#there was the one who tried to burn down the shop for insurance money

[omg-snakes]

Do you know if there are ways to know if a snake from a pet shop has been properly taken care of or not? Asking since i've been visiting some and i saw one with a boa that had some kind of sinking or deformity on his tail, so i'm kinda wary now.

Hello, friend! I'm sorry to tell you that there is not.

I've worked in multiple areas of the pet industry and I've met the full gamut of types of shop owners, and while I don't consider all of them wicked people, some certainly are. Even the best of them have a bottom line to consider. This means that they won't divulge where their animals are coming from so that you can look into a breeder before making a choice, and they're likely buying animals from backyard breeders or bulk importers. This also means that it's unlikely that the animals they're selling will have established health histories.

Having worked at one of if not The biggest reptile chain in Northern California, I saw some horrors that scarred me for life. Among the lesser sins that took place there:

Folks who bred reptiles but didn't have incubators set up could bring their eggs in for incubation services, the price of which was half of the clutch, and the store owner would then sell the resulting babies as "born on-site," which was technically true! But we didn't know the parentage or health potential of any of these animals. We didn't sell incubators in the store for this specific reason.

Surrenders came in regularly from owners who didn't have the time or resources to care for their pets any longer. They went on the sales floor with a price tag the second the previous owner walked out the door. No veterinary care, no health evaluation, no observation period, nothing. If they looked okay they were priced at regular retail price and we were explicitly told to never admit that they had been surrendered. 100% profit.

Any animal that was injured or sickly, no matter where it came from or how it got injured, was tagged as a "surrender" that we would claim was dropped off by a bad former owner and we'd had them cleared by a vet so that we could rehome them. This was a lie. None of them ever got veterinary care, ever.

Enclosures were cleaned regularly but were never properly sterilized between animals. We sold veterinary-grade cleaner in the store but we were not allowed to use it because it was too expensive. We used diluted Lysol!

Again, this is a large reptile chain with multiple stores and mostly positive online reviews* and I wouldn't trust them with a pet rock, let alone anything breathing.

You're much better off getting a snake from a reputable breeder, or at least someone who can answer reasonable questions about feeding, parentage, genetics, any possible health issues, etc.

*the owner actually reported negative reviews and would have employees write good ones while I was there.

[freedelusionshere]

Mikey, Cicero, and the mob as a representation of toxic masculinity.

Keep thinking about how Mikey is denigrated by Lee and others in Fishes for trying to come up with side businesses constantly, but to me it reads like someone who desperately wants to go legit but can’t? Same thing with franchising The Beef. Gets him out from owing Cicero or passing on that legacy to Carmy or Sugar. Mikey always has to act tough and untouchable and fake confidence to navigate this, which was probably handed off to him when his father went wherever he went. And it earns him admiration (Mikey was "cool") while internally he's self-destructing. And like Donna, whatever he wanted or dreamed for his life was pushed to the side.

Btw, the name Cicero could be a very “on the nose” reference to a Chicago town that was taken over by Al Capone to protect his territory. Like Capone, Cicero really “owns” The Bear one way or another right from the go. On the surface it appears he has guilt over Mikey’s death, wants to help the Berzatto family, etc.

But the entire time he’s around the family, even in flashbacks like Fishes, he’s trying to talk business in one way or another. Think about him (update: it was Lee, not Cicero, but my point stands, because Lee is also in on this) trying to bring up real estate to Donna in the kitchen (which she tried to beg off) or him jumping in on convos, Richie’s ask for a job, etc. Later all his convos are about money, about how he doesn’t want to take it from them, but he will. Tapping Sugar to handle all the financial stuff for him (I bet it will come out in S4 Donna does that for him on the real estate side).

Here are several other examples:

Mikey hid Cicero’s money away in tomato cans for Carmy to find and Carmy tells Cicero and his reaction? Thank God he didn’t put it in a bank. LOL.

Carmy “joking” in S1 about how he doesn’t want to get his legs broken. (Carmy is portrayed as very straight-and-narrow, not tolerating drugs being sold in the alley outside, and having a strong reaction to Claire admitting she liked to shoplift as a kid).

Richie having a gun to protect the shop and later telling Carmy he’ll come after Cicero if he comes for them.

Richie dealing with the mob associates lingering on the sidewalk outside The Bear, who are obviously conducting business of some kind.

The way The Beef has magically always had just enough money to stay afloat all this time and has things hidden in its walls. The story about Mikey trying to burn it down to collect the insurance money rather than allowing all this to continue when he spiraled.

Claire “joking” about sending Faks to beat up Carmy. I guarantee you there are Faks who do this, the Cena character 100% reads as a body man, you see him physically intimidating his brothers to be "funny".

The sudden presence of The Computer as a numbers guy coming to reconcile Cicero's accounts for someone(s).

Mikey not allowing Carmy to work at The Beef and pushing him away emotionally to make him want to GTFO of dodge.

The partnership agreement that seemingly comes out of nowhere, as Cicero now tries to rope Sydney into the family operation? Which is super triggering for her because she already has trust issues around Carmy as a business partner?

This also plays into the show liking to make references to Shakespeare which had violent family factions who controlled things (Romeo & Juliet being the most obvious) and Michael Mann who often focuses on organized crime in his storytelling.

This is all background noise and not the main driver of the show, but I was curious to see what others think about this and if anyone is noticing all of this? Especially when it comes to the kind of masculinity that is being idolized by characters like the Faks, even though it appears to go against Neil's actual nature.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

In the Heat of the Fire....

Fireman!Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Warnings: description of fire, brief mention of hospitals, mention of depressive feelings, angst, fluff mention of smut and mention of pregnancy. NSFW 18+

Word count: 2585

Summary: Your flat catches fire and you’re saved by a dashing young Fireman who then takes you under his wing when you have nothing left.

You coughed, your eyes still shut as you rolled over in bed. You frowned, unable to take a deep breath you coughed again, this time it wracked your body violently and you finally opened your eyes. At first you couldn't see anything as it was dark, but as your eyes adjusted and you woke up you could see and smell the smoke. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to water, you got out of bed, finally seeing the orange glow under your bedroom door, you grabbed a top and held it over your mouth before opening the door. You cried out as pain flared from your palm, the door handle was so hot it made your skin blister but you didn’t have time to even register it as the fire surged towards you, licking into your bedroom like it had been starved of air.

Panic began to bubble up inside you as you backed away in horror from the roaring inferno. You opened your window coughing and spluttering the more intense smoke, you could see the blue lights below you from the fire engines and the group of people from your building. You tried to call out but your throat was so sore you could barely form words let alone shout over the noise. You saw someone break away from the crowd and grabbed a firefighter, they pointed at you vigorously as you slid down the wall and out of sight. Your chest was tight, you could feel yourself becoming light headed and the smell assaulting your nostrils was making you feel sick. The fire was making its way round your bedroom and tears began to track their way down your face as you shook with fear. You thought of your parents, your friends even your work colleagues as you felt the heat roil around you.

Is this what the desert feels like? You felt a giggle try to erupt from you but all you could was cough, each time you did your head swam and your body ached as you slouched even more. The fire was close now, the blistering heat making your turn away as it consumed your bed, billowing more smoke into the room obscuring everything from sight.

You tried to gasp as hands reached out of the smoke and grabbed you, placing a mask hurriedly over your face. You gripped onto the rough coat of the firefighter as he lifted you up in his arms.

‘Cover your face.’ You pulled the top you had completely over your face tucking yourself as close to him as you could. ‘I’ve got you.’ Pain blossomed from your burnt hand but you tried to ignore it knowing you didn’t want your grip to fail. You tensed as the heat increased, surrounding you with a blazing intensity as he carried you bravely through your burning flat. You could feel him heading down the stairs and finally the cool air of the night kissed your skin. More hands grabbed you putting you on a stretcher, asking you questions, shining lights in your sore eyes but you didn’t let go of the firefighter who had pulled you from the building. Your vision swam as he took his mask off, he was talking to someone and then suddenly he was getting in the ambulance with you. Your body started tensing all over as you convulsed on the stretcher and the last thing you heard was a paramedic shouting.

The beeping noise was annoying. It cut through your grogginess waking you up with a start as the sounds of flames roaring echoed in your mind.

‘Hey, it’s ok.’ You turned to the voice beside you as saw a guy, he had a firefighters coat on and his helmet was sat on the table next to you, his face was still dirty with soot and all you could smell was smoke. You tried to speak but you ended up coughing into your mask, you winced at the ache from your chest and you settled back down against the pillows. He cast a look over the screens around you before resting his deep brown eyes on you again. ‘The doctors will be round to talk to you soon, they’re pleased with how well you’re doing considering the amount of smoke exposure you had.’ You found yourself relaxing at the sound of his voice as you gazed at him, this was the man who saved you. You owed him your life. The door opened to your room and some doctors came in, the nurse took some blood and they spouted some information at you but you couldn’t really take it in as you searched for the firefighters for reassurance. He smiled a lopsided smile and nodded slightly letting you know he was still there and you smiled slightly back, hoping he wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

After a few days the hospital released you, the fireman, who’s name you learnt was Poe, he visited as often as he could and now he was picking you up and taking you back to the flat to see if you could salvage anything. He had warned you it wasn’t pretty and he was right. You stood outside the building, your bandaged hand aching just at the sight of the block, black soot was smeared on the brickwork from all the windows and you could see your bedroom window. Poe put a hand on your back as he surveyed the damaged building with you.

‘You don’t have to go in.’ You lent into his touch slightly as you looked at his handsome face. You’d only known him a few days but he had saved your life and was offering emotional support so you weren’t on your own. You didn’t have anyone else really, your parents lived far away, your friends were great but you mostly kept to yourself immersing yourself in work all the time.

‘I need to.’ You walked towards the door, ignoring the panic crawling over your skin making you want to run in the opposite direction. You finally made it to your flat, the smell burnt your nose as you walked around. Smoke, melted plastic and dampness all mingled into a hideous musty aroma that made you feel slightly ill. One look around told you nothing could be saved, your kitchen cupboards hung off the wall in a haphazard way, everything was burnt or smeared with soot and you knew the smell would never come out of whatever you took away. You stopped at the doorway of your bedroom, your bed was just a mass of twisted blackness and you could see the path the flames had taken. The echo of flames made you tense but suddenly Poe was there, his comforting presence washing over you as he closely watched your reaction.

‘Do you have somewhere to stay?’ He asked softly.

‘Er, no. I haven’t really thought about it. I could ask a friend I guess.’ Tears threatened to well up in your eyes and you blinked them away, not wanting to fall apart right now.

‘You’re not going to find anything here, why don’t you come back to my place? I’ve got to go to work soon so you can have the run of my flat.’

‘I barely know you.’ You said and he smiled.

‘True, but I did save your life. The least you could do is cook a meal for me,’ he said with amusement in his tone.

‘Are you being serious? Right now?’

‘Yes, perfectly serious.’ You looked at him as you stood in the ruined tatters of your life and you felt a rush of gratefulness that however roughly he’d been shoved into your life, he’d still been shoved into your life for a reason.

‘Sure. Ok. I need to go shopping though, I need clothes.’

‘Come on,’ he put an arm around your shoulders as he led you out of the burnt flat. ‘I’ll take you shopping.’

*******************

And so the days turned into weeks and Poe had given you his spare room, you had gone back to work as you waited for the insurance money to come in and he had long shifts at the station so you didn’t see each other very often but when you did you’d watch a film and have a home cooked meal. The longer you stayed with him you could feel your affection grown for him, he was good looking, funny, cocky but kind as well. Being with him made you realise how lonely you actually were.

You were standing in the kitchen frying some chicken and peppers, the wraps warming in the oven as you grated the cheese, tonight was fajita night. The door slammed shut announcing his arrival but he didn’t stop and greet you like he usually did. He walked past you without a word and you instantly knew something was wrong, you cleaned your hands off before approaching his bedroom door.

‘Poe?’ You knocked gently but you got no response. ‘Poe? What happened?’ You steeled yourself, feeling bold you opened his door to find him kneeling on the floor, his arms wrapped around him as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He looked up at you a desperate look on his face and you knew today had been a bad day. Without thinking you got down on the floor with him, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he embraced you just as roughly. His entire body shook and the words started tumbling out of him, his voice wavering as still he tried not to cry.

‘I tried, I couldn’t get to her. The fire was too much. I could hear her screaming for me and I couldn’t get to her, I couldn’t get to her,’ a sob finally choked its way out of him and you could feel wetness on your neck as his soft curls brushed against your face.

‘It’s not your fault,’ you whispered as you held him. You looked back at the door painfully aware the frying pan was on. ‘Come into the kitchen with me or dinner will be burnt.’ He got up with you and you noticed as you finished cooking he tried to stay as close to you as possible, a dark haunted look in his eyes as he watched you prepare the food. You led him to the sofa as he looked at the food on the plate but he didn’t pick it up. ‘Poe,’ he looked up at you worrying his bottom lip.

‘Can we, can you….would you sleep with me tonight?’ His eyes widened as he realised what it sounded like and he began to try and stammer his way out of it. ‘I mean...I just… comfort….just hugs….’

‘Poe. Yes I will.’ He sighed with relief and finally he started eating.

You cleared up not letting him help and he stood by the hallway as he waited for you, once you’d turned the dishwasher on he reached for you. His touch tentative as your fingertips brushed his, you studied his face and gently brushed his curls off his forehead.

‘You ready?’ He nodded and tugged you with him leading you to his bedroom. He pulled his top off but left his joggers on as he slipped into bed, you were already in loungewear so you slipped in next to him. Without hesitating he grabbed you, pulling you flush against him as his warm breath fanned over the skin of your neck. You buried your hands in his curls as you sighed softly enjoying the feel of being close to someone. You thought he was asleep at one point until his hand moved lightly down your back and causing you to arch against him. His face pulled away from you and you saw the dark look in his eyes in the dim light, your heart hammered inside your chest as you traced the lines of his face. His hand slid up your arm and traced the line of your neck burying his fingers on your hair. Your body reacted instantly, desire racing through you as the heat of his body melded with yours. His lips pressed gently against you and you couldn’t help but groan into him. The desperate need for comfort took you both over as you striped quickly, coming together in a clash of limbs, unspoken words and heated craving. You took what you needed from each other hard and fast, just lost in the feel of one another until you were both spent finally drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

******************

And so your relationship blossomed, some days it was amazing, until the arguments started. His job took a lot out of him, having lost his own mother in a fire he seemed to have this need to save everyone he came across, more than his colleagues. He would take unnecessary risks, putting his own life on the line more than anyone else everyday. You began to fear you were losing him, and even though you respected what he did and understood why he did it you couldn’t accept the risks he was taking. You had a massive row the worst you’d ever had leaving you crying on the floor as he left for work not coming back until the next day. You stayed up all night going over the argument thinking what you could have said instead, wondering if you were being unreasonable or if he was just a reckless person with no regard for himself. The sun rose warming your legs as you sat rigid on the sofa when the front door opened. He closed it quietly and you turned to see him in his uniform.

‘I couldn’t leave it like that. I’m sorry.’ You nodded and got off the sofa, his eyes watched you wearily as you approached him.

‘I’m sorry too.’ He pulled you into a tight embrace, crushing his lips to you trying to get across how sorry he really was when a radio crackled.

‘Dameron get down here we’ve had a call.’

‘Go, just be careful.’ He smiled at you, that devilish lip sided smile you’d grown to love so much.

‘I promise I’ll be careful because now I have something to live for.’ The door shut behind him, his words still lingering in the air around you.

‘I love you,’ you whispered to the empty room.

*******************

Rain beat down on your umbrella as you stared down at the ground, the echo of your memories tormenting you everyday. You placed a hand on your swollen belly feeling the life stirring inside you as you read the words on the stone before you, your eyes tracing them like they had a million times before. Grief gripped you tightly as tears threatened to fall, it had been 8 months without him by your side. 8 months of coming home to an empty flat. 8 months of crying yourself to sleep as you hugged his favourite clothes. And now a whole new chapter of your life yawned before you with promises of life and giggles, tiny hands and feet gripping your clothes and a little person loving you with their whole heart. But you had to do it alone.

‘I miss you Poe,’ your voice cracked as you put a hand on the headstone wishing with all your might he was still here at your side. You hated leaving him alone in the cold ground and you swore your child would know what a brave man her father was.

He’d never be forgotten.

[jadoue1999]

Wanda and the life she deserved (she’ll make sure of it) Chapter 9

Summary:  This chapter is about Monica and why she wants to help Wanda so much. It also follows the post credit scene of episode 7 and a little of the finale.

Previous part: chapter 1,  chapter 2 , chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 9: Rambeau

Ever since her talk with Wanda, Monica was even more determined to help the woman. She had had her own painful experience after finding out her mother had lived two more years, only for her cancer to come back. It had taken her multiple days to really accept that she could have had more time with her, had the blip not happened. Also, adjusting to a universe that was five years ahead of her had been a challenge. Everything was different, not only culturally or technologically, but even in spots she had thought untouchable. Her favorite shop her and her mom used to go to escape the everyday stress of life was now gone. The owners were blipped, they had come back to find an empty lot that once contained their whole life. Monica, not one to dwell too much, decided that it would be better to move. Her apartment only served as a reminder that her mother truly was gone. Maria had probably wandered the same walls trying to convince herself that her daughter would come back only to succumb without finding out she was right all along. So, she had changed town, one closer to S.W.O.R.D. headquarters, that way, she could concentrate on more assignments. She had tried going to therapy, the world had offered counseling for those who came back. Monica had found it unfortunate that no one seemed to consider that some needed more than just talking out their feelings. As much as she understood why they limited their service to this, the entire world was grieving after all, she just wished there were more options.

She had instead focused on getting herself back together and forming a new world for herself. She had tried socializing, but every conversation eventually ended up talking about lost opportunities and the grief people or their loved one had endured. She bought books of the latest invention and discovery, trying to understand the world who moved on without her. She had eventually settled her finances with the bank, her position at S.W.O.R.D. gave her priority over the everyday citizens. She was part of the lucky ones, her mother’s hope had kept her from claiming her life insurance, which made things a lot easier since she didn’t have to restart her life with a debt. While she wasn’t at peace with what happened to her mother, she decided to come back to her work. She couldn’t take the days alone, being assaulted by advertisements about fake opportunities offered by scam artists looking to make quick money on the web.

So, after three weeks of trying to adjust in a grieving world, she was back at S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. She was then assigned to the Westview anomaly which opened a whole new world of weird. Being mind controlled by Wanda had been one of the strangest things she had ever experienced. She was expected to hate her once she had been pulled out; but she couldn’t bring herself to. The avenger wasn’t doing this out of hate, but out of grief. She had felt her pain, one that was so similar to her own. The whole experience only made her more certain of her future: she had to help Wanda Maximoff.

...

That’s why even after being clearly shown that Wanda didn’t want her help, she decided to stick around. Agnes was definitely suspicious; she knew Wanda was grieving and seemed to want to keep it that way. Luckily, Wanda’s brother had intervened. That was another thing, who was he? He wasn’t on the resident board and he definitely wasn’t the real Pietro; she had seen the footage of Ultron. They didn’t even look similar. Yet Wanda seemed determined to keep him at her side and he seemed convinced that they truly were twins. She felt for the man, the mind control of the town definitely wasn’t a pleasant experience.

There were whispers of newcomers on the base the same day she, Jimmy and Darcy had been kicked out. She didn’t have time to learn much, but Hayward didn’t like them. Then again, he didn’t like most people that wasn’t directly on his team or that obeyed him without questions. Still, their arrival had ruffled some feathers, the identification process was made even more of a priority. She guessed that they were part of the many agencies that dealt with insurance and were trying to prepare for the storm of paperwork coming after the Hex would be brought down. As far as she knew, the counseling offered only covered the effect of the blip, not the after effect of being mind controlled by a grieving avenger.

After being pushed away, Monica wasn’t sure where to go. She walked around aimlessly; last time she was in town it was the 70s. Now, the advertisements were different, and everyone were dressed in the 2010s. She had to admit how impressive it was that Wanda was able to rewrite reality like that. She saw Herb, or John Collins, according to the citizen chart. He was watering his backyard and taking care of his garden, something he’d been a fan of even when she was part of the town. She didn’t see many other of the ‘main cast’, but she did see a few couples. Still no children, like Vision had pointed out on the last episode she saw on the base. The Halloween one didn’t count since she missed most of it trying to hide on her own base. After about half an hour, she decided that Wanda had probably calmed down. She had to talk to her again, she had begun to form a connection, she knew she could make Wanda see reason. She walked over to her house, but soon realized that nobody was there. Instead of going after her, she decided to investigate Agnes’ house. She looked through the windows, but not much was happening. The TV was on, but no one was watching it. She went in the back, perhaps she could find clues there. After watching through the windows and still not finding anything, she spotted a cellar.

She walked over and examined the door before opening it. She found what looked like vines that escalated the walls. She could see them glowing a deep purple, probably had something to do with her newfound powers. They seemed to give her the ability to see energy field that surrounded her. She was about to step inside when she felt a sudden gush of air.

“Snoopers gonna snoop,” came a voice next to her.

She gasped as she took in the person. It was the man who was cast at Pietro, only, he seemed off. Like he was doing something he didn’t want to. Before she could ask him anything, he grabbed her arm and the back of her neck. In a blur, they were in the house. Nausea suddenly hit, she grabbed onto a nearby table to stabilize herself.

“Give it a few minutes, it’ll pass,” reassured the man. “Happens with everyone.”

“W-who are you?” She asked once her head had stopped spinning.

“I’m Pietro, I thought you knew that?” She stared at him; something was strange about him. He seemed so kind, why would he help Agnes?

“That’s not what I mean,” she started. “It might be hard, but the mind control usually let you access a few memories of your true identity. You just need to concentrate.”

The man looked at her with a confused look. Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she tried running out of the room, but he stopped her only a few steps away from the window. He put a hand in front of him, with one finger, she was catapulted back onto the couch. The force of the impact knocked the breath out of her.

The man looked at Monica, “I’m sorry, I can’t let you out of here. T-the witch, whatever she is, she has my nephews. I have to keep you here or they get hurt.”

She smiled at his comment, relieved he wasn’t just another villain. “You truly care about them, don’t you?”

The man turned to look outside the empty street before answering, “of course, they’re family.”

“You truly can’t remember?” Monica looked at Pietro, who once again looked confused at her questions. “Nothing here is real, Wanda is giving everyone fake identity, giving them roles to fill. You’re no different.”

“What? Of course not, Wanda’s not like that.”

“Please, think about your life before Westview. Pietro Maximoff died; how can you be here if you were killed?”

“I-I,” He stammered. His confusion was a good sign, he was starting to wake up. He looked at her once again. “Look, I know my sister, she wouldn’t-“

Suddenly, his necklace glowed a scarlet red and his eyes glazed over. He looked disoriented for a second before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you out, my family’s lives are on the line.”

Monica didn’t react to what he said, she was all too focused on the necklace. What was it? It seemed to be controlling him, but what could the jewelry piece do that the Hex couldn’t?

She reached for it but stopped as the man backed off. Realizing how rude she was being, she cleared her throat, “may I?” Hesitantly, the man nodded yes. As she was about to touch it, it glowed red and sent a burning sensation through her hand. She gasped and put her hand in a fist, “I’m sorry, I can’t remove it. Do you remember when you got it?”

He seemed lost in thoughts for a moment before shaking his head, “I’ve just always had it.”

Monica had more questions but screams in the street made them both turn towards the window. Agnes was somehow floating in the air, holding both of the boys with a magical rope. She saw Pietro disappear, only to reappear a second later.

“I can’t get out, there’s a sort of barrier keeping me from leaving.”

She quickly got down the stairs, she was surprised he let her go, considering that his nephews’ life was on the line. She supposed the real threat compared to possible one was a good enough reason. She opened the front door, only to come crashing into a purple barrier. She put her hands on it, it felt strange, it was like... an energy field. She knew she could get rid of it, but she didn’t know how.

“So,” said Pietro, appearing beside her, “how to we get out? Considering we can’t even see the barrier.”

She pushed against it once again, the magic bending to the force but not letting them pass. “I can see it, but I don’t know how to break it.”

They both contemplated their options, but they couldn’t think of many. That is, until Pietro spoke up. “What... what if you synced your powers with the frequency of the barrier?” His eyes seemed slightly foggy, like he was remembering something from long ago. “You keep your hands there, and you concentrate as much as you can. You can match the strength, and slowly increase it until it becomes too much, and it breaks.”

She did as he told her, feeling her way through. Her fingers began to slightly vibrate, increasingly speeding up as her fingertips began to glow blue. After a few seconds, the barrier shattered, and they were free to go. She turned to the man, both surprised and excited that it had worked. “How did you know that would work?”

The man shrugged, “I think I did it once... on glass? Not sure but I definitely remember using this technique.”

She nodded and they ran to Wanda, Agnes, and the twins. The final battle was ready to begin.

...

Notes:  So, we are close to the end! I promise that we will be back to Wanda's point of view after this one, I simply thought more context on Monica couldn't hurt. Also, she doesn't remove the necklace, I figured that if someone had to remove it, in the context of my story at least, it has to be Wanda. Props to those who understood the days of future past reference! Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated!

[burnedbyshoto]

scoops

— In what was to be a summer of excitement, love, and adventure, you’re doomed to a summer working a job to pay some bills. But hey, who said romance still wouldn’t find a way to work while working at Scoops Ice Cream Parlor? —

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pairing: kaibara sen x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, modern!au, ice cream shop!au

word count: 6,361

a/n: this is for the bnharem summer collab!!!! I am so very tired, when am I not at this point... um... yes, kaibara is def my fav class 1-b boy, sorry not sorry.

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The best part about summer… well, you really couldn’t begin to list what you loved about it. There was no bad part about summer. Sure, the days were hot and humid, but they were long and bright for so long you could go and do things for countless hours. You were able to stay out in the sun and feel the heated rays against your skin — road trips with friends and days when you had no sleep and those when you only slept.

Summer was indeed the best time of the year.

This summer was supposed to be the best, with your saved money from working at the student store for this last semester, you were ready to go places with your friends. Explore the unknown all in the name of youth.

There indeed wasn’t anything better about this time of the year than that. 

Cute clothes, cute bathing suits, and cute accessories, as you trailed out of your classroom with your final finally done and completed, you were ready to zoom on toward home.

This was going to be the best summer ever, you thought, your heart racing in anticipation at the thought of your best friend pulling up at your home with a car full of friends. Your parents waving you off as you descended into the purpling and pink sky with nothing but an uproarious scream and celebration.

You really hoped you’d find someone attractive… maybe a summer fling?!

You giggled at the thought, your face warming even more under the deep sun rays, your body avoiding passing commuters.

This was going to be your summer!

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“You’re… you’re kidding me,” you deadpanned staring at your mother, who was in a full-body cast. 

She looked at you with a sheepish emotion on her face, her eyes full of sorrow yet no pain. The moment you had gotten home and had switched from your finals outfit to something more practical, you had gotten a phone call from the hospital. It seems that your mother, in all her clutz, had tumbled down the staircase at her work. Through this, she managed to break both arms and legs, two ribs and broke her collarbone. 

“M… Mom,” you groaned at the way she was laughing in total embarrassment; after all, miraculously, she was in little pain despite being hospitalized. “How did this happen?! Why did you — oh my god…” 

“There was a mosquito flying by my head, and well… I tripped and fell,” she laughed loudly, smiling in gratitude when the nurse came to adjust her pillows. 

“Why were you even leaving the office?! It isn’t even lunchtime for you, and you always eat lunch on the roof?” you questioned more, your arms folding across your arms. 

“Well, um… you know how there have been cuts at the office, I just… I was let go,” she whispered in a small voice, face twisted with embarrassment and shame. While you wanted to feel sorry for your mother because after all, she had suffered horrendously, there was a quick realization of what those words meant.

Medical insurance was now gone.

“How are we going to pay for this?!”

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Having to wave your friends away with tears rolling down your face was hard. Their faces sullen at the fact that you had handed over your entire job savings to begin paying off the massive debt your mother built in a single minute. You also knew you couldn’t return to your job at the university, they were closed during this time.

There wasn’t much you could even find while looking around. Your resume wasn’t strong enough to earn jobs that would help your future career, not when competing against graduate students. The local shops and malls were already filled to completion; they always prioritized the highschoolers anyways. 

You had almost thought it was pointless to even be searching until you stumbled across a corner ice cream parlor. It was the closest ice cream parlor to your house, and if you thought hard enough, you definitely remembered coming when you were small, and fortunately for you, they were hiring on the spot.

So here you were, in an old t-shirt, shorts, an apron fastened on, and your hair free from your face. The owner of the ice cream parlor showed you around, pointing at the different things that were lying about. He was a simple tour guide, he had told you, a simple introduction to what was lying about. Your coworkers would be the ones to teach you how to create the unique menu items, teach you how to work behind the scenes. 

