb back into our seats, and when he tips his chair back, I don’t say anything. And when I say “gosh” instead of “god” when I’m assuring Gupta that “I swear to gosh I didn’t mean to hit him I’m so sorry” Nate doesn’t even bat an eye.

Truce, I guess. 

Gupta spends ten minutes talking about pressure and how sometimes we cave but if Nate forgives me it’s okay before she lets us leave. Nate and I mockingly shake hands before we get up and it’s… nice. 

The bell has already rung, so we turn in opposite directions, me to physics and him to gosh knows where when he turns to me.

“Hey, want to go to the mall on Saturday? You can buy me a pretzel for my troubles.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw something at you?”

Nate grins his Macauley grin. “I think I’ll risk it, Rojas.”

My smile is his answer.

[missjanjie]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Rosnali

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make. Ship: Rosnali Word Count: 2174 Rating: T

ao3 | ko-fi

Bonus: Denali's Playlist for Rosé

-

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “...you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[artificialqueens]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You (Rosnali) - Joley

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make.

(bonus: denali's playlist for rosé)

ao3 link

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “…you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[goth-girlfriend]

Watching You Stand Alone

Request!

I would’ve asked on tumblr but, I have strict parants so I found another way without having to download the app! iCloud can be a snitch am I right? 😅 I was wondering, can you do a one shot where a Reader has a past with the Flame Daddy Endeavor, he leaves them for his quirk marriage, but then gets divorced and she finds him when she comes back to Japan because maybe the heartbreak sent her overseas, and she sees him and she’s just still so much in love with him, and maybe now that he’s willing to give it a shot? Please if you can! 😅🙏💙💙💙 But I love your blog! It’s amazing! And I can’t wait to read more, I mean I’ll wait, but I’m excited !!😊😊

Rating: Fluff?

Notes: I imaged it and loved it and I REALLY REALLY LOVE IT AND HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT TOO ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

💙❤️🖤❤️💙🖤💙❤️🔥❤️💙🖤💙❤️🖤❤️💙

“Enji,” the whisper left soft lips in a whisper, “Enji,” soft words were followed by cold finger tips tracing the temple of the hot headed boy sleeping in a (h/c) haired girls lap.

With a grumbled the boy started to move and look around, he looked to his leftcoming face to stomach with the girls tummy. His eyes fell into a half lidded position as he rolled over onto his left side re situating himself. The girl sitting over him let out a single laugh, she brought her left hand up to his shoulder and bicep, letting her fingers run over the skin and push a cold feeling deep into the skin and muscle.

“If you keep overworking yourself you’ll just overheat all over again, and I care about you but I also care about my grades, you might be number one in our class but I’m not to good with books.” (Y/n) scolded and ran her fingers up his neck and jaw.

“Study then idiot.” He grumbled.

“That’s great idea!” She faked shock, “Maybe if I had the free time and weren’t sitting outside in the grass cooling down a HUMAN VOLCANO I COULD.”

She sarcastically yelled the last part, the boy in her lap eyebrows furrowed and he grunted, “You’re loud.”

Silence fell and then she spoke up, “thank you. Now roll over, I need to get to your back.”

With another grunt the red head obliged and rolled to his right side and stretched his right arm across the grass the left falling across his chest and landing on his outstretched bicep.

“Were going to graduate soon.” (Y/n) spoke placing her palm flat between his shoulder taking in his excess body heat and replacing it with her cold touch.

“Yeah,” He said, his eyes now open and staring at the grass ahead of him.

“So, what do you plan on doing?” The question weighed down the atmosphere.

“Getting married.” The answer was neutral on one side, and a sting on the other.

“That’s great, is she nice?” (Y/n) felt a spike in her ice as she ran her fingers down his back.

“I haven’t met her yet.” His words blunt.

“A quirk marriage, I guess it’s for the best.” (Y/n), shrugged, her world felt like it was shattering, “I hope it’s an ice quirk, maybe your kids won’t have to face the same troubles you do. I’ve seen you give out a lot because of heat exhaustion and it scares me still honestly. So you better explain everything, and I mean everything from wanting to get rubbed down with icy touches to soaking in ice cold tubs! And you better explain what you want for your kids so the woman does fell like she’s just being used, and you’re really quick to get heated so give the woman a warning before she tries to argue with you, you have a short temper, also-”

You were cut off by the boy sitting up his back towards you, he seemed aggravated. He didn’t say a thing, but you couldn’t help but feel it was because of the things you said.

“I just worry about you Enji, I know you say you’re strong and you can handle it but I care about you, I really do and I just want the best for you, so don’t give me any of that brooding man action.” You scolded him and went to stand up and moved infornt of him bending at the hips to get level with his sitting form.

“Now, we should head in, it’s getting dark and you need a shower smelly boy.” You snickered as he rolled his eyes and got up with ease.

“Tch,” was the response you got as you both started walking.

You looked up at him through the corner of your eye, for a minute, every color looked brighter in the suns orange hue, your heart picked up its pace thinking it was going to slow for the rate your mind felt you were living. You stopped your steps feeling your phone buzz, you looked down seeing a call from your dad, you looked up to see Enji about five feet away, you got a good look of his entire side profile as he half turned expecting you to fall back into step with him, your heart fluttering at the thought that maybe he was waiting for you. Watching him stand alone, and you could help but overwrite the heart break with feeling of unmutual love. You swiped and answered the phone falling into step with Enji, “Hey dad.”

The time passed and graduation came up. You were currently rushing around grabbing peers asking the same question, “Have you seen Todoroki?”

“Yeah, I think he’s by the lockers.” A boy answered after you’d tapped his shoulder to ask.

“Thanks, I’ve been looong for him for the past hour.” You sighed and then smiled.

There in the empty space with every locker you found Enji, leaning against the lockers, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, face pointed down, just like every other day, you admired his pointed hair and sharp features. You smiled as you sighed walking up to him, to anyone else law he’d look annoyed but sadly for Enji you had picked up on his body language.

“I’ve seen you wear a lot of things Todoroki,” you stepped up and dropped your weight beside him against the wall of lockers, “and well, fear doesn’t look to good on you. So what’s up?”

You, knew what was up, graduating today, tonight was everyone’s last night in the Dorms. The last time you’d be together and spend time with Enji, before he gave his complete life to a women you’ve never met and apparently he doesn’t know her all to well. It was a bit upsetting to you, if you would’ve know you had competition maybe you would’ve tried harder. I let out a few silent laughs that soon bubbled up getting louder, this causes him to give you a confused look.

“Enji, I know you don’t like to party, so I know you won’t be at the dorm party,” you smiled down at the floor again, “So, wanna watch a movie with me instead? I don’t really feel like going to the parties either, but if you change your mind and actually go that’s cool, This’s will probably be my last night of freedom and sleep for a while so I want to take advantage of it.”

“Hm, I’ll see.” Was all he mumbled before a bell rang in the halls.

“All graduates please make your way to the school entrance, the shuttle is waiting to take you to the stadium.”

“Great,” you smiled up at him, and nodded, “Let’s get this started then.”

You sat in the front row of seats, it was strange, even after all your hard work and effort you hadn’t expected to actually make it to the top ten students. Far from where Enji sat in the top five students but it was close enough to prove you weren’t just some extra face. During the live broadcast it was always the first row and top ten students that would become well known, each one going up to give a short speech, and the camera seemed to always be on them hoping to catch anything to start drama for the new hero’s. You had all be warned and took it to heart. Many were talking about great experiences with the staff, friends and how great the school was, while others talked about what they were going to accomplish. You on the other hand weren’t going to stay in Musutafu much longer actually. You’d decided it a while after learning Enji was going to be married.

You’d already collected funds for your own agency, the perks of having a wealthy father. Your mom wanted you to work under a siblings agency, but your father said it’s his job to help each of his kids get situated and ready for life, for each of his kids he either paid for an agency to be set up, or for enough college to get a doctorates degree. You’re sisters born quirkless went into medical or business, your brothers into running there own business despite having quirks. You on the other hand, youngest, and born with a quirk, you decided you didn’t want follow anyone’s steps, you’d carve your steps and name into stone and make yourself known. Here you are walking up the small stage, cameras flashing, film recording, crowds cheering, and you saw your family in the the graduate family section.

Your father nodded his head in approval, your mother holding her phone up smiling, your siblings clapping and smiling. You felt pride, you were sixth to give a speech meaning it was almost over. So you decided to just keep it short and talk about being the youngest hero to own and agency and being this close to cracking the top ten hero’s. How you were going to make history. For years to come. “I’d like to start off by Welcoming and thanking Family and friends who took the time to come support UA High and it’s graduates.” Cheers erupted, nobody had taken time to thank anyone, “Now, to start off, I’d like to say it is always great to have dreams and goals as young hero’s and students. A quote I often hear, When you drive, it’s never aimlessly, in mind you always have a destination. It’s true, just a few hours ago I watched students brimmed with tears out of fear of not knowing what they would do. Slowly talking it out they had realized the whole time they had a plan of what they want to do, of the things they want to achieve. At one point U.A. was our goal destination, arriving, we set a new destination, weather to be number one, or to start a business. Everyone had a plan to where they were going. Many will leave today, with a new drive to follow the path to that destination, others will find a destination, and others, have reached that destination and are ready to begin working where they are.”

I looked over the crowd, as they clapped I took a breath my eyes quickly drifting to Enji and back to the camera pointed at me, now is the only time.

“This day, marks the official end of my trip.”

Murmurs and gasps filled the air as I looked down at the podium, a paper was laying in front of me, a picture of my agency. Right now, he stands at six levels, one day, he’ll be so much more.

“At the age of sixteen I received a small business loan from my father, I quickly invested it into a building paying it off completely. I worked the second half of the money in investments, doubling my original loans price. I paid off my loan and at the age of seventeen, I officially opened up my own Hero Agency, Co-Operated by my father. It operates under the name First Generation Agency. It offers support and jobs to first generation hero’s, such as myself who have recently graduated and are looking for an agency. I’ve ranked higher up in hero charts falling in at 6th just like I am now. I don’t plan on falling short any other way, and for the ones who doubt I’ll do anything better then be a secretary or side kick,” I fell the confidence build up and I smirked at the camera eyes squinting slightly, Browns angled in “Just Watch Me.”

With that the crowd went wild cheering and clapping, I could hear a few sobs, and wailing. I made my way back to my seat and sat down. Four more speeches and then were done. Finally, time passed quickly and we all did the turning of tassels, not permitted to throw hates or release balloons we formed a circle, one by one, everyone was allowed to activate a part of their quirk for the camera, to show possible agencies what use they could be. With that’s, confetti went off raining down on us, the family was permitted on the field, I rushed to find my parents, I was hugged by my dad, then mom and group hug with my siblings. I sighed and smiled, a short talk and a few minutes they left saying they’ll see me tomorrow when I get home. I nodded and agreed. With another hug and applause they left, I turned around and went looking for Enji. I found him, he was alone, and walking off through the exit, I rushed to catch up with him.

“Hey Enji.” I huffed falling into step with him, “Your going to go see him right?”

I asked staring up at the sun, it was one the latest, the sun was mid sky, I don’t know why we had to die graduate stuff in the morning.

“Yes.” Was all he said as I took longer strides to keep up with the titan.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” I tilted my head to look past his chest and up at him.

“Have you ever asked before.” He didn’t really ask.

“So no you don’t mind?” I smiled up at him.

“Just keep up, I need to stop by the dorms.” He said and kept striding.

After what felt like my life being drained out and my legs being tired, I stopped and took a deep breath by the cross walk flashing red. I looked up as we waited, I looked over and rushed away, “I’ll catch up just don’t go to fast.”

I rushed into the store we were at and looked around, I found something I thought looked great paid and rushed down the sidewalk to catch up. His bright hair wasn’t hard to miss. I huffed pushing myself harder and caught up with him. I kept the stores brown bag tucked into my side and fell into step trying to catch my breath.

“Alright.” Was all I could get out as we approached the dreadful stairs, “carry me?” I asked and looked up the stairs.

“Hm,” he scoffed.

“How about on the way down?” I asked with a smile.

“We’ll see.” Which usually meant if I remembered, I honestly mostly forgot when I asked these things.

Walking up the stairs and taking familiar turns, we came to a large secluded altar, Yoshino Todoroki. I looked at the little altar, Enji looks so much like his dad, I pulled the brown bag from my side and placed it on the floor, I kneeled in front of it and reached out to grab a vase that was filled with dead flowers. I liked our the dead bouquet and opened the bag I had. I had two bouquets of white roses and a twelve red star Lily’s. I placed six lilies in each bouquet, I cleaned off the vase and put the flowers in, I grabbed the bottle of water I’d bought and poured half of it into the vase. I did the same to the second vase on the other side.

“There.” I said placing the dead and browned flowers into the paper with the water bottle, “I’ll leave you two alone, I’ll go put this away.” I said and stepped back turning to find a trash bin. I found myself in the center of the whole place. It was a square building, no walls, just four posts, a trash bin, a recycling bin, and a glass cabinet. I put everything where it should go and squatted in front of the glass cabinet. On the top shelf it held a gold plate with coins, the shelf under it had a wooden box, and the bottom shelf held a smaller wooden box.

I opened it and opened the box wooden box, it held different types of incense, I closed it and looked at the smaller box, I cracked it open. It held small matches, each one had a strip tied to it. I wonder if Enji wants one or two for his dad. I chose a light colored blue one, it smelt, like the sun, if it had a smell. I chose a second one, it was black, it smelt like a campfire, summer campfire, I think these two will work. I picked up a match, and tried to find my way back to Enji and his dad. After a bit of struggle I showed up in time to watch Enji wipe away a few tears. My heart hurts for him, I can’t relate to how he lost someone, I have my parents, my family, and friends. I looked down and walked up to Enji, standing by his side looked down at the alter where the incense holder sat.

“I don’t know if you want these but, I’d brought two.” I raised my hand, the two sticks crossed over, I brought my right hand up offering the match.

“Thank you.” Was all he said and took them. I stood back and let him do the rest.

I looked at the picture of the man, and smiled, I’d only ever seen Enji smile like that a number of times. But I couldn’t help the words I whispered, hoping Enji wouldn’t hear them. ‘take care of him when I’m gone,’ the whisper, wasn’t even audible to my own ears. The rest of the day passed, after we left, a slow walk back to the campus, people packing, I’d packed everything a week ago, and the only thing left in my room now , we’re the clothes I was about to change into, my sneakers, Charger and phone, blankets, Pillows, Cap and gown, Nebula projector and a Basket of snacks

I turned the ac down in my room and pulled the curtains closed, I started to set up everything, and then just laid on my bed scrolling through my phone, reading local news. I couldn’t help but think about Enji, and the tears he wiped away, my heart breaks for him, but it also wants to love him, I sighed and sat up, it’s to hot, I stood up and shimmied off the pants I was wearing, I looked at my black underwear, and the baggy muscle shirt I was wearing. I sat on the edge of my bed, bare toes touching the floor. I sighed and laid back in my bed, arms stretched up, phone sliding out of grip, I wonder if Enji is going to come for movie night. I rolled over onto my side staring at my wall, and the ten pillows blocking my view. I threw my hand back and moved to hang over my bed and found my snacks. I fumbled around and found some gummies, I sat up and popped the bag open and started to chew on some whine I scrolled through Instagram. I didn’t become a hero to be a public figure, but boy do the followers and never ending notifications make you feel important. I smiled and scrolled through my notifications, hearting random pictures of me I’d been tagged in with kids who I took pictures with on the street. I found a video of where I was being applauded by my mentor, “Well, our Frostbite is without a doubt one of the top hero’s I’ve had the privilege of working with. A true hero in the making.”

“Open the door.” I sprang to life at Enji’s voice, he came! So he didn’t leave me! He does care about my feelings! I rushed to open the door and he entered, with a duffle bag, he dropped it in front of my door after I closed it.

“Alright, what are we watching?” He asked tilting his head and kicking off his slippers sitting on my bed propped up in the mound of pillows.

“Well! I lined up a bunch of horror films because I know you like the horror type, but I also know you like romance drama things even if you won’t admit so it’s your choice.” I said and plopped down next to him, I sat up straighter popping my back.

“Surprise me.” He grumbled and brought his arms folding them under his head, “Horror it is!”

I turned on the projector and pointed it up at the ceiling and laid down propping my head on Enji’s bicep, he didn’t move, we’ve done this ever since I convinced him the first time. I shimmed into his side, and dropped my arm across his chest and wrapped my legs around his waist and situated myself against his side. I smiled and looked up finally as the movie started, I didn’t exactly enjoy horror movies but they were alright. I watched, and shared snacks mostly listening to his heart beat through his bicep. Three movie later I yawned, and cuddled into a more comfortable position. At some point the projector rolled over so we’d been watching it on the wall, Enji’s Chet’s was to my back, I was on my right side facing the wall to watch the move, his left arm over my shoulders and weighing me down from moving. I checked my phone, it was three in the morning, I put my phone down and flinched at a jump scare, Enji let out a chuckle.

I turned in his arms burying my face in his chest, I moved my arms under his to hug his chest, “Enji.”

“Hm,” he hummed not moving from my new spot pressed against his chest.

“Can I ask you something?” Another might as well thing.

“Hm,” he grunted.

“Do you know how much I love you?” I asked staring blankly at his chest.

He took a deep breath and sighed, “If I remember, you said from the first day of our first year. So three years.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled and squeezed him in a hug, I let the silence fall for a minute before I looked up at him, “Do you love me?”

He looked down, a small smile on his lips, his hand drifted down, hot skin touching the cold exposed skin of my back, I had my answer, but I know I could never have it.

“Don’t ask questions if you’re afraid of the answer.” His voice was heavy, and I felt my eyes start to burn, I buried my face into his chest, the tears were hot, I felt my face heating up, I started to shake.

In a choked out whisper, “please, tell me.”

“(Y/n),” I don’t remember the last time he called me by my name, I don’t think he actually addresses me by any name, he just walks up and starts talking, “Knowing the truth will only cause you more pain.”

“JUST TELL ME,” I screamed into his chest clenching his black muscle shirt, “If you don’t love me it’ll make it easier. So please, just tell me.”

“If tell you I don’t love makes this easier for you, then the truth will only make this harder for you.” I cried harder into his chest, I honestly expected him to say no, but maybe for once life was going right, but life was cruel, it’d give me rewards during the worst timing.

“You bastard you never told me,” I hit his chest weakly with a balled fist, only earring light heh, “I could’ve loved you with everything I had but you never said a thing.” I hit him again.

“You’d be a disaster,” he took my wrist in his hand, “Look at you, your a mess and nothing has happened.”

I sniffled, “whatever.”

The night played over in my mind, and now here I am, standing in front of him, times stopped completely, he looks amazing in his wedding Kimono. Although I can’t help but feel he would’ve looked better in a white suit, I wanted to smile, but the tears were out weighing everything else, for a minute, all I saw was Enji, everything else turned a bright white, radiating around him, he didn’t seem happy. But he should be, it’s his day, he’s getting married, I met Rei a week ago, she’s sweet, and humble. Someone who could definitely keep a level head around this man. I smiled up at him, one last time, he paused and looked at me.

“You’re here,” he sounded shocked.

“Yeah,” I looked down, “When you gave me the invite I thought I wasn’t going to make it, but then who I would I be to miss my best friends wedding?”

“An idiot that’s what you would be.” He grumbled and looked away, just like that day, I saw it in his eyes, fear.

“Don’t be afraid, think about it, every breath, every choice, and every hour has come to this. You’re one step closer to becoming the hero you want to be. So I’ll be in the front row cheering for you!” I held my right hand out and up with a thumbs up smiling, but I was hurting, really really bad.

“Idiot.” He grumbled and dropped his hand on top of my head, I didn’t fight the pout as I pushed his hand off, “I don’t brush my hair that often anymore, so don’t ruin it, I worked hard for this look.” I scolded and tried to flatten my hair out again.

“It’s good to see you again, now go, it’s going to start soon.” He gave a low laugh closing his eyes.

“Got it, I’ll see you when you get up there.” I smiled and nodded turning to leave. Once outside the room I leaned against the closed door for a minute, a shaky breath, the tears didn’t fall, so at least I’d look good. I nodded and smiled to-myself and pushed off the door heading to where I was supposed to be, the crowd, just standing on the side watching.

The ceremony was amazing, beautiful, Rei was beautiful, I met a woman named Teka, I found out she was Enji’s mother. She showed me cute chubby baby pictures after I told her we were friends since our first year at U.A. she said she hasn’t talked to him or even met Rei, but she wanted it to change, but he won’t even talk to her. She let out her life story after I talked about Yoshino, she made sure her second husband wasn’t listening before she told me no one would ever be able to replace him. I talked a while longer with her before out conversation ended with a phone call. My agency called me about someone wanting to be recruited.

“Thank you Teka for this talk, it was definitely enlightening. Maybe our paths will cross in the future, take care of yourself.” I said and bowed to her hand up, she nodded and waved her hand, “I feel they will soon.”

Just as I straightened out to leave a light fell hot on my skin, “Looks like we have a volunteer to give a speech!”

I cringed, “No, sorry I have an agency to get back to.” I tried to leave and explain.

“How can you say no! It’s wedding! We’ve been roped you’ve known the groom for years! Any advice for the bride is always welcome! Or even just well wishes!” The woman on the speaker almost cheered.

“I really have to-“ she gave me a cold look and I nodded, “Right speech, got it.” I walked to the stage she was on, weak in the knees and to the microphone squinting at her and the bright light now on me, I looked away and saw Enji siting next to Rei at their table in the head of the room. I took a deep breath and feel silent, I don’t know what to say.

“Well, I wish I had something to say but I didn’t know I’d be giving a speech so forgive me if a ramble.” I brought my hand to my neck as a few giggles were heard, “I know for a fact though, I do wish the both of you many happy and love filled years together. Wishing that your love stand strong and the life you build together stand stronger. True love lights the path, happiness fills the heart and peace can be found in the darkest hours. Advice for the bride, I don’t have much to say actually. Just be patient with him, he’s a bit hard headed and when his determination kicks in, it’s not easy to change his mind. Bear with him in the hard times, and stand by him dark times, he may not show it but he has a big heart for the ones around him. Advice for the groom, confide in your partner, you’re a team now, team work was never dealt your strong suit, work on it together. With this, once more, from the deepest parts of my heart and soul, I wish the happy couple, years of love, peace and joy.” I bowed and claps filled the room as I handed the microphone back and booked it out of there. My heart aches, but I’ll just bury myself in work till I have time to deal with it.

“Hey! Yeah I’m on my way to the agency right now, get the meeting room ready.”

Time passed, and I moved up to fourth place just under Enji, we were ranked the day before my 18th birthday which actually set a record in the Hero world. Youngest hero to make top ten and own their own successful hero agency. I smiled and nodded, they expected us to give speeches, I passed up my turn, claiming my actions were enough to show what I needed to say. Not to long after that I learned Enji had kids, his first soon looked just like him, adorable, red hair and blue eyes, definitely a Todoroki. And I guess knowing that his marriage was finalized is what pushed me to make my next big move, that and the new pay raise I was giving myself.

“So Frostbite,” I crossed my right leg over my left knee and leaned back in my chair, elbows propped on the arm rests and fingertips pressed to make a triangle, “You’ll be leaving Japan soon for the American states, is this true?”

“Well, I’d love to say it’s true, but,” I sighed and looked down, and smiled looking back up at the interview, “Well actually it is true.”

“Well, I’d like to the first to congratulate you, is it for business or for pleasure? It’s not everyday a hero just leaves where they live.” She pushed.

“Business, I own a hero agency and well, I’ve heard there has recently been a shortage of Hero agencies in the eastern coast of America. So it’s where I plan to head out to, start up an agency and help hero’s who need somewhere to start.” I shrugged not changing my pose.

“Helping others, like a model hero should.” She smiled, “Now, that’s the biggest question we’ve had coming in, so let me read some questions fans have been dying to ask since you first graduated from UA.”

“Let’s get to it.” I answered.

“Are you single?” She asked with a smile. “Getting the good ones, out first, yes I am.”

“Well I’m sure your fans are glad to hear that,” she laughed. “What do you look for in a lover?”

“I don’t know, I kinda just always hoped, I’d know who it is when the time is right.” I smiled sheepishly.

“Cute, now, just a few more and then we’ll talk about-“

I don’t remember much after that, the interview was great, I gave out my social media and gained more followers, more love, more attention. But the more I thought about it, it all just left me empty once I was alone, I couldn’t open my heart to just anything, it was hard. I sighed and looked at new hero’s lined up before me, “28 years of my life, I spent working on Agencies globally, but I can tell you all, I love this one the most.”

The hero’s in front of me sighed and smiled, they held up in line, my original staff and first hero’s to join this agency had already bid me farewell, these were the recruit we took in this year, they’re first year almost complete, it was only five but they came as a team. So far they’ve been the best team and only team I’ve ever taken in, at least in The United States.

“Now, I now I’ve only known you all for a year, but I’ve grown to love you all just as much as my first trainees, so I want to offer to all permanent jobs here, unless you’d like to find another agency. This is my last year and I’ll be leaving back to my homeland in Japan.”

“We’d love to stay and work for you Frostbite, you gave us a chance when every other agency refused to take in a team. We stuck together as a team and by your side, it’s the least we can do to ever give you thanks.” The leader of the group spoke.

“Great, then I’ll leave you in Chizome’s hands, She will be in charge while I’m gone. Take care all of you.” I gave them all a squeeze and walked out of the building for what would be the last time I looked back over my shoulder at the door and smiled, I got into the car parked in front.

“Where to?” The question went unanswered for a bit, “The Atlanta Airport, it’s time I head home.”

I sat back, my heart racing, for the first time in who knows how long, I’d be back in Musutafu, in just a long few hours, maybe I’d see the man I’d fallen for over three hundred times, once a day, for almost four years, and then more after that. But I had to let go, and my life has been an adventure, one without love but an adventure, and I wouldn’t change anything for it. The ride was short but the airplane ride was what made me dread everything that’s was coming my way. I sighed and braced myself pacing my plane, I felt queasy, and uneasy.

“Alright, I mean we weren’t even dating so I should be so awkward, the last time I saw him wasn’t to bad, he only had a kid and Rei was with him and she looked super happy, so they must be happy, I’m happy for them, so I’m happy, so what if I’ve never fallen in love with anyone else..... I tried, I went on dates but everyone just, doesn’t meet the expectations I had, I’m lost I don’t know maybe I can find someone else this time around I just have to try! That’s it! You got this! You can find someone! You don’t have to worry about it! Just fall in love, with someone.”

I huffed and sat back down, apparently my state of panic lasted well over a few hours considering I finally stopped walking around the plane just to hear we’re landing. I took a deep breath and exhaled snowflakes leaving my mouth.

“Are you alright?” I looked up, my manager, person in charge of my personal image was staring me down as he moved to sit in front of me.

“Oh, yeah, I think I’m fine. Just,” I let out another heavy sigh more flakes falling, I looked at my thighs, the skin touching where the thigh cuts had been placed for my new costume, “Antsy.”

“Well, sleep tonight when I get you home. In the morning you’ll be apart of the hero ranking, to announce your arrival in Musutafu you were honored with the right to announcing the new ranking. Hope you’re ready, I’ve ordered a new version of your costume, it’s already waiting at your house.” He smiled and I smiled at him.

“Thank you, it means a lot to not have to worry about every little detail.”

“I’ll always be here for you (y/n).” He smiled and I felt the heat in my cheeks, maybe I could fall in love with someone else.

I thought, I thought I could fall in love again, but boy was I wrong, here I am standing, reading the updated list for the number one hero, and there, is his name. I looked at the envelope and back up at the crown I was standing in front of, everything was getting hot, so I forced a thin layer of ice into my skin.

“Finally our new number one hero,” I looked back at the card, pausing for affect, I looked to the side stage, his shadow made it obvious.

“The Flame Hero Endeavor!” I called out and turned to the other side of the stage making eyes contact with the person who had been directing me.

“Now, Do our new top hero’s have anything to say?” And cue a scene, dramatic one at that. After having my microphone stolen by some McDonald’s Chicken Nugget special I zoned out looking off stage for direction until I heard an all to familiar line, “Just Watch me.”

I swallowed and with that I took the microphone and thanked the hero’s for their words of sentiment, I continued to honorable mentions and a few other things I was directed to do before handing the microphone over to another person who was I charge of the next segment. The hero’s walked off to the right, and I to the left to get all the equipment taken off. Leaving the building I was swarmed by cameras and lights, “FROSTBITE YOUVE RETURNED TO MUSUTAFU WHY??”

“WELCOME BACK CAN YOU ELABORATE ON THE HISTORY OF YOUR WORK?” I just heard my name being called over and over with different questions, one that stuck out was “Frostbite can you elaborate on your relationship with the New Number one Flame Hero Endeavor, does your return have any connection to his recent publication of his separation?”

It stuck out but I didn’t react, “If any of you have questions please submit them to my manager, find his contact information on my agency’s website.” I was reaching my car until I felt a hand and my feet were off the ground. I was at a loss of what was happening, after relaxing I was in the air my mind went into fight or flight action. I remember swing my feet back with all that I could, I hooked my leg around something, using more forced I managing to face the chest of whoever was holding me. I kept moving to take hold of the arms holding me, the red wings gave it away as the chicken special that stole my mic.

“Well you just have a thing for stealing don’t you.” I grumbled and looked down, with a quick swing of my feet I could definitely pull us down into the closed roof top.

“I just see something I like I take it, I see a chance and I don’t leave it open.” His voice was smooth.

“Well, sadly for you I don’t either.” With that’s I grabbed his shoulders breaking his grip and throwing my weight down causing us both to tumble into a roof top. We didn’t exactly fight but I was definitely taking out emotions on him. He was fast yes, but I’ve learned a lot of things in my time and travel, I found myself torso between his legs, my back on his lap and squeezing his neck between my thighs and knees. His hands were at my thighs trying to keep them from crushing him but it’s not what I planned at all. “Alright buddy, you’ve got three minutes to tell me why you think you can just pick me up and fly.”

“I just told you, I see something I like I take it.” He smirked and did a quicker finger walk form one thigh to the other touching my personal area, I quickly sat up and smacked the top of his head, he just laughed, “Well, not everyone likes that stuff.”

“Well when you see a hot rotisserie chicken do you just leave it be or snatch it up?” He laughed and I wanted to hit him, “Anyways you’re hot, and I haven’t exactly seen you around so you must be new, so how about we go on a date? I can show you the world”

“How old are you kid? 19?” I scoffed taking his wondering hands by the wrist.

“23.” He smirked. I scoffed and let go pushing him off, “You’re barking up the wrong tree kid, I’m almost twice you’re age.”

After learning who this kid is it was easy to pick up on the type of person he was, he was very fond of Endeavor. I told him about the not so private parts of our past and he started to worship me begging to know more, I pat his head, he sat cross legged in front of me, “Some other time kid, stop by my agency with lunch I’ll tell you a couple of stories, but I gotta get going. My agency can’t run itself ya know.” I ruffled his unruly hair and his wings dropped on the floor, “first generation agency right?” He asked, I looked at him and nodded, “Thats the one.”

Time has a funny way of bringing things together, especially when I found myself in the hospital, punching Enji’s chest just like so many years ago, “You bastard!” I hit him again, an audible loss of air coming from him. The tears were falling as he took hold of my wrists with one hand, I was taking short fast breaths to fill my lungs with air. His right hands barely making it to my chin, “IM SO MAD AT YOU!” I tried to break from his grip to hit him again, but he wouldn’t let go, “The last time you did this doesn’t feel like to long ago. But this time I can tell you exactly what I couldn’t then.”

I cried and broke free hitting him one more time, “I hate you, you know that,” I brought my palms up forcefully rubbing my eyes, “I hate you, and your face, and everything about you, I hate seeing your hurt or sad and I hate that you make me cry, and I hate I hate you.” I whined and kept rubbing my eyes, “I hate you because I still love you, after all this time during all this time I still love you and I hate you for it.” I pulled my hands away from my eyes finally looking at him through semi-blurred vision. He had a faint smile on his features, his right hands stretched out to touch my chin his left hand taking my right hand.

“Let me finish before you interrupt me again,” he squinted at me but I listened to him looking him in the eye, he looked tired, but held raw emotion, “This time I can tell you, I love you.”

I spaced out, just completely stopped working, before I started crying again, “You’re lying.” “No, I really do love you,” he tried siting up pulling me closer, my forehead against his chest, I would’ve clung to his shirt if he had one, but it’s just skin and hair. “I haven’t been miserable,” His hand lifted my chin, “but I’ve had more than enough time to realize, if I had the chance, you would be the person I marry, and you would be the person I give my heart and life to. You, (y/n), took my heart, I didn’t even know, and when I did know it never registered, that I loved you, I married Rei for her quirk, it was a mistake, I loved you, the fact you have an ice quirk is great, but even if you didn’t, I would still love you the same. It’s not your body, or quirk I fell in love with. It’s you, it’s how every morning you wanted to make sure I ate, every time I skipped out on lunch to train you hunted me down and gave me your lunch or brought me lunch so I wouldn’t starve even if it meant you did. It’s every night we spent in the dorms, wether it was cooking, walking around the campus, training even when you were drop dead tired but didn’t want to leave me alone, every time the dark stepped in you were there, in the dark hours you stood by me, in the brightest moments you cheered me on. I remember when you I was laid out gasping for air, and that bad guy was coming closer, you had never hurt anyone, but in that moment, you gave up all fear to to save me without having to hurt anyone. I even enjoyed those nights where you put weird masks on my face and we just watched whatever came on. I loved holding you and squeezing your tummy rolls when you’d sit on me and eat snack and talk about the weirdest things. I only learned this when I realized I was running the chance of losing you.”

I hugged his neck and pulled back guiding his face to my chest, I hugged him and hurried my face in his hair, “You’re and idiot you know that,” I shook with a sob, “But you’re my idiot now and I love you.”

All of a sudden the words I’d listened to over and over came to reality in my heart, ‘Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years I'll love you for a thousand more’

[findingyouagain]

𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚆𝙴 𝙶𝙾 ( 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽 ).

Do not grieve. Anything you lose comes again in another form. —Rumi

"I'm late. I'm late!"

She rushed down the staircase, feet pounding against each step. The third step to the bottom creaked beneath her weight as it did every day. Damp hair dripped onto the white railing. Reaching the first floor of the house, Kennedy made her way to the kitchen, sliding across the hardwood floor with her blue socks and pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. "Dad, I'm late!"

"I see that."

Bryan Steele sat at the kitchen table. His horn-rimmed glasses rested on his nose as his hazel eyes scanned the newspaper in his hands. Kennedy could only make out the headline: something about a missing couple. The sunlight streaming from the window above the sink reflected off his glass of orange juice, shining onto Bryan's brown hair. He was already dressed for the day—tan khakis and a navy button-up shirt. His blue scrubs for work lay on top of the few patient folders he had brought home from the hospital the night before.

"Well, why didn't you wake me up?" She had one foot pressed against the pale yellow, almost white wall, tying the laces of her Nike tennis shoes.

Bryan ran a hand through his hair, dropping the paper onto the table and grabbing a piece of bacon off his plate. "I thought you had decided to jog to school this morning and already left." He took another bite. "That's what I told Bonnie when she came to pick you up a few minutes ago."

She finished tying her other shoe and sighed. Great, she also had no ride to school. "Well, now I definitely have to run—unless I can borrow Mom's bike?"

"Tires are flat," came his gruff reply. He was biting back a grin. "You'd be even later if you tried to air them up. Besides, jogging to school won't kill you. Consider it early track practice."

Kennedy let out an incoherent grumble before slinging her bag onto her back. "Yeah, well, guess I'm going to stink of sweat all day. Great way to start off my senior year!" She opened the side door. "—and wipe that smirk off your face, Dad. It's not a handsome look on you." The door slammed shut, and the slap, slap, slap of running feet on asphalt could be heard.

Heart racing, Kennedy leaned against her gray locker and let out a ragged breath. Despite jogging every morning, running three miles to school left the teen breathless, as well as hot and sweaty. For once, Kennedy was glad to have stored a spare pair of clothes in her gym locker for after track practices.

Her eyes scanned the crowded hallways. Already, colorful posters about clubs to join and student government elections littered the walls. Eager teenagers wandered, chatting about which beach they had visited and who they had hooked up with over the summer break. Kennedy sighed, not quite understanding why she was supposed to miss this in ten months' time. Mindless babble and petty drama? She wasn't interested in dealing with it for another year, let alone after she graduated from high school.

Spotting Elena Gilbert and Bonnie Bennett by their lockers, she picked her bag off the ground and squeezed her way past lost freshmen with their eyes glued to their schedules.

"—no, that's over."

"What's over?" Kennedy asked, smiling at her two best friends.

"Ah, nothing important. Thinking about finding man, coining a new phrase. We've got a busy year ahead of us," Bonnie replied, but her gaze trailed behind Elena. The two brunettes turned to see Matt Donovan clad in his red and black letterman staring at Elena.

Kennedy watched as Elena waved at him and the blond ignored her, grabbing books out of his locker and walking off.

Elena sighed and leaned against the locker while Kennedy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He hates me."

Bonnie shook her head. "That's not hate. That's 'you dumped me, but I'm too cool to show it, but secretly, I'm listening to Air Supply's greatest hits.'"

Kennedy held back a giggle. "He just needs some time. I mean, it's not like you guys bumped into each other muchover the summer. He'll get over it, and you'll be best friends again. Trust me."

"Speaking of time," Bonnie began. She grabbed the red junior history book from her locker. "How'd we beat Miss Track Queen to school when you left before us?"

"Funny story, I woke up late, and my dad just assumed I had already left for school. So, I ended up having to run here just like he told you. Now I'm all gross."

Elena folded her arms across her chest, ignoring the yells behind them of friends congregating for the first time since May. "Don't you keep spare clothes in your gym locker?"

Kennedy nodded. "Yeah, I'm actually headed that way to speak to Coach Sharpe about track tryouts. As captain, I'm going to have to oversee them, and I can't have them interfering with my work schedule at the library. I figured I'd change while I was down there."

"Elena! Oh my god!"

It wasn't seconds later that Kennedy had been gently shoved to the side, almost knocking into Bonnie, as a blonde in a blue blouse and black heels enveloped Elena into a tight hug. Elena patted the girl's shoulder reassuringly.

"How are you? Oh, it's so good to see you." She released the olive-skinned girl from her embrace before turning to Bonnie and Kennedy, blue eyes laced with concern and wringing her pale hands. "How is she? Is she good?"

"Caroline, I'm right here." Elena gave a weak but believable smile, nodding her head for good measure. "And I'm fine. Thank you."

"Really?" Caroline asked, and Kennedy felt sorry for Elena. Although it was a brand new school year for everyone, no one could forget how last year had ended. In a small town, the car crash that had wrecked the Gilbert household had affected everyone, even if just in minor implications. Elena had miraculously survived the car's plunge over Wickery Bridge, but her parents had not, leaving Elena and her younger brother to be taken in by their Aunt Jenna, who was only eleven years Kennedy's senior. Now, everyone was sensitive to Elena's feelings, perhaps too sensitive, and no matter how much it seemed Elena wanted to move past the accident and start afresh, everyone else couldn't let the girl forget. Pity parties weren't Elena's thing, that much Kennedy knew.

"Yes, much better."

Caroline enveloped Elena into another hug. "Oh, you poor thing."

Kennedy threw Elena a knowing look and a small smile before tugging the blonde off of her. "Okay, okay, give the poor thing a break, Care. She's had enough touchy-feely for the morning."

Caroline nodded, clapping her hands together. "Okay, see you guys later?"

The three nodded, and Bonnie mumbled out a quick bye to their friend as the blonde strutted down the hall.

Kennedy let out a laugh, and Elena just shook her head. "No comment."

Twisting the bag on her shoulder, Kennedy pointed towards the gym and coaches' office. "Well, I better get going if I want to change out of these clothes. See you first period?"

"Remind me again how you ended up being Tanner's student aid for the junior history class?" Bonnie asked, picking up her own bag. Kennedy was already turning in the other direction.

"Because I'm the only one to ever laugh at his history jokes and make a hundred on his finale, duh!" she threw over her shoulder. Kennedy could hear Elena's giggle as she walked down the hall to change.

"How about next Tuesday afterschool? Will that work for you?"

Finally changed into some fresh clothes and sprayed down with perfume, Kennedy nodded her head at Coach Sharpe's suggestion. Her schedule wasn't hectic, just full. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays afterschool, the brunette worked at the Mystic Falls Public Library—shelving books, tutoring younger students, and updating the online catalogue. Plus after work on Wednesdays, Kennedy attended church with her mom, helping in the kitchen and with the youth bible study class. Every other Saturday, she volunteered at the hospital and shadowed her father in the pediatrics department. Sundays, there was church again and then her family dinner in the late afternoon. Tuesdays and Fridays were her only free days, mainly because last year they had been dominated by track practices and meets.

"That works for me." She smiled at the man. He sat, arms folded over his linoleum desk, where papers and handheld timers lay scattered. A red baseball cap embroidered with the high school's initials covered his bald head. His eyes were kind but empty, vague, like they couldn't capture the emotions the rest of his face expressed. Kennedy watched as a smile tugged at his lips, and she wondered what thought had crossed his face that she had missed.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked. It was a rather blunt question, and if the man hadn't been Kennedy's track coach since the sixth grade, she probably would have never asked him.

His smile widened, and he tilted his head. "Just that we're going to have an amazing team captain this year."

Kennedy let out a small laugh before ducking her head in embarrassment. "Well, thanks, Coach." A bell rang out throughout the school, and Kennedy glanced at the clock. Five minutes before class started. "I've got to get to class, but I'll stop by later this week to confirm the tryout list, okay?"

Coach Sharpe nodded. "Yeah. See you then."

"Once our home state of Virginia joined the Confederacy in 1861, it created a tremendous amount of tension within the state—" Mr. Tanner droned on, pacing in the front of the small history classroom. His hands were kept clasped at his waist, and he stood tall, eyes roaming the room in hopes to catch students off task.

In the back of the classroom, Kennedy tapped, tapped, tapped a red pen against the wooden desk. A stack of papers sat in front of her. Tanner had handed them to her when she arrived to class with two minutes to spare before the tardy bell went off. This was the junior history class, or as it was better known as, the period Kennedy and Mr. Tanner had designated as her teaching assistant period, meaning she was in the room to grade papers and help write up lessons. Today being the first day of school, all she had to do was staple and organize the practice U.S. History exams the juniors would take tomorrow, but she didn't feel bothered to organize them just yet, instead opting to doodle on the back cover of her notebook. So far, a small clearing surrounded by tall trees had appeared, and she was debating whether to draw a crow in the corner as well when something caught her eye.

Glancing up from her drawing, Kennedy caught the new boy—didn't Mr. Tanner's role sheet say his name was Steven or something like that—staring at Elena. Matt and Bonnie must have noticed it too because Kennedy could see Matt glaring before reading a text Bonnie was sending over her shoulder. Rolling her eyes, she smiled at how oblivious Mr. Tanner was to Elena pulling out her phone, confirming Kennedy's thoughts that her two friends were texting each other during class.

Kennedy pulled out her own phone, typing out a quick message: What did you text Elena? And clicking send before returning to stapling papers.

A short buzz vibrated the desk, causing the red pen to roll onto the floor. She ignored the pen and slid the unlock button on her phone.

That the H-O-T new boy was staring at her. Didn't you see? came Bonnie's reply.

Oh, trust me, Kennedy typed out, I saw.

She turned back to the class in front of her, eyes narrowing in how the new guy—maybe it was Ian?—continued to stare at Elena as the girl kept her gaze locked to the front of the room, smiling wide. Kennedy shook her head, shuffling the papers in her hands. Was this about to be the start of young love or more drama? Whichever the case, Kennedy was just happy to see her friend truly smiling again.

"Guess who."

Kennedy laughed, rolling her eyes behind the hands clasped over them. She hummed, pretending to mull over the endless possibilities as to who had snuck up on her. After a moment or two of contemplation, she shrugged her shoulders. "No idea…is it the reincarnation of George Washington here to set the country straight again?"