The smile on your face was stiff and very unnatural as he showed you about, stories of the old employee he had that had quit on him because they were moving suddenly. It was apparently a struggle for him to find willing workers at this time. He was also sure to name off the three other employees that worked here, and by the sounds of it, two of the three names were retired people who were so bored that they sought out a low-stakes job.

“Ah, there he is!” he exclaimed, his hands thrusting outwards as a tall, dark-haired man emerged from the back, a gallon of ice cream in his hands while he looked lost in thought. “This is Kaibara Sen! My youngest…er, second youngest employee now! He will be handling your training, he is very competent and well… a much better explainer than I am!” 

You tried not to stare too much at the man, but he was for lack of a better term, beautiful. Dark hair, brown eyes, and a look on his face that just told you he definitely did not want to be here… it was basically love at first sight for you. 

“Kaibara, this is y/l/n, our newest member of the family here at Scoops!” the owner exclaimed, his cheeks warm and his body brimming with excitement. “Please explain everything, I have to go now! My daughter should be out of school, and I have to go pick her up!”

You watched in silent awkwardness as the man picked up all his items and rushed out of there without a single word. Smiling awkwardly, you returned your attention to Kaibara, who was studying you without saying a word. Your smile began to pinch at your cheeks, the strain of the faux smile beginning to tire you out to completion while he changing the empty gallon of ice cream for the new one — you had to will yourself from staring at the very, very nicely toned arms of his. 

“Hold this,” he spoke, his voice low and flat, almost entirely passive and bored while he pushed the empty cardboard into your arms. You hitched a breath in your surprise, your head nodding in your overall confusion. 

The tub was cold in your arms, contradicting the overall harsh rays of the sun. You watched as he turned on his heel, moving back to the door, and you stayed put, your eyes wide in confusion and your increasing inability to stop checking him out. “Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to follow?”

Blood flooded to your face in your embarrassment, your head dropping while you rushed after him.

Needless to say, your first day on the job was an interesting one.

While your first impression of Kaibara was that he was hot enough to melt you into a puddle, you found yourself at a quick and immovable realization that he was an overall dick. He was disgustingly bland, his tone only riling you up when he crudely pointed out your mistakes and issues. He had explained to you in five minutes how the entire ice cream parlor worked — yes, in five minutes, and yes, he expected that you memorized and retained all that information.

Refill the ice cream when there’s only five centimeters left. Don’t touch the soft-serve ice cream machine because it often broke. Don’t flirt with any customers, don’t destroy the whip cream swirls on the ice cream sundaes. Don’t ever go into the freezer without someone knowing, don’t forget to clean the counters every hour if it isn’t that busy, don’t forget… well, you got it. There were many don’t’s in his vocabulary surrounding the rules and regulation of this ice cream parlor. Furthermore, he had thrown you to the wolves because the moment he finished up the rules here at Scoops where they ‘live to bring a lick of happiness one scoop at a time,’ a customer had walked in and of course, because beginners luck was not a thing, ordered the hardest thing on the menu.

Your back had never been sweatier, and your arms trembled as he practically breathed down your neck. There was no stopping this incessant mother birding of his, and your ears seared with heat when he called you out for every mistake you made.

“I thought I told you to not do that!” he muttered just loud enough for the customer to ask with worry if everything was okay. 

The second you had handed of the quad-layered ice cream sundae that was most definitely a kickstarter to diabetes did you almost collapse in gratefulness of being done with that wretched thing. The customer did, however, frown significantly at the sight of the very ugly sundae, and you wanted to collapse in your failure. 

The two of you were not… compatible coworkers, and that was apparent as the summer sun while the day went on.

He ridiculed your every technique, he frowned at the way your voice pitched when you welcomed customers, scoffed when you were overly sweet because he would love to see you being that kind in a month, and he glared a hole through your head the moment you tried to socialize while there was nothing to do.

So when the summer sun had set for the night and your arm burned from the repetitive and laborious action of scooping ice cream all day, you walked out of Scoops with a wavering bottom lip. This was going to be a long summer.

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“For someone who’s been here a whole year more than me, I’d’ve thought you were better than this,” you sang, pocketing the extra cash you got as a bonus for the fantastic and helpful review you had gotten on Yelp. Yes, America’s disaster of an app had finally made its way to Japan, and three weeks ago, your boss said anyone with a useful review on top of a five-star recommendation would get a bonus. You were always getting it. “What was that you were saying when I first began? Don’t suck? Hm, well, I think you need to get that under control on your own part.”

Kaibara rolled his eyes so hard you swore you could hear him do it. You tried not to allow the prideful smirk to become too apparent while you went about your shift reorganizing the front of the store. You had just managed through a demanding crowd of children, couples, and the elderly, and it was a mess. 

It had only been the two of you today, too (the owner only worked the register, leaving the two of you to make the orders). While there was no getting along for either of you, there was a good work ethic between you that allowed you to work efficiently together. But of course, the teasing and taunting from your voice while you graciously took the extra cash made Kaibara seethe.

It was an unspoken, spoken competition between the two of you, and to make things worse for the environment between everyone, the both of you sorely got along. 

He had called you incompetent, you called him lazy. He called you a useless employee, you called him fifth-rate at best. There was just a lot of tension between you and the man you had once thought was painfully attractive.

“It doesn’t count when you beg customers for the comment. Of course, they’re gonna take pity on you and your ass life; why do you think people give spare change to the homeless?” Kaibara smoothly stated, his fingers digging the cleaning rag harder onto a piece of fallen dried, sticky ice cream.

You nearly cracked the waffle cones in your gloved hands.

“At least I’m the one with the extra cash in your pocket!”

“It fell out actually, free change now,” Kaibara stated, pointed at the rolled money on the floor and quickly scooping it from the floor well before you could snatch it. 

Your face twisted when you ended a near chest to chest with him, his eyes seeming to read you entirely while you definitely met his gaze, yet also managed to look cities away. Your upper lip curled with your frustration, and you shoved his chest, grabbing at the money in his hand.

Unfortunately for you, he was both quicker than you, stronger than you, and taller than you. He merely rose his clenched fist well above his head and smirked at how your face blanched at his actions.

“You’re a fucking dick!” you yelled, your hands latching onto his bicep and pulling down with all your strength. “Give me my damn tip!”

“It was on the ground, it’s finders keepers,” was his smooth response, his arm somehow freakishly strong enough to fight off your full weight and stay defiantly up. 

Well, you definitely understood why no one liked working with the two of you, you were both annoying together. 

“Kaibara Sen, if you don’t give me back my damn money right now, I will—” you were interrupted by how his lips pulled past his teeth into a fierce, biting grin.

“You’ll what? Punch me? It hasn’t hurt the last ten times you’ve tried.” He taunted you with no mercy, his head tilting just the slightest bit to further his point and to have your blood pumping yet again.

“That’s only because I wasn’t trying before!” you counter, your fingers pressing into his palm, your nails beginning to dig into his flesh while he tried not to let on that it hurt.

“You’ll have a friend of yours write a five-star review for you, and write a complaint about me?” he asked, bringing back to light the one time that your friends left not one, but fifteen five-star reviews. Of course, a handful of them had also decided to include that they were not happy with the treatment they received from Kaibara — not that it was possible given that they were not anywhere near here. 

“Well, I didn’t know they were going to do that! All I was doing was exchanging stories about how I was working while they were all out having fun!” you attempt to defend, but it sounds weak because well, it happened.

“Ah, okay, I’ll try to remember that when I have my friends doing the same to you,” Kaibara sarcastically smiled, his arm finally dropping so that his fist was in your face, but it still remained defiantly closed. “I mean it’s only fair, and they didn’t abandon me on a whole summer long getaway!”

“I told them it was okay to leave, you jerk!” you grit out, your fingers trying to slip under his so that you could rip the money from his hand, but yours were beginning to sweat.

“Ouch, a jerk? Don’t hurt my feelings, please y/n, it’s making me tear up,” Kaibara sighed, his eyes very much interested in the way you were failing to get his fingers to open up.

“D-Don’t call me y/n! We are not friends enough for you to try acting casual with me!”

“Should I call you y/l/n-sama instead?”

“W… WHAT?!”

“Yeah, sounded weird to me too. I mean, after all, I don’t garner any respect for you, so why would I use that, to begin with!”

If you were a bird, you were absolutely positive that your feathers would be bristled and standing while you glared up at Kaibara with a near snarl on your lips. He matched your glare, his typically passive eyes ignited while the both of you neared in this hate-filled magnetism. 

“Would you two please stop! This is the time for summer flings! Not swinging fists!” 

The both of you whirled around to see your practically sobbing employer watch on with tears rolling down his face. He had been the most disheartened at the fact that both you did not get along at all, it was his biggest regret he had said many times over. While both of you did not fly twenty meters apart, Kaibara’s fist relaxed, and you managed to retrieve your money back from him with a satisfied ‘hmph’ before turning around.

Really you knew both of you together were insufferable. But to your credit, both of you were always civil in front of the customers. Well, at least polite enough for no one to speak up. But as you returned to your place by the corner to continue cleaning with your rag, you couldn’t help but look behind you at Kaibara, who was also staring back at you.

What an insufferable prick!

He stared at you, his lips pressing into a smile that you refused to admit made your heart hammer just the slightest bit faster in your chest, and the moment he caught on, the smile became a smirk before his tongue stuck out, and his finger pulled at his eye — or in other words, he threw you an Akanbe… well, your boss then had a ten-minute talk about how it was not okay to throw dirty rags at your coworkers.

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It wasn’t that Kaibara didn’t like you.

No, of course not, there was no point in garnering unpleasant feelings towards someone who didn’t matter to him at the end of the day, but sometimes… sometimes he really thought you being a piece of shit just to enact rage and violence from him. After all, as part of working at the ice cream parlor, their break time leisure was always brought with a free sundae with whatever you wanted because you worked, and tips were only really brought in by the rare American tourist.

But you were doing this on purpose. 

“I want to add a caramel and chocolate drizzle, don’t forget to add peanuts… should I get whipped cream??? Is there enough??? I know we used almost half of our weekly supply on one kid?” Kaibara watched as you stroked your chin, ordering your custom-made sundae while you created this sugar-sweet dessert based on what he hated to create. “You know what… yes, I want some whipped cream, but I also thought that you could maybe smash it up like at Cold Stone? It makes it easier to eat.”

“I’ll spit in your ice cream if you make me do that.” Kaibara deadpanned, his fingers twitching on the serving spoons. If he was going to smash your toppings on the counter, he just cleaned, he was going to throw this in your face.

“And violate Healthcode Section 242?!” you gasped loudly, almost offended that he would do such a thing, and he wondered if you were pulling a number out of your ass. “Do it, I dare you! I really would like to have you replaced!”

He watched you triumphantly stick your nose in the air, your lips set in a victorious grin, but he just sighed. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

You seemed to have expected that from him, but you still played it off in a shocked manner with your hands pressing to your cheeks in your horrified expression.

“Oh thank goodness, I thought for a second there you were going to say something horrendously rude!” you laugh, your hands stretching out for your finished sundae, and he watched your tongue wet your lips while you brought it close to you. “My mom tells me that all the time, and she’s still in a full-body cast.”

“And that’s relevant because?” he asked, his eyes blinking slowly, his head tilting in his faux boredom — he wouldn’t admit it, but he was never bored with you around.

“Nope, totally irrelevant! But I figured your life is so boring that my daily news about my bedridden mother must be like what Fashion Week is for Youtubers,” you chide, walking over to an empty table and plopping down on the chair with overdramatic confidence and slight exhaustion.

“I think maybe you should stop talking and eat that ice cream before your break is over.” he returned, his hip pressing into the cold counter while he cleaned up the small mess he had made creating your monster of a snack.

“You’re probably right… your small brain needs a break.”

Your words were nothing new, but he still stared at you with a growing smirk while you brought your spoon of ice cream to your mouth and took your first big satisfying bite… well, that was until you tasted it. “EW! HEY! KAIBARA! THIS IS FUCKING DISGUSTING WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY SUNDAE?!”

“I added cherry sauce.” He shrugged, his arms folding across his chest while your face fell, your spoon digging into the sweet cream to shove the black sauce, which was not chocolate, to the side.

“THAT’S THE—”

“Worst? I know!” Kaibara nearly snorted at the defeated, almost depressing look that overcame his face. He wanted to dig more at you because of that, but was unfortunately interrupted when the front door opened and in came a customer. “Oh, welcome.”

He didn’t want to look away from the fact that you were pouting and eating your sundae still; your guilt of wasting food outweighing your distaste much more. But a weird twist of his stomach made his eyebrows scrunch when he noticed how the incoming customer stared at you. It was a look of interest, and while he didn’t even like you, why was he feeling like this.

He ignored it, shaking his head, he focused on the customer who said they were still looking, and he sighed.

It meant nothing… right?

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Well, it finally happened. 

Today was your day off, but at precisely 12:35 p.m., your phone violently buzzed with an incoming call from your boss. You had been out on the backyards lawn trying to sunbathe with your towel on the dirt floor, trying to live the best summer experience you could. Your music had been blasting, so when the call came, you quickly picked it up to figure who was calling and why.

“Hello?”

“Y/N WE NEED YOU IN THE SHOP RIGHT NOW! THE EVENT IS CRAZY RIGHT NOW, AND THERE’S A LINE OUT THE DOOR! I’LL GIVE YOU OVERTIME JUST GET HERE NOW!”

There wasn’t even a chance to argue, a chance to say you were doing more important things, because the line ended immediately and you groaned loudly. To work it was, it seemed. 

It took you fifteen minutes to get to Scoops Ice Cream Parlor, and you were surprised, to say the least, about how false your boss’s statement was. It wasn’t a line out the door, it was a line that went out the door and wrapped around the block?! 

You locked eyes with Kaibara, who was also apparently called in today, and he merely raised an eyebrow at you before continuing what he was doing. In forty-five seconds flat, you had managed to get yourself ready to assist and were on it. 

It was times like this that everyone was grateful for how efficiently you and Kaibara worked together, as odd as it was. The two of you worked on multiple orders together, passing things off to one another, gathering items, and sharing. It was done wordlessly, effortlessly, and efficiently; it indeed was not a reflection of how you two behaved normally. 

In an hour and a half, the line had finally reached the last ten people, and you could almost cry in relief. 

“Ah! A soft served vanilla ice cream with a chocolate drizzle! Y/n!” your boss commanded, and you nodded, your sweating cheek pressing to your shoulder to wipe whatever you could off. Without a word, you went back to the soft serve machines and without so much of a thought, pulled on the lever. 

You quickly realized that pulling on that lever was a mistake, not a mistake you purposefully made, but a mistake. 

Do not touch the soft-serve machine because it often broke… that’s what Kaibara told you all those weeks ago, but when he meant broken, he didn’t mean it didn’t produce ice cream. No, no, no. That would be too nice by the universe, after all! When he said it broke, you never expected the soft-serve ice cream to begin to pour from the machine, with no stop in sight. 

“OH NO!”

The white vanilla cream poured endlessly from the machine, and you shrieked while trying to keep it on the cone you brought with you, but you were no expert in making those Instagram famous towers. Eventually, you watched in horrific slow motion as the ice cream tipped over and splattered on the floor, and in your moment of not knowing what to do, you attempted to gather the ice cream in your hands instead of letting it fall to the floor.

“Oh my god, stop! Please stop!” you chanted, your hands jiggling onto the lever hoping that it would make it stop, but it was to no avail.

With every passing second, your arm filled with more ice cream, growing colder and stickier with every moment. 

“What the fuck is taking you so long — oh my god!”

“KAIBARA PLEASE HELP ME!!!!” you sobbed, feeling like a pathetic toddler of all things as your foot desperately tried to drag the trash can near you to keep the building icecream from falling onto the floor, but your legs were too short it seemed. 

“What did you do?!” he hissed, running over slamming the trash can near you, but slipped on the fallen cone and crashed into you. 

Much like how the ice cream cone had fallen in slow motion, Kaibara crashing into you, exploding the armful of ice cream gathered in your arms everywhere, sent you both to the ground. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” you sobbed in your hysteric laughter, the both of you now fumbling on the ground, the ice cream quickly seeping past the threads of the apron to seep into your clothes and burn your bodies slowly. “YOU MADE THIS SO MUCH WORSE!”

“Oh my god, would you stop?! Please stop yelling!”

“Get off me first! You’re so heavy!”

“The floors are so damn slippery, I can’t!”

“Roll off, you idiot!”

It was a chaotic, wild attempt by the two of you to calm down the machine that wouldn’t stop spitting out ice cream until it was empty. While no one else had seen the two of yours struggles to get into your feet (a feat that took twenty minutes and provided hilarious footage for your coworkers who watched it before closing), the both of you couldn’t speak of what happened without feeling like you needed to crumble away. 

Thankfully, both of you were sent home afterward, before the ice cream could glue into your skin. But as you were walking out, your arms not being able to bend at the disgusting horror of the sticky firmness of the dried ice cream on your skin, you were surprised when a hand grabbed your shoulder and stopped you. 

“I wanted to apologize,” Kaibara says the second you turn to look at him. 

“What?” you stupidly respond, your eyes blinking rapidly as if you couldn’t understand him. 

“I wanted to apologize about how I’ve been… how I’ve been behaving. We aren’t really friends, but after all that today, I just… can we start over?”

And somehow those four little words sparked a friendly fire in your core, and your lips stretched into a smile as sweet as the ice cream on your body. 

“Yeah, I think we can.”

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This date was going horribly.

About nine days ago, a customer had walked in, seen you moping with an ice cream sundae made by Kaibara with black cherry sauce, and had asked you out. You were sure what exactly willed you into saying yes; after all, you didn’t know the guy personally, but here you were. Without wanting to seem rude, you definitely thought this date was going horrendously, and you wanted to get out, not that this man noticed anyways.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?” he asked, a smile spreading on his face while both of you exited the movie theater.

You thought about it, Kaibara wasn’t working today if you remembered correctly, and with Scoops being the only ice cream joint nearby, you weren’t about to stroll in on a date with him there. Since the whole broken soft-serve ice cream machine, both of you had taken to be friends like honey and flies. 

The bickering didn’t stop, not one single bit, but the tone and the atmosphere behind the genuine arguments no longer felt like an introduction to some World War and now instead teasing and playing between friends. However, admitting and seeing that you were friends brought up an issue that you never thought was going to happen again — you once more found yourself attracted to the dark-haired man.

Yes, like some overzealous whore, you were out on a date while having very real feelings for your coworker.

But well, going back to whether you should go get ice cream, it would give you yet another reason to speak up at all.

“Sure!”

But of course, summer was not being your friend this summer it seemed, because when he held open the all too familiar front door, and you walked in with a grateful smile. You felt your heart twist and die the second that Kaibara walked out from the back, his already neutral face falling into stony coldness at the sight of you and your date.

“Welcome,” was his unwelcoming call. 

Please let there be some freak accident that causes time to reset so you wouldn’t have to do this, you prayed, trying to calm the blood that threatened to rush to your face while your date began to talk to Kaibara. Your eyes glued immediately over onto the menu as if you hadn’t already memorized everything up there. Still, even with your attention very focused on the menu, you knew by heart already, you could feel those dark, nearly black eyes piercing through you. 

When Kaibara was asked to cover a coworkers shift today, he expected it to be busier than it was today. He guessed that’s just how it was at times when the heat of the summer day failed to make anyone want any ice cream, but while it was nice to get paid without doing much work, it definitely sucked doing nothing. Which is why when the front door chime sounded, he offered to take on the customer… but he didn’t expect to see you here with some random guy. 

He didn’t know why it bothered him really, the both of you were finally getting along superbly but seeing you there next to some guy who was trying to talk about just how amazed he was by all the ice cream flavors and how he met you here soured his mood intensely. At the same time, he continued to look at you. You were staring at the menu; he knew you could recite to the very typo on the board because he had riled you into memorizing it within the first week. 

But when your sheepish gaze met his, Kaibara did not want to admit that the bizarre emotions he was feeling both disappeared altogether and intensified utterly. 

“What d’ya want, y/l/n?” he asked you after taking down this assholes order. He took to your gaze, trying not to have some lame physical reaction to how he felt when your eyes warmed at the sight of him. 

It meant nothing, it meant nothing, it meant nothing. 

“I’ll have the caramel banana sundae,” you ordered with a smile while your date grinned after your selection. 

“You really order the worst things on this menu, don’t you?” he couldn’t help but jab, knowing you would instantly focus on this mindless banter. 

“Kaibara, I swear, say that to my face one more time!” you instinctively yelled. Although you were here on some date, he would confirm later (and would then have to internally admit that he was, in fact, jealous) he liked the fact that you spent the majority of your date in here talking to him.

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Sometimes you really wished that arresting the sun was an actual concept. 

Why in the world was it even legal for the temperature to be 114°F and for workplaces to still be expected to run normally. God, it was so hot that it only felt normal in your ice cream parlor employment that your only moment of grace was when you walked into the back freezers. 

“I think I’m slowly dying,” you whispered to Kaibara while you arranged the ice cream for the waiting customers. 

Today had been reasonably busy, everyone coming in and exclaiming that they needed some ice cream to combat the summer sun, and you always nodded in agreement. But you guessed despite the blistering heat that couldn’t even stay away from the ice cream shop, you appreciated being able to suffer together with Kaibara. 

“If you die and leave me here, I will kill you.” Kaibara’s eyes narrowed at you, and you laughed, shoving him with your shoulder. 

“Good luck!”

You handed the ice cream concoctions to the family and watched as they seem delighted to have it before walking away. 

After a perfect steady flow of customers, the parlor was at the moment empty, and you looked at the different ice cream gallons in search to see which needed to be refilled. You counted five, and you cringed, the both of you had been slacking it seemed. 

“Come help me switch out the ice cream,” you demanded, spinning on your heel and marching off back towards the freezer. 

Since your date, it had been… awkward with Kaibara, you hated to admit it.

The fact that he had seen you on a date was never again brought up, but it seemed that maybe it should have been considering the very awkwardness that bled into your relationship. Sure, he was beyond pleasant with you; as a matter of fact, there was hardly any bickering between the two of you because whenever it started, he would bite his tongue to keep from returning any of your lines — and you knew he had some comebacks. 

You walked into the freezer first, reciting the ice cream flavors that needed to be replaced like a mantra to avoid multiple trips to and from the freezer. With Kaibara coming in behind you, you immediately walked over towards the frozen gallons and began to pull out the flavors that you needed to take. 

“How’s your boyfriend?” Kaibara asked suddenly while you placed two of the gallons onto the floor so that you could grab the other ones. 

You felt your spine stiffen at his words, your eyes wide while you turned behind you to see that Kaibara had also grabbed another two of the flavors which lead you with one more, which was nearest to you. 

“Not my boyfriend,” you corrected awkwardly, your ears burning while you walked carefully over to the gallon in the far back wall. “I didn’t like him, I was promised a free ticket to a movie, and you know with my mom and everything I couldn’t pass it up.”

Without even looking at him, you knew that Kaibara had nodded his head in understanding.

“So you don’t like him?” he asked, his voice seeming to come from a few steps behind you, which caused a shiver to roll down your spine, but you mentally blamed it on the freezing air. 

“No, I um… I like someone else,” you respond honestly, trying not to let on your embarrassed and flustered state while trying to take the gallon of ice cream out from the rack but was currently failing. “Stupid fucking ice cream!”

But your frustration towards the ice cream container was quickly and almost immediately forgotten the second his unexplainably warm hands grabbed onto your shoulders and spun you around. Your eyes widened at the sight of his slight shaggy black hair falling onto his eyes while he looked at you and then down at your lips.

“Am I that someone else?” he asked, and all the air in your lungs froze over and died. He read you like a book, and the soft chuckle that left his lips made your body vibrate with warmth as he nodded his head in perfect understanding. “Lucky guess, huh… you think I can kiss you, y/n?”

A simple sentence crossed his tongue, and yet your mind spun at his words as if he had offered you only the greatest riches in the world, and you found yourself nodding your head while reaching up to meet his own eager lips into a scorching kiss. You weren’t sure how long the kiss lasted, only knowing that with your fingers twisted into his soft locks, his fingers digging into your waist and keeping you breathlessly near, and the buzz that came alive with your dancing lips. He inexplicably and irrevocably overwhelmed you, and the near frantic breathing that passed through your nose was evidence of that. 

By the time you two parted, you felt the world turn into some rose gold haze while you stared up at his smiling face.

The two of you would later find out that you had been locked in the freezer together, but on the hottest day of the year, next to someone who kissed you with enough intensity and passion that the freezer couldn’t even make you shiver, it was all okay.

[youarejesting]

hey bb💜 I got another request for you: Mafia!Yoongles, SFW, prompt: Bonnie & Clyde

Yoongi: Bonnie & Clyde SFW

Beta: @jung-hoseok-s-airplane

Word count: 3k

Warnings: paranoia, thriller, drama, terror, but soft and fluffy, and angsty. Talk of guns and multiple fight scenes, protect Yoongles at all costs.

Yoongi wasn’t the boss of a Mafia, he wasn’t even high ranking within the gang. He was just an underlying member of the outer circle. Why? All because of a stupid loan. One small sum of money he borrowed for his Tuition that has left him forever in debt.

Now he spent his days working earnestly to pay everything back, however, every year they added a ridiculous amount of interest. They did it to keep him stuck in a rut.

While working and making the payments he was able to open his dream music shop, where he taught children how to play and read music on the weekends.

Seven years passed and he was finally ready to close his accounts; he had saved up his last few thousand and the undoubtedly large interest he knew he would have to pay. They would come up with excuses like ‘account keeping fees’ or ‘providing him with insurance’ which he knew it was all part of the scam.

He would go on whatever “Jobs” the boss asked of him. Whether it was drug trafficking or to rough up some people who owed the boss money.

You had seen it all, broken noses and busted lips, remembering the first day he came home beaten with a purple swollen eye. He had tried to cover the eye with his hair, but you notice the change in his demeanor instantly.

Yoongi wasn’t a pushover, he never whined and never asked for help and it took everything to convince him to allow you to provide first aid for him. He stood in the bathroom as you provided him with medicine and tried to ease this pain and discomfort.

At his worst, Yoongi had returned home with several broken ribs, fingers and a serious shoulder injury. He refused to go to the hospital and you did your best to patch him up. His shoulder however never healed the same causing permanent damage. His face often became pained as he played the piano pinpointing the exact moment when it would start to ache. Yet he never broke and never complained.

“Yoongi, where are you going?” You asked, pulling on your sneakers ready for your ‘spin class’ at least that’s what you called it and what you told Yoongi you were doing. Looking up after securing your laces you saw him in a suit, never a good sign.

There were few occasions Yoongi wore a suit, and he had a different suit for all occasions. He had his beautiful recital suit with coat tails and bow tie your favourite. He had his wedding suit his business casual suit and then this one. It was black on black reminiscent of a funeral but you knew it was because it was easier to hide blood stains.

He was going to Mister Bang, the leader of the Gang. The uncertainty kicked in. Would he return home, if he did would he be injured?

“I am paying out my debt today” He gestured to the duffle bag with a grin. “I even have interest on top of the interest amount just in case, I am ending this today.”

His voice was firm, it baffled you how he did it, how he managed to keep his faith all this time. Always positive that this day would come. Of course, you knew and supported his plans of leaving, but he was finally doing it.

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek wishing him luck, but he pulled you back kissing you firmly and passionately. You could feel how tense he was, there was so much weight on his shoulders.

“If something happens to me today, I just want you to know”

“I don’t want to hear it, you can tell me when you get home, I will order your favourite”

His soft smile brought with it a soft twinkle in his eyes, he seemed to be burning your image into his brain. Sharing a kiss before heading out to the gym.

When you got there you were met by Jungkook, a trainer in self-defense. Jungkook trained you to box using some elements of taekwondo to keep you strong. Jimin on Fridays taught you a series of mixed martial art styles and kept you agile.

You had spent almost all four years of your marriage with Yoongi working with these men to always be safe. It was after that first day when he came home hurt. Knowing you had to learn to protect yourself, so they could never use you against him. Never knowing what might happen to you or Yoongi.

Arriving home after your training you saw Yoongi alone in the dark nursing a whiskey bottle in his hand. Every step closer made your eyes prickle with a sad and angry emotion.

His suit was ripped and parts of him were discoloured or stained from blood and bruising.

“Baby, what happened?” You asked grabbing his face noticing the way he winced. His voice was so small and his lip shook eyes misting up.

“He took my money, he said “thank you for paying back your debt, but the only way you get out is by death” Yoongi sniffed, the tears spilling from his eyes dripping onto your hands as they held his cheeks.

It felt as if your heart was breaking at his words, never in your marriage had he shed tears like this. Sure one or two tears at your wedding, but that was it he never cried otherwise and especially not in fear.