The hands were removed from in front of her eyes, and she blinked, readjusting to the brightness of Mrs. Halpern's calculus classroom at 1 o'clock in the afternoon. She turned in her desk, spotting the tall blond boy with mischievous green eyes staring at her. "George Washington, really?"

"What did you want me to say, Ollie? J.F.K.? I'd be disgracing his good looks by comparing them to yours."

"Hardy-har-har." Oliver took the desk next to her, digging into his backpack and grabbing a notebook, calculator, and pencil. He opened the notebook up to the first page before turning back to face her. "Was that you I spotted all sweaty this morning next to my sister?"

"Depends," she countered. She leaned over the aisle, brown eyes raking over him with judgement. "Was that you I spotted walking the halls this morning with Vicki Donovan on your arm?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, suddenly much more interested in his blank notebook than her, but Kennedy wasn't having it. She grabbed the notebook off his desk, folding it closed again. He tried to grab it back, but she pushed it inside her backpack. "What? We're back together."

"And when did this happen?"

"I don't know. A while ago."

She frowned. "Why wasn't I informed of this, Ollie?" Arms crossed, Kennedy gave him her ultimate 'I-thought-we-were-past-the-whole-not-sharing-information-thing' glare. Five months her senior, Oliver Forbes had been Kennedy's best friend since the sixth grade; however, they had known each other since the beginning of elementary school, back where playground rules dictated who was friends with who. To the kids in their kindergarten class, a girl beating another boy in a race across the field was unheard of, well, until Kennedy ran across the finish line with Oliver several feet behind her. The excited six-year-old she was, Kennedy had jumped up and down, the biggest smile plastered on her face. Oliver had been a sore loser, however, and tugged hard at one of her pigtails. A call to Sheriff Forbes later, and the unspoken 'we're not friends and probably never will be' hung thick in the air between them until sixth grade. Kennedy never talked to Oliver, and Oliver continued to think of her as a smartass and show off who wouldn't shut up. Who knew science fair projects could form a friendship between two people who couldn't stand each other?

Oliver let out a long sigh. "Because it didn't seem important at the time?" He held out his hand expectantly. "Can I have my notebook back please?"

Rolling her eyes, Kennedy huffed before grabbing the object back out of her backpack and handing it over. As more students filled into the classroom, Kennedy leaned over her desk, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, how did Tyler and Jeremy take the news when they found out?"

Oliver only glared in response.

"So not well then." Before Kennedy could get another word in; however, Mrs. Halpern walked into the room, placing down the calculus textbook onto the front desk, and began the lesson.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Kennedy finished all of her classes for the day; like most of the other seniors, she had gotten her schedule moved around for an early dismissal so she could make it to the library in time for work. The elementary and middle schools released their students at 2:40 P.M., and the library's tutoring sessions began at three. Walking down Main Street, Kennedy grinned, allowing her arms to swing back and forth at her side. Her tan shorts and navy blue top kept her cool, and the aviator sunglasses concealed her eyes from the bright sun. With a clear sky on a day like this, the sun found entertainment in reflecting off every surface—car mirrors, shop windows, even Mrs. Lockwood's emerald necklace as she passed Kennedy on the sidewalk. Seeing the five rather large bags Mrs. Lockwood carried, the brief thought of what the mayor's wife was doing out shopping in the middle of the day crossed the brunette's mind, but Kennedy shook the thought out of the way.

"365 more days," she muttered under her breath. "365 more days, and I'll be out of this town and away from all the drama and gossip that goes with it."

And had those all bags been from the liquor store?! Kennedy turned on her heels, skidding against the concrete pavement to try and catch another glance at the logo on the bags, but Mrs. Lockwood had already gone into another store. With a sigh, Kennedy frowned in disappointment of herself. Living in a small town could drive you insane if you let the urge to know everything about everyone and their activities consume you.

"365 more days."

Kennedy made to turn again, but this time, her tennis shoe caught onto a small pebble, and before the brunette could process it, she felt herself fall forwards. Or she would have, if her shoulders hadn't been caught between two hands.

"Whoa, there," a male voice rang in her ears. The hands steadied her, and Kennedy looked up to see a man in what she assumed to be his early twenties staring at her. Raven black hair, leather jacket, black V-neck, the typical attire of a rebel with a James Dean philosophy on life, he had to be at least six foot, the way his tall frame hovered over Kennedy's petite body. A shiver ran down her spine at the sight of him, and she watched in confusion as his bright, electric blue eyes scanned her face for something.

Kennedy bit her lip. They were too close, and it didn't appear his hands were releasing her shoulders out of their own free will anytime soon. So she took it upon herself and forced her feet to move backwards, allowing her body to move away from his hands and put a decent distant between the two of them. She tilted her head as she noticed his eyes were still scanning her. She noticed a brief flicker of recognition and surprise on his face, but she didn't understand why.

"Eliza?" he mumbled. His hand reached out to grasp her shoulder again, but she shook him off, folding her arms across her chest.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't a creep. Just confused. "I'm—I'm sorry, I think you have me confused for someone else." She paused, eyes locking with his. Had this happened before? Why…the leather jacket, the sounds of people chatting away in the background, the clear blue sky…why was she feeling the strangest sense of déjà vu right now?

He blinked, looking hurt but also perhaps hopeful. He retracted his arm, pushing both his hands into his pockets. "Oh. My…my mistake. You just look like an old friend of mine."

Is that how he always greeted old friends? With a look full of surprise, remorse, and longing? If so, she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to become one of this man's old friends. "I'm Kennedy," she corrected.

"Yeah."

"Yeah," she repeated lamely, looking for an escape route. This conversation was headed down hill, and she was beginning to run late for work, despite the public library being only five feet away.

Luckily for her, the blue-eyed stranger took care of it. "M'sorry for bothering you. Have a nice day." He took a step to the right and began walking down the street, but not before turning around and leaving her with one last word of advice. "You should be careful where you walk. You don't want to bump into the wrong person next time you trip on a rock."

She let out a short laugh. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

He nodded, walking away. "Anytime, Kennedy. Anytime."

When he was out of sight, Kennedy released the tense breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Walking the few steps left to reach the library doors, Kennedy shook her head, moving the interaction between her and Mystery Blue Eyes to the back of her mind.

Time to get to work.

"His name is Stefan Salvatore. He lives with his uncle at the old Salvatore boarding house. He hasn't lived here since he was a kid. Military family, so they moved around a lot. He's a Gemini, and his favorite color is blue," Caroline explained. She waved her hands around as she talked, and Kennedy fought the urge to grab them and tape them to her blue dress so they wouldn't move.

Bonnie stared at Caroline in shock but mostly disbelief. "You got all of that in one day?"

Caroline waved her hand again, dismissing the notion. "Oh, please. I got all that between third and fourth period. We're planning a June wedding."

"Yeah, in your dreams. I'll make sure to tell Ollie his sister's getting hitched." Kennedy giggled as the blonde huffed in annoyance, turned, and walked over to another student from school.

The trio just arrived at the Mystic Grill, the town's local bar and grill. Most of Mystic Falls' teenagers could be seen spending their afternoons and early evenings there, whether to study or to just hang with friends. A loud hum of activity always filled the air; the restaurants' patrons chatting amongst themselves. Clinks from shot glasses could be heard towards the back, where the bar sat next to the pool table. The lightning in the building was dim, warm, yellow lights shining down from the ceiling. A few standing lamps could be found scattered around the room as well, casting shadows on the faux stone walls. Spotting Oliver cleaning up a now-empty table in the middle of the room, Kennedy pointed it out to Bonnie.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"We shall."

An order of French fries and two Cokes later, Kennedy and Bonnie sat across from Matt. Although Kennedy wasn't thrilled to be involved in the conversation, she knew that she and Bonnie, as both Elena and Matt's friends since they were children, had to set the boy straight.

"How's Elena doing?" he asked. His elbows leaned against the rustic-looking wood, and he had his face propped up by his hands. His face was solemn, and his blue eyes were laced with concern. Kennedy understood he was genuinely interested in Elena's well-being; he was just being too much of a chicken to check up on the girl himself.

"How do you think she's doing, Matt?" Kennedy asked, and it came out a bit harsher than she intended.

Bonnie shrugged her shoulders. "Her mom and dad died. She's putting on a good face, but it's only been four months."

And here it comes. "Has she said anything about me?"

Shaking her head, Bonnie rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat. "Oh, no. So not getting in the middle. You pick up the phone and call her."

Kennedy nodded, biting into a French fry. "Yeah, and while you're calling her, make sure to apologize for not speaking to her all summer long. It made you look petty."

"I feel weird calling her. Hell, I feel weird even seeing her. She broke up with me."

"Give it more time, Matt," Bonnie explained. But her face fell into a soft frown, and Kennedy remembered why she never played poker with Bonnie on her team. Worst poker face ever.

Their three gazes followed Elena as she walked into the Grill, followed by the new boy—whose name according to Caroline was apparently Stefan, not Steven nor Ian—close behind. Kennedy watched as the two glanced around the restaurant before smiling at each other. And there went her chances of the year being drama free.

"More time, huh?" he muttered, eyes downcast. Kennedy felt sorry for him and reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Matt had already stood up from his seat, walked over to Elena and Stefan, and introduced himself.

Kennedy smiled softly. "Way to be the bigger man, Matt."

A few minutes later, Elena and Stefan had joined the table, along with Caroline, who know doubt had just joined to further learn more about the town's new eye candy. Not that she couldn't learn most of it from the gossip she spent most of her school days filling her ears with. Matt had left the table to play with Tyler Lockwood, another football player.

"So you were born in Mystic Falls?" Caroline asked.

Kennedy sipped on her Coke, swirling the straw in her drink between breaks. She was interested in Stefan's responses, but she could tell the others seemed more eager. While she sat relaxed in her seat, legs crossed and head leaning against the back, the others leaned against propped-up elbows, eyes never straying from Stefan's face. Kennedy couldn't be bothered to put so much effort into the conversation. Not because she didn't care or didn't want to make any new friends, but because she felt like she didn't have to try too hard. This Stefan was friendly, even if a bit reserved. Perhaps he was shy, but to Kennedy, he gave off the vibe of someone she could chat to about most anything, the same vibe she received from people who were her friends. She felt like she already knew him, even if she knew virtually nothing about him.

"Mm-hmm. And moved when I was still young."

"Parents?" Bonnie asked.

"My parents passed away." Kennedy sat up, intrigued, not at the information but the way he said it. His voice didn't soften nor crack; his face kept the same neutral expression he had worn all evening. He barely even blinked during the sentence. He said it so matter-of-fact that Kennedy felt it was just that and nothing more: a fact.

He turned towards Elena. Oh, Kennedy thought, so he heard about the accident. Are people really still gossiping about that at school?

Elena frowned, and before she could speak, Kennedy dragged the conversation away from her, wanting to avoid a pity party to start for Elena and Stefan. "I'm sorry. Any siblings?"

Stefan's eyes glanced towards her. To Kennedy, it appeared to be the first time he had truly noticed her existence at the table. He blinked, his green eyes searching her face for something. It was the same look of recognition she had seen early that day on Mystery Blue Eyes's face. He shook his head. "None that I talk to. I live with my uncle."

"So, Stefan…" Caroline was quick to redirect the conversation to herself. "If you're new, then you don't know about the party tomorrow."

"Party?" Kennedy asked. "They're still doing that after what happened last year?" She felt an elbow dig into her stomach. "Hey, ow." She glared at Caroline.

"It's a back to school thing at the Falls," Bonnie explained.

Stefan nodded, turning to look at Elena. "Are you going?"

"Of course she is," Bonnie and Kennedy answered together. Having both seen the glances Stefan and Elena kept sending each other's way, the duo had picked up on the mutual interest and decided to run with it.

A phone rang, and Kennedy glanced down at her cell. Reading the caller I.D as Mom, she got up from the table, grabbing her purse with her. She waved and mumbled out a quick goodbye before answering the call.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Dear, do you mind picking up some groceries on your way home?" Marian's voice came through the phone's speakers.

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Eat your vegetables, Kenn," Bryan instructed, fork raised and pointed at his daughter.

Kennedy glanced sheepishly up from her plate, feeling much like a five year old being commanded by their parent, before shrugging her shoulders. "Sorry, Dad. M'not really hungry."

Letting out a small laugh, Marian shook her head. "That's why we don't eat a big snack at the Grill before dinner."

"It was the first day back at school," Kennedy defended, twirling the green beans on her plate with her fork. "Everyone wanted to meet up afterwards to catch up."

Placing his napkin on the table and pushing his clean plate forward, Bryan sat up in his chair. "Everyone being the same five people you hung out with all summer, yeah?"

Kennedy laughed, nodding. "Yeah, except Oliver was working so we weren't really hanging out." She bit into a green bean. "Oh, and the new junior at school joined us at school—Stefan. I guess he just moved back in with his uncle. I think he has a thing for Elena. He was making the googly eyes at her in history class this morning."

Bryan's eyes raised at the information. "Stefan? He wouldn't happen to be a Salvatore, would he?"

"I think so." Kennedy shrugged her shoulders, not understanding the significance. "Why? Were you one of his doctors as a child or something? He said he used to live here, but his parents were in the military, so they moved around a lot."

Bryan picked up his empty plate, as well as his wife's and walked over to the sink. "Uh, yeah…Him and his brother both."

Marian turned towards her daughter. "You said he was interested in Elena? Isn't it a bit too soon for her to be getting back into a relationship? I mean, her and Matthew just broke up."

"Mom, they broke up months ago. Haven't talked to each other all summer, in fact. Although, I'm not sure Matt's ready to give up on them, but I think Elena's ready to move on with her life. Start fresh. I think she wants to get past all the sadness and negativity and be happy again."

Kennedy picked up her own plate and scraped the remaining green beans into the white trash bin in the dim pantry before handing it to her father. She leaned against the counter. "Besides, there are more important things than worrying about guys in life, and I'm sure Elena agrees. I'm not even positive she's interested in Stefan too, just that they seemed to click at school today."

The next morning went smoothly. Kennedy woke up on time and was dressed and ready by the time Bonnie came honking in her driveway with her Prius. However, Tanner's junior history class was not having the same luck as Kennedy. As she sat in the back, scribbling red marks across the practice exams the juniors had taken towards the end of class the day before, Mr. Tanner was getting frustrated with the students' lack of response to his lesson. Kennedy couldn't blame the students, though. Even she grew bored with his lectures, and she loved history. His monotone voice and bland classroom made his teaching style and environment boring and allowed his students to grow tired easily. It didn't help that this was an 8 o'clock class, and most of the students still wanted to be curled up in their cozy beds.

"The Battle of Willow Creek took place right at the end of the war in our very own Mystic Falls," Mr. Tanner continued, eyes focusing in on the back of the classroom. "How many casualties resulted in this battle? Ms. Bennett?"

346, Kennedy thought as she watched Bonnie's face fall and a small grimace take hold. "Um…a lot?" she answered, dropping her pen onto the desk. "I'm not sure. Like a whole lot."

Mr. Tanner shook his head, clearly not amused with Bonnie's witty response. "Cute becomes dumb in an instant, Ms. Bennett." And there was the reason everyone called Tanner an asshole behind his back. "Mr. Donovan? Would you like to take this opportunity to overcome your embedded jock stereotype?"

A quick shake of his head should have been enough of an answer in itself, but Matt decided to grace his teacher with a verbal response as well. "It's okay, Mr. Tanner, I'm cool with it."

Kennedy held back a giggle at Mr. Tanner's exasperated sigh. Sometimes she caught herself wondering why he even bothered teaching if he hated his students and didn't want to deal with smart-mouths, but then she remembered the high school's policy that all coaching staff had to also be teachers.

"Hmm, Elena? Surely you can enlighten us about one of the town's most significantly historical events?" Tanner had placed himself right in front of the brunette's desk, and even from the back of the classroom, Kennedy could tell how intimidating he appeared looming over Elena.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I—I don't know." Her eyes were downcast, and Kennedy felt sorry for her friend.

"I was willing to be lenient last year for obvious reasons, Elena. But the personal excuses ended with summer break." Kennedy's eyes hardened, and the red pen slipped out of her grip and onto the tile floor. Unwilling to participate in a pity party was one thing, but wrongly informing Elena that her parents' deaths were not a legitimate excuse for knowing an answer on the second day of school was another. Tanner was such an asshole.

Kennedy began to raise her hand to inform Tanner the answer so he would back off the other students, but before her hand even reached mid-air, Stefan Salvatore's voice rang through the class.

"There were 346 casualties. Unless you're counting local civilians."

Mr. Tanner looked taken aback, and the fluorescent lighting seemed to cast a shadow on his face. He almost looked disappointed that he wasn't able to continue humiliating the rest of the class until he would then make Kennedy answer. "That's correct, Mister…?"

"Salvatore," Stefan answered.

Mr. Tanner nodded, leaning against his desk. "Salvatore. Any relation to the original settlers here at Mystic Falls?"

"Distant."

"Well, very good. Except—" Of course, there had to be something wrong with Stefan's answer. Tanner always had to find something wrong with everyone's answer. "Of course, there were no civilian casualties in this battle." Mr. Tanner turned back to the chalkboard, clearly having assumed the conversation was over.

Kennedy frowned at that. She distinctly remembered reading something in the library about there having been a fire at a church or something during that battle, but she couldn't remember the number of casualties or if anyone had actually been in the church that day.

"Actually," Stefan raised his voice, "there were 27, sir. Confederate soldiers, they fired on the church, believing it to be housing weapons. They were wrong. It was a night of great lost. The founder's archives are, uh, stored in civil hall if you'd like to brush up on your facts, Mr. Tanner."

Kennedy's mouth dropped, and she heard the other students begin to murmur amongst themselves. No one had stood up to Tanner that way, at least not in their history class. The only one who any of them had heard of doing it before was Kennedy, and she had only did it on rare occasions with physical proof in hand to settle her case.

"Hmm…" was the only response the teacher gave.

Back at home, Kennedy had changed into a blue summer dress and laced up a white Keds. Tonight was the Back to School at the Falls party, and although she didn't seem like it, she wasn't one to miss a party. Partying was one of the only opportunities for Kennedy to let loose and have fun. Between work, school, track, church, and family commitments, she didn't have much room for relaxing and enjoying herself. Sure she'd read for pleasure or watch Gossip Girl before bed and hang out with her friends on the weekend, but sometimes a girl had to get out for more than an hour or two at a time and have some fun. Especially if that fun involved booze.

Grabbing her purse off its hook on the white door of her bedroom, Kennedy walked down the stairs. Reaching the living room, she plopped onto the brown leather couch next to her father. His eyes never strayed from his book. Sighing dramatically, she glanced around the room, mentally noting the clutter gathering on the coffee table—a few bills that needed to be paid, manila folders that were no doubt patient files, a couple of photos from their family trip to Washington D.C. last summer that her mother was just now getting around to scrapbooking. Kennedy picked one up, glancing at her sixteen-year-old-self standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial.

She let out another sigh, glancing back at her father.

"What?" He looked up. His glasses had fallen down and now rested on the middle of his nose.

"The Back to the Falls Party is tonight," she replied, a bright smile stretching across her face.

"And…?"

"And I was wondering if I could go. You let me last year, and I just wanted to make sure I was still allowed before I leave with Bonnie and Elena."

He placed the book down on top of the patient folders, and Kennedy recognized it as one of the ancient medical journals he collected in his home office. There seemed to be thousands of them lining his bookshelves. He gave her a look and opened his mouth to speak, but Kennedy interrupted before any words could spill out.

"Oh, come one. Are you really about to tell me no? You've let me the last three years. Why wouldn't it be okay now? It's my last chance to go to one!"

"Now, I haven't even said anything yet," he argued.

"I know that look," Kennedy explained, folding her arms.

"I'm just not sure it's a good idea. It's a school night, and with it being in the woods, I'm nervous. There was just an animal attack not a few towns over."

"Dad, I'll be fine. I promise! No drinking, no anything even remotely dangerous. I'll just be hanging out with Bonnie, Elena, Oliver, and Caroline all night, and I'll be home before you know it." She gave him a pleading smile, brown eyes begging for permission.

He shook his head. "Fine, fine. But you have to be home by 11. No later than 11, got it?"

"Got it," she muttered before seeing the look in his eyes. "Got it, sir," she said a bit more enthusiastically. She smiled, hugging him before rushing out the door. "Thanks, Dad!"

For a summer night in the south, the air was cool and dry against Kennedy's skin. She was leaning against one of the park's banisters, standing next to Elena and Bonnie. The music was loud, and the only sources of lighting were the bonfire warming the large group of teenagers surrounding it a few yards away and the string lights the sophomore class had set up an hour before the party began. Sipping on the punch, Kennedy could tell by the awful taste it had been spiked with more vodka than it should be. Next time, she'd have to suggest the freshmen weren't in charge of the drinks. They had been so eager to get drunk that one of them had poured a bit too much alcohol into the bowl. Kennedy's eyes scanned the area, and a smile spread across her face. Laughter and chatter filled the air as teenagers stood too close to each other and enjoyed the last freedom they would have until Christmas Break.

"Just admit it, Elena," Bonnie nagged, a smug grin across her face.

Elena sighed and pushed on her jacket sleeve. "Oh, okay, so he's a little pretty."

"He has that romance novel stare," Bonnie argued and nudged Kennedy to help her out.

"Oh, she's right." Kennedy nodded, tossing the empty cup into a trash can. "Those green orbs could pierce right through your soul. Plus, have you looked at his hair? He's definitely been catalogue ordered off a sports model magazine."

Elena laughed at her friends, running her fingers through her long hair.

"So where is he?" Bonnie asked, and the trio glanced around the party. None of them spotted him amongst the familiar faces of their classmates.

"I don't know." Elena's eyes brightened with an idea. "You tell me, you're the psychic one."

"Psychic?" Kennedy asked, eyebrows raised.

"Grams," she explained, and with that one word, Kennedy understood. Bonnie's grandmother was a very interesting lady and quite the character as well. According to Grandma Bennett, Bonnie and the rest of her family through her mother's side of the family were descended from witches, going back all the way to Salem. Growing up, the girls used to joke with Bonnie and pretended to cast spells on the kids who were mean to them in elementary school. Well, until Kennedy's mom found out and informed them it was not nice to make fun of Bonnie's grandmother nor was it appropriate to poke boys with a stick and tell them they'd turn into toads the next morning if they weren't nicer.