“I said firmly that I was leaving and they beat me, when they finally stopped Bang told me to go home and when I come back I would be promoted.”

He hugged you arms wrapping around your waist and he cried against you. His body shook with uncertainty, his strength leaving him as he leaned on you. They had broken him and you weren’t going to stand for it. Pulling the bottle from him, you had a mouthful the burn in your throat and stomach much needed for what you were contemplating. Gently kissing the unbruised area of his forehead, you stepped back. “Go pack some clothes.”

“What?” He looked confused and you wanted nothing more than to tell him everything would be okay. But it was not.

“Yoongi trust me okay” His watery eyes locked on yours and he seemed to notice the fire behind them, sure he had seen the embers dimly lit whenever you saw him injured or heading out again but this was different. Two glowing orbs holding a pure and fiery strength he needed at this moment.

He watched you lift the floorboard and raised an eyebrow when you grabbed a collection of money stacks.

There were so many things you wanted to bring with you but you knew you could only take the essentials. That didn’t stop you from picking up your wedding album with shaking hands and having one last look at your happy life together. Yoongi stepped out of the bedroom room with a duffle bag in his hand, his expression turning soft.

“Bring it?” He smiled making a gesture to the book “If you want it, bring it. But I want you to know, I am here. Always, and we can have a hundred weddings if you wish.”

“We were so happy?”

“I am sorry, that’s all I ever wanted was for us to be happy and I ruined it my love”

“You could never ruin it Yoongi, you just made it more adventurous I have experienced things I never would have if I didn’t have you”

“You experiences things you shouldn’t have because of me”

Tearing out your favorite photo and slipping it into your wallet you looked around the room.

He sat in front of the brown upright piano, running his hands over the smooth and worn wood. He was saying his goodbyes before turning and taking your hand leading you out of the house immediately.

You traveled for almost two hours until you arrived at Cheongju. You both wanted to go further but it was late and you had to make a plan, driving around aimlessly wasn’t going to help.

So you stayed at a dirty motel using cash. Yoongi said it was better that way they could trace everything else.

Stepping out of the shower and laying on the bed; Yoongi was setting up a burner phone and trying to contact an old friend in his home town Daegu.

The two of you had drifted off to sleep for what seemed like an hour when there was a loud thudding on your hotel door. Sitting up and Yoongi swore, trying to reach for his gun but the door was beaten in.

“What do we have here?” One hulking man asked his gun halting your movements, he was sweaty and made you scrunch your nose in distaste. The other was thinner and taller he had a large burn on the side of his temple and you wanted nothing to do with them.

“Looks like two runaways,” this man pointed his guns at Yoongi, “Get out of bed!”

Hands in the air, you followed their orders stepping from under the warmth of the blankets. Walking cautiously to the middle of the room, Yoongi didn’t raise his hand but followed their orders, taking your hips and trying to move you behind him, you didn’t budge.

Jimin in many occasions had taught unarmed combat and how to use your body as a weapon, he also taught you how to disarm someone.

“You have to move fast. I cannot stress it enough, your small and female they won’t expect you to have the guts to do anything” he smiled “so you have the advantage, what I want you to do is take the weapon quickly and with the least trouble.”

Jimin showed you meticulously how to disarm up to three men, “any more than three and I don’t think you will come out of it unharmed”

Jungkook taught you the importance of the first strike and all the power behind it.

“You need to prove you won’t go down easily, when you strike, you strike hard and fast, don’t miss and don’t give them the chance to fight back”

They had trained you well the only problem was you had never experienced a real weapon in your face. “You made a big mistake Suga and you better realize we are leaving here with your wife, and only your wife, the boss doesn’t forgive desertion,” the gun turned on Yoongi and you couldn’t explain what came over you.

It was like someone had taken over your body, it surely couldn’t have been you. Disarming the first guy was easy and you were proud and thankful the weapon was no longer pointed at your husband. You turned fluidly from the now limp figure to throw a punch into the face of the other man, moving quickly flicking the gun out of his hand. A loud gunshot rang through the room, but it didn’t hit you so you must have done something right.

Knocking the second man unconscious, you took their weapons and turned to Yoongi. He was on the ground leaning against the bed, you raced over, “Yoongi!”

“I’m okay, it’s a graze” Yoongi laughed a disbelieving smile on his face. “You actually just kicked their asses!”

“It really is a graze love see” the wound was indeed pretty superficial so you trusted him. Collapsing into his arms crying and shaking. The adrenaline that had been causing through your body was plummeting, as the crisis was over.

“Hey it’s okay, I am so proud of you, come on we have to move” he said lifting your chin and wiping your tears. “I got somewhere we can go, grab your stuff” The two of you took precautions taking everything.

You drove while Yoongi bandaged his arm, he had gotten good at first aid, as was expected since he got injured often.

Deciding to ditch the car as the number plate was traceable you waited by a truck stop. Paying a man to ride in his truck as close to Daegu as he could.

Once inside the cabin of the vehicle you told Yoongi to sleep but he refused instead holding you to his chest and eyeing the driver. “You sleep love you had a big day”

You were woken by Yoongi who was tapping your arm, “Honey, wake up, the nice man drove us as far as he could?” You opened your eyes noticing Yoongi’s heavy Daegu accent had slipped through, he must have been angry. When you sat up you noticed Yoongi had a gun pointed at the man.

“What happened?” You asked looking between the two males.

“He tried to touch you and I wouldn’t let him,” Yoongi smiled but this wasn’t a friendly smile his eyes were full of anger. “Thank you for your help sir but we will be on our way?”

“Thank you for getting us this far, but if you even think of hurting someone, I will kill you,” you smiled and waved him off. “Yoongi we have to keep moving, it’s almost morning and we can’t have traces of ourselves on CCTV’s.

He nodded and while walking along you passed a small hairdresser, inside was a young man. You convinced him to give you a makeover. He seemed very excited to help you, “Yoongi, you are going first okay?”

“Whatever you say?” He smiled, the staff bleached his hair before dying it a mint green giving him contact lenses that were a grey color, He went off with the few male staff members who were going to dress him.

When he stepped out, it was a bit of a shock to see him in something a single twenty-year-old male would wear and not a married man in his thirties.

The owner smiled “hey don’t be nervous, Look at how handsome I am, I only make beautiful people, and you are already beautiful, so my job is easy, you know”

“Jin what are we thinking?” The woman said and he gave the woman some instruction.

She took scissors to your hair, giving you a straight-across fringe and removing several inches from your hair which you had kept long since your wedding. They gave you a blunt cut to your collarbones and began dying your hair. They had faded your hair from a caramel blonde/brown to a bright red.

There wasn’t much time to think as they did your make up and pierced your ears a few times. You looked quite youthful, putting on the clothes they provided feeling self-conscious. This wasn’t you, you felt naked, your legs were on show.

Wearing a denim skirt that stopped midthigh and a tight shirt wasn’t really something you wore at your age but Jin assures you that ‘if you act young, you will look young’. It was a strange notion, but he did look good for his age. When you stepped out Yoongi gave a small laugh. Unable to stop yourself from wondering what he might think, you shuffled your boots against the rug. “Does it look weird?”

“You look as beautiful as the day we met?” His eyes drank you up and down “Do you remember?” He opened his wallet and showed you a picture from your group mixer, “you looked not much different from right now”

“I don’t… look weird?” You said looking in the mirror and seeing the bright lipstick, you looked like you were styled by one of those idol girl groups.

“Hell no, you look like a dream, I love you no matter the style of clothing and hair colour you have. Cause you can rock them all” He smiled and thanked Jin explaining that the two of you never came in, before paying them an enormous amount of money and taking the bus to Daegu countryside.

When you arrived you were met with a tall man with golden blonde hair, he was what you expected a golden retriever to be if they were human. “What a look, you must be Yoongi’s wife” He had blue paint on his chin, the only blemish on his beautiful face, along with a matching green strip of paint through his hair and on the tip of his ear.

“Y/n, this is Taehyung,” Yoongi smiled leading you along after the charismatic young man, “an old friend.”

“I just picked up some paints, do we need anything else from town or shall we retire home?” He was walking backwards and you laughed at how happy he looked it seemed so odd how calm you felt.

Was it wrong to feel safe in this moment, your eyes darted around and the sick heavy feeling of paranoia set in. Could they see you? Were they watching? Waiting for you to let your guard down so they could strike?

Was Taehyung really on your side or had they already got to him and this was their plan. You grabbed Yoongi’s arm, “Can we really trust him what if he is leading us into a trap?”

“Trust me okay?” He said kissing your cheek and sighing. “We can’t turn on everyone without giving them a chance”

He was right but how could you not worry, this wasn’t a normal situation this was doorways some leading to freedom and others death.

It took some time, a bus, and a tractor before you finally arrived at a large farm. “Make yourself at home,” he smiled.

Three months had passed and things were going great, but you did something you shouldn’t have. You went into town that morning with a disguise and rang your parents telling them you were safe before quickly hanging up.

They were thankful to hear from you and you headed back to the farm shaking unable to stand the crowds.

For about five days you stayed awake at night trying to listen for any sign that someone was coming for you. Finally deciding that you may have just got away with it, you all were going into town for groceries.

The boys went off to look at farm supplies while you went through the shop. “Y/n?” a voice called you turned seeing a man in a suit and realized what you had just done.

His smile bloomed across his face, a sick sadistic grin. Your eyes flickering around for an escape. Slamming the trolley into his legs and elbowing him to the ground was your first move.

You tried to race passed him only to have him grab you by the ankle causing you to hit the floor. Stomping your foot into his nose until he let you go. Running down the street and into the supply store you began looking through the clothes rack for something to hide your appearance.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked confused as to why you were hiding in this store instead of buying groceries. One look at the fear on your face and he knew his answer, dropping the bag of birdseed Taehyung had asked him to carry. “We have been found?”

“Just me, you will be fine as long as you don’t get caught” You looked around “I just need to leave here without being seen” You looked around for another escape seeing a bloody nose man bossing around some other men point at shops to raid, Taehyung ran over. “I found these bags, the owner says we can fill it and he will weigh it and we pay what we get.

You snatched the bag and looked at Taehyung, “Put me inside and let’s go we are busted,” Taehyung looked around spotting the manager and pressed a finger to his lips as you curled up inside he picked you up in his arms, Yoongi paid the man more than he needed and the three of you left the store.

You held still, barely breathing, as Taehyung walked to the bus stop Yoongi patted the bag softly trying to calm you. Soon you heard the bus, Taehyung carried you onto the bus, they gave you the all-clear to emerge from the bag but you waited an extra few minutes for the bus to leave the town before you busted out.

“How did they find us?” Yoongi hummed and you looked down feeling guilty, that you had ruined everything.

“I made a call in town,” you hung your head and Yoongi frowned, “we will have to leave dove,” his fingers brushed your cheek soothingly.

Taehyung had gotten in contact with a man who went by the name RM for his own protection, a man who made passports while you and Yoongi were busy changing your hair again.

The passports arrived after three days. “What the hell kind of fake names are these?” Yoongi facepalmed at his friend's stupidity, “Taehyung, I asked you to take this seriously.”

Glancing over Yoongi’s shoulder at the Passports you couldn’t help but laugh. Taehyung was an old ball.

In three days you would be boarding a plane as Bonnie Lui and Henry Clyde. A newlywed couple from an urban town in Busan heading to Gwangju. Where you would be meeting a young man named Hoseok in Jungnim-dong, a penguin eccentric village.

It was that night when Taehyung got a call from the neighbour, the ringing of the phone put everyone on high alert and Yoongi and yourself spared no time getting dressed. “Hey Tae there are vehicles coming towards your house, is everything okay?”

Taehyung sighed “thanks bob, keep your back door unlocked I will be there soon”

You looked at Yoongi and grabbed everything and took off through the fields.

You got to town and onto the first bus out of Daegu, as the sun rose you looked over at Yoongi his hair was dark and he was starting to grow a bit of facial hair. He looked handsome. He took your hand fondly, running his thumb against your wedding ring.

Before he slipped it off of your finger, “you should go, I can’t keep dragging you around because of my business. “You deserve a better life”

You snatched your ring back, tears falling. “Don’t you ever remove my ring again Yoongi I vowed in front of our families that I would live and die by your side no matter what and I meant it”

“You really want a life of paranoia, looking over your shoulder and wondering who around you is holding a knife ready to stab you in the back”

“Yes.” You said determined “if it means I am spending my life with you”

You were classified as missing persons and you tried your best to not get caught on your way to the airport. Once on the plane you relaxed significantly, feeling a breath of fresh air like you had done it.

Aiming to start a new life, to settle into a home again. For as long as the Bang mafia would allow you, of course, you knew one day you would have to move and you were ready. There were days where the paranoia took over, there were days where you saw suspicious figures.

One day you even woke up to men in your house, realising they found you again. But you were ready. You were always ready. You both did things you weren’t exactly proud of but you tried to stay pure given your situation.

It was just you and Yoongi against the world and you were in it for life, he was your ride or die and you really were the Bonnie to his Clyde.

[corkcitylibraries]

National Heritage Week | Frank O’Connor – Librarian

by Jim McKeon

Writer, Frank O’Connor, was just twenty years of age when he was released from Gormanstown Interment Camp. Cork had been badly hit by the Civil War. It was still a smouldering ruin. Because the city and county had been the focal point of much of the bloodiest fighting the turmoil of the Civil War lingered there longer than it did elsewhere in the country. In the spring of 1924, the city was still edgy. O’Connor had no money and no job. Under the new government all teachers were required to learn the Irish language. For a few months he taught Irish to the teachers at the Protestant school in St Luke’s Cross, near his home. He was paid a few shillings a week for this. He struggled by, a twenty-year old in his father’s patched up, old hand-me-down trousers teaching middle-aged teachers how to speak the Irish language. It was frustrating, especially if you were on the losing side in the Civil War. MacCurtain and MacSwiney had tragically died but he still met Corkery and Seán O’Faoláin regularly. As so often before Daniel Corkery, forever in O’Connor’s background, stepped in and arranged an interview for a job. Cork dramatist, Lennox Robison, who was secretary of the Carnegie Library, was organising rural libraries and he was looking for young men and women to train as librarians. After a tough interview O’Connor got the job. His mother packed his little cardboard suitcase, including a big holy picture of the Sacred Heart, and he set off for Sligo.

 Bust of Frank O’Connor - on display in the City Library, Grand Parade

At last he had enough books to read. Even for 1924, the wages were poor, thirty shillings a week. His lodgings were twenty-seven and sixpence. He had a half-crown (12.5 cent) left for cigarettes and drink. He posted his dirty laundry on to Cork every week. His mother washed it, with unconditional love, and posted it back, and sometimes included five shillings for her son. As a librarian he was all hands. His boss said he was untrainable. He kept busy by reading poetry books and getting them off by heart. He was blessed with a phenomenal memory. The only thing of note in Sligo was that he celebrated his twenty-first birthday far from home. After six months he was sent to Wicklow, where a new library was to be opened.

 When he arrived a local priest wanted to close down the library. Lennox Robinson had just been heavily criticised and fired from his library position because of a controversial story he wrote about a pregnant girl who felt she had mysterious visit by the Holy Ghost. O’Connor’s boss was Geoffrey Phibbs, an influential fellow poet with controversial opinions on many aspects of life. The two young poets became great friends.  Phibbs escorted O’Connor to Dublin and introduced him to Lady Gregory, George Russell (AE) and Yeats. AE was editor of the Irish Statesman and encouraged O’Connor to send him on something for publication. He sent a verse translation of Suibne Geilt Aspires and when AE published it 14 March 1924, it carried for the first time the pseudonym Frank O’Connor. It must be remembered that he was a young civil servant and he may have been contemplating on keeping his job by using a pen name ever since Lennox Robinson’s enforced resignation. He chose his confirmation name, Francis, and his mother’s maiden name, O’Connor. The prominence AE and the Irish Statesman gave him thrust him into literary view. Yeats had great time for O’Connor and said that he did for Ireland what Chekhov did for Russia. But the young librarian missed home and his mother. A vacancy came up in Cork. AE tried to talk him out of it and warned him he’d be miserable back in Cork. It never occurred to O’Connor that he would not return home. Like his father he was, at that stage, a one-town man..

 Notwithstanding AE’s forebodings, he accepted the job of Cork’s first county librarian in December 1925. He was just twenty-two years of age. His salary of five pounds a week was more than anyone in Harrington’s Square had ever dreamed of earning. The library was at twenty-five Patrick Street which was still in the process of being rebuilt.  Minnie was happy that her son was back home again and his father, Big Mick, was impressed that a pension went with his son’s new job. The city was still in a poor condition. The foundation of the Irish Free State in 1922 augured a period of new confidence in Cork. But in 1924 a public inquiry found: 

  …limited progress had been made on rebuilding Cork’s city centre since it had been burned down in 1920. Criticism was made of the poor quality of maintenance of the city streets, many of which were still paved with timber blocks. Part of Anderson’s Quay had fallen into the river. The public water supply was of poor quality…There was virtually no building in progress in the city.  

  In the burning of Cork not alone had many of the character and physical structures of the city been lost, but so also had thousands of jobs and many peoples’ homes. The Cork Examiner reported that thousands were rendered idle by the destruction. The rebuilding was tediously slow mainly because of the shortage of funding. Britain’s refusal to accept blame and pay compensation didn’t help. The Civil War itself and the post-war political divide were also major factors in delaying the building progress. This was another chapter in Frank O’Connor’s Cork, a damaged city struggling to survive. He opened his library over a shop near the corner of Winthrop Street. It was five years since the burning yet major buildings, just yards away, like Roches Stores and Cash & Co, were still rubble. Rebuilding had not yet started in these two well-known shops. In January 1927, Roches Stores finally re-opened for business. Summing up, the burning of Cork had a unifying effect on a people that had been collectively damaged by the event. It also exposed divisions in Cork society at the time. A Church/political divide came to the surface during this traumatic time. It was demonstrated through criticism by councillors of Bishop Coholan for his refusal to condemn the burning. Many republicans were unhappy because they felt the clerical comments were often selective. Frank O’Connor had a huge responsibility for a young and inexperienced man. He was given a cheque for three thousand pounds to set up and stock his library. He made his first mistake. At that time an anti-Catholic bias still lingered in commerce. He naively lodged the cheque in the nearby and more practical catholic bank when the accepted practice was to use the protestant bank. This innocent action caused a major committee dispute and O’Connor was accused of having a personal and ulterior motive. Then, when he insured the building, the insurance company gave him a cheque as a personal thank you. He didn’t want it and kept it for years but never cashed it. He sums up this whole chaotic scenario: 

  By the time the Cork County Council had done with organizing my sub-committee it consisted of a hundred and ten members, and anyone who has ever had to deal with a public body will realize the chaos this involved. Finally I managed to get my committee together in one of the large council rooms, and by a majority it approved my choice of bankers. There was, I admit, a great deal of heat. Some of the councillors felt I had acted in a very high-handed way, and one protested against my appearing in a green shirt – a thing which, he said, he would not tolerate from anybody. 

  When he finally got his stock of books together and organised his new library, he decided that he should have closer contact with the rural community. If they couldn’t come to him then he’d go to them. He bought a van, packed it with boxes of books, and drove all over the county. After six months this affected his health. He was exhausted from working long hours driving all over West Cork and he wrote almost every night. In a letter to old Wicklow colleague, Phibbs, he wrote, I’m working like a brute beast. He became ill and had to have a serious operation in the Bon Secours Hospital. He spent two weeks in hospital and six weeks convalescing. It shows his stubbornness when he shocked the nuns in the hospital by refusing to receive the sacraments before the operation. 

           Cork had a long tradition of theatre and a critical play-going audience, but in 1927 there was only one drama group in the city, the newly formed Cork Shakespearian Company. Daniel Corkery’s little theatre had closed in 1913 and groups like Munster Players, Leeside Players and Father Matthew Players were also defunct. On 8 August 1927 Micheál MacLiammoir and Hilton Edwards brought their touring company to Cork. They performed The High Steppers’in the Pavillion Theatre in Patrick Street. This venue later became a cinema and is presently HMV music shop. After the opening night there was a party at Seán and Geraldene Neeson’s home. Geraldene was Terence MacSwiney’s bridesmaid when he married in England. MacLiammoir encouraged O’Connor to revive drama in Cork. O’Connor was inspired and was instrumental in forming the Cork Drama League. Although he knew nothing about drama he threw himself headlong at the project. Old friend, Seán Hendrick, recalls: 

  That Michael knew nothing about producing plays and I knew nothing about stage-managing them did not trouble us at all…The producer was to be given a free hand in the choice of both plays and cast and members were bound to accept the parts allotted them. There were to be no stars and an all-round uniformity of performance was to be aimed at. 

  Undaunted, Frank O’Connor tore into their new venture. Lennox Robinson’s play, The Round Table, was to be the first production. It was its first appearance in Cork and there were some slight adjustments to suit the local audience. The curtain-raiser was Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard. Typically, O’Connor wrote the programme notes, directed The Round Table, and appeared in both plays. The Round Table was a difficult play to produce. It had fourteen characters. Many of them doubled up and played two roles. They had trouble trying to cast the part of Daisy Drennan, but one night Geraldine Neeson brought along a pretty young girl to audition. Although she had a terrible stammer she was a natural actress. Not alone did she get the part but that night O’Connor walked her home. From then on Nancy McCarthy became his leading lady and for years to come she was to flit in and out of his life. The company’s first play opened on 28 February 1928 in Gregg Hall in the South Mall, a theatre venue no longer used in Cork. They got high praise all round especially Nancy McCarthy. They immediately started rehearsing for their second venture, The Cherry Orchard. Cork City was now back on its feet and completely rebuilt and people were getting used to a new freedom and sense of safety. Theatre was a hugely popular event.  Plays at that time generally had an Irish theme and written by the likes of Yeats, Synge, Robinson and T. C. Murray. That had been the custom and they were very popular with Cork audiences. But the young Frank O’Connor had other ideas. He was into French and German and Russian theatre and he wanted to offer the Cork public something different. 

  English drama, no matter how significant it may be in its own setting can have no beneficial effect upon a country which is subjected to cultural influences only from one source. The Cork Drama League proposes to give the best of American and continental theatre, of Chekhov, of Martine Sierra, of Eugene O’Neill and those other dramatists whose work, as a result of the dominating influence of the English theatre, is quite unknown in Cork.  

  That was a more than subtle dig at Fr, O’Flynn, a local priest, who had founded the Cork Shakespearian Company in 1924. The two men did not get on. From 20 December to 30 December1927 they exchanged four letters in the Cork Examiner trading insults. Fr, O’Flynn signed his letters The Producer while O’Connor used his name in Irish. Seán Hendrick joined in the attack calling himself Spectator. Everyone in Cork knew who both men were. Ironically, they were more alike than they cared to admit; they were two proud Cork men, they both loved Shakespeare and they both loved Irish. Two more plays were produced, The Cherry Orchard and A Doll’s House. Both got fine reviews, but the audiences were poor. Maybe the Cork Drama League was going too far too soon, and Cork wasn’t ready for them. By now O’Connor was spending most of his time with Nancy McCarthy. Nancy was a religious girl from a well-known Cork family. He brought her home to see his mother and the couple went on a three-week holiday to Donegal. They stayed in houses three miles apart. They met every day for a year outside of St, Peter and Paul’s church after mass. They were engaged for a while but it did not work out. She would not marry him. He would not marry in a Catholic church and there was no way Nancy would marry outside the Church. She was one of ten siblings and he was an only child. She felt he was spoiled. This was quite true. By now he was being regularly published in the Irish Statesman. He had a poem dedicated to Nancy published 9 May 1928. The last two lines are filled with melodrama: 

  That even within this darkness of our body keeps  

Communion with the brightness of a world we dream  

  Frank O’Connor was beginning to feel that AE was right. He should never have left Dublin. He was no longer enjoying his years in Cork. It was no longer the place he had known. O’Faoláin was in America and recently he had found it difficult to talk to Corkery. He made it plain that he was taking sides and that O’Connor was on the wrong side. O’Connor was restless and felt that Cork was threatening to suffocate him. He missed Wicklow where he could talk literature and art to Phibbs and go on to Dublin to meet AE and Yeats. AE would give him all the latest books and gossip, and Sunday evening he could go to the Abbey Theatre and see a series of continental plays, Chekhov, Strindberg and contemporary German plays. Eventually, getting frustrated with the parochialism of Cork and his lack of success with Nancy McCarthy, he applied for the job as municipal librarian in Ballsbridge. On Saturday 1 December 1928 he packed his case and left for Dublin. He still felt it was only a temporary move. Nothing could cure him of the notion that Cork needed him and he needed Cork. Nothing but death could ever cure him of this. 

Jim McKeon’s book Frank O’Connor: A Life is available to borrow from Cork City Libraries 

Jim McKeon has been involved in theatre all his life and has many film scripts, plays and books to his name. His best-known work is probably the biography of Frank O'Connor. He also toured Ireland and the US with his one-man-show on the writer's life. Jim is also an award-winning theatre director and poet.

[drjackandmissjo]

it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- chapter 7 --- next chapter

feysand masterlist

“Call my bluff, Call you ‘babe’“

It had been a fairly long day for Feyre. She had to organise a new collection for her gallery, dealing with things like catering for the event and security and insurances on the pieces that had to be exposed. Her assistant Ressina was searching for two more artworks, since two of her own paintings that she was supposed to showcase had been just bought.

The website Azriel had built for her gallery had been a complete success since the opening day, through it Feyre had managed to sell almost all of her creations and many of those that she presented through the gallery itself, reaching the proper audience even outside of Prythian. Paying for international shipping was her new most hated activity, but she couldn't complain.

In the few years since she had graduated and started business for herself, she had made a name for herself. Her junior and last year of university had given her the opportunity to internship in one of the best art museums in Velaris, where she learnt the importance of good displays and how to haggle the right price for each piece. During that time she mostly painted for commissions, which she continued to take now, five years later, with the only difference being that now a 'Feyre A.N.' costed much more than in her early days. Even those she created freely, out of her own heart's desires, were being sold at fairly high prices with a surprisingly high rate.

So now she had to look and scout for new artists to display, considering the current shortage of her own artworks. It all brought a whole new sense of responsibility to Feyre and a whole lot of paperwork she wasn't particularly fond of. She was everyday grateful of her choice of hiring an assistant, even if at the beginning she was a bit sceptical.

Thankfully, Velaris was the best place in the entire world to be an artist, a safe haven: the city had an entire neighborhood, the Rainbow, fully inhabited by writers and sculptors and poets and painters, with several theatres and galleries and museums. Feyre had chosen to open shop there, in one of the main streets and it had been a glorious success since the inauguration. The artists that made the community had welcomed her warmly and with open arms, helping her get on her own feet at the start with their support, and now she was repaying them in kind, offering opportunities to anyone who might need them.

Her originally rented space now fully belonged to her, having been bought two years after the opening with the money her hard work brought. She had fallen in love with the locale in an heartbeat, as she walked the Rainbow hand in hand with her boyfriend as he helped her carry back to her place bags full of paint and canvases. Feyre had stopped dead in her tracks, as if called by it, declaring it the perfect spot. Rhys had laughed at her and kissed the top of her head, telling her how she should take the number of the owner and contact them to see if she could rent. Being fresh out of college meant she didn't have enough funds to do more, but one day, Rhys had said, it could've been hers.

The old lady who owned the space had been ecstatic with her call and heard her ideas with interest. The rent was decent, given the great metrage and locations, but the place was new and needed little to no modifications, and thus 'Starfall ' gallery was born.

When her clock chimed, telling her the time, she slowly rose from her chair, stretching her sore back. The new tattoo she had gotten three weeks prior on her spine still hadn't healed fully, causing her some wincing that her husband was constantly worried of. The long piece was a masterpiece on its own, the longline depicting the different lunar phases she had drawn herself.

Deciding to call it a day, she gathered her stuff and closed the lights, locking the door on her way out. Despite it being mid-October, the weather was still pleasantly warm even during the evening, and Feyre enjoyed walking alongside of the Sidra quietly as the wind quietly messed her hair. She and Rhys had bought a townhouse on the other side of the river before their wedding, close enough to be able to walk to their respective workplaces, she to the Rainbow while he went back to the university, teaching English poetry and drama, as he had chosen that specific minor on his senior year.

Although they had a similar commute, the different paths had Rhys always beat her to the rush home and he started usually dinner, as she was downright cursed with her cooking inhabilities. Even helping in the kitchen was something she did carefully, her and her husband both weary of the outcomes. The only thing she could do safely from 'scratch' was to heat up soup.

A wicked plan began to outline itself in her mind. It had been awhile since she had humoured her husband, both too focused on their respective works. She moved in the upstair bedroom they shared, removing her proper attire to slip into a severely more comfortable pair of leggings and a worn out t-shirt, covered in blue paint of every shade. " This is gonna be fun" she thought, delighted in the possible turn of events as she rang up his favourite Chinese restaurant to order take-out to be delivered.

And then she set to 'work'.

***

As soon as she felt the front door open, Feyre moved swiftly to rotate the timer on the oven and made it set off immediately. She knew Rhys had heard the little series of noises that signaled the end of a cooking process. He usually would discard his keys on the small table that decorated their tiny foyer as soon as the door closed behind him, but this time he was stalling.

Probably debating whether to retreat back outside in case the kitchen exploded or not.

The problem wasn't that she was a bad cook perse. Feyre never had much time playing around the stove growing up, thankfully for them Elain was the chef of the household. She had learnt the basics, how to boil water for instant cheap ramen noodles and how to heat up frozen pre-cooked stuff in the microwave of the communal kitchen of her dorm on her first month in Velaris, with Alis patiently telling her what to do to survive in case there was an emergency. During the years she had tried a little more, once she moved with Amren and Mor and had a kitchen at her disposal without limitations.

Her first attempt at scrambling eggs for breakfast set the fire alarm off and she had to explain to an exasperated fireman that the house wasn't on fire. That earned her a wary look from her roommates, but considering that neither of them had any luck with cooking, no one spoke of it for the following week.

Her second one brought a weird texture of a pasture looking like brown instead of the expected yellow, completely stuck at the bottom of the pan. Not burnt, simply attached there and impossible to remove. She then went to buy a new set, throwing the mystery pan immediately in the trash.

Cassin was with her for her third trial, to guide her into the mystical art he had mastered, and made her solemnly swear to never, ever , again touch a kitchen utensil if not with the sole purpose to eat with it, and even then he had some serious doubts about letting her anywhere near anything inside a kitchen. She wasn't allowed to be there unsupervised, he had said, scared shitless.

So the problem wasn't inside her cooking abilities, since she made the best sandwiches out of anyone in the Inner Circle, but rather her rotten luck an inability not to burn anything that involved heat or patience to be made.

A smile appeared on Feyre's lips as she suppressed a series of giggles that were threatening to rise up, imagining the face her husband was surely making. The sounds from the foyer told her two things: the door had been closed and remained unlocked, ready to aid in their escape from a fire that Rhysand thought undoubtedly might happen any minute, and her husband was taking his time through his routine, as if a minimal change in the air might've triggered the self destruction of their home.

"Darling?" he called for her as he made his way through the open space of the living room to reach for the kitchen, cautiously stopping before properly entering the room and setting off something.

Feyre immediately turned around, her light brown hair neatly folded in a messy bun swinging to the side and promptly losing some strands that fell into her face. She found him leaning against the doorframe, seemingly relaxed were it not for the fact he was hiding his hands inside the pockets of his black pants. Her genuine smile seemed to ease his stance and Rhys took the opportunity to move towards her. She turned back at the task at hand as he walked past the island, using her knife to cut an apple into tiny slices. His arms came to encircle her, effectively pinning her against the counter, and she leaned back, resting her head on his chest.

"How was work today?" she asked, warmth radiating through her as he bent down to place a soft kiss to the top of her head. For someone who thought the stove might explode at any minute, he was incredibly calm with the whole ordeal.

"The usual" he shrugged "some kid had the audacity to groan when I told them we would soon start with Shakespeare's Sonnets!"

One of the many things she utterly loved about him was how passionate he was for his job, for the curriculum he got to teach each class. Overall, his favourite subject was Shakespeare, on whom he did his dissertation which got him the place at the University. He still kept on writing, publishing mostly the new researches his department did, and he worked with all his heart.

Feyre shook her head slightly, "Kids this day have no respect." Then, in afterthought, she added "Are you going to downplay the whole homoerotic full blown text like our old prof did?"

"Are you crazy? That's the best part!" His grip tightened around her as she set the knife down, wiping her hands on a nearby handchendief. "I'm thinking about letting those freshmans do their winter final paper on who they actually thought Good Ol' Willy was shagging."

"Professor Carver might object." she said, turning in his arms and now facing him, her back against the cold material of the counter.

"Who do you think I got the idea from? That man wants nothing more than to gossip, even if it's 500 years old stuff."

"Remember how he was somehow the first person outside our Inner Circle to know we were dating when we came back?" They both laughed at the memory, noses brushing softly as they were both content to remain there.

"How was your day?" he asked, his breath caressing her neck gently.

"Too much paperwork. But I sold that Springtime painting we both didn't like to probably the most horrible and rude woman ever."

The woman had truly been a demon: she had stormed in as if she owned the place, demanding attention. Ressina had been patient and listened to her raging nonsense as best as she could, but couldn't do much herself. Feyre then went into her aid: she had past experience dealing with bad customers from when she used to be a waitress in high school, yet this woman took the cake. lanthe Spring, as she had proudly introduced herself as if she was the most important person in the world, was looking for a present for her husband, she had told her while raising the most preposterous ring to ever been made. The green gems looked more like a torture device than a wedding ring, but Feyre didn't usually judge. After an entire hour looking at the catalogue, her eyes had set on one of the paintings Feyre had done way back in her freshman year. She had finally gotten the approval from the art department to sell the early works she had done during her period there and the majority had either already been sold or she had gifted to her family and friends. That was the last one to remain in Feyre's possession, probably the laziest work she had ever done: the colours well dull, the motif unclear; despite it showing a green and flowery scenery, it resembled much more a dead nature. She hadn't been in the best mindset when the work had come to life, her constant fights with Tamlin causing an artist block on all her works, yet the woman had been ecstatic, claiming it reminded her of her own husband.

Feyre didn't make the connection until she saw the checkbook, yet no feeling came to her, good nor bad. She would've liked to know his reaction at seeing her painting though, just to get some sick and twisted satisfaction at how she was thriving with only her 'hobby' . "But I got a nice cut from that, so dinner's on me!" she finished lightly, pulling herself from her daydream.

"I know exactly what you're doing, Feyre Darling." he hummed from her neck, as he drew his lips across the skin. Suddenly she was finding it hard to concentrate. "I have no idea of what you're talking about, Rhysand."

He pulled back abruptly, moving their bodies till she was now leaning against the empty and clean kitchen island. "Your attempt at scaring me almost worked, you know?" he whispered against her ear, moving to nibble at the soft flesh, "But next time make a little mess with some flour all around if you want to truly give me a heart attack."

"But you see," she started, trying to sort her foggy thoughts as the world narrowed to where his lips were against her neck once more, "I'd have to take you to the ER then and that's too much work, babe." She was breathless, sick of the attention her neck was getting. Hands plunged in his hair, positioning him flush against her as her lips claimed his, his own hands roaming freely under her T-shirt.

He suddenly pulled away slightly, eyes never leaving hers and not bothering to remove his hands from where they rested on her back, slowly working the clasps of her bra. "Not to mention you don't even know where to find most things that aren't downright edible without preparation in our pantry, am I correct?"

She brought him back down in an instant, "Arrogant prick" she murmured against his lips as she began to undo the button of his shirt, their hips moving in sync as their lips.

He hoisted her up on the island counter in one swift move as she took the shirt off of his shoulders, caressing the inky swirls of his traditional lilynian tattoo that adorned his upper torso. He immediately returned the favour, removing her tee and bra in one swipe, moving his attention fully to the newly exposed skin, biting and nipping there. Her grip on his hair became iron as his hands darthed southward, his own wedding band cold against her feverish skin as his mouth drew circles around her breast. He began to slowly slid off her leggings, never once removing his mouth from her, when the doorbell rang.

A string of colourful profanities that could've rivaled a sailor's entire vocabulary made its way out of Feyre's mouth as her husband merely laughed at their interrupted moment.

"I've ordered Chinese" was the only non-curse Feyre spoke as she jumped of the counter, grabbing her t-shirt to answer the door at least decent.

"I was indeed promised dinner" Rhys said, not bothering to cover himself as his wife paid for the food.

"I still got you there for a second, didn't l?" she asked, walking back to the kitchen carrying two bags.

Rhys kissed her cheek sweetly, "Always, my Darling."

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – MERRY CHRISTMAS, ETC (S01E10)

                                                 [door slams]

Joe Cruz: [breathing heavily]

                  Where is he? 

                  Where’s Leon?

Flaco: Where’s my money?

Joe Cruz: Okay, look… I have a grand, but…

                                                 [door opens]

Joe Cruz: Leon. 

                  Flaco…

                                                 [door shuts]

Joe Cruz: Listen, man… I

Flaco: The deal was for ten grand, Joe.

Joe Cruz: I… I can make payments

Flaco: You know how this works. I give you a break, word gets out, 

            and everybody else wants a break. And I spend half my day

            explaining to people why they ain’t gonna get one. 

            So no breaks.

            Do you have the money or not?

Joe Cruz: No, I don’t.

                                                 [gun clocking]

Joe Cruz: No!

                                                  [door slams]

Joe Cruz: [panting]

Kelly Severide: Hey, yeah… is, uh, Renee Royce there? 

                           [chuckling] Leave…uh, leave what?

                           Word? Uh, yeah, sure.

                            Yeah, go for it. Leave word. Thanks.

                                                   cutscene

Peter Mills: Good morning, ladies.

Leslie Shay: Peter Mills, it’s the saddest thing. Christmas lights at

                      the north gate got blown down.

Peter Mills: What? We are gonna have to do something about that.

Leslie Shay: The fireman that saved Christmas.

Peter Mills: Mm.

Gabby Dawson: [laughs]

                            You think if I asked him to my cousin’s Christmas

                             party, he might take it the wrong way? 

Leslie Shay: Family functions are usually reserved for serious

                      suitors, so shouldn’t you be asking Casey?

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] I just need a date so that my cousin

                            doesn’t make any more comments about how I’m 

                            gonna die alone.

Leslie Shay: So you afraid Casey will say no?

Gabby Dawson: Bitch, please.

Peter Mills: Hey, hey, Cruz, you give me a hand here?

Joe Cruz: In a minute.

Peter Mills: Okay.

Joe Cruz: You said ten minutes.

Leon Cruz: Yo, I don’t even want to be here. Why you calling me?

Joe Cruz: Come on inside.

Leon Cruz: What? So a bunch of fat firemen can make jokes about 

                    my face?

Joe Cruz: Look, this is a daily police bulletin. We get one of these 

                  every day.

Leon Cruz: That’s what ‘daily’ usually means.

Joe Cruz: “Expect increased violence in neighbourhood of

                   Humboldt Park due to an escalating gang conflict.” 

                   Leon, this is some serious business you’re getting

                   wrapped up in. I don’t know how else to say it, man, 

                   I’m worried about you.

Leon Cruz: Then pay Flaco his buyout and be done with it. Oh, but

                    you don’t got ten grand, right? So why are we still 

                    talking?

                    Look, just keep your nose out of my business before

                    you get my ass kicked again.

Joe Cruz: Leon, man. 

                 Leon! 

                 [grunts]

                                  [station alarm buzzes and blares]

(Over PA): Shift 51, Truck 81, Ambulance 61.

                                       [indistinct radio chatter]

Lady 1: I was deep-frying eggplant. I turned my back for a minute

              and there were flames everywhere. I… I tried to beat it out

               with a towel, I just…[continues indistinctly]

Matt Casey: Let these two take care of that hand.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Truck 81 is on the scene.

                                       [smoke alarm beeping]

Christopher Herrmann: Aah… turn off that smoke detector.

                                     [fire extinguisher spraying]

Matt Casey: All right, let’s do a quick walk-through, open some

                     windows, get this place vented.

                                             [beeping stops]

Mouch: Holy moly. These folks must be the 1% I keep hearing 

               about.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh, you guys! This priceless piece of artwork has

                           been destroyed. 

                           Oh, wait. Nevermind. It’s supposed to look like that.

Mouch: [chuckles]

Gabby Dawson: All right?

Lady 1: Thank you.

Matt Casey: Probably need a new countertop, but everything else is

                      okay.

Lady 1: Oh my God, thank you. 

                                                [kissing sound]

Lady 1: Thank you so much.

(Over radio): Truck 81, are you available to assist at a pin-in 

                       accident?

Matt Casey: (into radio) Truck 81 responding.

                      Pack her up. We got another call.

                                                [siren blares]

                                                [horn honks]

Lady 1: Come back! Somebody stop them!

Chief Boden: Ma’am, what’s the problem?

Lady 1: My diamond necklace was sitting right there on my dresser, 

              and now it’s gone. And one of those firemen took it.

                                              [siren fading]

                                                  - Title -

Christopher Herrmann: [groans]

Matt Casey: What’s the matter, Herrmann?

                                           [truck door shuts]

Man 1: Matthew Casey. How about that?

Matt Casey: What are you doing here, Griffin?

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): I’m with Internal Affairs Division now.

Christopher Herrmann: What’s the IAD doing here? 

Otis Zvonecek: CPD too. 

Matt Casey: What the hell’s going on?

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): A woman on Green Street said somebody

                                 walked off with her diamond necklace.

Mouch: What? 

Otis Zvonecek: [grunts]

Matt Casey: This is a joke, right?

Man 2 (Detective): No joke, Lieutenant.

Matt Casey: My men aren’t thieves.

Man 2 (Detective): All the same. We’re talking about a 50,000 dollar

                                piece of jewellery. 

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): That’s a class 2 felony.

Chief Boden: Casey, the police need to take statements from you

                        and the men. 

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): And I’m gonna need you to fill out a form too. 

                                 Basic stuff… where you worked in the fire,

                                 who you worked with, if you saw the missing 

                                 item or anything else at all suspicious.

Matt Casey: Can I have a minute?

Truck Firefighter: Man…

Chief Boden: I know what you’re gonna say.

Matt Casey: On my best day, I’d have to fight the urge to choke that

                      guy out. Today’s not my best day.

Chief Boden: The possible theft of a 50,000 dollar necklace

                        supersedes any concerns about your personal 

                        feelings toward Ted Griffin.

Matt Casey: Chief, you know as well as I do, none of my men took

                      that necklace.

Chief Boden: I hope not, ‘cause I don’t want to see any of them

                       lose their job and face criminal charges. And I don’t

                       want to see their Lieutenant get a black mark on his

                       record, so let’s just play this one by the book.

Matt Casey: [exhales]

Chief Boden: Good.

                                                   cutscene

Kelly Severide: Yeah, stop right here.

Squad Firefighters: Go ahead, lover boy.

                                  Yeah, go break her heart, huh?

                                            [squad door shuts]

Squad Firefighter: Never thought I’d see the day.

                                                 [chuckling]

                                            [knocks on door]

Kelly Severide: Uh, hey. Um, does Renee Royce live here?

Man 3 (Renee’s Assistant): [scoffs] Renee, there’s a fireman here 

                                               for you.

Renee Royce: Excuse me, gentlemen.

                         Thanks, Ray. 

                          Hi.

Kelly Severide: Uh, don’t mean to interrupt. Um, I know you said

                           you worked from home on Fridays, and uh…

Renee Royce: And you just pictured me all alone answering emails

                         in my underwear?

Kelly Severide: Well, I am now.

Renee Royce: Mmhmm.

                         Wow, these are, um, gorgeous. Thank you.

Kelly Severide: How about dinner tomorrow night? No interruptions

                          this time, I promise.

Renee Royce: Okay. All right.

Kelly Severide: Okay.

Renee Royce: Okay. 

Kelly Severide: I’ll see you then, Royce.

Renee Royce: Okay, Severide.

                                                     cutscene

Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] Wait, so what exactly do you have 

                            against Mills?

Leslie Shay: Not a thing. He’s adorable. He’s like a harmless little 

                      puppy dog.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, a puppy dog with a little wolf blood in him.

                                                    [chuckling]

Gabby Dawson: Hey, what’s up, Chief?

Leslie Shay: Hey, Chief [clears throat]

Chief Boden: Sit.

Leslie Shay: Uh, Chief, is this about the diamond necklace Dawson

                      stole at the residence…

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Chief Boden: Someone from another shift apparently just told your

                        field chief that sometime in November, four units of

                        Toradol went missing from your rig during your shift.

Gabby Dawson: What? 

Leslie Shay: Hm?

Gabby Dawson: Who’s saying this? I bet you it was Lowell.

Chief Boden: Don’t you worry about who said it.

Gabby Dawson: And why are they waiting till now to say anything?

Chief Boden: That’s probably because they heard IAD is sniffing

                        around our house. They want to cast the blame if

                        any more narcotics turned up missing.

Gabby Dawson: You know some junkie probably stole it off the rig

                             when we were busy saving his friend.

Chief Boden: That may be so. But it’s on you, Dawson.

                       So the two of you knock your heads together,

                       get back to me with your official version about what

                        happened by the end of the shift.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, we’ll figure it out, Chief.

Chief Boden: You better. 

Leslie Shay: [exhales] Thanks.

Chief Boden: You’re welcome. 

                                                      cutscene

Peter Mills: We saved this lady’s house. Where does she come off

                     accusing us of stealing…

Mouch: It’s not like it’s without precedent. Back in the day, I worked

              with Pat “The Pinch” Osbourne. Had fingers like flypaper.

              The roof could be caving in on us, and Pat would take a 

               moment to rescue the silverware.

Peter Mills: So… what’s the deal with the Lieutenant and the guy 

                     from IAD?

Christopher Herrmann: Uh, eh, bad history. They went through the

                                         academy together. 

                                         And… there was an incident.

Peter Mills: What kind of incident? 

Mouch: The kind that ends with Griffin getting his face punched in.

Peter Mills: Wait, why… why did the Lieutenant hit him?

Mouch: He was talking trash about Casey’s family.

              Um, but, see… we don’t talk about that.

Otis Zvonecek: Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys, here we go. Here we go.

                           Hey, Lieutenant. Lieutenant, check this out.

                           The people with all the artwork… Sandra and uh,

                            Richard Vaughn… they’re selling their entire art 

                            collection at auction.

Matt Casey: I already finished my Christmas shopping.

Otis Zvonecek: No, no, no, no. Think about it. You don’t sell your

                           art collection. Your children sell your art collection

                           after you die, or… you sell it if you need the 

                            money.

Matt Casey: Otis, I have things to do.

Otis Zvonecek: The… the diamond necklace, it’s an insurance 

                           scam.

Matt Casey: So this woman nearly burned down her home in some

                      elaborate scheme to get firefighters in there so she 

                      could accuse…

Otis Zvonecek: No. 

Matt Casey: ‘em of stealing a necklace?

Otis Zvonecek: She didn’t set the fire. But when it happened,

                           she saw an opportunity to cash in.

Matt Casey: Yeah. You should write that down.

Otis Zvonecek: [sighs] Okay, I will.

                                                   cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Gabby Dawson: Shay, your ride’s here.

Christopher Herrmann: There you go. Thanks.

Otis Zvonecek: Great.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] You going to the prom, Herrmann?

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, this is the flagship for Caesar 

                                        limousine. 

                                        Your chariot awaits, ma’am.

Gabby Dawson: Ooh.

Christopher Herrmann: This guy, he’s liquidating his company.

                                         I can only afford one vehicle to start,

                                         but I figure I roll the profits of this one

                                         into the next, and then the next, 

                                         and before you know it, I have a 

                                         whole fleet.

                                         Airport runs, weddings, prom season.

Otis Zvonecek: Really, Herrmann?

Christopher Herrmann: Hey… I was smart enough to bring my own

                                         mechanic to the negotiations. Severide got

                                         the guy to knock 1,500 dollars off

                                         the price.

Kelly Severide: You’re gonna have to spend some of that money to

                           fix this charging issue. And you definitely need to

                           replace the timing belt.

                                                      cutscene

Leslie Shay: And I thought I replaced every vial I gave you, but I

                      must have lost count.

Kelly Severide: Hey. How can they bust you for something that

                           somebody said happened a month ago? 

                           It’s their word against yours.

Leslie Shay: If it were my ass on the line, I’d put up a fight.

                      But Dawson’s the PIC. It’s her ass on the line.

Kelly Severide: Well, I don’t know what to tell you.

Leslie Shay: No, you’re right. 

                      It’s not your problem. You got what you needed.

Kelly Severide: That… Shay. 

                                            [station alarm buzzes]

Kelly Severide: Shay.

                                             [station alarm blares]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61, Truck 81. Gunshot victim, 

                  67 North Avenue.

Matt Casey: Capp, move this thing, will you?

Capp: You got it.

                                              [engine sputtering]

Christopher Herrmann: Oh, please, please start.

                                                 [engine starts]

Christopher Herrmann: Yes!

(Over PA): Be advised. Reports of multiple gunshot victims, 

                  Humboldt Park. 

Matt Casey: Humboldt Park. As predicted.

                                              [truck engine starts]

                                                   [door shuts]

                                                   [siren wails]

                                             [truck door shuts]

Matt Casey: Everybody back up. Give ‘em some room.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Shay, let’s get a “C” collar on her. Get her in

                            the back of the ambo and start an IV.

Matt Casey: Is this the one?

Police Officer: The other two are DOA. It was a drive-by vehicle to

                          vehicle. Girl was hit by a stray. Shooters are long 

                           gone.

Matt Casey: Check these two, just in case.

Joe Cruz: I’m on it, Lieutenant.

Gang Unit Detective: What colour was it? The car, what colour?

                                     Was it an  SUV, a Sedan… what? Hey,

                                     come on, man, my partner heard you say 

        ��                            you saw the other car.

Man 4 (Eyewitness): Not really. I mean, it all happened so fast, man.

                                        [music playing from car]

                                                  cutscene

Leon Cruz: Yo.

Joe Cruz: Yo? Leon, I left you like four messages.

Leon Cruz: Busy day.

Joe Cruz: Yeah, no kidding. We just got a call on a drive by on

                  Augusta and Pulaski, and your boy Flaco was 

                  behind it.

Leon Cruz: Yo, can I call you later?

Joe Cruz: Are you with him right now?

Leon Cruz: Mmhmm. 

Joe Cruz: It don’t matter. I’m gonna do the talking.

                  There’s gonna be retaliation, Leon, and I know you know

                  that. You gotta put some daylight between you and 

                  Flaco.

                                                [locker door shuts]

Joe Cruz: Listen, Leon… I know you think you don’t got a way out

                  of this life, but you do. I can help you. Not… not right

                   this minute, but I can help you get out. Just say the 

                   word. You want my help, just say so.

Leon Cruz: So.

                                                   cutscene

Leslie Shay: There you go, sweetie. Get in there. Have a seat. 

                      You’re gonna catch a cold out here.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Okay, James, I’m gonna take your blood

                            pressure. Is that okay?

Man 5 (James): Will it hurt?

Gabby Dawson: I do it every time, and you always ask me if it’s 

                            gonna hurt.

Man 5 (James): You never know.

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know, it’s just too soon to ask Casey.

                            This isn’t the first time his relationship with

                            Hallie flatlined. And if it somehow gets revived

                            again, and she finds out that I asked him on a 

                            date…

Leslie Shay: Won’t you regret it if you don’t ask him, though?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] It’s gotta be Mills. He’s just the more

                            appropriate choice.

Leslie Shay: I guess you’re right.

                     Oh, for your dress, there’s this new shop on Damen.

Gabby Dawson: No way. I sprained my credit card Christmas

                            shopping. I’ll just recycle something.

                            Oh, 110 over 60! James… you’re like a triathlete.

Leslie Shay: You’re good to go, sweetie. We’ll take you in and get

                      you your meds, okay?

Gabby Dawson: Oh, James, that reminds me. Did you steal any

                            Toradol from us last month?

                             I’m totally kidding [laughs]

                                                      cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Hey, give me a minute.

                            Quick question [clears throat]

                            Saturday… what are you doing?

Matt Casey: Depends. What do you got?

Gabby Dawson: Um, my cousin, the poster child for better homes &

                            gardens, throws this really super fancy Christmas

                            party every year. There’s a string quartet, plum

                            pudding, nutmeg sprinkled on the eggnog. It’s so 

                            perfect you want to vomit.

Matt Casey: Sounds awesome. And you need a date?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. I mean, I just need a friend to bring along, 

                             really.

Matt Casey: Oh. Then maybe you should ask Mouch.

                      If you’re up for a date, tell me what time to pick you 

                      up.

Gabby Dawson: 7 o’clock?

Matt Casey: Great.

Gabby Dawson: [whispers] Yeah, I need a new dress.

                                                    cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Chief, are you just gonna let these pretend

                                         cops violate our civil rights?

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah, don’t they need to show us a warrant or 

                           something?

Chief Boden: They are well within their authority to search firehouse

                        property. 

Peter Mills: Even our personal lockers?

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): You mean the department’s lockers?  

                                  Besides, it shouldn’t bother you if you’re not 

                                   hiding something.

Matt Casey: Griffin, can I have a moment with you?

Chief Boden: Locker room, guys. Come on.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): What? You want to punch me again?

Matt Casey: When’s the last time IAD searched an entire house?

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): A firefighter stole a 50,000 dollar necklace,

                                 and it’s my job to find out who. But don’t

                                 blame me if you suddenly regret assaulting 

                                  a fellow classmate.

Matt Casey: Regret it? I’m glad I did it. You weren’t the first idiot to

                      make a crack about my family. You’re the last. 

                       No one’s brought it up again since I laid your ass out.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Sucker punched.

Matt Casey: You saw it coming.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): The only ones who saw it were your buddies. 

                                  None of whom had the integrity to say what

                                  really happened.

                                  By the way… how is your mom?

Chief Boden: Hey! Hey!

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Whoa, whoa, whoa. Casey blood sure runs hot,

                                  don’t it?

Chief Boden: Do your job.

                                                     cutscene

Leslie Shay: Remember that one call we went on at D and 

                      University?

Gabby Dawson: Which one?

Leslie Shay: We got a block away, and we realised the jump bag

                      was sitting on the curb. I think that’s when the vials 

                      went missing.

                      Damn girl, you wear that dress, I’ll be your date.

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know. I feel kind of naked.

Leslie Shay: It’s perfect.

                     Excuse me. Ring this up. 

Gabby Dawson: Oh, no, um, I need to think about this one for a

                             minute. Thank you.

                              Is everything okay?

Leslie Shay: Yeah. Why?

Gabby Dawson: You seem more worked up over this Toradol thing 

                             than I am.

Leslie Shay: No, I’m not worried.

(Over radio): Ambo 61, what is your location?

Leslie Shay: (into radio) Ambulance 61. We’re at Armitage and 

                      Damen.

(Over radio): Take in a working fire. 1100 block North Hamlin.

Gabby Dawson: Okay, I’ll take the other one.

                                    [station alarm buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Engine 51, Truck 81…

                                                    [cheering]

Matt Casey: Let’s go.

(Over PA): Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 61. House fire, 

                  1100 block…

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): This house was supposed to be taken out of 

                                  service.

Chief Boden: You never made that request. So now you guys are

                        gonna have to sit tight… 

                                            [locker door shuts]

Chief Boden: Until these men get back.

                                                [engine starts]

Otis Zvonecek: That address is Humboldt Park again, isn’t it?

                                                [sirens blaring]

Chief Boden: This is Battalion Chief Boden at 1140 of North Hamlin.

Police Officer: We responded to a call of a gang shooting into the

                          building. They torched it and fled before we got 

                          here.

Chief Boden: Who’s inside? Another gang? Any civilians? 

Police Officer: You know as much as I do. 

Chief Boden: Could be gang members inside. I count six

                        mailboxes. That fire has reached the structure.

Victim 1: Help me!

Matt Casey: Mouch, Otis, on the aerial. Get ready to vent the roof. 

                      Herrmann, Mills, Cruz, with me.

Chief Boden: Be careful.

                                [siren wailing and comes to a stop]

                                                   [gunshots]

Firefighter: Get clear! Get clear!

Matt Casey: I got you, Herrmann.

Christopher Herrmann: [grunts] 

Chief Boden: (into radio) This is the Chicago Fire Department.

                        Lay down your weapons. We are trying to help you!

                                                   [gunshots]

Chief Boden: Cruz!

Joe Cruz: [speaking Spanish]

                  We’re not police. You’re gonna die if you stay in there. 

                  Let us help you!

                  I’m coming in.

Matt Casey: Cruz!

Joe Cruz: Don’t shoot!

                                               [door breaking]

Joe Cruz: [speaking Spanish]

Chief Boden: Cruz! 

Joe Cruz: [speaking Spanish] Don’t shoot!

                  You the Kings?

                   Insane Kings. I’m Leon’s brother. Where is he?

                   Where is he? Where is he?

Christopher Herrmann: That’s the shooter. Get over here,

                                         you punk. Take a look at him.

Joe Cruz: Hey, we’re in! Let’s go!

Matt Casey: Take the infrared. Mills, catch up with Cruz.

                      Herrmann… you okay?

Christopher Herrmann: I’m gonna crack one of those punks upside

                                        their head.

Matt Casey: No. You’re gonna sit this one out.

                      Severide. 