"Okay, so give me a sec. Grams says I have to concentrate." Bonnie closed her eyes, but Elena held up a finger to stop her.

"Wait, you need a crystal ball." Turning around, Elena glanced around until she found an empty beer bottle on the ground. "Tada."

"Now tell us the future, Bonnie the Mystic," Kennedy laughed as Elena handed the girl the glass bottle.

Bonnie reached for the glass, and her eyes widened as soon as her hand connected with Elena's. She frowned, and a brief second went by before she tore her hand away from the glass.

"What?" the other two girls spoke in unison.

"That was weird. When I touched you, I saw a crow."

"Oh, the omen of death..." Kennedy sang jokingly, taking the bottle and tossing into the trash.

"What?" Elena asked, head tilted and body leaned forward. Wait, she wasn't buying into this was she?

"A crow," Bonnie repeated. "There was fog, a man…" Seeing the look on Elena's face, Bonnie shook her head. "I'm drunk. It's the drinking. There's nothing psychic about it. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Kennedy agreed, looping her arm with Bonnie. "Wanna go get a refill?" With a nod as confirmation, Kennedy pulled the brunette with her. "Well, catch up with you later, okay?"

"Okay?"

It didn't take long for Kennedy and Bonnie to grab another round of drinks—a bottle of beer for Kennedy and another glass of punch for Bonnie. Hearing a laugh, the two spotted Oliver a few feet away, red solo cup in hand. As he brought a red solo cup to his lips, Oliver rolled his eyes, shoulder bumping with one of the guys from the football team. Hooking her thumb towards the blond, Kennedy motioned for Bonnie to follow her. By the time they reached him, Oliver had glanced up and noticed their presence.

"Well, if it isn't the Psychic and the Brainiac," he announced, lips curled up into a cheeky smirk and arm crossed over his chest.

"Ha ha. You're such a comedian," Kennedy spoke dryly.

He shrugged. "I know. It's a curse, what can I say."

Meanwhile, Bonnie's elbow connected with Kennedy's ribcage. "Ow," she mumbled, free hand rubbing her side. Why was she always getting elbowed?

"You told him?" Bonnie asked, eyebrows raised. It wasn't that Bonnie cared about Oliver knowing, but she didn't need the whole school knowing that her Grams was convinced she was a witch. It was bad enough most of Mystic Falls thought Grams was crazy every other day. Talk of witchcraft? In a small southern town? That was an easy way to get thrown into a mental hospital.

"When did I have a chance to tell him? I literally heard about this story two minutes ago."

"Elena told me," he interrupted the two of them. "Sometime earlier today when I passed her in the hall. So your Grams thinks your psychic?"

"Yeah, can we just—not talk about it?" Bonnie's voice softened as she took another sip of her punch. "Besides there's much more important things to be talking about."

"Like what?"

"Like you and Vicki," Kennedy interjected, raising her eyebrows. She watched as Oliver rolled his eyes. The news that he and Vicki Donovan were back together had spread through the school like wildfire, and although Kennedy had heard about the news from the horse's mouth, it didn't mean she hadn't taken the time to listen to what everyone else was saying.

Cheeks puffed out, Oliver sighed. "Yeah, Kenn, What about it?"

"I just—"

"We just care about you, Ollie." Bonnie interjected, and Kennedy nodded in agreement, eyes locked on the blond in front of them as Bonnie shrugged, an air of nonchalance surrounding her. "And we just want what's best for you."

Kennedy knew Oliver didn't like when the two of them ganged up on him about his relationship with the older Donovan, but to be fair, Oliver and Vicki had been the longest on-again, off-again relationship Mystic Falls High School had. The two had been at it since ninth grade, and Kennedy had never been a fan of it. When Oliver was dating Vicki, Tyler was. When neither of them were dating Vicki, the older Donovan could be found hanging out with Elena's kid brother Jeremy, smoking pot and doing whatever other drugs they could get their grubby hands on. Although it was obvious that both Oliver and Vicki loved each other, Kennedy just didn't have faith that he understood what would happen if their relationship truly ended. Tens of break-ups over the course of four years took enough of a toll on Oliver, yet every time, the two of them seemed to get back together. Kennedy just didn't want to see him get hurt when something happened, whether it was because the duo broke up or because Vicki got hurt from her poor life choices.

"Yeah, you guys, I know." Another sigh, his arms folded across his chest. "I swear you guys act like I don't know what I'm doing."

"No, Ollie. It's not that. We just want you happy, that's all." Bonnie's voice grew soft, a touch of sympathy lingered in her eyes.

The male's gaze fell, eyes locking on the beat up, white Chuck Taylor's that he'd managed to wear to a sole. The chatter between the three had grown to an awkward silence, and Oliver leaned back against a wooden post, his left hand used as support, right hand holding his cup of beer as he brought it back to his lips.

"Have you met the new guy? Stefan? Earlier in history, the two were giving each other googly eyes. We think Elena has the hots for him." Kennedy chirped, hoping to steer the conversation away from Oliver's relationship.

Slowly, a grin crept on the blond's face, and Kennedy smiled.

"Of course you guys do. I swear, that's all you chicks ever talk about. Us guys."

"That's not all we do," Kennedy threw at him, despite knowing he was joking. "Right, Bon?"

"Huh?" She drew her glance back to the duo. "Oh, yeah. We talk about other stuff. Like shoes, nail polish, clothes—we always talk about clothes, feminine stuff."

"Alright, alright. I've heard enough." Oliver shook his head, cringing from an imaginary chill.

Kennedy's grin grew, and she high-fived Bonnie.

"You guys are the worst," he groaned, lips holding back a smile.

Rolling her eyes, Kennedy pushed at Oliver's shoulder lightly. "We aren't that bad. And either way, you still love us."

"Eh." he shrugged. He peeled his gaze away from the two of them, and Kennedy cleared her throat.

"Oliver!"

"What?!" Eyes immediately narrowed at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. A large huff and a playful roll of the eyes later, he finally gazed back at them.

"I guess I love you both," he teased.

"You better, or else I'll make your life a living hell with my so-called physic powers." Bonnie smirked.

Oliver threw his hands up in defense, and Kennedy let out a giggle. "Yes ma'am." Oliver laughed, bring the red solo cup back to his lips.

A few more drinks later, the party was still roaring, and everyone was having a good time. Kennedy, Oliver, and Bonnie were dancing by the bonfire with some of Kennedy's friends from track and Oliver's friends from football; however, their fun didn't last long when Elena's call for help rang over the loud music and chatty partiers.

The three glanced at each other before rushing over to the help their friends.

Matt had reached Elena and Jeremy first, spying his sister's bloody and unconscious body on the ground. "Vicki? Vicki, what the hell?!"

"What happened to her?" Oliver demanded, hovering over his bleeding girlfriend.

"Yeah, what happened to her?" Tyler repeated. His eyes glared accusingly at Jeremy, but Kennedy was quick to step in between Tyler and Jeremy. She didn't have time for any of the petty drama revolving around who was in love with Vicki and who should be dating her.

"Somebody! Call an ambulance!" Matt yelled, and Kennedy nodded, pulling out her phone as Tyler instructed everyone to give the poor girl some space. Meanwhile, Oliver had ripped off his t-shirt and was holding it against Vicki's neck while Matt tried to get a response out of her.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Hello? We're at the Mystic Falls Park, and someone's been seriously hurt. She's lying unconscious on the ground. We need an ambulance immediately."

"We'll have one on the way now, ma'am. We'd like to keep you on the line while it's on the way. Can you tell me how she's been hurt?"

Kennedy placed the phone against her hand. "Does anyone know what exactly happened?"

"It's her neck," Elena spoke up. "Something bit her. She's losing a lot of blood."

"Something bit her, and she's losing a lot of blood. Looks like it might have been an animal attack."

"Okay, can you apply pressure to the wound?"

"Yeah, we've got a t-shirt pressed against it now. Please hurry."

A few moments later, the ambulance wheeled Vicki and Matt to Mystic Falls General Hospital, leaving the teenagers to disperse and rid the evidence of alcohol from the park given the abundance of cops now at the party, gathering statements.

Kennedy had just finished giving her statement to the police, glad to have switched to water after just one glass of punch and one bottle of beer, when she saw Bonnie walking away from Elena with Caroline and Oliver in tow.

"Where are you three headed?"

Oliver sighed, rubbing at his hands. "M'heading to the hospital to keep Matt company while Vicki's in surgery. You two mind making sure Care gets home safe and sound?"

"I'll be fine, Ollie," Caroline insisted, but both Kennedy and Bonnie could hear the slight slur in her words.

"We've got her. Don't worry." Oliver nodded, patting Kennedy on the shoulder with the hand not covered in blood and walking away.

"So Mainline Coffee then?" Bonnie suggested. "Figured we can wait for news there and sober this one up while we're at it."

"Sounds like a plan to me. I could use a coffee before getting back to my folks."

"Let's go then."

Kennedy sighed, rubbing her hands against her face. She was exhausted, and although the coffee was delicious, it wasn't doing much on the whole keeping her awake bit.

"Are you sober yet?" Bonnie asked Caroline, glancing at the clock.

Caroline shook her head. "No."

"Well, keep drinking. I gotta get you home. I gotta get me home. It's—" Bonnie glanced at her wrist before realizing she wasn't wearing a watch. "What time is it?"

"11:45," Kennedy answered before the words sunk in. "It's 11:45. My dad's going to kill me. I was supposed to be home 45 minutes ago."

"Do you need a ride?" Bonnie asked, pushing away her coffee and reaching for her keys.

"No, no. I'll walk home. It's not too far from here. Besides, I'm already late. A few more minutes isn't going to kill me, and you're need here to get her in condition to deal with her mom. I'm sure the sheriff won't appreciate her daughter coming home drunk."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I'm positive. Stay. I'll see you guys tomorrow at school."

Kennedy stood up, grabbing her phone and purse before walking out of the coffee shop. She had just finished closing the door when her shoulder bumped into someone.

"M'sorry. I wasn't looking where I was—" She glanced up to meet a pair of intense blue eyes and raven hair. "—going."

"And we meet again. Where are you rushing off to, Kennedy?" he asked, leaning against the window to the coffee shop.

"Home. Out past my curfew."

"It's not even midnight," he argued.

She laughed. "My dad's a bit of a stickler for rules, so my curfew's a lot stricter than others around here."

"Need a ride?" He pointed to an older model of pale blue Camaro parked across the street.

Kennedy shook her head. She knew better than to ride in a car with a stranger, even when still a bit tipsy. "Sorry, but I'm already late, and my dad would freak even more if I was driven home by a boy. Especially one he's never met before."

"Ah, I get it. Well, have a safe walk home then."

"Thanks," she gave him a small grin and wave before walking off.

Weird.

<>

"Do you know what time it is?" Bryan barked before Kennedy was even fully through the door of her house. She sighed, having expected this. Walking into the living room, she saw her father sitting in the same seat he'd been in when she left, the same medical journal in his lap.

"Ten minutes past midnight, I know. I was planning on being home on time, but Vicki Donovan got attacked by some animal after she went off in the woods by herself. Elena's kid brother found her, and I called for an ambulance. I had to stick around longer to give my statement to the deputies and such. I'm sorry, I meant to call, but by the time I remembered my phone had died."

Kennedy heard her father sigh and knew she was going to be let off the hook, if only reluctantly.

"I'm really sorry," she pleaded.

"I told you I didn't want you going, and just because I'm letting you off with a warning this time," he pointed his finger at her to emphasize his point. "doesn't mean this will happen again. Curfews are non-negotiable. Especially with the animal attacks in the area becoming more present. I don't want to receive a call from work saying you're in the hospital because a bear or cougar mauled you."

"Yes, sir," she nodded her head, backing up towards the stairs.

"Now go to bed. I'm sure your mother will have a few things to say about this in the morning as well."

With that, Kennedy scampered off to her bed, glad to be able to relax against the cotton sheets and sleep.

[accioharry]

if the world was ending | peter & mj |  ch 2

Perhaps she could finally call him a friend, maybe even on the way to being her best friend. She couldn’t ruin that now, but she couldn’t watch him ruin himself either. She found herself at a crossroads, wondering what mattered more.

ao3 | read from the beginning 

chapter word count: 1.8k

They agreed to meet at a coffee shop near Central Park, a place Michelle frequented often on the weekends with her family. While she was gone, parts of the park had been turned into a memorial for the fallen; a memorial that was currently in limbo of whether it would stay up or not. She took note of the amount of families in the park, as though they were cherishing every moment they had together. She never thought she’d feel that way at her age.

She found Peter outside the Starbucks with a hot coffee already in his hand. Even though she mentally prepared herself, Michelle felt the ground sway beneath her as soon as she saw Peter’s face. He had a scar on his cheek as though stitches were there a few months ago, but what shocked Michelle the most was how exhausted he looked. He looked so stricken with grief, as though something awful had completely shattered him into pieces. 

He still looked the same with the unruly curly hair and the chocolate brown eyes that she caught staring at her more than once in decathlon practice. Except when he lifted his head to acknowledge her and she saw his eyes, the little sparkle of mischief was gone. In a way, she barely recognized him. 

“Iced latte with almond milk?” He nodded to the iced coffee on the bench next to him. She took it graciously, shock evident on her face as she sat next to him on the bench. Her words caught in her throat for a moment, as though she had no idea what to say next.

“Peter,” she tapped his shoulder and he turned to her. He winced as she examined the scar. “That wasn’t there before.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he shrugged, sipping his coffee. Michelle wanted to argue with him so badly, wanted to push him to tell her everything he kept from her, but she just couldn’t. Not when he looked so destroyed. 

“I think after recent events, nothing would surprise me,” she smiled slightly. It took everything in her to not ask questions –– his battle scars were so prominent, she wasn’t prepared for it.  

“Challenge accepted and noted for the future,” Peter replied. “Did you sleep well?”

“I wouldn’t say I slept great, but it’s gotten better over time,” she leaned back against the bench, tucking her feet under her. “It’s getting easier to be in the dark, even if…it was instant for us,” she muttered before looking up at him. He was staring straight ahead, as though his focus was the only thing keeping him sane. “Are you sleeping?” She already knew the answer. 

He sighed, sipping the coffee again before leaning forward on his elbows. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

“Not for a second,” she wanted to confide in him, to tell him that she wants to be there for everything. The death of Tony Stark hit him like a train—she could see it in his eyes. He was still sixteen, technically, but he acted so much older now, as though he aged the five years in a matter of five minutes. It would be so easy to grab his hand and tell him that she was here, and wanted to understand. So why couldn’t she?

“This is the first time I went out of the apartment,” he admitted. “I’ve wanted to, but I spent the first few weeks––“ he cut himself off before he slipped up, “upstate. I was upstate, but May found an apartment for us, so we came back finally.” 

“I haven’t gone out much either,” she said softly. “Only with my family, but never on my own. It’s different now, for all of us.”

“Yeah,” Peter sipped his coffee again, and Michelle could’ve sworn he was holding back tears. “It’s different.” 

The two of them sat in silence for a long time, watching the world move around them. It was hard to tell who had blipped and who didn’t because from the outside, it looked as though society was rebuilding itself just fine. Michelle knew better than that, and also knew how easy it was for Peter to get lost in his own thoughts. She glanced at him. 

“Do you want to take a walk?” _______________________________________________________________________ She missed hearing Peter’s rambles about pure nonsense. 

He was reluctant to take the walk, but Michelle pulled him up by the arm until he finally agreed. Getting back in the world was hard, but having Peter by her side made it a little easier, she was certain of that. 

“So basically, they still made the last Star Wars film, and it’s been out for YEARS,” Peter huffed. “I can’t believe it, I knew they filmed already before the blip, but they could have waited until we came back.”

“Okay in the defense of Hollywood, they didn’t know that we’d come back,” Michelle smiled. “You’re just mad you didn’t get to see it in theatres.”

“I’m not mad about that, I’m mad that I didn’t get to go to the premiere. The freaking premiere! I missed it and it will never happen again,” he grumbled. “It’s rude.”

“How is that rude?” she laughed. “You’re so grumpy about this!”

“If it was a good movie I’d understand, but it was so bad MJ, you don’t understand.” He kept rambling, and Michelle’s heart did a flip hearing him call her MJ again. It’s been quite a while since she heard that nickname. 

“I watched it with my brother,” she cut him off before he could continue. “It…had it’s good moments.” She rolled her eyes at the look of disgust on Peter’s face. “It did!”

“You’re defending the worst film in the saga, I hope you know that.”

“Says the boy whose favorite character was Jar Jar Binks in sixth grade.”

“I still can’t believe Ned told you that, I told him that in confidence.”

“and now it is a small fact about you that I will cherish forever,” she grinned, elbowing him in the side. It didn’t seem to bother him.

“You mean you’ll hold it over me for the rest of my life?” Peter scoffed, dumping his empty coffee cup in a trash can as they walked. 

“Same thing,” she smiled, and Peter’s face lit up. 

“So what, ten years from now you’ll send me an outdated Jar Jar Binks meme from a blocked number, taunting me once again?”

“I would never do such a thing,” Michelle faked offense. “I’d mail it to you, obviously.”

It surprised her to see Peter double over in laughter. She didn’t realize she was being funny, but it made him smile, so she went with it. For a brief moment in time, all of his suffering was gone, vanished as though it had been blipped permanently. She willed her mind to remember the moment for as long it would allow her, because a happy Peter Parker was officially her favorite Peter Parker.

_______________________________________________________________________ It was an hour later when Michelle decided she had enough. 

Even if Peter smiled with her, it lasted for a brief moment before his face fell again. She could tell Peter was in pain, he looked so lost. His eyes never focused on anything, his sentences went unfinished when he got deep in his thoughts, and call it instinct, but she just knew. 

“Okay,” she huffed, and Peter turned back to look at her, not realizing she had stopped walking. “Sit down.”

He looked around. They were still in the park, but not in an area where many empty benches were prominent. “Where?”

“On the ground, where else?”

He opened his mouth as though he wanted to argue, but thought different when he saw the look of determination on her face. He followed Michelle off the path and into the grass. She sat down, patting the space beside her. 

Even though it was still summer it was an overcast day, which to be honest, really reflected the mood Peter was in. He knew Michelle suspected something, but was he ready to tell her?

“Hey,” she muttered after a period of silence. “Talk to me.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing for two hours?” Peter’s eyes weren’t focused on her, but on the grass he was picking with his hands. He was caught, and he knew it. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

The silence was deafening and actually made her uncomfortable. For someone who spent most of her school years avoiding crowds and sitting in the library, she felt almost claustrophobic in the current silence.

 She wanted to shake him –– to yell in his face that she knows and she wants to help him. If she did that, she’d scare him off and he would never trust her again. They had gotten closer in the past twenty-four hours than they ever had been before the blip, before anything really. 

Perhaps she could finally call him a friend, maybe even on the way to being her best friend. She couldn’t ruin that now, but she couldn’t watch him ruin himself either. She found herself at a crossroads, wondering what mattered more. 

“Peter, please,” she tried again. “Talk to me, I’m here aren’t I? I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to help.” 

“You don’t understand,” he shrugged, his head lowered. “You wouldn’t understand. I can’t just tell you, it’s not that easy,” he winced, as though the words caused him physical pain. “I want to, I wish I could tell someone but—” He trailed off. 

She didn’t know what to say. Her limbs felt heavy, as though the weight of the world had fallen upon her. A weight of guilt, for thinking she could fix everything by being there, for thinking Peter would easily open up to her just because she was there. That’s not how it worked and she knew that. She just didn’t want to believe it. Life was never kind enough to give her what she wanted.

 Perhaps it was the blip itself, a force of the universe that created a bond between the fallen, the ones who were brought back. Maybe she just wanted a friend, someone who went through what she did. But that wasn’t Peter. He had gone through so much more, and Michelle hated watching him struggle with his demons on his own. 

“I won’t force you to tell me anything,” Michelle said finally. “If anything, I just want you to know that I would never, ever, do that.” 

“I know,” he shrugged, his voice quiet. “I want to, I really do because I know it would help, but I can’t put that on you. I can’t ask you to walk this with me.” 

“Then don’t,” the sincerity in her voice made Peter turn his head towards her. “Don’t ask me, because I’m offering, whenever you’re ready, I’m there.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a small smile, but Michelle could see it in his eyes, he didn’t believe her.

[cdelphiki]

wait wait wait what’s this I hear about a fic where Damian and Tim are kidnapped and Tim is forced to do things or Damian gets tortured bc I don’t remember that WIP and it’s EXACTLY my cup of tea like holy frick did I literally prompt that I don’t know but it is 100% My Kind Of Fic -gremlin

:D I’ve been working on it since like November, I want to say.  It was born of a handful of whumptober prompts and quickly ballooned to be wayyyyy too long to write for whumptober.  But anyway, Tim and Damian get kidnapped while working a Human Trafficking case, lots of torture happens.  Some brainwashing.  It’s bad.  They’re missing a while.  (but not life happens-a while.  Like, less than a year, while) They grow very super close in the meantime.  Because nothing brings people together like trauma!

I’m still super torn on the title.  There’s a phrase said around here a lot in the spring, and it’s Finnish, and it means “The new snow will be the death of the old snow,” and I feel it’s fitting, but it’s in another language.  You know?  I’m afraid that’s too cliche and will turn people off from clicking on the fic. So if anyone has title suggestions, I’m all ears.  I might come up with the perfect answer as I keep working.   

But anyway. Here’s the first chapter, just for you!  💕

Untitled WIP, chapter 1

Going back in school was not something Tim had ever planned on doing.  When he took over as CEO at Wayne Enterprises almost a year ago, he figured his days in the classroom were over.  As thrilling as 10th grade was, CEO was pretty much as high up on the ladder he could get, and if he got there without a high school diploma, what on earth was the point?

But Bruce had been adamant.  Talked him down out of his full time work at WE and encouraged him to go back to school.  Despite Tim’s assurances that he did, indeed, have friends, Bruce seemed to think that being at school around ‘normal’ kids would be good for him.  