Kelly Severide: Let’s go. 

                                         [ladder raising]

Joe Cruz: Here you go. Put your arm around me.

                  You’re doing fine. Keep going.

                  Come on, just take it easy. You’re almost there.

                   All right, here we go.

                   Hey, somebody take this guy.

Christopher Herrmann: We got him.

                                         We got you.

                                          Shay!

Gabby Dawson: We got you, sir. Here you go.

                                  [chatter on police radio]

Victim 3: [coughing] Help us! [coughing] Help up!

Chief Boden: (into radio) We got a woman and a kid on the second

                        floor. Front, center.

Matt Casey: (into radio) We’ll get ‘em.

Victim 3: Help us. 

Kelly Severide: Fire department! Call out!

Victim 3: Help!

                [coughing] Help us!

                [coughing]

Matt Casey: Let’s go.

Victim 3: [coughs] My little one. I don’t know where he is.

Matt Casey: Severide’ll find him, but we need to go.

Victim 3: You don’t understand, I need to find him.

Matt Casey: Ma’am, we need to go right now.

Victim 3: Marco!

                                       [doors breaking]

Peter Mills: Hello! Anybody in here?

Joe Cruz: Anybody in here?

                 All clear.

Peter Mills: Clear! 

Matt Casey: Come on. Come on, buddy.

Victim 3: Please.

Matt Casey: We’re gonna find him.

Victim 3: [coughing] Marco! Marco!

Matt Casey: Ma’am!

Kelly Severide: I got him!

Joe Cruz: Get this guy out of here!

Peter Mills: Cruz, hold up. I’ll be back!

                    Come on, buddy. Up. I got you.

                                         [knocks on door]

Joe Cruz: Fire department! Clear the door!

                  Anybody in here? Call out!

Victim 4: [coughing]

Peter Mills: Come on.

Victim 3: [coughing]

Chief Boden: Got two minors, smoke inhalation. Get ‘em to the 

                        ambos. 

Christopher Herrmann: Let’s go.

Chief Boden: What do we got?

Kelly Severide: First and second floor are clear.

Victim 5: My leg!

Peter Mills: Watch your step here.

Victim 5: [groaning and grunting]

Matt Casey: Mills.

Peter Mills: Yeah?

Matt Casey: Where’s Cruz? 

Peter Mills: He’s still up there.

Joe Cruz: (over radio) This is Cruz on (into radio) three. All clear. 

                  Headed up to four now.

Matt Casey: (into radio) Cruz, wait for me. I’m coming up.

                                     [infrared beeping]

                                      [bangs on door]

Joe Cruz: Move away from the door.

                  [grunts]

                  Fire department! Call out! 

Victim 6: [coughing]

Joe Cruz: Leon!

Victim 6: [coughing]

Joe Cruz: Leon!

Victim 6 (Flaco): [coughing]

                            Thank God. Joe… help me…

                             [coughing & wheezing] Help me!

                             [coughing] Please!

                             [coughing] Please! Help… 

                             [wheezing] Joe!

                                                [door shuts]

Joe Cruz: (into radio) This is Cruz up top. All clear.

                                                 cutscene

Chief Boden: [exhales] Hell of a job you did out there, Joe.

                       Hey… we missed one.

                       Don’t beat yourself up about it. If you hadn’t gotten us

                        through that gauntlet, we might have missed them all.

Otis Zvonecek: Casey. Hey, you’re not gonna believe this.

                           So I ordered a background check on Sandra and 

                           Richard Vaughn…

Matt Casey: Otis I don’t…

Otis Zvonecek: And they are leveraged up to their eyeballs. It’s one

                           judgement after the next. They… They’re staving

                           off bankruptcy. They’re in financial ruin. And

                            Mr. Vaughn… investigated twice for wire fraud.

                             236 subscribers are gonna hear about this on my

                             next podcast.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Well, Lieutenant Casey. Four hour call, huh?

                                 That was… pretty convenient.

Matt Casey: It’s insurance fraud. The woman with the diamonds? 

                     They’re broke.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): What do you do off-shift, drive around in a van

                                  solving mysteries?

                                                [door shuts]

Matt Casey: Ugh.

                                            [knocks on door]

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Lieutenant Casey. You’re up.

Matt Casey: What is it you’re hoping for, Griffin?

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Toss the room. Search him.

Matt Casey: Seriously? Come on.

                      It’s all yours.

                                                  cutscene

Leslie Shay: It was extremely careless on our part. You leave a bag

                      of full medication on a curb at a college campus,

                      you’re asking for trouble.

Chief Boden: And you are gonna be so much more careful in the 

                       future, right?

Leslie Shay: Yes, sir.

Gabby Dawson: Absolutely, Chief.

Chief Boden: Hmm. Okay. 

                        Just write down what you told me. Don’t sign

                        anywhere until you bring these back, because I

                        have to witness your signatures. If you would

                        like Mouch to go over it with you as your union 

                         representative, you do have that right.

Gabby Dawson: You want us to sign it in blood, or will blue ink 

                             suffice?

Chief Boden: Don’t you drag your heels now.

Gabby Dawson: No, we’ll get it right back to you, Chief.

Chief Boden: Shay… one moment.

Leslie Shay: What is it, Chief?

Chief Boden: Nothing. Go on.

                                                   cutscene

                                          [R&B music playing]

                               [panting, kissing sounds & moaning]

Renee Royce: Skinny margaritas.

Kelly Severide: What?

Renee Royce: Skinny on the calories, not the alcohol. 

Kelly Severide: Ah! Ahh.

                          You have a really nice place.

Renee Royce: Mmm, thank you.

Kelly Severide: Guess it pays to work in… foreign financial…

Renee Royce: International finance law. Yes, it does. But I want to

                         hear about you and how you fight fires every day.

Kelly Severide: It’s not every day. On 24, off 48.

Renee Royce: Oh yeah?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Renee Royce: I didn’t know that.

Kelly Severide: Uh, huh.

Renee Royce: And then what do you like to do on your off days?

Kelly Severide: I repair boats up near Monroe Harbour. 

Renee Royce: Um, do you go out to the lake much?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, more in the summers, but…

Renee Royce: Mmm. I haven’t been out in a while

Kelly Severide: I’ll take you some time.

Renee Royce: Oh, will you now?

Kelly Severide: Any time you want, Royce. Just say the word.

Renee Royce: Hmm.

Kelly Severide: What?

Renee Royce: Who was she?

Kelly Severide: What do you mean?

Renee Royce: The Renee that ruined my name.

Kelly Severide: She was my fiancée.

                                                  cutscene

                                             [car door shuts]

                                            [knocks on door]

Matt Casey: Evening, ma’am.

Lady 1 (Sandra Vaughn): Can I help you?

Matt Casey: I just wanted to apologise on behalf of Truck 81 for

                      your missing item, and to let you know we’re going 

                      to get to the bottom of it.

Lady 1 (Sandra Vaughn): Well, I should hope so. 

Matt Casey: This is a thermal imaging camera. It’s a really great

                      piece of technology. It helps us see through the 

                      thickest smoke. 

Lady 1 (Sandra Vaughn): Okay.

Matt Casey: We all carry them, and we leave them recording the

                      whole time we’re on a call. And actually I’m on my

                      way to drop all our cameras off with the police so

                      they can review the footage, and see exactly what

                      happened the entire time my men and I were inside

                      your home. 

                      So don’t worry.

Lady 1 (Sandra Vaughn): Okay. Is that it?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Lady 1 (Sandra Vaughn): Great. So maybe you should leave now.

                                               [door shuts]

                                                cutscene

                         [locker opening and things falling out]

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Son, you’re a slob.

Man 6 (Man in uniform): Got something.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Oh yeah. Oh boy. Gimme that. Gimme that.

                                 Oh, false alarm. Just an adorable pair of kitty 

                                  cat cufflinks.

Mouch: It’s the maneki-neko, a Japanese good luck charm.

              And those were a Christmas gift if you don’t mind.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Hey, domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.

Mouch: That doesn’t even make sense.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Chief Boden, have you been able to locate

                                 Lieutenant Casey?

Matt Casey: I’m right here.

                                             [cell phone rings]

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Griffin.

                                  Is that a fact?

                                  That’s very interesting.

                                   No, thank you.

                                   The diamonds slipped down into a heat

                                    register, apparently. Mrs. Vaughn just 

                                    found ‘em.

Mouch: You gotta be kidding me. 

Christopher Herrmann: What a surprise.

Man 1 (Ted Griffin): Less paperwork for me. Hallelujah. Let’s go.

                                 Do say hi to your mom for me.

Matt Casey: Door’s that way.

                                              [door shuts]

Christopher Herrmann: All right… so what’d you do?

Matt Casey: Nothing. I just told her we recorded the whole thing on

                      our thermal cameras, you know. 

Christopher Herrmann: Yeaahhh…

Peter Mills: Wait, thermal cameras don’t record. 

Christopher Herrmann: [gasps]

Peter Mills: Oh. That’s good.

Christopher Herrmann: Ooh.

Capp: Casey, you have a visitor in the briefing room.

Matt Casey: Chris. This is a nice surprise. Merry Christmas.

                                             [kissing sound]

Christie: Yeah, Matt. Merry Christmas.

                Almost done shopping [chuckles]

                I couldn’t remember if you’re a large or extra large,

                but there’s a gift receipt in there.

Matt Casey: Oh. That’s really sweet. Thank you.

Christie: Since we saw you at the cemetery… Violet’s been pretty

                flipped out. “Why doesn’t Uncle Matt ever come to see

                 us? And does he not like us? Do you not like him?”

                  And she shouldn’t have to be asking those questions. 

                  And… that’s on you and me. 

Matt Casey: Absolutely it is, yeah. 

Christie: I feel like she’s been without her uncle, and… I’ve been

               without my brother for too long.

Matt Casey: Yeah, I want nothing more than for us to be in each

                      other’s lives. The last time we talked about it…

Christie: I know. I remember the conversation.

Matt Casey: [sighs] 

Christie: [exhales] So you’re still defending her?

Matt Casey: I’m not gonna turn my back on her.

Christie: Don’t you miss dad?

                                               cutscene

Matt Casey: Yeah, but there’s something.

Gabby Dawson: Excuse me one second. I need to steal him.

Matt Casey: Um, uh, bye.

                      Drink? 

Gabby Dawson: Oh, thank you.

                            Oh, I can’t wait to show you this room.

Matt Casey: Okay.

                      Ooh. 

                       Wow.

Gabby Dawson: It’s nice, right?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] Oh, and hey, I promise I won’t let my

                            aunt corner you again [chuckles] like that. 

                            I’m sorry.

Matt Casey: [chuckles] It’s okay. She’s… she’s fun.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, she’s better when you’re drunk.

                             Oh, better learn how to keep up, buddy boy.

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Both: [chuckles]

Gabby Dawson: I mean… are we just here as friends, or… is this a 

                            date?

Matt Casey: I can’t. I mean…

Gabby Dawson: No, yeah. I get it.

Matt Casey: It’s not a good time. 

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat]

Matt Casey: Because it’s worth doing right. 

                      Right?

Lady 2: Oops sorry. Don’t mind us.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] Uh, you ready for dessert?  

                            I’m ready… for dessert?

                                                   cutscene

Leon Cruz: This is crazy, bro. I was just up there, like, ten minutes

                    before it all went down. Flaco sent me to get Shorty.

                     Otherwise… I don’t know…[sighs] Somebody’s gotta

                     be up there looking out for me.

                     Joe, you okay?

Joe Cruz: I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I… 

                  [breathing unsteadily]

                                                     cutscene

Kelly Severide: You’re up early.

Leslie Shay: You know I love you, right?

Kelly Severide: Okay, what’s going on?

Leslie Shay: I love you because I know you’d stick your neck out for

                      me the way I have for you.

Kelly Severide: Of course I would.

Leslie Shay: And I did that to get you over the hump.

Kelly Severide: Which you totally did.

Leslie Shay: And then I found these in the trash.

Kelly Severide: Those are ol… they’re old.

Leslie Shay: I perjured myself for you, Kelly.

Kelly Severide: Shay…

Leslie Shay: I’m out.

Kelly Severide: Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean?

Leslie Shay: I mean I’m out. We had a deal… we wouldn’t get in

                     each other’s business, but I can’t hold up my end. 

                      So I’m out.

Kelly Severide: Shay, it’s okay. I got it.

                          I got it. I got it.

Leslie Shay: No, you don’t got it!

                      I’m not gonna sit here and watch you… just fool 

                      yourself.

                      I’ll get the rest of my stuff later.

Kelly Severide: Shay, hey, please don’t go.

                           Please don’t…please don’t do this.

                                        [door opens and shuts]

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

                                                 cutscene

Joe Cruz: [breathing unsteadily]

                                        [cell phone vibrates]

Voicemail (Matt Casey): This is Matt Casey. Leave it here and I’ll 

                                          call you back.

Joe Cruz: Lieutenant, it’s Joe Cruz. Um… Casey, man, I need to talk

                  to you. Uh… It’s really important. I, uh… [sighs] I, um…

                                               cutscene

                                         [whistle blowing]

Gabby Dawson: Here we go. I’ll make my brother get the rest of

                            your stuff tomorrow. And you are totally welcome

                            to stay with me as long as you want.

Leslie Shay: Thanks.

Gabby Dawson: You gonna tell me what he did?

Leslie Shay: No. You gonna tell me how your date went?

Gabby Dawson: Nope. 

                            He’s good. 

Police Officer: Thank you.

                                    [dispatcher chatter over radio]

Leslie Shay: Come on, give me something.

Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] Well, I was right about Casey. He’s still

                            into Hallie. And I’m an idiot.

                                                    cutscene

                                                [whistle blows]

                                                 [door buzzes]

Matt Casey: Hi, mom.

                                                    cutscene

                                                      [traffic]

Leslie Shay: Tomorrow night, you and me are gonna have a few 

                      margaritas.

Gabby Dawson: Heh! A few pitchers, you mean.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, that was implied.

                                                 [horn blaring]

                                          [cars & truck skidding]

Shay & Dawson: [gasps]

                                          [truck and ambo crash]

                                                      - end -

Definitions:

Buyout = Purchase of the target’s outstanding debt.

Internal Affairs Division = A division of a law enforcement agency which investigates cases of allegations of misconduct and complaints against any member of the fire department, and the necessary actions taken.

Toradol = Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug. It works by reducing hormones that cause inflammation and pain in the body. Toradol is used short-term (5 days or less) to treat moderate to severe pain.

PIC = Paramedic in charge

C-collar = Cervical collars (C collars) are used to support your spinal cord and head, and to limit the movement of your neck and head. They’re typically meant for short-term use while you recover from an injury, surgery, or pain.

DOA = Dead on arrival

Drive-by vehicle to vehicle = Shooting someone in a moving car from a moving car

Thermal imaging camera = Type of thermographic camera used in fire fighting. By rendering infrared radiation as visible light, such cameras allow firefighters to see areas of heat through smoke, darkness, or heat-permeable barriers.

Maneki-neko = Common Japanese figurine, which is often believed to bring good luck to the owner. The figurine depicts a cat, traditionally a calico Japanese Bobtail, with a paw raised in a Japanese beckoning gesture.

Domo arigato = Japanese phrase meaning “Thanks a lot”. The Japanese phrase said in this episode is part of a Japanese song.

[dreamingabouttaron]

The Assistant Part 14

You spent the next morning contacting United Agents to inform them of everything that had happened with Taron the day before. You had been relaying messages to and from the insurance team, the production team and United. Back and forth, back and forth. Sure, yesterday had been an accident; but it had still left their leading man with some nasty injuries meaning it was going to be investigated. You had made it your mission to insist that Taron had a stunt double for the scenes that were on horse back, which thankfully everyone agreed with without hesitation. You weren’t going to let him climb back on a horse, no amount of money was worth his life. As you were completing all your admin for the day, an idea popped into your head. You shut down your laptop, collected your things and left your room.

About an hour later, you knocked on Taron and Emily’s door with your hands full of bags. A moment later Emily opened the door and kindly invited you inside. You placed the bags down on the floor and smiled at Taron who was sat up in bed with his glasses on reading. When he spotted you he placed the book down and took his glasses off his face and smiled back.

“How are you doing today?” You walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge next to him.

“I’m okay. Feeling better than I did yesterday. I’m still in a bit of pain but as a whole I’m doing well. I should be up and running again tomorrow.” It’s true, he did look better than yesterday. Seeing him the way he was yesterday was terrifying. Last night when you had tried to fall sleep the images of Taron flying off the horse kept replaying in your head. It was truly disturbing. It made you realise how much you did care about Taron. Which then made you feel riddled with guilt and anxiety. Being this close to him now made those feelings rise again.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you rushing this! Please take your time, they can start filming around you if they need too. I won’t let you do anything you’re not ready to do.”

“I’m sure.” Taron took your hand with a serious expression on his face, “I promise you, I won’t rush into anything.”

“If you say so.” You smiled. “and I promise to never put you on the back of a horse again. I’ve spoken to the studio and we have arranged for a stunt double to come in and do all horse riding shots for you. We can’t risk putting you in that situation again.”

You could see the relief wash off Taron’s face. “Thank you Megan! I don’t think I could do that again.” It felt like he was staring into your soul. You felt a sudden impulse to pull back and away.

“I’ve got a surprise!” You broke contact with Taron and walked over to the bags you had brought with you. You picked them up and placed them on the bed and invited Emily over to join you. From one of the bags; you pulled out some packets of pre-sliced fruit, multiple packets of crisps, cakes and a bottle of wine.

You held up the bottle and said “I thought if you can’t go to the picnic, the picnic can come to you.”

“Oh wow Megan! I think this is a lovely idea!” Emily gushed and emptied the second bag of food onto the bed.

You opened the bottle of wine and started to pour it into glasses. As you looked up you caught Taron’s eye, blushed and smiled. You handed out the cups and joined the pair who were sat away from each other on the bed. You held up your cup, “Here’s to the start of a wonderful new adventure.” You all raised your cups and took a sip of your wine.

“Thank you for doing this. It’s incredibly kind of you.” Taron said in-between mouthfuls of food.

“Anything for you, Boss.” You teased and took another sip of your wine.

The rest of the ‘picnic’ went down a treat. You all sat around on the bed and talked about absolute nonsense. It felt nice to unwind with friends after the stress from the previous day.

“So, Megan.” Emily said and then finished her mouthful of food. “I’ve decided to head back home Sunday evening. This weekend will be my last here.” You looked up at Emily with furrowed brows.

“Really? Why?” You had thought that she was supposed to stay for the majority of filming. It certainly looked like she had packed that way.

She shrugged and looked down, you could tell something wasn’t right. “We just think it’s for the best.” You watched her look at Taron from across the bed. “Taron’s got a lot going on here and I don’t want to be the one getting in the way.”

You caught eye contact with Taron, he looked at you expressionless. Something’s happened. You thought. You looked back at Emily, then smiled and nodded at her.

“That’s a shame. I’m going to miss having another female around.” You tried to lighten the mood.

Emily looked at you with a sad smile, “Yes. It’s been nice.”

Time seemed to rush past and before you knew it, it was dark outside. You could see Taron was still in some pain so you all said you goodbyes and you went back to your room for the night.

When you went back to your room you checked your phone to see you had a message from James asking for an update. You sat on your bed and typed out a long message informing him of everything that had happened. From the confession from Taron, The Kiss, Ben and the accident. It had been a busy trip and it had only just started.

***

The next day you went downstairs to the breakfast buffet to see Emily and Taron sat in the corner eating. As you entered the restaurant, Emily spotted you and gave you a wave. You quickly approached them.

“Good Morning! Look who’s up! You must be feeling better!” You stood behind Taron and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I do! I’m ready to get back to it now.” He said as he looked up at you, with a mouth full of food causing you to roll your eyes at him. That boy and food.

“Megan, please come and join us! We have room.” Emily offered.

You thought about the kind offer and nodded. “Sure. Let me grab some food and I’ll be back. Do you want anything?” You offered politely. “Tea for me please.” Emily smiled. You looked at Taron and raised your eyebrows, “and a coffee for me please.” You nodded and went off to collect your items.

You came back over to the table with a tray of drinks and a plate of food for yourself. You placed the drinks down next to each of them and then finally sat down to eat.

“What are your plans for this weekend Megan?” Emily asked as she sipped on her tea.

You shrugged in response, “I haven’t really thought about it. Have you guys got anything planned before you head back home?”

“We were thinking about exploring the city a little Saturday, weren’t we Taron?”

Taron nodded as he finished eating his food. He didn’t look too interested at all. He was far too interested in the last bit of food on his plate.

“Did you want to go shopping with me Sunday afternoon, Megan?” Emily asked. You looked up from your plate and looked between Taron and Emily. Even Taron had looked up and stopped. “You wouldn’t mind T if Megs and I went shopping would you? You’d cope without us for an afternoon wouldn’t you?” Emily nudged Taron.

His eyes flickered into your direction and they narrowed whilst looking at you. “Sure. I don’t mind. That’s if Megan wants too though.”

“I would love too, it would be nice to get some time away from you.” You joked and winked at Taron, who rolled his eyes in response and continued to pick at what was left on his plate.

“Perfect! It’s a plan! It’ll be nice to get some girlie time in before I leave. At least I know whilst I’m gone Taron is left in good hands.” It felt like there was a slight undertone in what she was saying. Something bitter.

Just as you were about to respond, you saw a text come through on your phone. You picked it up and examined the message.

Good morning. I hope things are okay with Taron. If you’re not busy, I’d love to take you out for dinner Saturday night. I know a sweet little place just down the road. I think it’ll be perfect. Ben :)

You smiled to yourself which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ooo, look at you! What’s made you blush? Do share!” Emily giggled from across the table.

You looked up from your phone and looked at Emily. You felt Taron’s eyes burn into the side of your head. “I think I might have a date tomorrow night.” You blushed and looked down avoiding eye contact with Taron. You noticed Taron tense at your words from across the table. He placed his knife and fork down slightly too loudly causing you and Emily to jump and look at him.

“Who?” He asked, he couldn’t disguise the annoyance in his voice. You looked him in the eye and cautiously said, ‘Ben. From the other night.” Your words struck him. If looks could kill. You thought instantly regretting being so open and honest. He has no right to get mad. You assured yourself.

“Who’s Ben?” Emily asked intrigued. 

“He’s the screenwriter.” Taron snapped. His demeanour had completely changed. “I’m in a bit of pain, I’m going to head back up to the room.” Taron snatched the keycard that was sat on the table. Scrapped his chair back and stood up and left. You and Emily watched him leave. You could see the confusion on her face. You felt like you had to cover for him.

“Has he been taking his pain meds? Was he in pain this morning?” You sipped at your tea and continued to pick at your food.

“He didn’t mention it. He hasn’t been right for a while. If I’m honest, things really haven’t been the greatest between us for a while. He doesn’t tell me anything. It’s like he doesn’t want me around anymore. He closed himself off from me a long time ago. We’ve been trying to patch things back up for a few months now which is why I came but I think it’s too late. Anyway, forget about that! Come on, reply to that message and tell me all about Ben! I want to know everything!” Emily gushed.

Her words lingered in your mind whilst typed out a reply agreeing to meet Ben in the lobby the following evening at 7:30. You told Emily all about Ben and about how he was going to take you out to eat. After you finished your food, you and Emily went back to your room. She has insisted on picking an outfit out for your date.

“Right, let’s see what you’ve got! I’m going to make sure you look amazing for this date.” She exclaimed as she opened your wardrobe. You sat on the bed and watched her go through your clothes. She pulled several items out and hung them over her arm, slowly creating a large pile.

“Go and try these on for me please!” She thrust a pile of clothes into you. “I want a fashion show.”

“Fine.” You laughed at her enthusiasm and got up with the heap of clothes and walked into the bathroom to change. You tried on outfit after outfit. Emily was incredibly kind to do this with you but it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. You thought about what she has said over breakfast, Things haven’t been the greatest between us for a while. You wished you could go back in time and replay everything that had happened between you and Taron, but you knew it wasn’t possible. You were just as guilty as him. But you now had Ben. You wanted to see where things with him were going instead of fussing over someone that couldn’t decide between two wonderful women. You looked at yourself in the mirror before walking out of the bathroom in the last option you had.

“Okay, this is the last one from the pile.” You showed her the skin tight red dress which she had picked out.

“No…It’s just not right.” She got up from the bed and went back to the wardrobe. “There must be something else in here.” She rummaged through your clothes before stopping at a dress that had been hidden behind other larger items.

“Yes! This is it! You have to wear this!” You looked down at the blush silk midi slip dress that you had worn when you went out for dinner with Taron back in London. Your eyes darted from the dress back to Emily.

“Really? I’m not so sure. I think this one is fine…”

“Go and try it on!” Emily forced the dress into your hands. You resistantly nodded and walked back into the bathroom to change.

You pulled the red dress off over your head and took the silk dress off its hanger. You slipped it over your head and looked at yourself in the mirror. It brought back memories. Both happy and sad memories. You ran your hands over the dress the same way you had before you went to meet Taron. You were interrupted by Emily knocking on the door.

“Are you ready?”

You took one last glance at yourself in the mirror and opened the bathroom door.

“Oh my god! Yes!” Emily pulled you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Fuck, you look so hot!” Emily exclaims, “Megan you look insane! You have to wear this.”

“I’m not sure, I’ll probably get too cold….”

“Megan it’s perfect. Look how insane you look.” She pulled you over to the mirror. You looked sadly at your reflection. “This is the one, I promise.” She smiled and picked up her belongings. She walked over to you and gave you a hug. 

“Right I need to get packing! I want to hear all the gory details when I see you on Sunday! At least one of us is getting some.” She winked at you, waved goodbye and left. You heard the door click behind her. You sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the dress in despair. Why did she have to pick this one? If only she knew when you had last worn it.

Tag List: 

@primaba11erina @hitmeonmytspot @autumnslovex @fuseburner @huathmoon94 

-----------------

Hello one and all! I hope everyone is well! I wanted to say a quick thank you for all your support. I am now back at work full time so I am trying my hardest to keep up with the updates. I have written the next 4 parts but they all need a good old edit! 

[lyssismagical]

sweetheart, you look a little tired

Febufluff Day 19, 20, 21, & 22 – Safe and Sound, Butterflies, First Kiss, & Love at First Sight 

Read on AO3

*

Peter’s eyes are drifting shut, swaying on his own two feet behind the cash register. He’s already been benched from actually making anything, so he’s stuck on taking orders.

“Parker!” one of his coworker’s shout from somewhere behind him. He jerks awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he yawns.

“Sorry, man. I’m awake, I’m good,” Peter says quickly, turning his attention to the next customer in line and taking their order. Thankfully, it’s a slow day at the café so he doesn’t feel as bad for not being a model employee.

As soon as the customer is through, another coworker of his, Betty, touches his shoulder and pushes a drink into his hand.

“Who’s this for?” Peter asks, looking over the cup for any name.

“For you, dumbass. A few extra shots of espresso to get you through the shift. On the house.”

Peter stares dumbly down at the coffee for a good few moments, not understanding, before he offers Betty a tired smile. “Thanks.”

She shrugs, turning back to her job. “Finish your shift and get some real sleep before your next one, alright?”

Nodding, Peter turns back to the cash register, sipping at his coffee. He’s never really liked coffee, especially now that all it does is remind him of the people he’s lost. His parents used to drink coffee practically religiously, and he remembers Sunday mornings would always smell like coffee and pancakes with his aunt and uncle. But he supposes now he doesn’t really have a choice but to get over it if he’s going to keep his head on his shoulders.

He’s currently working two part-time jobs. One at the coffee shop he’s at now, and another at a nearby restaurant where he’s a waiter. He also picks up odd jobs as often as he can, the extra cash helping to keep their heads above water.

The amount of work he does is already a lot, he barely has any downtime. Especially since he’s a single dad. His daughter is his pride and joy, the light of his life, but it’s tough, he can’t lie.

She’s three, and she’s everything, but between his two jobs and the odd jobs he has to pick up and singlehandedly taking care of a toddler? It’s taking its toll on his health.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world though. He loves her with everything he’s got, even if it means working eighteen-hour days or if it means staying up all night at her bedside when she swears there’s a monster under her bed.

“Excuse me?”

Peter jerks, eyes flying open as a flush immediately fills his cheeks. He quickly takes a gulp of his coffee and turns to the customer.

“I am so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to, uh… What can I get for you?”

Peter tries his best for a smile as he looks up at the man, and holy fucking shit.

Harley Keener is leaning against the counter nonchalantly, a charming smile adorning his face. He’s holding his wallet, which is surprisingly old and worn, and is looking at Peter with raised eyebrows.

“Your number?” Harley says, smiling a little brighter and dimples show in his tan skin.

Peter, visibly flustered, fumbles for his own coffee cup anxiously, nearly knocking it over. “I, uh, I’m-”

“Kidding, darling, unless you want to.” Harley winks obnoxiously, licking his bottom lip. “I could actually go for a large black coffee. Thanks, love.”

Knowing he must look as red as a tomato, Peter rings up the price. “That’s, uh, three dollars.”

He pops open his wallet and pulls out a bill. “Keep the change, darling.”

And then there’s a one-hundred-dollar bill in Peter’s hand.

“I can’t- I can’t take this. It’s a three-dollar coffee.”

Harley’s smile falls a little bit, and he looks at Peter with confusion sparkling in his brown eyes. “You know who I am, right?”

Nodding, Peter tries to hand back the money. “Yeah, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t know you.”

“So, you have to realize I don’t need the money. I always give generous tips.”

“Generous is like twenty percent, not three thousand percent,” Peter says. He doesn’t mean to be angry, but it feels like a dig at Peter, not as a kind gesture. It makes Peter feel like he’s not working hard enough, like he’s failing his daughter if he needs to get charity from a rich man who throws around his money.

Harley shrugs and doesn’t take back the money. “Split it with your coworkers. I don’t want to carry around change.”

Peter tries his best to look polite despite being exhausted and upset and wanting nothing more than to pick up his daughter from kindergarten and take her home for a movie night.

“Large black coffee,” Peter tells Betty over his shoulder. “Is that all?”

“Yep, that would be wonderful, darling.”

As much as Peter wishes he was angry at the pet names, he can’t be. Harley Keener, son of Tony Stark, one of the most famous billionaires ever, is really hot. Tan with a mess of purposefully wild light brown curls and a wonderful smile that makes little dimples in his cheeks, and the prettiest brown eyes he’s ever seen.

Betty passes Harley the coffee over the counter with a knowing smile.

Harley sees it at the same time Peter does.

He’s too much of a coward so here’s his number.

“You’ve got a nice wingman back there,” Harley says, grinning at Peter. “I’ll call you, beautiful.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Peter doesn’t bother telling him he hasn’t had the money to pay his phone bill in a little over six months.

* “Daddy!” His daughter exclaims, racing across the schoolyard to him. As soon as she reaches him, he scoops her up into his arms, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

“Hi, baby, I missed you loads,” Peter says, smiling at her. He ignores the tiredness that hangs from his very bones and his aching joints and focuses on the unfiltered joy in his daughter’s eyes.

June Parker was born when Peter was only eighteen. He wasn’t ready to have a child, but MJ and he decided that they could do anything so long as they had each other.

And then there were complications with the birth.

Peter doesn’t remember much from that night, one of the longest nights of his life, all he remembered is the doctors refusing to give him the baby when he was allowed into the nursery. He remembers the worry that almost had his knees giving out. They sat him down in one of the chairs and broke the news. And he sat there, and he cried until he thought his chest would cave.

And then they were tucking his baby into his arms.

“I missed you more!” she exclaims before launching into a detailed explanation of her school day.

He walks them home, a good seven blocks away from the elementary school, but it’s not like he has the spare cash to pay for a car, insurance and gas.

Eventually, they do make it home to their little apartment building, and Peter’s never been happier to peel off his sneakers and fall onto the couch, June immediately curling up against his chest.

“Do you work tonigh’?” June asks, a pout tugging at her mouth.

“Nope, got the night off, honey.” Peter doesn’t tell her that it’s because he looked dead on his feet last night and was forced to take a sick day to get some real sleep. Instead, he grins down at her, and lifts his eyebrows. “You know what that means?”

“Movie night!” she squeals, sliding off the couch and racing for the kitchen and their poorly stocked cupboards.

Peter laughs and drags himself to his feet. “Dinner first, June.”

He scoops her back up, sitting her down on the counter. “What do you want to eat?”

She pretends to think really hard for a few seconds like she hasn’t already made up her mind. “Mac and cheese!”

Shaking his head in amusement, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Mac and cheese, it is then, baby.”

* He doesn’t sleep well again, instead making some decent money by reviewing and editing essays online and making sure June sleeps soundly despite the noise of the city, louder than ever.

And then he’s up early as ever to walk June to school and then head to the café for his shift.

“Wow, you look like you were hit by a bus,” Betty says. Not in a mean way, she’s one of the only friends he’s got. “You weren’t working last night, were you?”

“Not at the restaurant,” he says. He doesn’t need to say that he was working anyways. He doesn’t like sleeping anyway.

As soon as he takes up his position at the cash register, Harley Keener walks in.

He’s dressed immaculately as always, but there’s a frown on his face as he walks in.

“Black coffee again?” Peter says when he reaches the counter.

Harley falters for a second, eyes losing the spark of anger before it comes back with intensity. “I texted you last night. Like six times. And I called you too. Tony thought I was losing my mind over a guy at a café.”

Peter winces, opening his mouth to apologize, but there’s a bit of shame burning his chest. He doesn’t want to tell the billionaire’s heir that he’s too broke to pay for his phone bill, that’s why he couldn’t text back.

“If you didn’t like me, you could’ve at least been honest,” Harley says, genuine hurt flooding his eyes.

“I don’t even know you,” Peter says instead. But he does know that Harley’s pretty and he has hints of a southern accent from before he got adopted as Tony Stark’s kid. He does know that it’s been three years since MJ, that if he wants to get back in the game, he’s allowed to.

“You could’ve gotten to know me if you had answered your phone,” Harley counters easily, eyebrows lifting. He leans forward, closer to Peter, voice low. “Can I take you out for dinner, darling?”

Peter swallows thickly, mind blanking. All he manages is a slow nod, trying not to stare too blatantly. Harley’s so close to him that Peter can smell the expensive cologne on him.

Harley smiles, leaning back. It’s less of a cocky, arrogant, rich boy smile, and more the most genuine smile Peter’s seen, dimples showing and the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Perfect. I’ll text you?”

This is where Peter should’ve said something. Where he should’ve admitted that he didn’t have a phone plan anymore and that he doesn’t even know where his phone went, probably lost in their apartment somewhere.

Instead, Betty’s sliding a coffee across the counter to Harley who puts down a bunch of coins.

“Three dollars and sixty cents,” Harley says proudly. He’s grinning as he takes his drink. “Your twenty percent like you asked for.”

Before Peter has the time to say anything, Harley’s out the door.

* The rest of Peter’s day is busy enough to keep his mind occupied and away from thoughts of Harley. He works at the café, gets June home from school, helps her with her kindergarten homework, welcomes June’s babysitter, Ned, works at the restaurant, and gets home with just enough time to shower and get an hour or two of sleep before he’s taking June back to school.

He only realizes his mistake when Betty skips over to him. “How was your date?”

“Oh shit,” he says, jaw dropping. He stood up Harley fucking Keener. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back against the counter.

Betty’s expression falls, eyebrows crinkling. “What happened?”

“I just- I was working till three and I just- I forgot.”

As if on cue, Harley walks into the café, nonchalant, uncaring, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Harley, look, I’m sorry-”

“Large black coffee, thanks,” Harley says, dropping three dollar bills on the table.

There’s a second where all Peter does is stare dumbly, speechless before he gets his head back. “I’m sorry, Harley. I swear I have a good explanation for this. It’s just-”

Harley shrugs. “You know I acted like I was a stupid teenager. I went home and I gushed to Tony about the cute boy at the café who was good at math and who got all flustered when I flirted with you and didn’t trip head over heels just because I’m Tony’s kid. And then yesterday, I went home and I wouldn’t shut up about how I got a date. And then you never picked up your phone. You never answered my calls. You totally stood me up.”

“I couldn’t pay for my phone plan,” Peter blurts, shame rolling in his stomach. “I should’ve told you sooner, I just- I didn’t know how. I wanted to go on that date, but I- I worked all night and I- I don’t have a phone plan anymore, so I couldn’t.”

And like someone flipped a switch, Harley’s smiling in relief, tugging his sunglasses off his face.

“In that case, when does your shift end?”

“You forgive me? Just like that?”

Harley shrugs, grinning brightly. “Course I do, wasn’t your fault. Plus, I really do like you, Peter.”

“I’ve got plans after my shift.”

“Like what?”

Peter tips his head to the side. “Before you really decide that you like me, you should know I have a daughter. I pick her up from school after my shift.”

And instead of confusion or disgust or anger or anything, Harley’s smile widens. “I know it doesn’t sound like a perfect date, but I would love to tag along.”

Peter can’t help the little smile that creeps onto his face. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you really want to. I get off my shift at two.”

“Perfect!” Harley exclaims. He grabs the coffee Betty left him on the counter. He turns away from Peter who expects him to head out, but he sits at the closest table to the counter.

“You do realize there’s still six hours until two, right?” Peter calls out.

“I have wonderful entertainment,” Harley replies, resting his chin in his hand and simply staring at Peter from across the room.

* They walk all the way from the café to the elementary school, joking and flirting and teasing each other, knocking shoulders and playfully pushing each other.

It’s fun. Peter hasn’t had fun in a really long time.

“Daddy!” June exclaims, racing towards them. She stops short when she sees Harley. She squints up at him for a moment before shrugging and lifting her arms for Peter to pick her up.

“How was school, baby?”

“Good! Miss A gave me a sticker for cleaning up!” she says, smiling brightly, little hands curling into Peter’s shirt.

Peter smiles proudly and kisses her forehead. “June, this is Harley, a friend of mine. Harley, this is my daughter June.”

June’s face scrunches up. “Daddy doesn’t have any friends.”

“Oh my god,” Harley says, trying to stifle his laughter. “Well, he does now. It’s nice to meet you, June.”

She giggles, hiding her face shyly in Peter’s chest, wide brown eyes looking Harley over as though she’s the one protecting Peter.

“Back to mine?” Peter offers. “As much as I’d love a regular afternoon hanging out, I’ve got a shift at the restaurant tonight, so I’ve gotta get dinner started early. You’re welcome to hang out.”

“You work two jobs?” Harley asks, tipping his head to the side, curls flopping across his forehead. “And look after your kid?”

It’s not said with any judgement, just curiosity with a splash of worry.

“Yeah. June’s mom passed away during childbirth,” Peter explains quietly, pressing a kiss to June’s forehead. “Just me and her now, so I’m trying my best.”

The grief is still there, but it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. He knew MJ for nearly six years, dated her for two years. He was going to propose after June was born, he didn’t want MJ to think he was only proposing because she was pregnant. He had to sell the ring not long after June was born to pay for diapers and other supplies, so he doesn’t even have it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Harley murmurs, gently taking Peter’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

Peter offers a smile and points in the direction they have to walk. “You prepared for a seven-block walk?”

“You walk this every day?” Harley’s eyes go wide, jaw dropping. “Carrying her? Oh my god, no wonder you’re so fit!”

June giggles lifting her head to look at Harley. “Daddy’s so strong.”

“He sure is,” he agrees, grinning. “You want me to take her?”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t have agreed to give his kid over to anyone, but Harley’s been incredibly sweet and understanding over the past three days. So, he lets Harley take June and swing her up onto his shoulders, not even wincing when June grabs his curls, giggling brightly.

“Look, Daddy! I’m so tall!” she exclaims, little legs accidentally kicking Harley in the chest, but he just smiles, and holds onto her ankles.

“You sure are, baby, be grateful. This is probably the only time you’ll ever feel tall if you inherited my genes,” Peter laughs.

They walk the seven walks together, Harley never once complaining about June on his shoulders or having to walk so long, chatting about everything and anything. Harley’s more down to earth than Peter would’ve expected for Tony Stark’s son. He talks about his mom and his sister back in Tennessee, about how Tony adopted him when he was eleven so Harley could have the best opportunities he could.

And Peter talks about his own family. His mom and dad, and their plane crash, his aunt and uncle, and their car crash. About how he was living with MJ to finish his high school education when she got pregnant and he lost her too.

Harley’s sympathetic, but not in a pitying way, not in a way that Peter feels judged or uncomfortable. And it’s nice. Peter’s spent the past three years only really talking to a toddler and coworkers.

It’s just nice to have a friend.

June pulls out her colouring books when they get home, immediately racing off to the living room to turn on Paw Patrol and colour.

Harley sits up on the counter in the kitchen as Peter pulls open the fridge, sighing and rubbing his eyes when he realizes it’s pretty much empty.

“You wanna order in?” Harley offers, already pulling out his phone and wallet. “I can pay.”

“I’m not your charity case,” Peter says. He knows Harley’s only being nice, but it stings to think that June could be with someone like Harley, not living off boxed mac and cheese, and cheap snacks.

Harley lifts his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are. This is a date, right? I’ll cover dinner this time. You can get the next one.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Peter bites back a smile, butterflies filling his stomach. “Already planning a second date, Keener? A little presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”

Harley reaches out to grab Peter’s waist, pulling him into the spot between his legs, grinning carelessly. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Let’s get through this one first before we start making new plans, hm?” Peter replies, a smile touching his face.

Sure, there’s a headache growing behind his eyes, one that’s been there for as long as he can remember. Sure, he’s exhausted and his feet hurt and he has another shift at the restaurant that night. Sure, he’s only known Harley for three days. Sure, Peter doesn’t feel good enough to be with someone like Harley.

But Harley’s looking at him like he hung the stars, grinning brightly like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here with Peter.

So, Peter leans in and presses a kiss to Harley’s lips. It’s been three years since he’s kissed anybody, but Harley doesn’t seem to mind because his hands lift to cradle Peter’s face, kissing back enthusiastically.

Until, “Daddy! Look!”

Peter pulls away, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face and laughing at the terrible timing.

“Yeah, honey?” Peter calls out, turning to the kitchen door just as June barrels in, coloring book in hand.

“Lookie!” She says, giving him the book. It’s a picture of Sky from Paw Patrol, messily scribbled in with every color in the rainbow.

“It looks great, baby. Way better than anything I could do,” Peter laughs. “You want pizza tonight?”

She lights up, bouncing on her feet. “Yes please! Thank you, Mister Harley!”

Harley grins down at her, ruffling her hair. “Course, kiddo. Anything for you.”

And Peter believes him. In the hour or so that Harley’s known June, he’s been nothing but a picture-perfect guy to both Peter and June.

June shouts a quick thank you and then she races back through to the living room, leaving the two boys alone.

“Thanks for everything,” Peter murmurs, leaning into Harley’s chest. “You’ve been a really nice guy, so thank you for that.”

“You’re thanking me for being a decent human being?” Harley asks. But then he laughs and kisses Peter’s cheek. “Course, darling. I really do like you, I wasn’t lying earlier.”

“I really like you too, not for your money or for the title, but I like you.”

Something about Harley’s demeanor relaxes infinitesimally. “Thanks. Most people hear my name and they just want the minute of fame from knowing me, I guess.”

“Well, most people look at me and see somebody who’s not worth the trouble, so thank you for overlooking the fact that my life is a mess right now.”

Harley smiles, dimples showing in his cheeks, and runs his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone softly. “If you’d let me, could I pay for your phone bill. I wanna be able to text you and call you. This would be for me, not for you, obviously.”

Peter laughs, kissing Harley again. “For you, of course.”

* Peter gets home from the restaurant to find Harley still in his apartment with Ned. Harley had offered to babysit, but was understanding when Peter said he wasn’t sure if he trusted Harley alone with his daughter and Ned was already on his way.

Peter had expected Harley to head home after Peter left, but from the looks of it, Harley had hung out with Ned and June all night.

“Didn’t think you’d stay,” Peter admits, dropping onto the couch beside Harley. “You have a good night?”

“We watched a Barbie movie and ate way too much pizza. June told me all about school and you and everything.”

Ned leans over the back of the couch, yawning. “Gonna head home, Pete. Do you work tomorrow too?”

“Nah, took the weekend off, had some plans. Bye, Ned. Goodnight.”

“Night, Pete. Night, Harley.”

Ned heads out, and Harley immediately turns to Peter with a knowing grin. “Plans?”

“Yeah, you promised me a second date, didn’t you?”

“Me, you, and June should go to a park. Have a cute little picnic, fly some kites.”

Peter can’t help but smile. For their second date, Harley includes June without a second thought. It’s the sweetest thing in the world. Peter can’t help but slide into the space beside Harley, curling into Harley’s warmth, and kiss him sweetly.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“This is probably going to sound insane, and it’s too late for anything I say to be taken seriously, but do you believe in love at first sight?”

Peter thinks carefully, remembering the first time he saw MJ at school and the way his heart almost beat out of his chest, remembering seeing Harley three days prior at the café and the way he thought he was going to die on the spot.

“I think so, yeah,” Peter says, voice quiet. “Do you?”

“Saw you, falling asleep at the counter, and I swear to you, darling, I just knew. I know I was a bit of a jerk to you, but I just- Falling that quickly, never happened to me before, and I panicked a little bit.”

“Don’t wanna drop that word yet,” Peter says, shaking his head.

“Me neither, but I just know I really like you, darling.”

“I really like you too.”

Peter snuggles up closer to Harley, draping his legs over Harley’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Comfy?” Harley asks, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Mm, yeah.”

“Good. You’re safe and sound with me, darling.”

[el-sacrificio]

A New Family - Rini Otsu

Rini had been alone as long as she could remember. She never knew her mother and father, though she was told that they were good, kind people. Her only real memories of family were of her sister – a woman who was strong and quiet and proud. A woman who lived by a code that died centuries before. Amaterasu Otsu was everything a caregiver, and a hero, should have been.

And then she was murdered.

In an attack that should have killed them both, the ten year old Rini Otsu lost her entire world and she learned very, very quickly that honor, loyalty, and justice were jokes. They were lies people were fed early on to keep them weak. Loyalty could be bought. Justice wasn’t real. And honor?

Honor meant nothing when you were dead.

Rini escaped, unsure of who killed her sister or why they acted with such finality, but they were content to leave that end loose. The little girl spent her time hiding on the streets and sneaking into whatever places she could to stay safe. Were it not for an omnic who ran a noodle shop (Marlene) she probably wouldn’t have ever eaten at all. Marlene was unsure of how to care for a human child, especially one who would occasionally appear and then disappear.

The little girl didn’t come around as much once she realized people were hitting up Marlene for protection money. Feeling powerless, the young girl tried to do whatever she could, and at fourteen she tried to intervene on the omnic’s behalf… and took a solid beating for it. She knew then that there were two options: she could learn to fight, or she could keep being thrown around every time she tried to take care of what she had considered to be hers.

So, she learned to fight. It was quick. It was dirty. And it was ruthless. Violence colored every piece of her life, and so violence became second nature. The only way she knew to show her care for the woman was through destruction. And one would-be turned to two, which turned to four, which inevitably ended in them burning Marlene’s shop to the ground. The omnic collected the insurance money and moved under cover of darkness, leaving the now seventeen year old a small sum of cash and a heartfelt apology.

Rini couldn’t even be upset.

But she could get revenge.

She trained. She studied. She practiced, and she tracked down the people who drove away the only person left in Rini’s world who cared about her. One by one, she made them pay. Vandalized property, sabotaged relationships. Delivered sound, thorough beatings until there was a target on her back bright and vibrant. It should have ended that night in Hanamura, where the remaining three brutes attempted to get the upper hand on the tiny young woman and end her little terror spree before their bosses found out that their precious personal protection racket had gotten out of hand.

She left them for dead.

Instead of getting their revenge and retaliating, it would appear that the right (or wrong) people noticed the young Ms. Otsu and a nice omnic financier with an expensive suit and a calm demeanor offered her a job.

More importantly, Talon offered her a family.

And Rini had already proven exactly what she would do for her family.

[maryellencarter]

So for about ten days now I've been playing around with the budgeting app Mint (along with a Google Sheets yearly budget template and a lot of manual work with a calculator, a calendar, and a succession of blank Google Docs because that's just the kind of person I am), and so obviously I have some Thoughts.

* I picked Mint because it's the budgeting app all the financial reviewers talk about, because it's run by Intuit who also own TurboTax so I knew their security and interface would be good, and because it does not come with built-in shaming over any of your ~unnecessary~ purchases.

* Mint is a free app which makes its money by offering you sponsored ads for financial products it thinks you might like, and getting paid by the advertisers when you accept one of the ads. The most intrusive location for these ads is on your dashboard, feed, whatever you want to call it, where the ad tile is required to be the third tile down and cannot be shuffled to the bottom or turned off.

* (There is also a desktop browser version, Mint.com. I have poked it very slightly but couldn't get it to do anything useful. More on that later. I don't remember noticing how the ads are arranged there.)

* The app's general design is very sleek and intuitive, what I'd expect from the parent company of QuickBooks and TurboTax. Other than the intrusive ad tile, it lets you rearrange everything however you want.

* Mint is designed around importing transactions from your bank account for you to do budgetary stuff at, so obviously security is really important, which gives Intuit an edge up on the competition because I'm already used to trusting them with my tax returns. It only seems to sync new transactions during banking hours, which for someone like me who does most of their shopping on Sunday is kind of frustrating. It also won't let you edit or recategorize a transaction till it's finished "processing" a day or two down the line. I don't know if these pitfalls are common to all budget apps but it would probably make sense if they are.

* One thing Mint does that's incredibly handy for me is it lets you put all your recurring bills in one place and even sync them with your phone calendar. I actually had to turn off the phone calendar sync because it was alerting me constantly on the day before payday when I couldn't do anything about the bill that was due on payday, but if you can find the setting to change the alert frequency it might be useful. And having a nice chronological list of what the fuck is due when, is extremely helpful to my brain, because previously I was trying to remember everything in my head and I kept losing bills.

* Going down my tiles as I have them sorted in the app, I don't have much to say about that list of transactions itself, except that you can recategorize them and split them into different categories -- which is handy if the rent included $105 late fees which you don't want befuckening your future averages, or if you bought groceries and also a barbecue lighter at Walmart, to take two recent examples.

* You cannot, unfortunately, rename or edit categories. On desktop only, you can supposedly add categories, but you cannot then use those categories in any of Mint's other functions, which really defeats the purpose. And their ideas of what categories you might need are pretty... idiosyncratic, not to say WASPy, so e.g. I'm currently categorizing Patreon income under "Reimbursement" because the other options were things like "Investment Income" and "Returned Purchase". And transfers to my savings account can either be "Credit Card Payment" or "Transfer for Cash Spending".

* (I suppose I could put my savings under "Investment: Deposit" or something similarly grandiose, but that seems like... a lot for the 31 cents rounded up from getting a pizza at Little Caesars.)

* Anyways. So then, after the obligatory ad tile, comes a nice colorful pie chart of my spending for the month, which I can open up and tab through to look at all the categories. I saw one finance blogger saying you should use the Miscellaneous category for some things rather than getting too granular, but I like seeing the little individual entries for my haircut and my cloth mask and my pharmacy copay. (That last one's going to be a more substantial pie slice now that I can actually afford to start taking most of my meds again. Turns out my prescription for diabetic test strips expired, though, so I have to get ahold of my doctor and get a new one sent over, and I'm looking skeptically at the copays. :P I've been ignoring my diabetes since January, it can wait a little longer till I'm financially caught up from COVID.)

* I can see list-style breakdowns by category and merchant, too. This is one of the few places in the mobile app that my income shows up, other than the actual paycheck transactions. The desktop version has some more places to budget projected income, but the handling is clunky as hell.

* Next up is the tile where I've been spending a lot of my time, Budgets. This is your basic "envelope method" where you create, say, a budget for haircuts and another one for groceries. Each budget has to be for one of Mint's pre-created categories, and when you have a spending transaction in that category, it puts the expense against that Budget. The desktop version has you also creating a line item for expected income in Budgets, and then becoming stroppy when you attempt to adjust parts in the wrong order, so I prefer the app which simply tells you e.g. that you have spent $900 of an allocated $1000 with an airy unconcern for whether the $1000 has arrived in your bank account yet.

* My single biggest frustration with Mint is that you cannot create Budgets based on user-created categories, nor can you delete, rename, or even collapse categories in the list. So if I go to create a new Budget for, say, "Housewares" to account for the $1 barbecue lighter I finally bought (I have large hands and a tall jar candle that has burned down farther than I can reach, okay, it was a necessity), then I'm stuck scrolling all the way up and down past "Investment: Capital Gains" and "Kids: Child Support" before finally settling on "Home Supplies" because it doesn't really seem like a "Home Furnishings".

* After Budgets comes Accounts, which just shows me my current net worth across all my accounts. I actually unlinked my savings account because it was confusing the hell out of me to see a 31-cent transfer out of checking paired with the same 31-cent transfer into savings, so this doesn't show me anything I can't get through my bank app, but if I had current credit card debt or non-retirement investment accounts it might be more useful.

* (I have not linked my 401(k) to Mint. I haven't even figured out how to get into my 401(k), either before or after it transferred to a different handler a couple months back. I feel like those are problems for a later time than "okay how much groceries can I buy and still pay the rent".)

* On the desktop version of Mint, you can also put things like your car in under your net worth as Property. I tried that, found that I both did not believe their Kelly Blue Book valuation at all (it didn't have any option to take into account "was totaled two years ago and looks it but still mostly runs") and that I find it extremely stressful to have non-liquid property listed as part of my net worth. Interesting to know. You learn all sorts of shit about yourself when you try to manage money.

* Next there's a tile that attempts to break down my "cash flow" by month. It doesn't seem to have noticed the Paypal transfers on which I was largely subsisting for the three months it was able to pull from my bank account, even though they show up fine in Transactions, so it's deeply confused about whether my cash flow is Healthy or Unhealthy. For now, with my acquisition of a second paycheck for August, it seems to have settled on Healthy. I might turn that tile off though. It doesn't really... offer much, I guess?

* I have turned off the tile that shows me my free credit score. That's a problem for a much later me. Right now I have more urgent problems, like catching up on my deferred car insurance and my deferred cell phone bill and my deferred healthcare deductions.

* You also can't turn off the tile for the Mint "Life Blog" or the one asking you to rate the app, but at least they sit at the bottom of the app as you scroll down.

* The desktop version also has an entire segment not found in the app, for "Goals", where you can supposedly put in your outstanding debts and figure out payment schedules for them. It sounds really good in principle, but I found that section of the site unworkably glitchy, on both laptop and iPad; I couldn't even get past the screen where you try to first enter one of your debts, as it required me to choose answers from two dropdowns neither of which would actually do anything. I was able to get an estimate from the "saving for a rainy day" goal, anyway, by putting in the amount of a debt and telling it I'd like to save up that much money in a year, but that's nothing I couldn't have done with a calculator and a bit of mental effort.

* Jumping back up to the top of the app, one other thing that does intermittently drive me bananas about the app is, when you put in a bill you get a dropdown where you select how often it should recur, but then it... doesn't recur. You have to manually put in the next occurrence. It's still a handy list of upcoming bills, but I actually had to resort to my phone calendar (which properly handles recurring events) to get a good visual on future months' bills.

* And because there is nowhere to put in your projected income and get a nice projection of "On X date you will have $XX in your bank account", or even better a daily graph of your expected cash flow so that you can see "yeah don't put that $300 in savings you'll need it for rent in two weeks", I've been reduced to, as mentioned above, manual daily projections through the end of the year using my phone calculator, phone calendar, Google Docs, and eventually my damn iPad drawing app (came with a Bluetooth stylus I never got working) because I couldn't find any physical graph paper.

* So. Um. Summary. I guess it's a good app? It's very sleek, it has nice charts and graphs and a good interface. But it thinks you can do a lot more with it than you can actually do. Its main uses for me are probably going to boil down to "stop forgetting bills" (the rolling list format works a lot better for my brain than the phone calendar format, even if I do have to re-enter data every time I mark a bill paid) and "finally figure out how much I spend on food really".

[zukofenty]

day 25: mona lisa

➜ Summary: The one where Zuko and Katara make a pact to (fake) rush Asian Greek life because they were giving out free tacos.

“Whoever becomes an official sorority sister or frat brother wins!”

“Can the prize be health insurance?” Zuko doesn’t have the energy to muster his patented glare.

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, FratBrother!Zuko, SororityGirl!Katara, scamming, dildo stealing 

➜ Words: 6.6k

➜ Warnings: they stay in an airbnb instead of a hotel bc who has the schmoney for a hotel room😩

AO3, @zutaramonth hi!!!

Zuko’s grabbing at Katara’s arm while she’s carefully sipping water (only water, she swears) out of a red solo cup. She’s in her “whore fit” (her words) with larger than life fake eyelashes that could propel her into the sky a la Icarus if she blinked a little too quickly. She was in the middle of readjusting her crop top for the umpteenth time that night, because of course she forgets her strapless bra chicken cutlet contraption at home, so of course she does the most reasonable thing and takes a regular bra and just tucks the straps in. Because as much as she is a proponent of #freethenipple, her nipples could probably slice open a radiator with how fucking cold Ba Sing Se was. 