Maybe Bruce was right, because sometimes Tim really enjoyed school.  11th grade was remarkably easy and stress-free compared to work, even if Lucius or Tam still called him every once in a while.  Or often, actually, but they knew not to bother him before 3pm unless it was an absolute emergency.  Which meant Tim’s days at school were rather relaxing.

That didn’t mean Tim didn’t live for the final school bell, though, just like every other student in that overpriced building.  

“Tim,” he heard someone shout from down the hall as he was shoving his books into his backpack, antsy to leave for the weekend, “we need to get together and work on our presentation.”

“Nah,” Tim said, turning to whom he now recognized as Mike, his lab partner, “I got it done.  I’ll email you the slides now.  There are notes on each slide, just review it and we’ll be fine.”

“Really?” Mike said, running to catch up as Tim made his way out of the building, “You don’t want me to do anything?”

“Nothing to do,” Tim said, waving a hand as he finished attaching the file to an email, “presentations are easy.  I have marked what you have to say in class.”

“Wow, thanks man.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Tim said, turning toward the lower school where he needed to meet with Damian for pickup.

“We should hang out some time anyway,” Mike called after him, “I’ll text you.”

Tim shot back a peace sign, not even turning back to face Mike.  Because if he did, that would show the goofy smile he couldn’t contain as he bounded down the sidewalk. 

He almost felt…normal again.  Himself.  

Bruce was right.  Going back to school was a great idea.

Tim’s smile didn’t fade as he approached the pick-up area of the lower school.   That is, until he felt Damian approach him from behind.  It was like a sixth sense—a spidey sense—the way the back of his neck prickled whenever the brat was behind him. In reality, he’d probably actually heard Damian, and his subconscious was warning him of impending danger.  Which was unfair to Damian, maybe.  Since he hadn’t actually bodily harmed Tim in at least four hours.  

Fine.  Like three months. But still. 

“Drake,” Damian greeted in his usual flat, disinterested tone.  

“Gremlin,” Tim said, scanning over the line up of cars for Alfred.  There were over a dozen very nice, very expensive cars all along the road, mixed in with many more modest cars, but none of them belonged to Alfred.  Which was strange, because Alfred was usually one of the first in line.  

“It is unlike Pennyworth to be late,” Damian observed dryly, and Tim could hear the underlying tone of worry in the brat’s voice.  

Nodding, Tim scanned the cars again.  Then he saw it.  Bruce’s Tesla, about 15 cars back.  With a smile, Tim headed toward the car, uncaring whether Damian had noticed Bruce yet or not.  Now that they were in eyesight of Bruce, Damian was no longer his problem.  About ten seconds of babysitting was all he had to do that day.  It was a good day.

Damian, apparently, did notice Bruce.  Or, he at least followed Tim anyway toward the Tesla, and only reacted once Tim shouted, “Shotgun,” and quickly opened the passenger door and slid in. 

“Drake,” Damian hollared, scowl becoming more pronounced on his face as Tim grinned and shut the door between them. 

“That is unfair, I always have to sit in the back,” Damian grumbled after he opened the backdoor and slid in.

“That’s because you’re the baby,” Tim said, fastening his seatbelt and looking over at Bruce, “and tiny.  It’s safer for you in the back.”

Instead of react to their bickering, Bruce just grunted and pulled out into traffic. 

“I am not a baby,” Damian pouted, kicking at Tim’s seat, “and I am only a few inches shorter than you.”

“Well then, you should have called shotgun.”

“How was school?” Bruce asked in his gruff tone that signaled it was time to stop arguing, without him having to explicitly state that was the case.

“Fine,” Tim reported, pulling his tablet from his bag to settle back and read on the drive home.  He had a few reports to catch up on for work and he’d have to call Lucius once they got home to catch up on what happened while he was at school.

He was trying to let go of WE, honestly he was, but it was difficult.  And he enjoyed the work so much.

“Where is Pennyworth, Father?” Damian demanded.

Bruce sighed as he checked his mirrors while merging onto the highway.  “Running errands.  I offered to pick you up.”

“Why?” Damian said, now rifling through his backpack, likely for his sketchbook, if Tim knew the kid.  

“I can’t offer to pick you boys up?” Bruce asked, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.  

Tim smiled to himself as he opened up the next report to skim.  Bruce’s good moods were like sunshine in the middle of winter.  Warm and bright, lifting the mood of all those around him.  Today really was a good day.  

“Tt. You never have before.” 

“Actually, I do have an ulterior motive.”

“Shocker,” Tim mumbled, trying to get through the last report as fast as he could before Bruce demanded his attention.

“You know that case I’ve been working on for the past few months?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim clicked his tablet’s screen off and asked, “the human trafficking one?”

“I’ve got a lead,” Bruce said, grunting in the affirmative, “and I’m leaving tonight to follow it.”

Ah.  So Bruce wanted to get them alone, trapped in a car, to impress into them how important it was to not kill each other on Alfred’s watch.  Smart.  Because neither of them would remain in the room otherwise.

“Where are we going, Father?” 

Tim snorted, “Please, Damian.  Like he’s take us on a human trafficking case that’s dragging him outside the country.”

“Well, actually,” Bruce said before Damian could protest, “I wanted to bring you, Tim.”

“Me?” Tim asked at the same time Damian shouted, “Him?”

“Yes.  Your skills would be useful to-”

“But Father,” Damian shouted, leaning forward so his face was right between the passenger and driver’s seats, “I am Robin.  I am your partner.”

“You’re both Robin,” Bruce grumbled as he checked around him to shift lanes, “and I have more than one partner.”  

“It’s Batman and Robin, not Batman and Red Robin,” Damian protested, still right into Tim’s ear.

“Damian,” Bruce snapped, “sit back properly and fasten your seatbelt.”

“You can’t take Drake,” Damian continued ranting, even as he complied with Bruce’s order, “It’s not fair.  You never take me anywhere.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Bruce grumbled, “Tim, we’ll leave tonight.  I’ve already let the others know we’ll be away and asked them to watch Gotham in the meantime.”

“What about me, Father,” Damian asked, still demanding in his tone, his age shining through gloriously with his tantrum.  

“Damian,” Bruce said calmly, just to be cut off by Damian again.

“This isn’t fair.  Not only are you leaving me behind but you’re going to force me to stay in all weekend.  I follow your dumb rules about curfews on school nights, this isn’t fair.”

“Damian,” Bruce repeated, tensing some as he shifted his hands on the steering wheel.  Tim just sank down into his chair and grinned.  Bruce angry with Damian was one of his favorite things.  It was even better than Bruce’s good moods, because the little brat deserved to get yelled at sometimes. It always made Tim happy to actually hear one of the adults in their lives actually do it.

“Why are you bringing Drake?”  

Tim grunted when his seat was kicked again.

Bruce seemed undeterred by Damian’s outburst and said simply, “His skills are more suited to this case than yours.”  

“What skills?” Damian shrieked, “I am the superior Robin in every way.”

Tim let out an annoyed huff turned his tablet back on.  Yelling over, he was ready to get immersed back into his work. He was used to Damian’s verbal abuse, but wasn’t interested in hearing Bruce not defend him. 

No one ever defended him against Damian.

“I need someone clever and quick on his feet who will not be rash in his decisions.  This is a very sensitive case and a lot can go wrong if we move too quickly.”

“I’ve done human trafficking cases before,” Damian protested, “I can handle it.  I can do it!”

“Not like this one you haven’t.  A lot can go wrong, it’s too risky.”

“But Father,” Damian said, his voice coming dangerously close to whining and Bruce was having none of it.

“If you are hoping to convince me to bring you,” Bruce said, his voice hard, “throwing a tantrum is not the way to do it.  All you are proving to me is that you are a petulant child.”

Damian let out a growl and kicked at Tim’s seat one more time as he collapsed against his own seat.  “This isn’t fair,” Tim heard the kid mumble.  

“We will leave in a few hours, so when we get home I expect you to wrap up any business you have,” Bruce told Tim, as if there hadn’t just been an argument in the car, “pack warm clothes.  It’s still winter in Siberia.”

“Okay,” Tim agreed, typing out an email for Lucius in lieu of the call he had been planning on having, “when will we return?”

“Wednesday, at the earliest,” Bruce grunted, just as they pulled off the highway toward Bristol, “Friday at the latest.”

Nodding, Tim finished up the email and said, “Did you tell my school already?”

“Alfred will call on Monday.  I already filled him in on the details.”

“Father, please,” Damian said, much more calmly than anything he’d said thus far.

“No, Damian,” Bruce said gently, almost sadly, while still somehow making his words sound firm and unchangeable, “Not this time.”

The enraged screech Damian let out, however, was nothing near gentle.  Tim had to hide his smile again when he heard it, because it was about as close to throwing a tantrum Damian got.  At least, the crying kind of tantrum.  He stomped around and screamed a lot while throwing things, usually.  This just sounded like…. a kid.  Being mad his dad won’t buy him that new toy at Walmart.  

Amusing.

“Damian Wayne,” Bruce snapped, turning to face Damian while they were stopped at a traffic light, “I said no and that’s final. Keep this up and you’ll find yourself benched indefinitely.”

Bruce’s death glare was leveled at Tim for half a second when he accidentally snorted. But Tim could tell there was no real heat behind it.  Not for Tim, at least.  It kind of made it harder to not laugh.  

But the threat worked, and Damian went silent and still.  And remained like that for the rest of the drive home.�� Tim managed to keep the smile off his face, a feat much harder than would be expected in an atmosphere so tense.  

Those good mood vibes from earlier hadn’t been squashed by Damian, and Tim would be hard pressed to say he was anything but happy.

“I hate you, Drake,” Damian eventually muttered, just as Bruce parked the car in the garage.  

Tim grinned widely and turned to face Damian, just so he could stick his tongue out at the brat.  An action that would have earned him a knife in the face, six months ago.  Now all it got him was another kick to his chair.  He might have been punched, though, had he not quickly retreated back to the safety of having the seat between them.

Bruce simply raised an eyebrow at Tim, adequately scolding him for his behavior without even opening his mouth.

But then, of course, Bruce did open his mouth, too once they’d gotten out of the car. “If you’re going to act like a child-”

“No,” Tim said hastily, slinging his bag on his back, “you already invited me.  No take backs.”

“No take backs?” Bruce echoed, this time not masking the slight upturn of his lips, “Tim, what’s gotten into you?”

Tim just grinned and said, “Nothing.”  

“Well,” Bruce said, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulder as they walked.  Much slower than Damian’s stride, when he’d run into the Manor the second the car doors unlocked, “It’s nice.  To see you like this.”

When all Tim did was smile, because heck yeah, it was nice to feel that way, too, Bruce pat his back and then pushed him forward, “Go on.  Wrap things up, pack a bag.  We leave at 6.”

So Tim did.  Even as he listened to Damian throw crap around in his bedroom, just on the other side of the wall from Tim’s, he cheerfully packed a bag.  

Because between having a great day at school, making new friends, and getting a rare good mood from Bruce, Tim was already doing pretty well.  His days of depression felt pretty well gone and dead.  But take all that and add it to going on a week long trip with just him a Bruce? Something that hadn’t happened in years? Something he once thought would never happen again?

Yeah.

Tim was pretty damn ecstatic. 

[noonmutter]

*Grinch grin* Make me admit something... DO THEM ALL.

Pff like I haven’t had to do this rodeo before come at me scrub

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

That’s either my realtor or my mom, so no.

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

No? Why on earth would I?

3. Have you taken someones virginity?

Not to my knowledge.

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

Absolutely. Trust is the core of a relationship, without it you’re just acquaintances who maybe make eye contact sometimes.

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?

From the phrasing I assume this means “like-like” and since I live with my fiance, yes.

( I really did answer all of them at once but I’m not enough of a turd to fill everybody’s dashboard so the rest are behind the cut! )

6. What are you excited for?

Boring work stuff that makes little sense to anybody who doesn’t work with me but is going to be just as jazzed about it as I am because they’re FINALLY FIXING SOMETHING I SAID WAS A PROBLEM A YEAR AGO–AGAIN

7. What happened tonight?

Um… it’s four in the afternoon here.

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

I think it’s disgusting when anybody gets wasted. You aren’t even conscious of whatever fun you might be having and you sure as shit aren’t tasting whatever you’re drinking anymore. Quit that.

9. Is confidence cute?

Only in the context of someone who’s about to get the living shit beaten/embarrassed out of them for being confident against all advice to the contrary (”He’s gonna go punch a tarrasque in the nads! How cute!”). Otherwise confidence is just a good thing and generally rad.

10. What is the last beverage you had?

I just finished my second coke of the day about ten seconds ago and am debating a third.

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

“Fully” is the operative word and that number is zero of any sex.

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

Probably. It’s hard not to get them when you’re at a certain size.

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?

Work, go home, either raid or RP, and sleep. I do that basically every Saturday night.

14. What are you going to spend money on next?

Ideally a house that isn’t being sold by an idiot, but probably something less interesting like Starbucks.

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?

Hey @dwyndel would you consider what we’re doing “going out”?

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

I mean, I hope so? Growth is important.

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

My fiance and my mom.

18. The last time you felt broken?

hahaha “last time”

19. Have you had sex today?

hahaha “today” I haven’t gotten laid in years. plural.

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

what the hell kinda question is this that’s not something you admit to, that’s a question that answers itself and the answer is either “no” because you aren’t or “yes” because the question made you realize it

21. Are you in a good mood?

Pretty good, yeah

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

Yes but I’ll be peeing literally the entire time

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?

Probably. I got a lot of my looks from him, which aggravates the shit out of me since he’s a terrible person

24. What do you want right this second?

A nap

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

‘Can I watch’‘Were they hot’‘Do they like sharing’‘Your breath smells like infidelity’

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?

Yep, white streak included

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?

Probably not, but there’s a huuuuuuge difference between “doesn’t make me laugh” and “does not have a compatible sense of humor with mine.” Some people just aren’t funny. Like me. I’m not funny at all. Jesus am I ever not funny. Wow.

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

A fucking Spanish Inquisition reference from Dan Avidan in Game Grumps that I’m still mad at myself for laughing at

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?

Eh, not really. I don’t have homesickness pangs or people-aren’t-here pangs unless I know I can’t get to them because they’re not in a place where I can go. Otherwise I’d be a sad puppy every time I went to work

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

No. Some people are not worth anyone’s time or effort and often they know it and abuse people’s willingness to forgive or try.

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

Hatred is hard to pull out of me unless you personally did something really offensive and permanent to me. I get tired of people but I very rarely hate them. The last “boy” (he is very much an adult, calling him “boy” is fuckin’ wierd) I talked to was my supervisor and I rather like Phill

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

I am engaged. You tell me.

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?

Not only did I just say I’m contemplating a third Coke at 4 in the afternoon, I have a bucket to collect pull tabs in for the fiance to make chainmail out of

34. Listening to?

My coworkers chattering in the office around me. I could listen to music if I wanted, but the office headsets suck ass and can’t handle bass of any kind

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?

Not often. My handwriting is awful and I try not to write by hand at all, but if I do, it’ll probably be in pen

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?

Either at home or running errands

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Shit no

38. Who did you last call?

Not counting work calls, I try not to call people if I can possibly avoid it. Uhhhhhhh…probably my mom.

39. Who was the last person you danced with?

hahaha “dance”

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

Because she was there and smoochable

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?

Haven’t had cupcakes in a VERY long time, have had very good muffins from Costco this week though

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

Nope, they live in Virginia and I don’t

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?

Am I misunderstanding what you do to attract a mate?

44. Do you tan in the nude?

I don’t tan.

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?

Nope, that’s my smooch and I’m keeping it

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

Sorta. RP is kinda like talking, right?

47. Who was the last person to call you?

Realtor.

48. Do you sing in the shower?

Not really. If anything I hum; being able to hear myself too well makes me get quieter

49. Do you dance in the car?

Drum stuff out, finger-piano on the steering wheel, occasionally headbang.

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

Once, and I’d love to again. The first/last time I fired a bow I took ten shots and bullseyed six.

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

College. Never doing that shit again.

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

That’s sort of the point of them. The question isn’t are they cheesy, it’s are they good.

53. Is Christmas stressful?

Of course it is. The only time it’s not is when you’re too young/old to have conscious thoughts, because even young children worry endlessly over what they’re getting or if they’re getting anything or what if santa thinks they were bad

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

I fucking love pierogi but I’ve only ever had the frozen ones from Mrs. T’s, Dwyn and I keep saying we should find time to make some and see how much better it is

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?

Don’t really do pies of any kind except for French Silk. Fruit pie filling is a wierd texture I don’t really enjoy

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Architect and animator

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

Enough to be unsettled late at night by noises I can’t identify, not enough to be unwilling to sleep in an allegedly haunted house

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

All day every day. No joke somedays I wonder if people who think they have psychic powers are just people with really persistent deja vu, it feels like magic

59. Take a vitamin daily?

vitamin coke or vitamin coffee

60. Wear slippers?

Technically the shoes I wore to work today could count as slippers. I call them my crazy-people shoes because they have no shoelaces and no fittings

61. Wear a bath robe?

only when it’s really cold in the house

62. What do you wear to bed?

Nothing

63. First concert?

Blind Guardian at the Pop’s in Chicago when I was 13. It was their first US tour and my parents are boss people who really wanted to humor their kid. People at the show realized this tiny barely-teenager in the back knew every word to every song and pulled me to the front, and there was no barrier between crowd and stage, so I got to lean on the stage and got smirked at by the guitarist. After the show I shook Hansi Kirsch’s hand and got my copy of Imaginations From The Other Side signed. Good times

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

Target

65. Nike or Adidas?

Neither, they’re both overpriced shit

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?

Cheetos

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

Peanuts, although I’d rather have cashews

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?

I don’t know any taylor swift songs nor do I care

69. Ever take dance lessons?

Nope

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

Hadn’t given that one any thought beyond helping her job hunt in the immediate sense. I can see her doing costuming on a professional level eventually, though

71. Can you curl your tongue?

I never know what people mean by this. I can make an “O” shape with my tongue but that’s it, I never figured out that clover shape

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

Multiple. I almost went national in …something-before-sixth-grade-because-I-remember-beating-sixth-graders but refused to go because I wanted to stop being stared at (seriously, I just didn’t want to go because I hated being on a stage). I’m sure that frustrated my mom

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

A few times, but not often

74. What is your favorite book?

One of the Discworld novels, but the answer is ever-changing because they’re all pretty goddamn great. Picking one out of a hat, Unseen Academicals is pretty rad just because it’s got such a great take on [thing that spoils the plot if I say it]

75. Do you study better with or without music?

I was not a studying kid, I was a “retains everything as long as nobody stops me from doodling while they’re teaching and it’s not about numbers” kid. Thinking about it I was probably doing some eidetic memorization tricks without realizing it, my fact retention is/was top notch when I cared

76. Regularly burn incense?

Nope, I have over 100 allergies and a lot of them are to plants so I’m not risking that bullshit

77. Ever been in love?

I am engaged to be married right now

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

Does Critical Role count?

79. What was the last concert you saw?

H…alestorm? I think? It’s actually been a while

80. Hot tea or cold tea?

Hot plz

81. Tea or coffee?

Tea if it’s just the drink itself, coffee if I can put a ton of shit in it so I can only barely taste the actual coffee

82. Favorite type of cookie?

Does Not Contain Raisins

83. Can you swim well?

I can swim, Iunno about well? I’ve never been in danger of drowning for lack of swimming ability, I guess

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

What an interesting question, it hadn’t occurred to me there are people who can’t until now

85. Are you patient?

When I choose to be

86. DJ or band, at a wedding?

If it’s affordable and the right band, band. Otherwise DJ and karaoke because HELL YEAH GET YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY DRUNK AND LET THEM SING

87. Ever won a contest?

A smattering of spelling bees, a couple art contests, summer reading competitions. Nerd shit, yanno? Although I’ve won those water gun shooting gallery games at Six Flags every time there’s enough people to play, too

88. Ever have plastic surgery?

Nope

89. Which are better black or green olives?

Olives are gross

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

It’s sex, who cares

91. Best room for a fireplace?

Living room and/or bedroom

92. Do you want to get married 

I am engaged right now

@theengraver EAT ME

[sandersfander1820]

I’m Here: Part One

Summary: Patton has soulmates. For most people, that wouldn’t be a problem… But Patton isn’t most people.

Words: 4,155

Author’s Note: I had actually started to write this before I brought a prompt of “Patton angst soulmate AU” to @pieceofshir. She actually did a fantastic little fic of this and I highly suggest going and reading it because it was really good. But here’s the first part of the fic I started writing as well.

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | ?

He was in first grade when pen marks and marker swipes started showing up on his hands and arms.

At first, Patton didn’t think anything of it. He didn’t really pay much attention to it and didn’t notice it at first. That, and he probably made some of the marks himself in his rush to color his drawings and stuff.

But he really started to notice the morning that he woke up to see a picture of three purple stick figures drawn on his arm. The lines were squiggly and not very steady, but Patton loved it. It was cute. Two of the stick people were a lot taller than the other one, the short one in the middle and seemingly holding hands with the others. They all had smiles on their faces.

So Patton nearly flew out of bed to show his mom and dad before he got ready for school.

The second his mother saw the drawing, she gasped and dragged him to the bathroom and started scrubbing at his arm. The entire time, she was scolding him and just about yelling about how he should never draw on himself and how he would end up with ink poisoning or something.

The scrubbing hurt. She was using one of their old washcloths that was kind of scratchy, one of the ones Patton hated using for anything because it wasn’t soft. But she’d wet it down and scrubbed some soap into it and rubbed it over and over and over Patton’s skin, rubbing it red and raw.

And Patton was crying. Because he hadn’t drawn it, and he tried telling his mom that, but she wouldn’t listen. Even when it wouldn’t come off and the drawing was stuck there, she continued scrubbing, her face pinched in an angry frown, putting more pressure into the movements until Patton was nearly screaming, yanking his arm out of her grasp and holding it to his chest.

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

And Patton ran back to his room, crying so hard he was nearly hyperventilating. There was snot running from his nose, salty tears streaming wildly down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

It was a little while before Patton calmed down, pulling his arm away from his chest and inspecting the raw skin. Just moving his arm pulled at the skin that was stinging and burning. Patton whimpered to himself just as his mother came in.