 “Please take this shot for me,” Zuko reasons with her, trying to make it seem as though he was handing off a shot to a clueless lightweight sorority rushee he was hoping to nail later in the night. For reputation’s sake, Zuko could not afford to fuck up tonight. He was in too deep. “Please, my Pepsin hasn’t kicked in yet. Asian glow is not the look we’re going for tonight.”

 “I hate you.” Katara munches on her (free) taco, and effortlessly throws back the shot: no chase. Zuko looks back and sees active members of Pi Alpha Psi giving him a thumbs up, hooting, hollering, being dumb. One salaciously thrusts his hips to the beat of “Big Bank,” pathetically hoping he could emulate YG in support of Zuko supposedly getting some Deltas pussy. 

 Asian Greek life was fucking stupid. 

 Tonight was the night of the Deltas Sorority and Pi Alpha Psi Fraternity rush party, the most important party so far during rush week. Because Greek life was entirely stupid , of course they had to hold the fucking party on a Tuesday night, when Zuko had an econ pratice set to get done by midnight, and Katara needed to get to Ochem at 8am the next morning. It was their fault, really. A punishment from God herself (Rihanna) for trying to scam the Greek system. 

 It all started because Zuko and Katara had no fucking friends. 

 Besides each other, but that was also up for debate most days. Especially the days when Zuko would remind Katara whenever her foundation didn’t blend down her neck. He always thought he was being helpful. Katara’s long given up the urge to slit his throat. 

 After high school, when you still believed you were going to do something with your life and be important and make a difference and didn’t know about income tax, they had kept the dream of Ba Sing Se University alive while they attended community college. Uncle Iroh and Hakoda weren’t exactly rolling in tuition money, and financial aid was a stingy bitch. While Zuko had considered reaching out to his estranged father, the owner of a multi billion dollar pyramid scheme, he suddenly remembers the time his dad tried to burn his face off after a particularly heated episode of Maury , and then books another therapy appointment. 

 It was the top university in the nation, promising a gateway to accounting jobs and selling your soul to work for immoral tech companies to pay off your student loans in a timely manner. They had prayed for the day they could call the school home. The day they could leave their small town and finally make it in life. Katara and Zuko were inseparable growing up, even if at the surface they bumped heads. They were at each other’s throats whenever the going got tough, slinging petty insults at each other. 

 “I told you this was a bad idea. They don’t have fucking non-dairy options. Wait until my anus starts beatboxing in the bathroom in 20 minutes. Then you will see,” Zuko grumbled. Katara was always doing this, dragging their group of friends to “fun” places whenever Yelp sends her a notification a new restaurant opened up in their shithole of a town. It’s always some boba shop that was secretly a front for a Scientology cult’s money laundering scheme. 

 But Katara’s the only one who is able to scare Zuko (dairy induced) shitless. She’s always able to send him a glare that screams don’t you dare fuck with me, I know you masturbate to Hatsune Miku moan compilations. And he instantly starts sweating .

 At the same time, she was the only one to truly get him. Even if their friends were perfectly content to stay in their town, doing the same things, being the same people, Katara and Zuko always knew there was so much more out there. So much more to the world than what they had grown up in. So they kept the dream alive. Even if their friends had rightfully doubted them. No one made it out of their town. You find a partner from the same people you grew up with, have kids you grow to hate, hide your husband’s infidelity, and either choose from two options. Grow old with him and resent him and then have a kid to try to save the marriage. Or, go Gone Girl on his ass. 

 “Women really need to go back to poisoning their men. Like the good old days,” Katara’s eyes were narrowed into slits as she focused on taking clandestine photos of Mrs. Kim’s cheating, rat-faced husband. For a few months, she was under the tutelage of the town’s private investigator, June. It paid well, and she felt she was contributing to the feminist movement at the same time. 

 “Uh-huh, right,” Zuko eyed her warily. Dubbed lovingly “Katara’s Uber Driver,” he also got paid by June to drive the Nyla Mobile around during their late night ops. 

 He couldn’t wait to leave this shit fuck of a town. 

 While their friends and family were tearfully embracing them on their final days at home, a patented group hug forced upon them, they shared a secret smile. Their dream was coming true. They were going to a school in the city with minimized debt. Plus, though neither of them would ever admit it, they also had each other to rely on.

 //

 “What the fuck do you need? I swear to Rihanna, you only text me when I’m trying to masturbate. Please, make other friends,” Katara nearly screams into the phone. Her roommate, Suki, groans at the volume coming from Katara’s side of the room, but doesn’t get up. Her stomach is still sensitive from the Blue Razz Four Loko she downed at some frat house Katara had to drag her back from. 

 Zuko had the decency to sound sheepish. “What are you doing tomorrow?” 

 “I hope you understand, I am too tense right now to pretend I like you. Go. Make. Friends.” 

 Because Zuko is a fucking child , he starts groaning and Katara could hear him petulantly slamming his Amazon memory foam mattress with his fist. He’ll get angry that the mattress is preventing any real satisfaction from hitting it, and then hit it a few (approximately 3) more times. She hears the pounds, and smirks. She doesn’t know whether or not to feel disturbed that she knows him so well. 

 “I miss you,” he whines.  

 “I don’t.” 

 Zuko gasps dramatically. “How could you say that? Sandbox love never dies!” He wants to yell into the darkness of his room when she hangs up on him. It was valid, of course. But that doesn’t mean his feelings can’t hurt. He’s always sensitive during the Mercury Retrograde. 

 Being a transfer student is hard, as much as he hates to admit it. There’s only two years to pad your resume and make lifelong friends and learn how much cocaine is too much cocaine for your body. College was hard. While Katara’s roommate was able to introduce her to people and Katara made a group of friends almost instantly, Zuko wasn’t nearly as pleasant to be around. It wasn’t his fault he was nervous . When he’s nervous he looks more mean than usual, and his roommate, Jet, was wary around him since the day he moved in. He couldn’t even be mad when he spotted Jet hiding his box cutter’s accessibility. 

 “Katara!” Zuko rolls his eyes at her lack of response. “Katara!” He repeats. “I know you’re just listening to “Like a G6” on a 10 hour loop. Don’t pretend to look so concentrated.” 

 She glares at him. “Let me have this one thing to myself.” She still begrudgingly takes out her airpods.

 “No.” 

 Katara wants to throttle his long ass neck. “Zuko, be honest with me.” 

 “Ok, yes! When you put your hair in a ponytail you look like a cage free egg.” Zuko stares at her in confusion when she starts playing with her hair. “What are you doing?” 

 “I’m trying to hand over my wig. You fucking scalped me, and I had nothing to say back. Just take it. You deserve it.” He smacks her hands from messing with her hair. Other patrons in the cafe near campus glanced over in amusement, as Katara pokes him in the neck and he yelps. 

 While he rubs at his neck to lessen the sting from Katara’s acrylics, she worries at her lip. “Be honest. Do you think Suki hates me?” 

 “Yes.” 

 Katara slams a hand on the table, causing his croissant to quake in fear. “You’re supposed to be comforting and trying to console me! Do it over, say no.” 

 “No.” 

 “Zuko, do you know how close I am to biting your nipple right off?” 

 He rolls his eyes. Katara specialized in empty threats (most of the time). “Don’t get mad at me just because Suki refuses to talk to you.” He relishes in her frustration. “Again, whose fault is it that Suki has to go to court for reckless driving?”

 “She was the one at the wheel!” Katara throws her hands to the air, before petulantly slapping them into her thighs, for emphasis of her point.

 Zuko pinches his nose bridge. “Well, you were the one who convinced her that she shit herself!” 

 Katara takes a neat, clean sip from her iced coffee before calmly responding. “She was the one doing 88 in a 65 trying to get to the bathroom. How was I supposed to know she did anal the day before and it was just cum!” 

 Zuko smacks his forehead in frustration after seeing identical blushes on the sea of patrons, now very much intune with the turn of the conversation. “You really don’t know how to act in public, do you? Like you think all the shit coming out of your mouth is important enough for it to just be said. You couldn’t have let that be a passing thought? Or learn how to fucking whisper?” 

 Katara sighs, closing her eyes and folding her hands over each other, because she’s dramatic. “All I had today for lunch was lip gloss. Let me be.” 

 “Again, if you, I don’t know, learned how to apologize to someone and admit you’re wrong then maybe Suki wouldn’t have hidden all your stress snacks. And, I don’t know. Maybe if you knew how to say ‘sorry’ she wouldn’t hate your fucking guts.” Katara simply turns her head into the air at Zuko’s words, refusing to acknowledge them. He’s itching to take a hit of his Phix with how on edge he was, and then remembers Katara had sold it on the school Facebook sell and exchange page as revenge. Apparently, Katara snaps if you send her one too many Tom Holland and Nicki Minaj fanfiction stories. Not that he’s speaking from personal experience. “You know what, you’re almost as stubborn as Wendy Williams when she refuses to pronounce Dua Lipa’s name correctly.” 

 She petulantly swivels her gaze to Zuko, nose still pointed to the sky. “Dula Peep is iconic for that reason.” She breathes out, letting her body go lax. “Please, shut the fuck up. I’m sad. Why would she leave me alone in the middle of the Mercury Retrograde like this? I didn’t think she hated me that much.” She drops her defensive stance, and rolls her shoulders, eyes focused only on the table. “I thought, what we had. It was real friendship you know? I made a joint for her using the orientation leader recruitment flyers because we were out of rolling papers. That’s true love. That’s sisterhood.” 

 //

 “Please, I can’t poop right now! I can’t poop when I’m scared. I’m poop shy!” 

 Zuko audibly groaned. “Then why the fuck would you take a shit at my apartment? Yours is literally a 4 minute walk away, according to motherfucking Google Maps. 5 minutes if you use Apple Maps.” 

 “I don’t know, ok! I saw the baby wipes and I just kinda went with the flow, sue me!” Damnit, she knew she tasted real milk in her strawberry banana smoothie. God, the price of being ethnic in this dairy filled world. 

 “I called you over here to explain the plan! So I don’t bother you mid masturbation! And you just had to take a dump, didn’t you? On the plan, and my fucking toilet, too!” 

 She was weary after her back to back classes from 9-5 when Zuko excitedly called her up to come to his place. As much of a bitch baby Zuko could be, Katara tries to visit his place as much as she can. His apartment was just upgraded, meaning he had a state of the art microwave. One that doesn’t third degree burn her ham and cheese Hot Pockets, but rather cooks them perfectly to the tune of the package instructions, and makes them all fluffy and culinary excellence. Plus, he lives further from the heroin infested park she lived right next to, meaning his building smelt like a Clinique cosmetics counter (or: old lady) rather than pure urine like hers. And he didn’t have to run home in fear of being chased. 

 Besides, he’s all she’s got right now. He explained his plan as the roof of her mouth is assaulted by the gooey cheese of the Hot Pocket. Zuko eagerly handed over the flyers that were shoved into his hands as he was walking to campus. 

 “Do you see the funds these bitches got? We have to go! We need to become part of Asian Greek life!” 

 Although Katara did enjoy seeing the copious amount of free food potential, she was skeptical. “This is all free?” 

 “Yes, oh my god! Read the damn flyer! They’re living it up while we try to fit spinach in our budget to buy White Claw. Free alc, and free tacos! C’mon, we don’t even have to get into the sorority or frat. Just go through the rush process, and try to get as much free food as possible.” Zuko sits on his bed beside her, and even shakes her by the shoulders for emphasis. She swats his hands away while he chuckles.

 Katara side eyes him. “Aren’t you already behind on your lectures? I don’t know, do we really want to waste time doing this?”

 Zuko sends her a sheepish smile, but grabs her hand. For reassurance purposes, of course. “It’s just one week. Let’s just let loose. Maybe we could walk away from this with a few friends. So I don’t bother you mid beating your meat.” Katara can’t help but laugh. 

 On the first night, she was nervous. Zuko was clearly his indifferent self, but deep down she knew he was scared, too. Katara and Zuko weren’t exactly Greek life material . 

 “They thought you were hot, that’s why they flyered you!” Katara yelps while digging through his closet. Zuko ignores the blush growing on his face. “Let’s find a fit that emphasizes that bad boy aesthetic.” 

Katara never did anything half assed. That’s why if they were going to play hot, ignorant Asian Greek lifers, they were going to be the goddamn best. Academy Award nominated and then played by Scarlett Johansson in a biopic type of acting. 

 “What’s wrong with what I usually wear? Is the leather jacket not, quote unquote, bad boy enough?” Zuko runs his hands through his shaggy hair, which Katara had encouraged him to not style. She’d never admit it, but maybe her sexual awakening coincided with Zuko growing his hair out. Maybe. 

 “Yeah, yeah. Maybe to Tumblr , but not for fuckboys.” She groans because of course Zuko has good fashion taste. Maybe him being hot helps with how clothes looked, but they all screamed fashion and not basic fuckboy . Which was the vibe of the night. “God, do you have the entire Forever 21 Black t shirt aisle in here?” 

 Before he could retort, Zuko’s interrupted by Jet coming into their room to grab his dumb Hydroflask. It’s dumb because it’s so goddamn big, for no good reason. 

 “Hey, Katara,” Jet is smirking. Ew . 

 Zuko feels jealousy, the type that makes your body grow all hot and makes you want to punch a mattress and Jet’s pleasantly symmetrical face. God, why is he so fucking pretty? He reminds himself that Katara was entirely off limits , and schools his face. He gets these types of pangs of envy once in a while, usually during the Mercury Retrograde. Ever since they were kids, he knew Katara was going to be in his life forever. He wasn’t about to fuck that up. Not with emotions or anything. 

 “Hey, Jet!” Katara chirps. She couldn’t help it, her pussy is weak for pretty men. She knew that look on his face. The eyes that roamed her body clad in the tight top and jeans that made sure her ass looked like she paid for it. Thank you, Fashionnova. 

 He gives her a hot guy half hug, and she’s melting. Calm down, girl Katara warns her pussy. “See you around. Zuko, I’m going to Target, do you need anything?”

 Zuko frowns at the sight of a fangirling Katara. “Nope.” Jet nods, and even offers up a smile. He hates that he smiles back. 

 Katara swoons. She flops on Zuko’s bed, eyes all dreamy and starry. “That’s the vibe you need to give off!” 

 “What, that I have HPV?” 

 “Exactly! See, that’s the type of fuckboy you need to be. You can have the same pussy clenching effect with the right, basic clothes. You’re hot, and you have a badass scar. You just need a striped Guess shirt and white Nike Air Force 1s to complete the getup.” 

 So, Zuko digs through his closet from his hypebeast phase to find a pair of white sneakers (“Reeboks aren’t basic enough!” Katara protests) and borrows the Guess shirt from Katara, and they were ready to scam.

 Fuck. The damn tacos. And then it was all you can eat Korean food. Then it was free avant garde ice cream at that one place that cost you an ovary to even sample the vanilla bean flavor. 

 The first night of rushing, all you can eat Korean food, and they were already putting on the pounds. 

 “ Holy fucking cheese dick! I think I gained the weight of a Kardashian ass filler in just today alone! I can’t breathe. Zuko, hold up.” She puts her hand out, halting their walk back to her place. “I need to unbutton my pants.” She had one too many plates of kimchi spam fried rice.

 Zuko burps graciously. Goddamn kimbap. He swallowed that shit whole, choking a few times throughout the night. “Me fucking too! Oh my god, I can’t breathe.” 

 “In through your nose. Out with your dairy shits.” 

 As soon as they got back to her apartment, they immediately reached for Lactaid, and then went over the events of the night. 

 “What do you think of Ty Lee? All the guys were drooling over her,” Zuko asks. Katara ditched her elaborate makeup, scrubbing her face clean and was in one of Zuko’s t shirts he’s long given up trying to get back from her. She’s twirling an expensive mechanical pencil between her fingers, the kind that has super precise lead and matches her pencil case and laptop. For the aesthetic. 

 “She’s the type of bitch to eat salt and vinegar chips at 9 in the morning.” 

 “What’s the difference between girls who eat salt and vinegar chips in the morning, and girls who eat Hot Cheetos in the morning?” Zuko’s scratching at his head, brain still foggy from all the Doritos he’s practically inhaled. He’s topless, and has one of the many sweats he leaves behind at Katara’s because their sleepovers were some of his favorite memories growing up. Even if they have to squeeze Zuko’s six foot tall ass in twin beds now. 

 “One has class. The other needs therapy.” 

 He squints from his spot at her desk, typing interrupted to push up his round glasses. “I see.” 

 “I saw you really hit it off with Mai,” Katara made sure to keep her voice even. “She was really into you.” 

 Zuko whips his head around to her. “Really?” He yelps. “Stay out of my business!” Katara throws her hands up in mock surrender. “...Did she say anything about me?” 

 “She said she was so tired of medium ugly frat brothers and that you showing up sent her cooch into anaphylactic shock,” Katara deadpans.

 “Really!” Zuko’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

 “No, she just said you were handsome. And then I told her ‘don't call him handsome unless he's about to hand some money over,’ and then she laughed and then thirst followed you on Instagram.” 

 Zuko scrambles to check his phone. “Oh my god, she’s so cute,” he whispers, eyes enraptured by her Instagram feed. Katara rolls her eyes when he jumps into her bed, knocking her work aside to shove his greasy iPhone 6s in her face. 

 Katara slaps it right out of his hand. “Ugh, not the 6s.” 

 Zuko practically melts. “You said she thinks I’m hot, right?” Katara pokes at a man tit before curling up at his side. 

 “You’re annoying.” 

 Zuko grabs Katara's hand, playing with the tiny fingers. “I’m adorable.” 

 She snorts. “You know, we should make a pact. If we’re getting this invested into the whole process. Whoever becomes an official sorority sister or frat brother wins!”  

 “Can the prize be health insurance?” Zuko doesn’t have the energy to muster his patented glare with Katara cozied up next to him. 

 //

 The second night, ice cream night, and Katara was slipping. 

 “What do you usually look for in a guy?” 

 “I usually just look away,” Katara admits, shrugging. She doesn’t forget to plaster a well practiced, non threatening smile on her face. 

 “Preferred places for guys to cum?” Another sorority girl asks. Other rushees are nodding enthusiastically, carefully preparing their answers. 

 “To his senses,” Katara huffs. 

 “I usually like a backshot!” Ty Lee says enthusiastically, despite the other sisters eyeing Katara warily. Ty Lee insisted that Katara would be a good fit for the sorority. She looked like the only one on her side.

 While the girls were excitedly dancing along to the music playing in the shop, Katara’s eye twitches. It was the feminist in her. “If you still like Chris Brown, you’re ugly,” Katara is adamant, not relenting despite the incredulous, wide eye stares from the gaggle of sorority girls. 

 “Well, I guess I’m ugly then!” Mai yelps, hands crossed over her chest defiantly. 

 Katara smiles carefully. “You sure are, bitch!” 

 Fuck Katara was messing this up. She needed to make sure that they were convinced Katara was sorority girl material to move onto the next level of the secret invite only event. Fuck, fuck, fuck . 

 She wasn’t about to let Zuko win at anything!

 Mai squints at her. “Are you a clit being handled by a frat brother? Because you’re really rubbing me the wrong way.”

 Ty Lee gasps. “Please excuse her, Indica makes her grumpy.” 

 Katara glares. “None taken.” 

 She likes Ty Lee, that much she’s gathered. And, it seems as though Ty Lee had grown to like her back, making sure Katara gets enough ice cream throughout the night, even turning her head when Katara pulls out a Tupperware from her backpack to bring back the dessert to her apartment. 

 That was until Ty Lee remembered she had a flask hidden up her skirt, a necessity post fuckboy cheats on you .  “I-I just called to say I don’t miss you! And that your dick smells like a stapler that has been microwaved for 25 seconds. Like, you can block me all you want. But you can’t uneat this ass. Sorry, I don’t make the rules!” Katara does damage control, and dutifully snatches the phone from her hands.

 Crossing her arms like a mother disciplining her child, she levels Ty Lee with a concerned look. “What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

 Ty Lee gets up and stumbles on her way to hug Katara. “I can’t leave him! I love him so, so much. He’s my fucking ride or die, the Quavo to my Saweetie! The pitchy singing to my Selena Gomez! The Marlene to my Rosa! The badly glued fake eyelashes to my Asian sorority girl,” Ty Lee is crying and loud and her anime like tits are bouncing with every sob that comes. 

 Katara takes the flask of peach vodka from her trembling hands, and shakes the girl. “Look, bitch. You’re better than this.” 

 “No, I’m really not!” 

 Katara pokes the girl in the forehead. “Yes, bitch you definitely are. You’re a bad bitch that got adicktated. But that’s ok.” She tilts the red faced girl’s head back, making sure the cup of water goes down her throat. “So what if you fell in love a little? You’re in your bag bitch, you don’t need provolone smelling dick to dicktate your life!” 

 She rubs at her snot filled nose, and then wipes her fist on her mini skirt. “You really think so?” 

 “Bitch, I know so . Go be a slut, forget about Chan’s ass flake. Now hand over your phone. Drunk yelling over the phone is not the move for the night.” The other active Deltas sisters were running back from a group bathroom visit, after realizing it was Ty Lee’s bad decisions o’ clock . They came back to see the chastised girl determindly eating Ube flavored ice cream, without a phone to do dumb shit in her hands. Mai can’t help but start liking Katara. 

 //

 The third night, and it’s the Deltas Sorority and Pi Alpha Psi Fraternity rush party, the most important party so far during rush week. IT was a slam fucking dunk. They had gotten catering from everybody’s favorite taco place at the Pi Alpha Psi frat house. And a fucking DIY boba bar. A boba bar! A goddamn boba bar. Katara had a ziplock baggie filled with the tapioca pearls in her left jean pocket. 

 All Deltas rushees were meant to be socializing with Pi Alpha Psi brothers. The active sisters were trying to see who were the classy whores in the group. They didn’t want admitted whores, just subtle ones. After fending off another medium ugly brother from trying to stare at her tits, Katara corners Zuko, who hands her another shot to take for him. “Why was that guy dressed like an uninvolved father?” 

 “What’s that supposed to look like?” 

 “Sweaty, and smells vaguely of disappointment.” 

 Zuko coughs. “I’m sad that hit way too close to home.” 

 Katara looks devastated for a split second, until Zuko starts laughing at his own joke. Then, she smacks him upside the head. “You know, you should be thankful for me. I got you looking exactly like a Pi Alpha Psi brother. Even down to the shoes.” Katara glares ahead. “God, I hate that we have to wear shoes on in this house. I hate looking at Haru’s Black Air Force 1s. Anything but those. Anything but those .” 

//

 The fourth night and they had successfully scammed the Greek system. 

 “Zuko!” Katara screams, bursting through his door without preamble. “Look what Ty Lee sent—wait a minute. What the fuck are you doing?” She pauses in shoving the phone in his face to see him face down in his calculus textbook. 

 “I’m trying to find a natural way to stay focused.” 

 Katara crosses her arms. “Have you considered adderall?” 

 Zuko snorts, clearly annoyed. “That’s literally prescription meth.” 

 “And what about it?” She slams her body, face first into his bed. “‘ Hey get ready tomorrow because we have an exclusive, invite only clubbing invite and the girls and I really really want you to come! ’” Katara reads the Instagram message verbatim from her phone, her chest swelling with unbridled pride. “I deserve an Academy Award.” 

 Zuko plops his body right on top of hers, relishing in how she groans under his added weight. “Run me my Golden Globe because according to Chan, my ‘ass better be ready to get nasty at Club Nyla .’” 

 “Shut the booger sugar up!” 

 So (on a Thursday night ) Katara and Zuko crowd in the party bus the generous Asian Greek system had funded in the name of “cultural bonding.” She can barely breathe, tits pushed in the most fuckable way possible, and she feels her face heating from the shots forced down her throat because her (potential) sisters had insisted on heavily pregaming. 

 While the frat brothers were perfectly content to sitting and not making any sort of movement whatsoever in the name of looking cool , the girls on the other hand were having the time of their lives. 

 “Oh my fucking god, for the last time Ty Lee, I cannot join the grind train, I do not have mental stability to keep my balance and shake my ass at the same time,” Katara lightly chastises, shoving the drunk girl gently off of her. Ty Lee simply shrugs, and then continues to gyrate on the gaggle of girls. The music was pounding, everyone was sweating from the amount of unrestrained dancing happening, and Katara’s pretty sure some girl just bruised her pussy after accidentally smacking it (hard) on the bus’s stripper poles. Disco lights bathe the entirety of the vehicle, enveloped in the screams and squeals of Asian girls trying to twerk and scream along to lyrics at the same time. 

 It was pure fucking chaos. But so goddamn fun . The girls kept constantly grabbing her hips in an attempt to yike on her helpless ass, which Katara abruptly stopped by flicking off their hands. All to the tune of “The Box” by Roddy Rich. 

 “Let me hear everyone loud and clear! ‘Fuck 12!’” Katara screams to a crowd of bewildered frat brothers. 

 “Katara, no,” Zuko’s laughing too hard, the alcohol making him feel lightheaded. Heavy rap music permeated the walls of the bus, and he feels a headache building. But he feels a little better seeing Katara having fun, nearly choking to death after taking a hit from some brother’s joint. 

 “Don’t laugh, I don’t smoke that often!” She insists. 

 Zuko throws his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close to him. “If you die, at least it was in a party bus while Travis Scott was playing.” 

 “I’d rather die in an Acura!” Katara yelps, getting up in mock frustration. While Zuko is simply losing his mind at her attitude, she accidentally stumbles as the bus comes to an abrupt stop, and lands in Zuko’s lap. 

 She’s chortling, moving about to get up. Zuko tries his hardest not to let his heart pound impossibly loud. 

 After IDs were checked, and a Drake song was forcibly requested by the obnoxious group of frat brothers, the clubbing event was in full swing. Yet, it paled in comparison to the fun and chaotic energy of the party bus. Frat brothers were attempting to dance, Asian girls were trying their hardest to twerk. 

 Katara is doing her duty as the most sober one out of the bunch and pushes random guys away before they could grab at her sisters’ hips. “You know, God gives flat asses to his strongest soldiers,” she mumbles, lips dangerously close to his ear. They were sitting down in the private seating area near the dance floor, exhausted beyond belief and watching the sorority girls’ attempts at clapping what little cheeks they did have. 

 Ty Lee clumsily grabs at Katara, screaming about having to piss and call her ex. Her cue to save the day. She gives Zuko an apologetic look, and whispers “I’m gonna win” before grabbing Ty Lee’s hand. 

 While he’s checking on his Neko Atsume cats, Chan’s Pepto Bismal smelling self is sidling up to his side. “Bro, you should fuck her. She’s got amazing tits.” 

 Zuko smirks, before schooling his features. That was already an observation he made when he was 16. Nice try, fuckboy. Chan continues, not caring if Zuko responds to him. “Pound that pussy like rent is due tomorrow! You have to get at that big, fat, moose sized pussy at the Airbnb we’re headed to after this.”

  Ty Lee is blubbering, snot running freely down her face as though she was a 5 year old at Chuck E. Cheese realizing they didn’t have enough tickets to afford a beaded necklace. “Every time he goes down on me, it feels like my pussy’s getting colonized. Is that what love is supposed to feel like.” 

 Katara paused in rubbing her back. “Oh my god.” 

 Ty Lee grabs at Katara’s shoulders, toilet and unsteady stomach forgotten. “Please, for the sake of the female population. Fuck Zuko. We need to know if he’s packing that schmeat.”

 Katara gasps. “No fucking way, we’re just friends!” 

 The inebriated girl clutches Katara’s face in between her sweaty palms, lowering her voice in a volume she thinks counted as a whisper. It was more of a scream than anything else. “We always try to get the hottest rushees to fuck each other at the Airbnb. Then, you’ll definitely make it into Deltas. Because if anyone deserves to throw that neck back on Zuko, it’s you.” 

 “Well gee, thanks. I’m touched.” 

 //

 “Moan harder! Don’t sound like I’m forcing you to fuck me! This isn’t no 90 Day Fiance shit! I thought you were an actor. Where is the commitment to the craft? You sound like you’re a dying tractor. Do better!” Katara continues jumping on the bed, trying to emulate a good old fucking. Zuko breathes in, before an unrestrained groan comes from his lips. Katara’s cooch instantly quakes.

 Their shoes were off, at her insistence, sheets already strewn about to make it believable. She could hear the snickering behind the door she’s triple checked to make sure it was locked and unable to be seen through the keyhole, her thong shoved in front of it to ensure their privacy.  

 “Zuko, Zuko, Zuko!” she pants, makine her voice sound as fucked out as possible. “I can’t!” 

 He continues smacking his arm, trying his best to replicate the sound of cheeks being clapped. “Baby, yes you can. You’re taking me like a fucking champ.” 

 Katara almost couldn’t hold back her giggle. This was all so fucking ridiculous. Taken straight out of a Larry smut scene. But they had a job to finish, a lifestyle they needed to live out, a pact to win. She whines, he lets out a moan. They bite their fist before they lost their minds and ruined the scam. She could imagine the title to their terrible porn video: college girl takes BEC (big emo cock). 