“Patton, come here,” she said, motioning for him to come stand in front of her.

He was hesitant to do so, but he knew she would get angry if he defied her. So he stood and moved closer, coming to a stop and not looking his mother in the eye.

“Give me your arm, darling.” She held out her hand. He gave it to her and winced a little as she rubbed some ointment over the stinging skin before wrapping gauze around his arm.

“Now, you’re going to wear a long sleeve shirt today, okay? And if someone sees the bandage, you tell them you fell down and hurt yourself. Got it?”

Patton looked up at her briefly before looking back down and nodding.

“Okay. Get ready for school, sweetheart,” she said before leaving down the hallway.

Patton sniffled a little, looking for his only clean long sleeved shirt. The school he went to had uniforms, and since their winters only ever got mildly cold, Patton only had two long sleeve white polos. And one of them was stained, and his mom didn’t know that yet, so he had to find the other one. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. He still wore his shorts, not wanting to be too hot during the day.

So then he went and ate a bowl of cereal and brushed his teeth and let his dad comb his hair for the day. His dad handed him his packed lunch and told him to go grab his backpack. Patton did so and met the man by the back door to get in the car and head to school.

Patton felt a little bit better after his dad talked to him in the car, letting him sit in the front seat even though he knew he shouldn’t since he wasn’t big enough yet. His dad explained how writing on himself could hurt him if he did it too much, and that his mom had hurt herself a long time ago when she did it.

But Patton vowed to never so much as accidentally get a pen mark on his finger when writing.

Virgil was Patton’s best friend. They were in the same class and sat next to each other at the same table. Virgil was sort of quiet where Patton was excitable, but they were basically inseparable. They played together at recess and had sleepovers almost every weekend at one of their houses. Virgil’s parents called Patton their “second son”, and Patton’s parents loved having Virgil around because he was famously able to keep Patton fairly contained.

So when Patton showed up in class that morning, Virgil was immediately at his side.

“Hi, Pat,” Virgil said, a smile on his face.

“Hi, Virgil,” Patton greeted back. He didn’t hold his usual bounce and excitement, and Virgil was bound to notice it.

“Are you okay?”

And there it was. The concern. Virgil was very serious, and rather mature for his age. So he noticed things that other kids their age wouldn’t, and Patton kinda liked it.

Patton smiled a little brighter, nodding his head. “I’m okay.”

Virgil looked at him skeptically for a second.

“Come on, come color with me!” Patton nearly yelled, taking Virgil’s wrist and pulling the other boy over to their table with him, sitting them down in their chairs.

Patton didn’t notice right away. But when he did, he was sort of confused.

Because Virgil had the same drawing on his arm. It was the same squiggly purple lines and the same stick figures holding hands with the same smiles.

Patton wasn’t sure what had happened. How could he have the same drawing on his arm as Virgil? Was Virgil the one who drew it? Should Patton ask about it?

So Patton waited until the teacher let them go with their group work. Then he whispered to Virgil, sort of ignoring the other two kids at their table who were diligently working together to do their addition.

“Did you draw that?” Patton asked quietly, pointing at Virgil’s arm that was uncovered since he was wearing a short sleeve polo.

Virgil looked down at the picture for a second before looking up at his friend with a smile. “Uh huh! It’s me and my mom and dad. Mom really liked it.”

“Shouldn’t you not draw on yourself?” Patton asked.

Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, looking at his friend. “My mom and dad write to each other all the time…”

“They… write to each other?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, tapping his pencil quickly against the table. “They’re soulmates.”

Patton didn’t know what that meant. He thought maybe he’d heard the term “soulmates” before, but he didn’t know what they were.

So all he said was, “oh.”

“Mom,” Patton said on the ride home. “What are soulmates?”

“Soulmates aren’t real, Patton,” his mother said simply. Her tone had a finality to it that Patton did not want to challenge.

Besides, Mom knew a lot of things. He figured she was right about this too. Soulmates weren’t real, whatever they were.

Soon after the first drawing appeared, a lot of other ones did too. Virgil often used purple, which Patton knew was his favorite color. But there seemed to be two other people that were leaving them drawings as well. One of them favored the color red, but often used other colors as well, and another liked the colors blue and black.

And Patton never said anything about how he found these drawings on himself. He never showed them to his parents again, but Virgil would show him the red and blue drawings every morning when they met in class.

Patton pretended he hadn’t seen them before, because somehow, it seemed wrong that he be included in this.

So weeks turned into years, and later, it wasn’t just drawings. There were words. They started writing to each other and leaving messages. Virgil, Ro, and Lo got to know each other slowly. And Patton watched.

Until sixth grade.

In sixth grade, both of the homerooms were gathered in the gym to have a talk about Soulmates.

Patton, who had long been under the impression that soulmates weren’t real, was confused. Why would the school talk to them about something that didn’t exist? Unless it was to tell them all that soulmates weren’t actually real and that there was some other explanation for why everyone found writing on their skin.

Yeah, that was it. They were going to debunk (a word Patton learned from Lo the other day) everything to do with the whole “soulmate” thing.

Except… they didn’t. They were sat down and introduced to this group of people (note: couples), mostly in their late teens and early twenties. They had the sixth graders doing all sorts of activities for about an hour and a half, talking about soulmates and what being a soulmate means.

Soulmates were two or more people who were destined to be with each other. Scientists were still searching for how the connections work and why certain people are connected together and others aren’t, but every set of soulmates were “meant to be”. They love each other implicitly and anything that they wrote or drew on their skin would show up on their soulmate’s skin.

So… so this meant that his mother was wrong. She had lied to him.

“Patton?” his father asked in the car on the way home. Patton spared a brief glance over at the man he looked so much like before turning his eyes back to the window.

“What?”

“Everything alright, kiddo?”

“Fine.”

“You. Lied. To me.” Patton accused angrily at home.

His father came into the room quickly from hanging the car keys back on the hook by the door.

Patton’s mother looked at him, surprised, from her seat on the couch. “Patton… what?”

“You lied to me! You told me soulmates weren’t real, but you lied!” Patton yelled, throwing his backpack to the floor. “They talked to us today! They told us all about soulmates and soulmarks!”

“Patton-”

“Why would you lie to me?! You wouldn’t believe me when I said I didn’t draw on myself, and you told me soulmates didn’t exist! And you knew! You must have known! Everyone knows about soulmates! Why didn’t I?”

A sort of dangerous look came over his mother’s face. Her eyes hardened in a way that Patton didn’t like but wouldn’t back down from. Because Patton’s emotions governed many of the things he did. And in this case, right now, Patton was angry.

“Patton, do not speak to your mother that way,” she warned.

“No.” Patton lifted his chin higher, his anger working to add much more bravado to his stature than usual.

A slight pause. “Excuse you?”

“No. Answer me,” Patton demanded harshly. “Why did you lie?”

The room was silent for a moment too long. Patton didn’t like it, and he could tell his dad was standing behind him, watching the situation unfold before him with no idea what to do.

But then, finally, she spoke. “Soulmates are useless, Patton. Anyone who believes in those childish fairy tales are setting themselves up for heartbreak and a life of torment and agony. You need to learn to grow up before you start demanding answers about things you don’t even understand.”

Patton’s face flashed with shock. For a second, his voice refused to cooperate with him.

“I didn’t lie to you. Soulmates don’t exist.”

Without another word, Patton stormed from the room, snagging his backpack from the ground as he stomped up the stairs and down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

He didn’t know why his mother was so adamant that soulmates weren’t real, but one thing was for sure: Patton didn’t believe her. Patton had three soulmates out there, and one of them was his best friend who he would see in homeroom tomorrow morning.

And Patton was angry.

Virgil talked to Patton about their soulmates often. He showed the other boy his markings and drawings and let his friend read all the messages that Ro and Lo left. Of course, Patton was already very familiar with each and every mark. He saw them when he woke up in the morning since Ro seemed to do most of his line memorization at night, the same as when Virgil practiced his poetry. Lo seemed to have an earlier sleep schedule and woke up much earlier than the others did, and practiced “simple” (read: advanced) algebraic equations to get his brain moving.

And Patton watched them appear throughout the day. While he was extremely careful at every second to ensure he never ended up with pen marks on his hands, they showed up anyway, mostly from Virgil, whose hands could be rather shaky, depending on how bad his anxiety was.

One time, Patton had even gone so far as to put a band-aid over a whole rainbow that had been left on the back of his hand. It’s not as if he could wash it off, and… after all this time, whatever order the other three had seemed to find worked. And it worked well. Patton was certain none of them had a clue that they had a fourth soulmate.

And Patton had always been rather empathetic. He worried to himself a lot whether his presence would mess up the flow and rhythm Virgil, Ro, and Lo had together. Because Patton hadn’t made himself known at the beginning of all this. He hadn’t drawn back to the others when Virgil’s very first drawing had shown up on them. Lo had left a check mark and Ro had left a star, both indicating that they liked the stick figures.

But… he could feel them, sometimes. Or, he thought he could. When Virgil got really jittery, Patton couldn’t really sit still. And when Ro had performed in his first play, Patton wanted to sing for hours (and he had, playing video after video on YouTube). When Lo wins a debate with his junior high debate team, Patton couldn’t help but smile and wish that he could learn everything there was to know in the whole universe.

Could they feel him? It felt exciting that they might, because… it’s not like Patton didn’t want to be a part of what they have. He could honestly say he cared about them, because he did. But it had been his own fault that they didn’t really know him.

Or… no. It wasn’t his fault. It was his mother’s. It was her fault for telling him that soulmates didn’t exist. Her fault that he had been so scared to so much as accidentally make a tally mark on his fingers as he went to cap a pen.

But Patton ignored all that.

He listened to Virgil with rapt attention when he spoke about their soulmates. And Patton heard about when they all reached high school and had supposedly all gotten cellphones around the same time. Ro turned into Roman and Lo became Logan, and Patton didn’t really see a lot of drawings or writings on himself anymore. Because the three of them texted, and they called and followed each other on their social media.

And any sense of connection Patton had once hoped he could have was left in the dust. Because they had moved on to a point in their relationship that Patton couldn’t hope to achieve. He couldn’t catch up. Because he might talk and text with Virgil and often spent at least 75% of their time together, but it was different. Virgil may be his best friend, but Patton was certain that was all he saw them as.

So Patton ignored it all. The math equations, the play lines, and poems - he didn’t read them anymore. He let Virgil show him when they spent time together and Virgil got so pent up that he just had to gush for a while about all the awesome things that Roman and Logan were and did and were going to be.

Years passed, and Patton could honestly say he couldn’t remembered the last time he wore a short sleeve shirt. He wore long sleeve polos and sweaters or jackets all the time. He had gotten glasses back in freshman year when a teacher finally asked him why he wasn’t writing down any of the notes and the answer was that he couldn’t see the board.

His father had taken him to the eye doctor and the doctor had confirmed that Patton had probably needed glasses for years and no one had noticed. So now he had a pair of thick rimmed, black glasses.

That night, Patton had snapchatted Virgil about the glasses and the first thing Virgil said was, “wow you look just like Logan!”.

Patton had cried.

Somewhere around the same time, some kids at school had started whispering about Patton behind his back. It took a while for him to notice, but when he did, he heard things like “I bet he hasn’t got a soulmate”, “covers his arms to hide it”, “he probably gets beaten at home.”

There were worse one, too. “Freak.” “Idiot.” “Airhead.” “Walking bad pun.” “Incomplete.”

“Unwanted.”

For exactly one week, Patton didn’t talk to anyone. Not Virgil, not his biology group for class, not his teachers, not his parents. No one. Virgil followed him around at school, constantly attempting to get Patton to talk to him. And when that failed, he went to their counselor. She had called Patton into her office and tried to talk to him, and during that time, Patton said two words.

“I’m fine.”

On Friday night, Patton’s father loaded him into the car with a packed overnight bag and dropped him at Virgil’s house with no warning.

The two spent three hours sitting in silence.

Until Virgil spoke up, his voice hard and guarded. “Let me see your arms.”

A flash of panic ripped through Patton, and for the briefest of moments, it intensified because it seemed as if he friend had noticed. But then he schooled the feelings away and crossed his arms.

“Why?”

“Because,” Virgil said simply.

“That’s not a reason.”

“I don’t care. Show me your arms.”

“No.”

Patton didn’t know if there was writing there or not. Virgil was wearing something long sleeved too, and Patton hadn’t seen his own arms since that morning. This was not the way he wanted Virgil to find out they were soulmates, if that day were to come at all.

But Virgil was persistent, and Patton’s nerves were frayed. So eventually, Patton stole a blanket from his friend’s bed, laid down, and did his very best to got o sleep. It worked after a while.

Of course, not before he over heard a conversation that he shouldn’t have been privy to. He missed the first part of it, not having noticed when Virgil had opened his laptop and started up a Skype call.

“Honestly, I just don’t get it! What could have happened?”

“Well, has he informed you of any bullying at school? Or perhaps a family situation?”

“No, Logan! Patton would have said something… Right? I mean… I’m his best friend…”

“True, but there are some things people don’t wish to share with others, no matter how close they may be.”

“No, not something this big. He knows that I’m here for him, no matter what.”

“What, exactly, are you worried he has done?”

“I… I think he’s… hurting himself…”

“…oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“I… do not know how I should respond in this instance. Perhaps if you are that worried, you should talk to an adult about it.”

“I tried. He won’t listen to them either.”

“Then you may just have to wait and see what happens. If you are unwilling to invade his privacy, and he won’t talk to the adults, there is not much else for you to do.”

“…”

“I know that face… There’s something else. What is it?”

“I dunno, Logan… He’s been by my side since… since forever. I can’t bear the thought of losing him…”

“How so? As a friend?”

“I… I dunno. There’s something. God, I wish you could talk to him, Logan. You’d understand what I mean. There’s something special about Patton…”

“Like, say… if you lost me or Roman?”

“…”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah, a lot like that…”

Patton’s heart had jumped into his throat. After a second of silence, he pretended to yawn and shift, as if still asleep. He hoped that the movement would cause Virgil to cut the conversation short and say goodnight to Logan. Because Patton didn’t want to listen to anymore of it.

Thankfully, Virgil did end up saying goodnight to the other soon after, stating that he was afraid that Patton might wake form the noise.

Patton really did fall asleep quickly after that.

The next day, Patton forced himself to move past what he’d heard all those kids say, and be the happy pappy Patton everyone expected him to be. He might be dying on the inside, but no one else needed to know that.

Except there was something strained about it, and the closer they got to the end of high school, the worse it was. There was something so obviously fake about the way he presented himself to the world. But at this point, it had been so long that no one questioned it anymore.

their high school graduation was great. Patton shed more than just a few tears, sitting with his hand clasped in Virgil’s the whole time. It ended and they all stood up for the final blessing of the graduates and to leave the sanctuary just as they had rehearsed earlier that morning.

Something had possessed Patton to put a sharpie in the pocket of his slacks earlier when he was getting dressed for the ceremony. Something about the last six and a half years and the way his mother was looking at him, and the way Virgil’s eyes lit up when Patton smiled, urged him to keep the marker on hand today.

As if he would need a sharpie at his graduation ceremony.

But just as the band began to play the closing song that they would recess out to, Patton felt his hand brush against the hard line of marker in his pocket. And suddenly he was desperately pulling the end of his gown up just far enough to reach into his pocket, grasp the sharpie, and pull it out.

Virgil wasn’t paying attention to him for the moment, anxiously watching as the other rows left until it was their turn, so Patton had just a second.

He let his gown sleeve fall to his elbow before unbuttoning the cuff on his dress shirt and yanking it up to expose his skin. At his wrist, there were three hearts, purple, red, and blue. They had been put there this morning with the knowledge that Virgil had his graduation ceremony this evening.

Patton grasped the sharpie lid between his teeth, uncapping it quickly, before writing in big, bold lettering across the inside of his forearm: I’M HERE.

As quickly as he could, he replaced the marker in his pocket, let his gown fall back into place, and followed Virgil in the line, leaving the building.

They got separated as the former seniors all gathered outside, hearing a “3… 2… 1…” before they all threw their caps into the air.

And Patton felt lighter than ever. He laughed with tears streaming down his face, watching as caps fell all around them, everyone cheering and congratulating each other, meeting up with family and friends, hugging and screaming.

Patton watched it happen for a second, smiling like the fool he played he was, until someone’s hands were on his shoulders, spinning him around. And there was Virgil, with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips, pulling his friend into a hug.

But he pulled away too fast, reaching for his sleeve and tugging it back, working the button on his sleeve so harshly that it nearly popped off. And there it was. I’M HERE in big, black letters.

And Virgil stared at it for a second before lifting his face again and glancing around in a confused daze.

“They aren’t… neither of them wrote this…” He seemed to say to himself. The chaos around them was only a bit too loud for Patton to hear him correctly.

But Patton smiled a little more broadly, if only for Virgil’s sake, pulling up his sleeve that he hadn’t bothered to fix correctly, showing Virgil the same words in slightly smeared black sharpie.

“I’m here…”

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought! I will be working on Part Two :) Let me know if you have an interest in being tagged in future parts

[feelingsdusk-writes]

Returning the favor

Prompt: Police AU + I swear it won't happen again.

He smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy," he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. "I swear it won't happen again."

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

(Stiles doesn't feel remorse. He killed countless people and he deserved it.)

(Even if it hadn't been "countless", he would have done the same.)

---

It's not even lunch-time and Stiles is already done. Not 100% done, mind you, his current percentage is at an even 87% but steadily climbing. Irritation is bubbling under his skin at a low simmer but that's nothing new, he can handle that. He normally wakes up at an average 65.5-68%, after all. The problem is that today he's shadowing the station's biggest douchenozzles and he can only take so much stupidity, he's only human.

Well... Fine, admittedly, his tolerance for willful idiocy and redneck tendencies has always been pretty low, but he's an adult, ok? He learned to curb his answering viciousness by sixth grade. By now he's a pro, ok?

Wilkins subtly elbows Donner and then sends that subtlety straight to hell by nodding obviously towards the object of their interest, both of them adopting that classic cop pose as they lean on their patrol car, crossed arms and all. Stiles keeps his face neutral and a groan in, but it's a struggle. God, he hates these people and not for the first time (or the last, he's sure), he wonders what the hell is he doing here.

He never wished to be a policeman. Never. Even as a little kid (before everything went down to hell in a fruit basket, when everything was still nice, happy and unicorn fart multicolored), he never babbled about being one. And god, did he babble. Non-stop, tireless for hours and hours! He gushed about being an astronaut, he played a superhero in his games, a fireman, a doctor, a spy, a football player! He pictured himself as a detective, an archeologist, a famous chef and many things more, but he never dreamed of following in his father's footsteps. Strange, people would think, but people are stupid, so what do they fucking know? Even back then his dad worked a lot of hours and, deep down, Stiles blamed his job for stealing his daddy from him. Naive, he knows now, because he'd end up learning that his dad would never need much incentive to choose other things or people over Stiles, but back then? He resented his dad's job with all the force of his little toddler heart. His dad and mom found it funny, thought it a call for attention and not really true. And maybe it was a call for attention, but he really did resent (and later hate) it. Still does with a passion that hasn't diminished with the years.

Which is ironic because here he is, almost one year into that career and still the rookie of the station.

"The nerve of that fucking bastard!" Donner mutters angrily to Wilkins, and Stiles sneers before he can catch himself. He busies himself with checking his service belt to cover it, but mainly he's glad that they're idiots that dismiss him as a harmless rule-following idiot. (God, just like in high school, gaining and then maintaining that reputation has been excruciating, even if it's an effort that will inevitably pay up in the end. After all, it did back then when he put Jackson's Porsche inside the pool, pulled a who me? when he was nearly caught red-handed and it didn't even cross his teacher's mind that he was indeed the culprit. And he had the keys in his hand.) He wonders if this shitty town has turned him into a psychopath, because he keeps picturing in vivid detail how it would look and feel to smash their heads into the concrete again and again. Messy, but oh so satisfying. "He did it and now he struts around like a fucking peacock..."

"He's taunting us," Wilkins growls lowly. It takes all of Stiles' willpower not to point out that this is a fucking public place and that anyone has the right to strut around like a fucking peacock however much they want, so long as they don't break the law. But the man's not strutting anyways, he's just carrying his groceries to his car, for fuck's sake! And that's without taking into account that they're the ones that sought him out, not the other way around. Wilkins shouldn't even be here to begin with. They're supposed to go in pairs and Stiles was the one that today got the dubious pleasure of having Donner as a partner. "We should bring him down a peg or two."

"More like a thousand."

Stiles feels his lips curl derisively and fights it before it shows in his face. This can't be called anything but harassment. It doesn't matter if they think that the man is a murderer and a dirty cop... which, don't get Stiles started on that, because it's utter bullshit. How did these people earn their badges? In a raffle? In a cereal box? What was his dad thinking? Because he was the one that started to investigate his own partner before he died in the very same fire that took said partner's whole family's lives. And of course, even though there's no evidence at all that points in Peter Hale's direction, the force (the whole town) unanimously assumed that he provoked the fire to kill the, quote, noble and brave officer that was about to uncover all his machiavellian misdeeds and then got a whole lot of money in one fell swoop. Because if their very own sheriff suspected, it must be true! It's so, so very stupid that it makes Stiles' stomach turn.

Stiles still remembers every single detail of that night. The ring of the doorbell, the grim-looking officer waiting at the door, the way he worded his message, the way Stiles felt after each word. Numb.

He knew. The moment the doorbell rang, he knew something was wrong. He hadn't seen his dad in a week, and, before that, it had been two weeks. They had been together in the same house a grand total of three times that month.

Stiles hated him. He'd resented him ever since mom started to get sick and his dad had to choose between Stiles and her. He'd hated him ever since she died and he had to choose between Stiles and the alcohol, and then hated him even more ever since his dad had to choose between his work and the alcohol or Stiles.

(Spoiler alert: Stiles wasn't the one he chose.)

(What a surprise.)

That day, with an officer ready to console a distraught teenager in front of him, he simply felt nothing. They called it shock but Stiles knew better. Because, in the end, by that time he hadn't asked much from his dad. He just wanted him to be there, if only in name, so that Stiles had at least a house to come back to because the rest he could manage by himself just fine. And there he went and died before his sixteenth birthday, leaving him to be fostered by Mr. Lahey, his dad's first partner when both of them were rookies and trusted friend.

Stiles had never liked him and that didn't change with more interaction between them. In fact, he simply got a tangible reason for that dislike, which turned into disgust pretty quickly. He also didn't think he could hate his dad even more than he already did now that he was dead and he couldn't do anything more to warrant it, but he was wrong.

"Fuck, I wish we could go back to that time when cops could solve these kinds of things internally."

If that was the case, both of these idiots' bodies would have been found in a ditch a long time ago. Stiles would have made sure of that.

"He wouldn't smile like that anymore, the sonofabitch," Wilkins snorts.

Not like he's smiling now in any case, you stupid fucker. God, seriously. Stiles can't take it anymore. It's excruciating. If these people looked at the evidence for just a few seconds, they would... Well, ok, not a few seconds. They're stupidly stupid after all. But if they got their heads out of their asses and remembered even a ten percent of what they learned at the academy, they would know that Hale didn't provoke that fire and wasn't a dirty cop. Was there something suspicious about him in his personal life? Well, yeah, but professionally? Him, a dirty cop? No. Definitely no. Where his dad got the idea, Stiles doesn't know.

(But then again, John Stilinski trusted Lahey, so Stiles doesn't have much trust in his dad's ability to judge people.)

"We should..." Wilkins starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He sends a look towards Stiles, who makes sure to look as innocent as a newborn baby. "... go back."

"What?!" Donner protests. "What do you mean go-" He lets out an oomph when Wilikins elbows him, throwing a look at Stiles, who has to fight an aggravated sigh at having to feign not having caught the obvious gesture. "Um, yeah, you're right. Patrol's over. Let's head back."

As they leave, Stiles locks his eyes into Hale's for a brief second. Stiles has talked to him a grand total of two times. The first when he came to pick his dad up with the patrol car on their first day as partners, coffee cups in both hands (just for himself, because one was empty and he thrust it into Stiles' hands to dispose of as soon as he opened the door) and a smarmy smirk on his face. The second when Stiles went to his hospital room, intent on making it look like an accident -because John Stilinski was a shitty dad, alcoholic, workaholic and neglectful, but he was Stiles' nonetheless, and, all things considered, his presence, ghostly or not, had made his life easier rather than not- depending on what the man said. Ironically, Hale didn't actually say much that day, but it was more than enough. He snarled at Stiles, with an ugly expression that was more defensive than aggressive, and let out a have you come to finish what he started? that Stiles didn't answer to. He just stood there at the door for a few seconds, taking in Hale's scarred face and his body language, and then left.

Stiles blinks and Hale is already gone.

Suspicious? Yes. Murderer? Maybe, but not of his family. Dirty cop? No.

(Stiles would know.)

---

The thing is that he doesn't let anyone take what's his, whether he actually likes the thing or not. And even if that wasn't the case, whoever set the Hale house on fire, killing his dad along with the entire Hale family sans Peter (though not for the lack of trying on that count), sent Stiles' life from Badmaybemehville straight into hell for more than two years.

And Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.

Peter didn't kill his dad or his own family, but Stiles was sure he knew something, so he's been tracking his movements through the traffic feed and with a facial recognition program. Which is why he caught the exact moment, pizza slice and soda in hand, when the man was abducted from the street, and now here he is, inside the Argent house with blood almost up to his ankles and with a man at gun point.

Seriously, the bad guys and their monologues. It's ridiculous. Although... well, it gave Stiles the information he needed, so maybe he shouldn't be dissing the evil monologue after all.

Peter smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy," he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. "I swear it won't happen again."

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

Stiles doesn't feel remorse about putting a bullet through Gerard Agent's chest. He killed countless people and he deserved it. The man falls, howling, and Stiles lets him reach the rifle before taking a head shot.

(But even if it hadn't been "countless", he would have done the same.)

Peter makes an appreciative noise and Stiles shushes him. He calls the station and the moment they pick up, he makes his voice go panicky as he informs them of what happened.

"Scamper," he tells Peter, who raises his eyebrows surprised but doesn't let out a sound.

He doctors the scene carefully, knowing the exact response times of the police by now.

A few days later, Lahey is arrested for the murder of Kate Argent. The community is shocked to learn that Gerard and his daughter dealt drugs and that Lahey tried to take over and it went wrong. (Lahey, of course, pleads not guilty at first, but since they're fine-combing through all his cases, a lot of things are coming to the light. He has no chance of escaping prison.) General consensus is that Stiles was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, but that he performed admirably. They're sad to let him go due to the trauma of what Gerard did to him.

(Yes, Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.)

---

One year later, Stiles is at a cafe. News has broken out about a certain inmate being killed in prison because it was leaked that he abused children. Stiles barely spares the article a glance and continues working. Being a white hat is way more boring than being a black hat, but it pays well and lets him keep his own schedule, so he won't complain. And right now he has a security system to check for a stupidly big amount of money. Boring or not, it will pay the bills for quite while and it will take him an hour at the most, anyways.

The chair in front of him scrapes the floor as it's pulled out and Peter Hale sits without asking permission. He has two coffee cups in his hands and a smarmy smirk on his face. He places one of them in front of Stiles.

It's full this time.

Stiles snorts and Peter's smirk widens into a smile. He looks well rested and, unlike that time, he is strutting around like a peacock now. Stiles hides a smirk with the coffee cup.

"Hello, Stiles," he greets him by his nickname, as if they've always done it.

"Hello, Peter," Stiles snorts again, doing the same because why the hell not at this point.

Peter grins triumphantly. Stiles snorts for a third time and continues drinking his coffee.

(Months later, Peter will still be there and Stiles will realize that he's been shanghaied into a relationship without even noticing and he'll snort again.)

(But for now he drinks his coffee, amused.)

[hawaiianshirt-s]

↪Title: Little Flower Doodles

↪Pairing: Stan Uris/reader

↪Summary: Stan didn’t want a soulmate. You didn’t think you had a soulmate. But, things change. 

↪Author’s notes: I really don’t like the ending of this, so maybe you got a part two my children 

Derry, Maine. A place you had tried time and time again to dissuade your parents from moving to. However, many fights and five months later, here you were, sitting in an empty and undecorated bedroom while your parents arranged furniture with the movers downstairs. The last thing you wanted to do right before high school was move to a new town, but your parents didn’t listen to a word of your arguments. They kept saying Maine had ‘ a lot of promising potential for us’ and that it would be ‘better for the whole family this way.’ You, on the other hand, thought all of this was bullshit. 

Throughout the half of a year between your parents telling you, you were moving, to actually moving, you refused to look up where Derry was, or anything about it. Needless to say, you really regretted that now that you were actually here. The place might as well have been in the middle of nowhere, considering half the roads weren’t even paved, and despite the lumber business closing down a hundred years ago, all the men still dressed like lumberjacks. 

However, there was one upside to moving to a place like this. Or any new place, for that matter. You were trying to not get your hopes up, to not let your mind wander to this, but you were grasping desperately for a silver lining to this situation, and this was the only thing you could think of. Maybe, just maybe, you would find your soulmate here. 

Everyone back in your hometown had already found their soulmates. Little scribbles and words and drawings had started appearing on their bodies as young as six years old. Throughout middle school, you watched as your two best friends slowly realized that they were each other’s soulmates, and you became a third wheel. Every day you checked desperately for any little marking of a pen anywhere on your body, but it never came. 

For a while, you feared that maybe you just simply didn’t have a soulmate. The thought popped into your head in sixth grade, when over half of your classmates had already found theirs. You suppressed it for as long as you could. That is, until recently, when you finally accepted that it was probably true. You were sure some people just didn’t have anyone they were meant to be with. Some sort of glitch in the system, or something. You were a glitch, and you had come to accept that. 

But now… no. You couldn’t let yourself become hopeful. 

--

Stanley Uris didn’t want a soulmate. He decided that soulmates just weren’t for him at the age of ten. When he was ten years old, two of his best friends, Richie and Eddie, found out they were soulmates. A lot of gross, sappy, romantic nonsense has ensued for the last four years since. Slowly, his other four friends had found their soulmates, and everyone was always acting gross and romantic around him. He could never catch a break. 

He decided he didn’t want to be like that. And, this decision had been working out for him for the most part. No doodles or words had showed up on his skin. It was like the universe had listened to him when he declared he didn’t want a soulmate, and had taken his away. He thought maybe he really did have a soulmate, and they just didn’t like to draw all over themselves, but that seemed kind of stupid to him. After all, he knew nearly everyone in Derry, and he still hadn’t met his soulmate. Currently, it was September sixth, and the last day of Summer for the children of Derry. It was also the last day of Stan Uris’s life pre- high school. He and his friends would be freshman tomorrow, and Stan couldn’t lie, he was nervous. The day was windy, and as he sat in a circle with his friends overtop the quarry, he cursed himself for not bringing a sweater. 

“I can’t believe that this time tomorrow, we’re all going to be in school,” Richie sighed, leaning back against the rock behind him. Eddie was laying with his head in Richie’s lap, half-dozing, half-listening to the conversation at hand. 

“Yeah, we’re all gonna be freshman starting tomorrow. You thought bullying in the middle school was bad? Nobody likes freshman,” Bev responded, and Stan let out a dry chuckle in response. She wasn’t wrong. The conversation carried on from there, and Stan found himself looking out over the water below. The original plan was to go for one final swim today before the weather got too bad, but the weather beat them to it, and nobody really felt like swimming. 

Suddenly, Stan was snapped out of his thoughts by a vague, irritating itchiness that was slowly looping its way down his left arm. He scratched at it absentmindedly, assuming it was a bug bite, and slowly drifted off into space again. That is, until a minute later, when the itching still hadn’t stopped. Stan sighed in annoyance, looking down at his arm. 

He let out an almost theatrical gasp of surprise. Everyone stopped talking and looked at Stan, concern on their faces. 

“What’s wrong, S-stan?” Bill asked, his blue eyes laced with worry. But Stan was still looking down at his left forearm in surprise, as if he previously thought he was one-armed, and the arm being there at all really threw him off. 

There, trailing down his pale skin, was a line of swirling wildflowers, looking as if they were drawn in a black ballpoint pen.  Stan sat gaping at it and not saying anything long enough that Ben, who was sitting next to him, got curious enough to just scoot over and look at Stan’s arm himself. 

“Oh gosh, guys! It’s Stan’s soulmate!” Ben exclaimed, looking at everyone with a surprised look of happiness. At this, Stan looked up, mouth hung wide open as his eyes darted from one of his friends to another to another. 

“Stan, that’s awesome! Let’s see it, then. What’s the first thing your soulmate drew on you?” Eddie asked, sitting up from Richie’s lap. Stan turned his arm outward and held it up to his friends, and they all took their turns examining it. 

“Well whoever your soulmate is, they sure have a sick amount of artistic talent,” Richie commented, and everyone nodded in agreement. Stan nodded as he looked at the flowers once more, smiling unconsciously to himself. 

--

The next morning when Stan awoke, bright and early for school, the flowers were mostly faded and gone. Stan could only assume that his soulmate had taken a shower and scrubbed them off. He tried to hide the fact that he was a bit disappointed that they were gone. 

Stan brushed thoughts of his soulmates from his mind, and dragged him out of bed to get ready. There was no way he could be late for the first day of school, and at the rate he was going, it almost looked like he was going to be. Some way to start high school, right?

--

You woke up on the first day of high school by falling out of your bed. Groaning, you sat up slowly, rubbing your head. Of course this would happen to you of all people. Dragging yourself into a standing position, you went through the motions of getting dressed and brushing your teeth without really waking up. Before you knew it, you had five minutes to leave the house without being late, and you were stuffing a waffle down your throat while simultaneously shrugging on a jacket.

 --

Homeroom on the first day of school always lasted half an hour. The purpose, was for the teachers to hand out locker combinations and kids to look over their schedules. Stan had already memorized his schedule weeks ago when it came in the mail, so now he was sitting, bored, in a room full of kids he didn’t know or particularly like. 

He kept glancing down at his arm, eyes following the remnants of vines and flowers that had stood out bold and prominent on his arm before. He wondered if his soulmate was going to draw anything else throughout the day, and he felt himself hoping that they would. Stan didn’t really think he had any artistic talent, and was hoping to catch his soulmate while drawing, so he could watch the art unfurl on his body. 

As he got lost in thinking of his soulmate, a new thought just about struck him on the head like a brick. He realized he hadn’t drawn anything back. For all his soulmate knows, they didn’t have anyone on the receiving end of their doodles. Before he could talk himself out of it, Stan had taken a blue ballpoint pen out of his pencil case, and touched it to his skin. 

Five minutes later, a small but intricate blue jay decorated his skin, just above his inner elbow. He looked at it for a moment, wondering if his soulmate had seen it already, or if they would even see it in the whirlwind of the day. Before Stan could start second guessing himself, the bell for first period rang. He gathered up his things and made his way out of the classroom, first day jitters completely overtaking his mind.

 --

Your first period was English. You were alright with English, and were kind of happy to start your day off with it, because the teacher gave you all a syllabus and then gave you a free period. You had taken your notebook out and were sketching a random face, waiting for the time to go by, when a flash of blue on your arm caught your attention. Examining it further, you saw it was a rather beautiful drawing of a Blue Jay residing almost in the crook of your elbow. 

You stared at it for a long time, unmoving. One thing was for sure in your mind; you had not drawn this. Which means… it means you have a soulmate. And whoever this soulmate was, was likely in school with you right now. Excitement flared up in your chest, and you suppressed squealing like a little girl. This was the first time in a long time that you had allowed yourself to be hopeful of a soulmate. 

One question burned in your mind- who was this soulmate?

--

September was coming to an end, and with it, the last few days of mild warmth were slipping by. You had made it through your first month of school well enough. I mean, you hadn’t made any friends, and whoever your soulmate was hardly responded to your doodles, but you were doing okay. 

This particular morning, you woke up with a new doodle. This doodle was on your thigh, and you noticed it as you were changing out of your pajamas. It was rather large and detailed, and looked like it took your soulmate a lot of time to draw. The doodle depicted a bare winter branch, and on the branch, three birds you couldn’t quite recognize resided. You were almost sure that if you touched it, you would be able to feel the feathers of the birds, that’s how much detail was in it. 

Glancing at the clock, you noticed you had gotten up about fifteen minutes early, and had some time to spare. Grabbing a red fine-point sharpie from your desk, you uncapped it with your teeth, and went to work on your left arm. You drew a beautiful red parrot, wings spread, seemingly about to soar right off your arm. You hoped that it made whoever your soulmate was liked it, because they seemed to really enjoy birds. 

Capping the pen again and putting it back on your desk, you resumed getting ready for the day, and headed out to school. It wasn’t until second period, when you felt that familiar itch on your arm that meant your soulmate was saying something. Waiting until you were sure they were done, you rolled up your sleeve and searched for what they wrote. 

There, written neatly across your wrist in tall, crowded letters, was a sentence. 

Hello, soulmate. 

It was two words. Simple. But still, it made your heart flutter inexplicably in your chest. Smiling, you directed the pen you were using to your wrist to respond. 

--

They actually wrote back. Stan was surprised to say the least, when he felt an itch on his arm that could only mean one thing. Stan tried to listen to what the teacher was saying, telling himself he could check what they wrote back when he had some free time. But, the curiosity was way too much. Stan rolled up the sleeve of his sweater under his desk, and looked down at the writing. 

I never thought you’d talk to me. 

His soulmate had beautiful, looping cursive handwriting, that seemed somehow elegant and perfect, yet messy and uncontrollable at the same time. He couldn’t have imagined their handwriting any other way. Stan reached blindly for the pen on his desk, before he responded. 

Admittedly, I was nervous. A soulmate is a big thing, you know. 

--

You had to hold yourself back from laughing in class as you read what your soulmate wrote back. Talking to your soulmate just made you want to look for them more, but you didn’t know if they were quite ready to meet you yet. You didn’t want to force yourself on them or anything, and ruin your chances with them. 

Yeah, believe me, I know. I didn’t think I had a soulmate. 

You felt your cheeks flare at the confession, and you hoped your soulmate didn’t think you were stupid or something for thinking you’d be the one person in the world without a soulmate. Why was this making you so nervous? Your soulmate couldn’t even see you.

I didn’t think I had a soulmate either. To be honest, I’m kind of relieved that I do. Now I know I’m not the odd one out. 

You smiled at the words, and responded. 

I’m (Y/N), What’s your name, soulmate?

I’m Stan, nice to meet you, soulmate. 

Tags!:

@eggo-child @letmewriteyoustuff @maroon-richie @derrysdenbrough @liyahisdabomb @gay-ships-and-tea-sips @superhero-lover101 @due-peach @heavnsyre @maggie-duval

[detective-sonshine]

Chapter 1 - American Boy

A/N- This fanfic will be set in in a series of chapters based off of Sonny and Izzie’s lives. It will highlight almost Everything In Between (get it? bc that’s the name of the fic? hahahaa I love puns) this chapter and what is to come to their relationship. 

Bare with me. This Chapter was mainly just an introduction chapter. 

Rating- PG

AND PLSSSSS GIVE ME FEEDBACK BC THE LAST FIC I WROTE WAS ALMOST FOUR YEARS AGO.. I'm rusty

Middle school.  The two words that give me instant anxiety. It was bad enough going into sixth grade and having no friends. But in my case, it was definitely worse to be one year younger than the rest of my peers AND to be moving here from the south.

My name is Isabella Sophia Troy. I am ten years old, born November 17th, 1982, only child, blah blah blah. And up until about two months ago, I actually loved my life a lot. I had tons of friends and a big back yard. I was born and raised in a small-town suburb of San Antonio, Texas and I had a dog named Marlin. My mom was a teacher and my dad worked as an athletic trainer for some high school, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I was a dancer and I practiced a lot. I wanted (and still want) to be a dancer on Broadway.

When my mom and dad sat me down and told me we were moving to New York, I was excited at first.

“We wanted to talk to you, sweetheart. Sit down.” My dad gestured for me to sit on the love seat while he and my mother took a seat on the couch.

“Isabella, your father and I love you very much. Everything we do is to benefit you. It’s important to us that you remember that.” Mom turned to dad, taking his hand in hers. Her brown eyes looked as if they were filled with worry.

“I’m just going to jump into it. I have accepted a job with NYU,” dad said. “They offered me a full time athletic trainer position that is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“Okay. But NYU? What does that mean?” I ask. They just looked at each other.

“New York University.”

“So, we’re moving to New York...?”

“Yes. Staten Island. Your mom got a job at a high school down there so that’s where we will live. How do you feel about that, Isabella?”

“I feel great! Do you know how many plays I can be in? I can dance every single day!” I exclaimed. “How soon can we get there?”

It’s safe to say I regret my premature excitement. Standing outside of Franklin Middle School, staring at the ugly grey bricks, I regretted lots of things. One of those was taking the god forsaken placement test that allowed me to skip a grade and jump straight into middle school. I was supposedly academically “gifted” whatever that meant. I was fine with continuing elementary school in New York, but mom thought it would ‘benefit me greatly’ to skip a grade. So here I am.

Walking in, I was instantly intimidated. Older, taller kids surrounded me, walking every which way. I focused on the note in front of me, trying to remember where mom said the front office was. Walking in, I went straight to the front desk.

“My name is Isabella Troy. I need to speak with the principal.” An older, middle aged woman with bifocals looked down at me and began to laugh.

“Well aren’t you just adorable?” I didn’t know what she meant. What was so funny? Mom and dad always taught me to stand up straight and be up front with what I need. I didn’t think it was a laughable matter. “Take a seat. The principal will be right with you.”

I took a seat next to a scrawny, blonde haired boy with piercing blue eyes. He noticed me staring and immediately darted his eyes elsewhere. Gosh, does everyone in New York have a problem with me?

“Isabella, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Mrs. Plumley, principal of Franklin. I understand you are new, so I’ve arranged for a student to show you around. Dominick…” Mrs. Plumley turned her attention to the scrawny boy next to me.

“Isabella, this is Dominick. He will be showing you the ropes.”

“Mrs. P, I’ve told you. I wanna be called Sonny.”

“Sure, Dominick. Remember to take her through her classes. You kids have fun.”

Sonny rolled his eyes and faced me but didn’t make eye contact.

“Please don’t call me Dominick like everyone else here.”

“I won’t make any promises. I’m Isabella.”

“I know. Everyone’s been talking about a southerner coming to school with us. There’s bets being made about how thick your accent is.”

“My accent? What about your accent?” he started to laugh, and I followed suit. He was awkward but funny. The world needed more of him.

“Alright, we better get going before Mrs. P comes back.” He started to walk to the door before stopping abruptly. “Oh, and I’m going to call you Izzie. I have a sister named Bella, so it would be weird to call you by your first name.” I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t object, as I’d secretly always wanted to have a nickname of my own.

Walking down the halls, Sonny attempted to show me around but ended up getting lost a few times himself.

“I don’t know why Mrs. P put me in charge of giving you a tour. I’m new too. It’s not like I’m going to know this place any better than you. Well maybe it’s because of my sisters. I have three of them, ya know. They all went here before me—Teresa, Gina, and Bella. It sucks being the only boy and all but…”

I began to tune him out. Man, this boy could ramble. Eventually, we found my homeroom which just so happened to be his as well.

“Must be fate,” I said, walking in.

“Uh… yeah totally.”

 Sonny

 I was sitting in the office waiting for the new girl. Mrs. P told me I had to show her around. Lame. But hey, I would do anything to miss 30 minutes of class. I was twiddling my thumbs when a young girl with brown hair walked past me. She smelled of Japanese cherry blossom and she spoke with a slight country accent. I knew immediately it was the girl I was supposed to show around. When she introduced herself, my eyes went wide. She was kind of intimidating.

She sat down next to me and looked my way. I instantly darted my eyes another direction, I didn’t want her to know I was staring at her, but I couldn’t help it. She intrigued me.

When we started our tour, I tried to act cool. I talked almost the whole time, and I must’ve done pretty well because all she did was smile and nod.

We finally got to her homeroom and I realized that it was mine as well.

“Must be fate,” she said before walking in.

“Uh, yeah, totally.” My face flushed with heat and I scratched the back of my head. This intimidating, confident, beautiful girl just walked into my life and I immediately knew it was changed forever. I shook it off and followed her in. My focus was off for the rest of the day.

 Izzie

 “How was your first day, sweetie?” mom asked as I got into her car. I found it weird that a lot of kids here walked home, but I shrugged it off.

“It was okay.”

“Just okay? Did you meet any friends?”

“Well, I met this boy. His name is Sonny. Kinda weird but he’s really funny. I think we can be friends.”

“Well that’s great! I can’t wait to meet him.”

The car ride was quick. Our new house was only a few blocks away from the middle school. I got out, excited to finally be “home” when I heard commotion coming from next door. Turning my head, I saw three older girls walking towards their front door.

“Mrs. Troy?” you hear. You and your mom pause, turning back to the girls who were now walking towards you.

“Oh my. Do you girls live here?” mom said, pointing to the house next door.

“Yes! How funny,” one girl says. “Teresa, Gina, this is my new English teacher, Mrs. Troy. And you must be Isabella! I’m Bella! When I introduced myself in class, your mom pointed out that her daughter had the same name as me. How great! I’ve always wanted to meet another…”

I started to tune the girl out. She was nice and all, but I’ve had a long day. Wait, I thought. Bella… Teresa… Gina… lengthy rambling… These girls have to be Sonny’s sisters which means…

“Izzie?” I hear. I focused my eyes on the same scrawny, blonde haired boy that showed me around earlier who was now walking up to his house. He ran over to us, his blonde hair flopping.

“Hi, I’m Sonny,” he said to my mom.

“Oh, Sonny. You must be the boy who gave Isabella the tour. Thank you very much for doing that!” he shrugged it off, smiling a bit.

“I have a great idea, Izzie. We can walk home together! Ya know since we are neighbors and all.”

“That’s a great idea, Sonny!” mom interjected before I could say anything of my own.

“Cool. Well if we don’t get inside, Ma will have our heads. Bye Izzie, bye Mrs. Troy,” Sonny and his sisters waved to us before walking inside their home.

“Izzie, huh?” mom said, raising an eyebrow.

“Long story, mom. What’s for dinner?”

ughhh it’s horrible isn't it

[artificialqueens]

mental (adoreney) (1/2) - DanFin

A/N: This oneshot was a bit old and laying to waste away in my drafts. I finally rewrote it today. The day I wrote the rough draft, I was venting. Now I’m fine. :) Part 2 will be out soon! Enjoy!

“If you’re a boy, you can go get your backpack.”

All of the boys in the classroom run to their locker. A year ago, I would have joined them just to make it easier on everyone. I didn’t want to get yelled at, either. Now, I refuse to get up because I know I’m not a boy or a girl; I’m nonbinary. I’m no longer afraid to admit that.

“Danny, get up, you’re a boy,” Mrs. Rust says. She looks confused. Is she confused by my decision?

“No I’m not,” I reply. Doesn’t she understand that I’m an enby?

Mrs. Rust shakes her head, “Yes, you are. Go with the other boys.”

I shake my head at her, signaling that I will not get up. I am sick of being misgendered. I’m the only one that can stop it.

Mrs. Rust puts her hands on her hips and glares down at me. I know she’s pissed off at me. “Danny-”

“I’m not,” I interrupt her. “I’m not a boy.” I glance around and see that most of the class is staring. The few that aren’t are whispering to each other.

“Your birth certificate says you are a male. So, that means you are,” Mrs. Rust says. She hasn’t seen my actual birth certificate. She’s only seen the class roster on the computer. That means she’s only seen the thing on my student ID that says: “Gender: M.”

I try to mimic Mrs. Rust’s icy glare. I resist crossing my arms; the last thing I need to do is display aggressive body language. “Birth certificates cab become outdated.” I state confidently. I have no reason to be insecure about that statement. I don’t weigh less than ten pounds anymore.

Mrs. Rust sighs loudly. “Daniel Noriega, you are a boy and you can’t change that! You’re too young to be thinking about this anyways. Do not make me send you to the office,” she explains. She crosses her arms and keeps her gaze on me. I look back at her.

I bite back an aggravated sigh; I know that would get me in even more trouble. She’s not a psychologist or a biology teacher; what does she know? I want to tell her this, but I can’t. I should just give in. I wouldn’t be in a lot of trouble. The worst they could do to me right now is call my mom.

I should give in, even if it shows weakness. No, I should stand up for myself. I could help another teen that feels the same. But I wouldn’t be in trouble if I gave in. God knows I don’t need to be written up for fighting with an ignorant teacher… Again…

I stand in front of Mrs. Rust and think for a few moments. I think about the pros and cons of each of my options. One keeps me out if trouble, one can help inspire another teen. One helps me, one harms me and helps another…

That’s it, I’m giving in.

“Yes ma'am,” I reply weakly. I look at the ground. I have a feeling I made a bad decision, but I can beat myself up about it later.

“Now, get up and go to your locker,” Mrs. Rust says firmly. I know she’s smiling proudly. She always does when she wins an argument.

I quickly get up from my seat. I ignore the stares and walk out to my locker. I did not want this today nor did I need it. I’ve gone though enough already.

“So you’re finally out here,” someone beside me says. Their voice is deep and masculine. “It’s about time. You are a boy, ‘ya know.” I finally recognize the voice; it’s Kyle.

“My organs don’t define my gender,” I repeat firmly without looking away from my locker. Making eye contact can encourage conversation; I’m trying my best to discourage it.

“Um, what about down there?” Kyle says. I notice him motion towards my crotch. My cheeks and the back of my neck heat up. I bite my lip. What a pervert.

“That’s none of your business,” I reply in a low voice. “I’m not attracted to you at all. Plus, gender is more mental, not physical.” Or maybe it’s not real? I don’t know, I’m still confused about that.

Kyle scoffs and scoots away from me. “That’s- You’re disgusting.”

I feel every bit of confidence I had wash away. I feel the overwhelming burning of tears in my eyes. My mind goes blank; I can’t think of a snappy comeback. I exhale slowly and quickly put my locker combination in. Kyle must feel proud since he made me speechless.

Once I get my backpack, I slam my locker shut. I walk past Kyle and towards Mrs. Rust’s classroom as quickly as I can.

When I get back to Mrs. Rust’s classroom, I go to my seat and sit down. I look down and let my hair hide my face. I don’t know if it’s obvious that I have tears in my eyes. If it is, I don’t anyone to see me. I don’t think they’d understand.

I have to be positive. It is almost time to go home. That means I’ll be able to talk to my mom. She’s one of the only two people that I trust. She’s very open-minded and accepting. She doesn’t care about who I love - as long as they’re between the ages fourteen and sixteen - or if I’m a boy or girl or neither. She loves me for me.

The other person is my long-distance, Australian boyfriend, Shane. He’s two years older than me. He was the first person I told about my feelings. He was one-hundred percent okay with it since he is genderfluid - which is a nonbinary gender. - He helped assure me that I wasn’t confused or wrong. He helped me through a lot of self-hate. Hopefully I will be able to talk to him later today.

-

“How was school?” Mom asks as soon as I close the front door. I set my backpack down next to the door. Do I really want to tell her about it?

I shrug and look away from her. “I don’t know, to be honest. I was told I’m disgusting,” I reply nervously. I have no idea how she’ll react. She’s pretty protective of me and my siblings.

When I finally look at Mom, I notice a frown on her face. She hates it when I get bullied. Please don’t lecture me. You know I am not that good at standing up for myself.

”Why did someone call you disgusting?” she asks. I walk over to the couch and sit down beside her. I stare at the ground at first 

I look up at her before speaking. “Because I refused to get up with the boys. I don’t feel like a boy or a girl, Mom. I feel… genderless. It’s called nonbinary. A lot of other people feel that way,” I explain. Hopefully she won’t see it as a trend or attention-seeking.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “Maybe you’re just confused right now because of puberty?”

“Mom!” I say in a loud, whiny voice. How could she doubt me? Why would she think I’m confused? “I’m not confused! I’m old enough to know what I am. I knew I was gay when I was twelve and in sixth grade. How come you think I’m too young to know my gender identity when I’m fourteen and in eighth grade?” That should make her think.

“Because… Danny, I… I just don’t understand this. It worries me sometimes. I don’t want you to be bullied,” Mom explains. “It’s just an instinct. I don’t mean to seem like a narrow-minded person. I’ve just never been through this. I never questioned my gender identity or sexuality.”

That makes sense. If someone hasn’t been through something, it’s obvious that they wouldn’t know how to react.

“Oh, okay… Only Kyle and my music teacher bother me about it, if that makes you feel better. Everyone else just goes along with it or are too scared to say anything.”

“Okay,” Mom replies, “That’s a relief.”

“May I go to my room?” I ask and Mom nods. I get up from the couch and walk down the hallways towards my room.

Once I enter my room, I go to a desk that is pushed up against the wall. I got it soon after I got a laptop for Christmas. I see that Buffy has claimed it as her bed. She’s laying on top of my laptop. That is about to change.

“Okay, off you go,” I tell her. I try to shove her off. - I know if I try to pick her up, she’ll dig her nails into my laptop. - She looks at me, hisses, and swats at my hand with her paw.

“Why do you have to be so rude?!” I ask her. She narrows her eyes at me in reply. She then stands up and jumps off of the table. I watch her walk away. I pull the chair out and sit down at the desk.

I open my laptop and press the button to turn it on. I then click on the MySpaceIM icon. I embedded it on my desktop so I wouldn’t have to look it up every time I want to get on it. I wait for the program to load. I really hope Shane is awake. He lives all the way in Sydney, Australia. There’s a large time difference in between Azusa and Sydney.

dannynoriega: Hello… You awake?

shanejenek: Yeah, it’s 10 am in Sydney. I’m at school. What’s up?

dannynoriega: oh, I had a bad day and I really needed someone to talk to.

shanejenek: What happened?!

dannynoriega: I was called disgusting by Kyle because I told him that gender was mental and not physical. He’s messed up.

shanejenek: Sounds like it. I wish I could come to Azusa and hug you and tell you everything will be okay :c. I also wish you could come live with me. My friends are accepting.

dannynoriega: The friends I have are but it’s not enough sometimes. They don’t always stand up for me. Sometimes I want someone to relate to…

shanejenek: I’ll always be here for you to talk to. Even at 2 AM. That’s what boyfriends are for!

I smile and giggle at his comment. Comments like that get to me sometimes; especially if they’re from someone I love a lot. I love Shane unconditionally.

dannynoriega: Yeah I know and I’m glad you are. But remember that I can’t always have my laptop. That means I can’t always text you.

shanejenek: Well, one day, we’ll be together in real life. Things will get better. Believe me!

dannynoriega: I will. I’ll let you go. You don’t need to get in trouble at school.

shanejenek: I personally don’t care if I get in trouble but okay. I love you <3

dannynoriega: I love you, too <3

shanejenek: <3

I wait a little while before clicking the ‘x’ in the top right corner. I then shut my laptop down. I hope what Shane said was true; I hope we do get to see each other in real life one day.

[feelingsdusk]

For your prompts request. Police AU + "I swear it won't happen again." (am I doing this right?)

Yes, you are!❤ Thanks for the prompt and sorry I took so long ^^;

Returning the favor.

He smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy,” he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

(Stiles doesn’t feel remorse. He killed countless people and he deserved it.)

(Even if it hadn’t been “countless”, he would have done the same.)

—

It’s not even lunch-time and Stiles is already done. Not 100% done, mind you, his current percentage is at an even 87% but steadily climbing. Irritation is bubbling under his skin at a low simmer but that’s nothing new, he can handle that. He normally wakes up at an average 65.5-68%, after all. The problem is that today he’s shadowing the station’s biggest douchenozzles and he can only take so much stupidity, he’s only human.

Well… Fine, admittedly, his tolerance for willful idiocy and redneck tendencies has always been pretty low, but he’s an adult, ok? He learned to curb his answering viciousness by sixth grade. By now he’s a pro, ok?

Wilkins subtly elbows Donner and then sends that subtlety straight to hell by nodding obviously towards the object of their interest, both of them adopting that classic cop pose as they lean on their patrol car, crossed arms and all. Stiles keeps his face neutral and a groan in, but it’s a struggle. God, he hates these people and not for the first time (or the last, he’s sure), he wonders what the hell is he doing here.

He never wished to be a policeman. Never. Even as a little kid (before everything went down to hell in a fruit basket, when everything was still nice, happy and unicorn fart multicolored), he never babbled about being one. And god, did he babble. Non-stop, tireless for hours and hours! He gushed about being an astronaut, he played a superhero in his games, a fireman, a doctor, a spy, a football player! He pictured himself as a detective, an archeologist, a famous chef and many things more, but he never dreamed of following in his father’s footsteps. Strange, people would think, but people are stupid, so what do they fucking know? Even back then his dad worked a lot of hours and, deep down, Stiles blamed his job for stealing his daddy from him. Naive, he knows now, because he’d end up learning that his dad would never need much incentive to choose other things or people over Stiles, but back then? He resented his dad’s job with all the force of his little toddler heart. His dad and mom found it funny, thought it a call for attention and not really true. And maybe it was a call for attention, but he really did resent (and later hate) it. Still does with a passion that hasn’t diminished with the years.

Which is ironic because here he is, almost one year into that career and still the rookie of the station.

“The nerve of that fucking bastard!” Donner mutters angrily to Wilkins, and Stiles sneers before he can catch himself. He busies himself with checking his service belt to cover it, but mainly he’s glad that they’re idiots that dismiss him as a harmless rule-following idiot. (God, just like in high school, gaining and then maintaining that reputation has been excruciating, even if it’s an effort that will inevitably pay up in the end. After all, it did back then when he put Jackson’s Porsche inside the pool, pulled a who me? when he was nearly caught red-handed and it didn’t even cross his teacher’s mind that he was indeed the culprit. And he had the keys in his hand.) He wonders if this shitty town has turned him into a psychopath, because he keeps picturing in vivid detail how it would look and feel to smash their heads into the concrete again and again. Messy, but oh so satisfying. “He did it and now he struts around like a fucking peacock…”

“He’s taunting us,” Wilkins growls lowly. It takes all of Stiles’ willpower not to point out that this is a fucking public place and that anyone has the right to strut around like a fucking peacock however much they want, so long as they don’t break the law. But the man’s not strutting anyways, he’s just carrying his groceries to his car, for fuck’s sake! And that’s without taking into account that they’re the ones that sought him out, not the other way around. Wilkins shouldn’t even be here to begin with. They’re supposed to go in pairs and Stiles was the one that today got the dubious pleasure of having Donner as a partner. “We should bring him down a peg or two.”

“More like a thousand.”

Stiles feels his lips curl derisively and fights it before it shows in his face. This can’t be called anything but harassment. It doesn’t matter if they think that the man is a murderer and a dirty cop… which, don’t get Stiles started on that, because it’s utter bullshit. How did these people earn their badges? In a raffle? In a cereal box? What was his dad thinking? Because he was the one that started to investigate his own partner before he died in the very same fire that took said partner’s whole family’s lives. And of course, even though there’s no evidence at all that points in Peter Hale’s direction, the force (the whole town) unanimously assumed that he provoked the fire to kill the, quote, noble and brave officer that was about to uncover all his machiavellian misdeeds and then got a whole lot of money in one fell swoop. Because if their very own sheriff suspected, it must be true! It’s so, so very stupid that it makes Stiles’ stomach turn.

Stiles still remembers every single detail of that night. The ring of the doorbell, the grim-looking officer waiting at the door, the way he worded his message, the way Stiles felt after each word. Numb.

He knew. The moment the doorbell rang, he knew something was wrong. He hadn’t seen his dad in a week, and, before that, it had been two weeks. They had been together in the same house a grand total of three times that month.

Stiles hated him. He’d resented him ever since mom started to get sick and his dad had to choose between Stiles and her. He’d hated him ever since she died and he had to choose between Stiles and the alcohol, and then hated him even more ever since his dad had to choose between his work and the alcohol or Stiles.

(Spoiler alert: Stiles wasn’t the one he chose.)

(What a surprise.)

That day, with an officer ready to console a distraught teenager in front of him, he simply felt nothing. They called it shock but Stiles knew better. Because, in the end, by that time he hadn’t asked much from his dad. He just wanted him to be there, if only in name, so that Stiles had at least a house to come back to because the rest he could manage by himself just fine. And there he went and died before his sixteenth birthday, leaving him to be fostered by Mr. Lahey, his dad’s first partner when both of them were rookies and trusted friend.

Stiles had never liked him and that didn’t change with more interaction between them. In fact, he simply got a tangible reason for that dislike, which turned into disgust pretty quickly. He also didn’t think he could hate his dad even more than he already did now that he was dead and he couldn’t do anything more to warrant it, but he was wrong.

“Fuck, I wish we could go back to that time when cops could solve these kinds of things internally.”

If that was the case, both of these idiots’ bodies would have been found in a ditch a long time ago. Stiles would have made sure of that.

“He wouldn’t smile like that anymore, the sonofabitch,” Wilkins snorts.

Not like he’s smiling now in any case, you stupid fucker. God, seriously. Stiles can’t take it anymore. It’s excruciating. If these people looked at the evidence for just a few seconds, they would… Well, ok, not a few seconds. They’re stupidly stupid after all. But if they got their heads out of their asses and remembered even a ten percent of what they learned at the academy, they would know that Hale didn’t provoke that fire and wasn’t a dirty cop. Was there something suspicious about him in his personal life? Well, yeah, but professionally? Him, a dirty cop? No. Definitely no. Where his dad got the idea, Stiles doesn’t know.

(But then again, John Stilinski trusted Lahey, so Stiles doesn’t have much trust in his dad’s ability to judge people.)

“We should…” Wilkins starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He sends a look towards Stiles, who makes sure to look as innocent as a newborn baby. “… go back.”

“What?!” Donner protests. “What do you mean go-” He lets out an oomph when Wilikins elbows him, throwing a look at Stiles, who has to fight an aggravated sigh at having to feign not having caught the obvious gesture. “Um, yeah, you’re right. Patrol’s over. Let’s head back.”

As they leave, Stiles locks his eyes into Hale’s for a brief second. Stiles has talked to him a grand total of two times. The first when he came to pick his dad up with the patrol car on their first day as partners, coffee cups in both hands (just for himself, because one was empty and he thrust it into Stiles’ hands to dispose of as soon as he opened the door) and a smarmy smirk on his face. The second when Stiles went to his hospital room, intent on making it look like an accident -because John Stilinski was a shitty dad, alcoholic, workaholic and neglectful, but he was Stiles’ nonetheless, and, all things considered, his presence, ghostly or not, had made his life easier rather than not- depending on what the man said. Ironically, Hale didn’t actually say much that day, but it was more than enough. He snarled at Stiles, with an ugly expression that was more defensive than aggressive, and let out a have you come to finish what he started? that Stiles didn’t answer to. He just stood there at the door for a few seconds, taking in Hale’s scarred face and his body language, and then left.

Stiles blinks and Hale is already gone.

Suspicious? Yes. Murderer? Maybe, but not of his family. Dirty cop? No.

(Stiles would know.)

—

The thing is that he doesn’t let anyone take what’s his, whether he actually likes the thing or not. And even if that wasn’t the case, whoever set the Hale house on fire, killing his dad along with the entire Hale family sans Peter (though not for the lack of trying on that count), sent Stiles’ life from Badmaybemehville straight into hell for more than two years.

And Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.

Peter didn’t kill his dad or his own family, but Stiles was sure he knew something, so he’s been tracking his movements through the traffic feed and with a facial recognition program. Which is why he caught the exact moment, pizza slice and soda in hand, when the man was abducted from the street, and now here he is, inside the Argent house with blood almost up to his ankles and with a man at gun point.

Seriously, the bad guys and their monologues. It’s ridiculous. Although… well, it gave Stiles the information he needed, so maybe he shouldn’t be dissing the evil monologue after all.

Peter smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy,” he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

Stiles doesn’t feel remorse about putting a bullet through Gerard Agent’s chest. He killed countless people and he deserved it. The man falls, howling, and Stiles lets him reach the rifle before taking a head shot.

(But even if it hadn’t been “countless”, he would have done the same.)

Peter makes an appreciative noise and Stiles shushes him. He calls the station and the moment they pick up, he makes his voice go panicky as he informs them of what happened.

“Scamper,” he tells Peter, who raises his eyebrows surprised but doesn’t let out a sound.

He doctors the scene carefully, knowing the exact response times of the police by now.

A few days later, Lahey is arrested for the murder of Kate Argent. The community is shocked to learn that Gerard and his daughter dealt drugs and that Lahey tried to take over and it went wrong. (Lahey, of course, pleads not guilty at first, but since they’re fine-combing through all his cases, a lot of things are coming to the light. He has no chance of escaping prison.) General consensus is that Stiles was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, but that he performed admirably. They’re sad to let him go due to the trauma of what Gerard did to him.

(Yes, Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.)

—

One year later, Stiles is at a cafe. News has broken out about a certain inmate being killed in prison because it was leaked that he abused children. Stiles barely spares the article a glance and continues working. Being a white hat is way more boring than being a black hat, but it pays well and lets him keep his own schedule, so he won’t complain. And right now he has a security system to check for a stupidly big amount of money. Boring or not, it will pay the bills for quite while and it will take him an hour at the most, anyways.

The chair in front of him scrapes the floor as it’s pulled out and Peter Hale sits without asking permission. He has two coffee cups in his hands and a smarmy smirk on his face. He places one of them in front of Stiles.

It’s full this time.

Stiles snorts and Peter’s smirk widens into a smile. He looks well rested and, unlike that time, he is strutting around like a peacock now. Stiles hides a smirk with the coffee cup.

“Hello, Stiles,” he greets him by his nickname, as if they’ve always done it.

“Hello, Peter,” Stiles snorts again, doing the same because why the hell not at this point.

Peter grins triumphantly. Stiles snorts for a third time and continues drinking his coffee.

(Months later, Peter will still be there and Stiles will realize that he’s been shanghaied into a relationship without even noticing and he’ll snort again.)

(But for now he drinks his coffee, amused.)