 “So, so good!” Katara made sure to make her voice sound as strained as possible, jumping even harder on the mattress. Zuko is ashamed to say his dick twitched in his pants the slightest. “So goddamn big. I feel so full!” 

 “Thanks for thinking I have a big dick,” he mutters, before letting out another wanton cry. 

 “Please be quiet!” Her little faux whimpers are simply killing Zuko, a blush creeping on his neck. He may or may not be jerking off to a sound now burned in his memory. 

 “Ready for the grand finale?” Zuko’s bewildered, pausing in his erratic jumping on the mattress. Katara jumps as hard as she can three times, before landing a punch square into Zuko’s stomach. It’s unexpected, and he doubles over, wheezing and pathetically gasping for air. 

 “Baby, cum in me!” Katara mewls, a devious smile on her face. 

 Zuko frowns, rubbing at his sore stomach. “Really? You’re that invested in this role? You would hurt your bestest friend in this world?” 

 “Shut up! Let me bully you.”

 They leave the room, ensuring their hair looked as disheveled as possible, clothes put on backwards, and Katara’s lip gloss smeared across his face. It tasted like Starbursts and scams. 

 The pair were suddenly enveloped in violent cheers. Muscled frat brothers were taking their beefy arms and slapping Zuko’s chest in celebration. Zuko could see Katara blushing, acting bashful and even tucking a strand of hair behind her ear for emphasis. He rolls his eyes, and deftly decided his heart was indeed forever stolen by the bat shit crazy bitch. 

 “My man!” Chan howls, grabbing Zuko in a signature bro hug. “Any other Deltas you want to raw dog tonight?” 

 Zuko’s gaze was focused on Katara’s smiling face. “This dick belongs to one woman.” 

 //

 They sorority and fraternity wearily climbed back into the party bus in the wee hours of the morning, needing to make the trek back in time for classes. Everyone was to stop by the Psi Alpha Psi house to collect their stuff, and then make their way home. 

 Zuko’s nodding off, too tired to continue breathing when Katara pokes him expertly in the arm. “What?” 

 “We’re going to steal the house trophy when we get back.” 

 He gasps. “Not Beatrice.” 

 “Yes, Beatrice!” 

 “Why do you want a $9 dildo from Amazon anyways?” 

 Katara sighs. “I overheard them this morning. The Deltas and Psi Alpha Psi. They were running through photos of girls and guys that rushed that didn’t make it through the process. And they were so fucking mean , Zuko. Like I almost cried, and they didn’t even roast my ass. Like Co-Star level bullying. They don’t deserve Beatrice. We do.” 

 “So, bet’s off?” He cracks his knuckles in anticipation. She simply nods. 

 //

 “You bitch. You didn’t have to slam me so fucking hard!” Katara reprimands. Zuko silences her with a passionate kiss that has every emotion she could possibly feel tingling throughout her whole body. She’s pushed up against the fireplace, clutching the wall behind her as though finding something to grind her against Zuko’s fiery passion. They were simply mimicking the rest of the group coming back, girls pressed against the frat brothers, trying to make the most of their remaining high instead of heading to class. 

 They pause to take a breath of air, (they could hear Mai mock gagging in the back) before sending each other a secret nod. 

 “You feel that pucker in your asshole? You know shit’s about to get real,” Katara says in a low voice. 

 Zuko’s slamming her against the fireplace once more, this time Katara’s hand now finding contact with Beatrice herself. In a flash she’s shoving the phallic toy in her jacket, sprinting for the door. 

 Chan, eagle eyed as ever, and experienced in the art of recognizing dildo thievery, instantly shoves Ty Lee off his lap. “Don’t you dare take the fucking house trophy, bitch!” He barely finishes his sentence, before he’s shoved to the ground by an enthusiastic Zuko, who grabs Katara’s hand and breaks into a run. 

 They run, run, run until they reach Zuko’s apartment, collapsing on the patch of fake grass at the front of the building. He still has his hand intertwined with hers, her other hand having a vice like grip on the sex toy. 

 “You know what, I don’t care about making other friends. You’re all I need.” 

 “I know.” Katara can’t stop the smile from growing on her face. 

[themoonandotherslikeit]

What the Rain Can’t Wash Away - Epilogue

*FINAL PART TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES SERIES*

Sixteen years after Lucifer rose, and Dean lost his wife he finds himself with a teenager, a Nephilim, an angel, and his brother living out a Full House rerun with some seriously dark undertones. How will he be able to raise his daughter, fight monsters, and deal with the loss of the love of his life? Sometimes moving on is the hardest part, but with the Winchester’s there’s always something harder around the corner. Isn’t there?

"No doubt.. Endings are hard, but then again.. nothing ever really ends, does it??"

Seven Months Later

Dean

The bar was busy, bustling. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of everything, but I was starting to get the hang of it. Deep breaths, focus on a specific sound, and block out the rest. It wasn’t always easy, but it was damn effective. 

Things were calm, for once in my life. It still felt wrong, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop-- jokes on me, though, because it already did. Sometimes there just isn’t another shoe. Most people have only two feet, and I’ve had about a million fall on my head throughout the years. Maybe it is really over, at least that’s what Ave keeps saying. 

“Dean.” 

I’d recognize the voice anywhere, and at the sound of it I reached under the bar for the beer I’d been saving, and I tossed it to him. There wasn’t a crash so I had to assume that Sam still had good hand-eye coordination. Well, better than mine at least. “Sammy. Back from the hunt already?” 

“It was a milk run.” I could hear the grin in his voice. He was a proud fucker. He loved the hunt, and I couldn’t fault him for that. Sometimes I missed it, but mostly I didn’t. The squeak of his favorite bar stool told me he sat down. Guess he was planning on staying awhile. 

“Cas with you?’

“He went back to the bunker to check on the kids.” 

“They probably aren’t there. It’s summer. Can’t hardly keep tabs on them anymore.”

“Who does that sound like?” 

I laughed and shook my head, leaning on the bar. “Shut up, Sammy. Guess this is what I deserve, huh? After all I put Dad through.” 

“Yeah, man,” Sam said softly, reaching out and touching my arm. “It is. You seem good.” 

Sometimes I tried to remember what Sam looked like. Every day was harder. It all seemed so fuzzy, and I wasn’t sure what I was making up or what was true. 

“I am good,” I said, and it wasn’t even a lie. “Bar is doing great.” 

“I can tell! You’ve got a lot of business.” 

“We’re holding our own.” 

Sam was still in the life, and he came and went a lot, but he always ended up back home. That was all that mattered. 

“Where’s Ave?” 

“She ran to get limes. We were out.”

“So she’s not sick of you yet?” 

“Quit grinning, Sammy,” I said with a laugh. A familiar warmth grew in my gut as Ava’s face popped into my head-- well what I could remember of it. “Nah, she’s not tired of me yet.” 

“You made it, man.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Excuse me? Can I get some service down here?” A voice called from the end of the bar. 

“Be right back,” I said to my brother, shaking my head. “Duty calls.” 

I slid down to the end of the bar in front of the girl calling for me. I leaned in toward her. “How can I help you?” 

“How about a glass of red.” 

“How about a soda,” I retorted with a smile. “Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I’m blind. 

She reached forward and grabbed my head, illuminating my vision. Eleanor sat in front of me, my own patented grin painted on her lips. “Hey, Dad.” 

“Hey kiddo. What brings you around?”

“Going to take Claire on a date,” she said, blushing a bit. “And I missed you. Where’s Mom?” 

“Getting limes.”

Seeing her never got old. When she touched my hand it was like she turned the light on. She was happy, glowing, literally. I was proud of her. 

“Ah, maybe I’ll catch her before the movie.” 

I couldn’t stop staring at her. There weren't many things in the world that I loved more than looking at her. 

“Dean, I’m back.” 

I sat up straighter, turning toward the door. “El, can I--” 

It was like she clicked on global vision, and I was seeing the whole bar through her eyes. The door opening, and in the midst of the afternoon crowd my beautiful wife came in, arms full of a bag of bright green limes, bouncing against her large pregnant belly. 

“Nel, you’re here,” Ave said, dropping the limes on the counter before wrapping our daughter into a hug. Ella let go of my hand to hug her mom back, clicking the lights back off for me, but the sight of Ava’s round belly was still burned into my vision like I’d stared too long at the sun. 

She was almost ready to burst at any time. We had the nursery completed upstairs, but we’d been dragging our feet moving out of the bunker. It still felt weird that Eleanor didn’t live with us. I think we felt like if we left that we would be moving on without her. We didn’t know what we were having, Ave wanted it to be a surprise, and I wanted whatever she wanted. She deserved to be happy and stress free. My job was to be the best husband possible. No Hell Hounds, no hunts, no money problems. The goal was to be happy. That was it. 

She wanted to be a stay at home mom with this one. She didn’t want to miss anything else, and that was fine with me. I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to go back to the force, but the itch is a lot easier to ignore when you aren’t faced with it everyday, at least that’s what I told myself. 

We were going away after we closed up tonight. They called it a ‘baby moon’ the last weekend away before the baby comes. I told her that we should go back to the beach, where we first started to fall in love with each other. I wouldn’t be against the sand in my toes, a classic shitty motel, the smell of the sea… 

I could remember her running out to the beach, her arms in the air, Sam and I following after her like the lovesick puppies we were. It felt like a different lifetime. I guess it kind of was. 

“Mom are you okay?” 

“What’s going on?” I asked, snapping out of my own personal day dream. 

Ave sucked in her breath, and I made my way around the bar, keeping my hand on the edge until I made it around to her. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she huffed. 

“You don’t look fine,” Ella said, suspiciously. 

“Ava, what’s happening?” I asked, touching her arm. She leaned into me immediately, and I reached down to touch her stomach. It was tight, and my eyebrows came together. “Are you having a contraction?” 

After a moment of gasping and gripping my shoulder with her hand she whispered, “Fine, yes,” breathlessly. 

“How long?”

“All morning,” she said sheepishly, letting out a pained laugh. 

“Damnit, Ave.” 

“Don’t do that,” she said dismissively. 

“Hey Sam, go get the car.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and handed it to El. “Can you get Claire to come close up shop? We’re having a baby.” 

My heart was racing. I couldn’t hide that I was excited, and fucking terrified. We didn’t have a great track record and even though this pregnancy has seemed pretty seamless, there was still a lot of risk. “Are you good, sweetheart?” I asked Ava, wrapping my arm around her. 

“Still hate that,” she gasped, another contraction racking her body. “But yeah, I’m good.” 

A honk came from out front and I put my arm under hers. “Ready?”

“It’s probably nothing, Dean… My water hasn’t even broken.” 

“Ava Winchester, just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re in pain. Let’s go get you checked out. If anything, we will just come home and watch a movie. Okay?” 

“Fine,” she huffed. Stubborn woman. 

We got in the car, Sammy was driving and Ave, and I were in the backseat. I let her lay down, and I held onto her. “I’ve got you, Ave.” 

I tried not to think much about the day that Eleanor was born. The day I missed, but as Ava writhed in pain in my lap I couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was holding her like this. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was afraid. 

She squeezed my hand tightly, pulling my arm around her. I could feel her tears on my forearm. I’d have given anything to take her pain away. “Wish I could switch places with you,” I whispered into her hair. 

“You couldn’t handle it,” she gasped out. 

She was probably right. 

We rolled up to the hospital, and they wheeled her to her room while Sam and I took care of all of the paperwork. Now that I was an official business owner, we had legitimate insurance. It was kind of weird putting our real names on the forms. 

“Is this what it was like the first time?” I asked. 

“Huh?” I could hear his pencil scribbling on the forms. 

“When Ella was born? Was this what it was like?” 

“No,” Sam said softly, his pencil stopping. “She didn’t go into labor then. She had to be induced. It was pretty scary, actually, but she did great.”

“I’m scared,” I admitted. 

“You’d be crazy not to be,” Sam said, squeezing my shoulder. 

“Thanks for being there for her the first time.” 

“You’ll do it this time. It’s pretty incredible, honestly.” 

“You think you and Eileen will ever?”

Sam exhaled and was quiet for a moment. I could hear his pencil tapping. “Doubt it. I already have two kids, basically three with Claire. Plus, I like the hunt too much. So does she.”

I smiled a bit to myself. I used to feel that way. Incredible how your perspective can change. Guess I had to lose my sight in order to truly see. 

Ava 

I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t done the baby’s laundry. We hadn’t even fully moved into the apartment. I think I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, something to change, to fall apart. I didn’t expect this. 

I was laying in a hospital bed, with my feet in the air and some nurse had her fingers probing for my cervix. I thought I was going to throw up, and all I could think about was Dean. Part of me wondered if he ran, even though he wouldn’t have to see anything traumatic. I couldn’t stop thinking about how last time I did this I was all alone. 

Except for Sam. 

Sam really was the only constant for Dean and I. We should buy him a fruit basket or cigars or name this kid after him, or something. 

The door opened, exposing Sam and Dean. If I didn’t know any better I’d think Dean was about to throw up, and Sam didn’t look much better, if I was being honest. I instinctively reached out for Dean, forgetting for a second that he couldn’t see me. It was still hard sometimes. Sam nudged him in my direction, and he found my hand easily. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, gripping me tightly. 

I looked to the nurse who smiled tentatively, removing her hand and discarding her glove. “Ava you’re about eight inches dilated. I’m going to have the OB come in and check you out, okay?” 

“Sure,” I said with a hopeful smile before turning to Dean. 

Sam had slipped out with the nurse, leaving Dean and I alone. I was appreciative of that. I moved my feet from the stirrups, because who knew how long the doctor would take, and I scooted over. “Sit,” I demanded quietly. 

He placed his hand down on the bed and felt around until he was able to sit next to me, feeling him next to me immediately relaxed me a bit. “Sammy?” He called out. 

“He ditched out. My legs being up in the air probably scared him away.” 

“Good,” Dean said with an ornery smile. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. “He should be scared.”

I laughed lightly and kissed him before wincing from another contraction. He held me against him, his face curling down into concern. Ever since his eyesight left him, Dean was even more easily readable than before. Since he couldn’t see people’s faces, it’s like he forgot that we could still see his expressions. “What?” I gasped out a bit. 

“Huh?” 

“You seem… concerned.” 

“I am concerned,” he admitted, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows came together. “The nurse she sounded… worried, I guess. Shit, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just freaking out.” 

I smiled at him warmly and touched his cheek. He was so fucking cute. The big bad Dean Winchester, single father for sixteen years, and so damn afraid. I loved him so much for it. “No freaking out allowed. I’m about to push a living being out of my vagina. You aren’t allowed to freak out.” 

“Right,” he said, his face getting serious. “Sorry, I shouldn’t do that. You need me to be strong. I should be your support here, not cause more issues.” 

“You’re okay, Dean. I’m just giving you crap.” I pulled his face to me, and I kissed him desperately. “It’s your first time.” 

“I hate that I missed Ella’s birth. I think about it a lot.” 

“I wish you were there, too.” 

A knock came to the door, and I looked toward the door. “Mrs. Winchester?” 

“That’s me.” 

“I’m going to just check you out,” Dr. Laucklan said with a warm smile. 

I frowned a bit. “Why? The nurse just did.” 

“I just want to double check. I don’t want you to be concerned.” 

Concerned. Well I was. How could I not be after she said that? Dean stood up and held my hand tightly. 

“It’s good to see you again, Dean.”

“Good to hear ya Doc,” Dean said, beaming. 

I adjusted my legs back into the stirrups and scooted to the end of the table. 

They never really tell you how much it sucks getting your cervix messed with. It hurts in a way that is unnatural, it’s mean, and Dean has learned, and is already squeezing my hand in preparation. It was almost eighteen years ago that I was here with Ella, Sam snuggled behind me, but it didn’t feel like that long. My body remembered this feeling like I just went through it. I barely felt healed from the first time, but dying does weird things to you. Nothing is ever really normal after that. Not that my life with the Winchester’s had ever been normal. 

My OB was making sounds in reaction to whatever she was doing between my legs. It was a humming, a sort of judgmental noise that left me unsettled. 

Something was wrong. 

She pulled her hand away and discarded her glove. “Ava, Dean,” she began, and my stomach dropped. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want you to be worried, but there may be a change in plans,” she explained. “Your baby has flipped since your last appointment, he or she is now in a breech position.” 

“What?” I asked, my heartbeat pounding so angrily in my ears that the sound was virtually impossible to override. 

“Can we do anything about that? Turn them around? I think I heard of that…” Dean’s voice was far away. He couldn't see my face, and it was probably for the best, because I had to look absolutely terrified. 

I ran my hands over my swollen stomach. This was the last place that my little one would be safe. Inside of me, they’re safe, but now… what I was hearing from my doctor told me that I couldn’t even protect them. “What do we do?” I asked, the sound of my own voice snapping me out of that feeling that I was underwater. 

“I want to suggest a Cesarean.” 

“A C-section,” I said, dumbfounded. 

“What?” Dean’s voice was rising, and I couldn't even look at him. I couldn't process my emotions and his. It was all too much. “That isn’t a part of our birth plan.” 

In any other circumstance, hearing Dean Winchester use the phrase birth plan would be insanely entertaining to me. “Dean,” I whispered, reaching for his hand again. I finally turned to see his face, it was twisted, his cheeks wet from tears. I had to remind myself that this was his first time. Last time didn’t exactly go as planned. “It’s okay.” 

“No, Ave… it’s…” 

“Hey,” I said, tugging him to me. I brushed my nose against his. “I love you. Everything will be okay. We want to do what's safest for our little pumpkin.” 

He pressed his forehead to mine in a way that was so gentle that it made my heart hurt. “I just want you both to be okay.” 

“We will be. You’ll be right there the whole time.” 

“But I can’t see,” Dean said, his voice breaking into a soft, strained sob. 

I touched his cheek, holding his face, and I closed my own eyes so we would be on equal terms. “You don’t have to be able to see to be there. You aren’t defined by that, Dean. Not to me.” 

“Okay,” he whispered with a nod. “Okay.” 

Ella 

I’ve learned a lot of tricks in the last few months. Some Cas taught me, some Billie, and some I just learned myself. One of the best, though, is the most simple. I like to be invisible. Sometimes I just watched them, my parents. I watch them be together, be in love. Sometimes I’ll just rest my hand on Dad’s shoulder so he can see Mom. The look on his face when he does is always one of complete adoration. It’s kind of like how Claire looks at me. 

I wouldn’t ever admit it to them, but I spent a lot of time back in that bar, the one where they met. I even went back in time once, just to watch them meet. It may not have been obvious to them, but I could tell that they were already spent on each other. Especially Dad. 

I heard their prayers from the hospital like they were right next to me, pressed against my ear. With all of the power in the world I still didn’t know how to fix this. 

I popped into the operating room, everything was sterile, blue. The air was cold and Mom was shivering. Her arms were spread out and strapped down. She sort of looked like Jesus on the cross, and the sight left me sick to my stomach. 

Dad’s hands were shaking as he held her hand. He wore blue gowns, something over his hair, and a mask. He looked alien. I wished someone had taken a photograph. 

They were both behind a curtain that separated Mom’s stomach from the rest of her body. The doctor cut into her, pulled her organs out to expose her uterus, and I felt awful for ever being born. The human body was incredible. 

Mom was crying. I could feel the fear pulsing off of her in a way that was almost palpable, so I broke my own rule and I pressed my hand into hers. Her fingers curled in immediately and her head turned to me. Thank you, she prayed, and I squeezed her hand in response. 

I spent my entire life wanting a relationship with her, and the moment she got back I had to go and die. We were cursed. People always said that, other hunters, angels, demons. You Winchester’s are cursed. I never believed it, but I had started to. We were supposed to be Chuck’s favorites, but maybe there’s something not so good about being God’s favorite after all. 

I just hoped this baby didn’t get the curse. 

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Winchester,” the doctor said as she lifted a wailing baby out of my mother. “You have a son.”

Dean

I have a son.

I couldn’t begin to explain the feeling that washed over me when the words came out of the doctor. Son. I had one already, of course. But things with Jack were always a little complicated. I love him like he’s my own. Something felt different, though. With this baby I felt like I had a fresh start. He didn’t know anything I’ve done. To him I am just his father. I’m not the righteous man. I’m not a dark shadow, murderer, knight of hell, monster. 

I am just me. 

The nurse placed my son in my arms, and I felt how small he was. He was tiny and squirming, and I felt myself cry. I hadn’t loved anything this much since the first time I held Ella. There was nothing like it. 

And in a blink the lights were on. The darkness dissipated, and I knew she was with me. She was giving me a chance to see my son.

I couldn’t look away from him. He looked at me with hazy eyes, his face pink and swollen. His head was perfectly round, like an orange. His tiny fingers flexed for me, pin pricked with dimples. He looked a little like Sam when he was a baby, and I touched his tiny chin. It was the size of my thumb and the sight of it made my heart squeeze. “Ave he’s gorgeous.” I turned so she could see him, and she was crying. She was beautiful, even pale and her hair tucked away inside of a cap. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered quietly to her.

Her face flashed in recognition. “You can see me.”

“I’ve always been able to see you.”

I held our son against my chest, with my daughters hand pressed to my shoulder, and for the first time in my life, we were all together. Everything was perfect. “I don’t need eyes to see you Ava Winchester.” 

She smiled as I laid our son on her chest, near her face. As I leaned down to her and pressed my lips to her forehead everything went dark again, but this time it didn’t scare me. This time I didn’t feel empty, and I was sure that I would never feel empty and afraid again. 

------

A/N: 

I can't believe this day is finally here. I've been dragging my feet really badly, because this series is what made me want to write again. This show has pulled me out of my absolute darkest places, given me a beautiful new group of friends, and a purpose. I think I associated my joys with the show and my feelings toward it with this fic... so what happens when it's over? I'm not afraid of that anymore.  

Now I'm just enjoying a large coffee, and the bittersweet feeling of endings. Please yell at me anytime. I live for it. 

Love you all

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Twisted Fate - chapter 7

Everyone is awful, but @ripperblackstaff prompted: “32: “Burn in hell for all I care!” so it’s really all her fault. 

Please send me a prompt from this list or this list to fuel the angst and smut

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6]  [AO3]

Gold left it until the following afternoon before driving back to Maine. Ella had insisted on spending the rest of the afternoon in the bar, and he was somewhat worse for wear when he woke up the next morning, his head thumping and his mouth as dry as dust. He wondered how Belle was doing, and how she was finding the apartment. Whether she had discovered the little cafe around the corner that did delicious apple tarte tatin. Whether she was as nervous about the test results as he.

By the time he reached Storybrooke, it was dark and cold, the few residents that were out hurrying along the streets with their chins shoved into their scarves. The florist’s shop was closed, and Gold eyed it before driving past. No point in visiting before he knew the test results, he supposed. He wondered if Belle had told Moe he was the father, and what Moe’s reaction had been if so. Certainly Moe hadn’t mentioned it to him when he had asked for Belle’s address, so perhaps Belle had let him think that the father was whoever this boyfriend of hers was. Scared as she was, he supposed he couldn’t blame her for that. Moe French had been angry enough that Gold had been sleeping with his daughter. Somehow he doubted that the news the two of them had made a child would be welcome.

It felt good to get back into his house, the rooms pleasantly warm, and he locked the door behind him, going to the lounge to pour himself a whisky and relax in one of the armchairs as he thought things over. Ella’s words had played over and over in his head since their somewhat drunken conversation in the bar, and after some initial indignant denial he had accepted that she was right. He had been too angry with Belle, both for failing to tell him about the baby and for putting herself and the child in danger, to really consider her perspective. The more he thought about it, though, the more he felt a grudging understanding and the first crawling fingers of guilt sliding over his skin. Perhaps Ella was right. Perhaps she felt cornered and scared, and was lashing out because of it. A sly voice at the back of his mind whispered that he should know what it was like to want to hurt the person trying to get too close, to want to drive them away. He smothered it ruthlessly, and turned his attention to more practical matters. Going to his computer, he prepared to go through the list of possible issues that Ella had sent through for him to consider. No harm in being prepared. Whatever the results were.

He buried himself in work for the next few days, spending his days at the shop, where he concentrated on his restoration of the music box. He had now taken apart the damaged mechanism, each element laid out on the chamois leather ready for cleaning and repair. The project was taking all of his concentration, which was exactly what he wanted, keeping his mind from straying to Belle and the baby. More importantly, it kept him from analysing his own feelings, a hopelessly tangled mess that he had screwed into a ball and shoved to the back of his mind long ago. Dealing with Belle had the effect of rooting through his brain, digging it out and threatening to unravel it. He was determined not to let that happen, and so he worked until he was too tired to keep his eyes open, and fell into bed each night exhausted.

It was halfway through the afternoon of the fifth day when it was confirmed that his life would change, and immeasurably for the better, in his opinion. A chime from his computer indicated that he had received an email, and he set down his tweezers and eyeglass, wiping his hands before going to the laptop. His heart began thumping hard as he saw the sender’s identity, and he glanced up at one of the shelves, where an old plush rabbit in a faded blue waistcoat sat, ears flopping over its black bead eyes. For a moment he was afraid to open the message, and closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. Let it be real. Let it be me.

He opened his eyes, his heart still thumping. His hands shook as he reached for the keyboard, and he clicked to open the message. Reading it over once made his heart rate quicken further, and so he read it twice more before sitting back with a sigh. It was true. He was to be a father again.

A smile broke, tears pricking at his eyes, and he pushed to his feet, grasping his cane before pulling on his overcoat and leaving the shop. He walked swiftly, the early spring sun shining down as he strode towards the park, his body humming with nervous energy as he tried to hold back from laughing out loud. A child! He had a child on the way. This one he would not lose. This one he would not fail.

He couldn’t stop grinning, quickening his pace as he began to make plans. A trust fund, for the future. For study, for travel. Medical insurance for Belle herself, to ensure that she got the best care leading up to and following the birth. The apartment, and the preparations they would need to make for the baby’s arrival. There was a lot to be discussed and agreed with Belle, of course, but surely she couldn’t object to the financial provisions he wanted to make. Surely she would want the best for their child, no matter how much it might hurt her pride to take it from him. He shook his head, determined to be everything this child could want in a father. It wouldn’t want for anything, he would make sure of that. And it would know how loved it was, by both its parents.

His phone buzzed, making him stop his pacing abruptly, and he reached into his pocket, fishing the phone out and glancing at the screen. His heart thumped harder as he recognised the number there. Belle. They would have sent her the results too, of course. Okay, try to be civil, you fucking idiot. She’s the mother of your child. Your child. Don’t be a fucking prick, for once in your miserable life.

“Hello?” he said, relieved that he sounded calmer than he felt.

“It’s me,” she said, her tone flat. “I got the results.”

“Right,” he said. “Yes. So did I.”

There was a moment of silence. He was unsure what to say, overwhelmed by the enormity of what she was giving him, of the glimmer of light he could sense breaking through the dark clouds that had lain heavy around his soul for so long. It was blinding. Breathtaking.

“Well?” she said impatiently, and Gold licked his lips, his mouth dry.

“Well what?” he said lamely, and she sighed.

“In news that would be a surprise to no one except apparently you, the test was positive,” she snapped. “So, do I get an apology?”

Gold sucked his teeth, ignoring the crawling sense of guilt flowing up through his body. Why the hell did you accuse her of sleeping around? What the actual everloving fuck is wrong with you?

“I’m waiting,” she said, a sarcastic edge to her voice. “Pretty sure that apology’s coming any time now. I mean we both know how well you deal with the truth when it’s right in bloody front of you, don’t we?”

Her tone made him bristle, and it was as though the clouds had covered the sun once more, a chill creeping over his flesh and numbing his soul. The light that had briefly flared to life inside him flickered and died, disappearing along with his good intentions. It was unfortunate that his natural response to hurt feelings was to be insufferable, but there again he had never claimed to be perfect.

“Fine,” he said, in a bored tone. “I’m really so terribly sorry that I sought a quick, painless and accurate confirmation that I am the father of the child you carry. It would of course have been much better to simply turn my life upside down and go to tremendous expense to provide for the two of you on your word alone, after all.”

There was a moment of silence.

“God, you’re an arsehole.”

“An arsehole who happens to be following the excellent legal advice he’s paying for,” he said, keeping to a lazy drawl. “My lawyer insists on the paternity results before we take any further steps. I’m merely complying with her recommendations.”

“Then why did you suggest I was fucking half of Boston?” she snapped. “Actually, no, don’t answer that, I know why. Because you can’t resist an opportunity to be bloody hurtful.”

That stung, largely because it was true, but he tried to ignore the sharp pain her words caused.

“Are we going to discuss something productive, or do you just want to yell at me again?” he asked mildly. “I apologise for suggesting you might have enjoyed yourself after we broke up. If that’s something to apologise for.”

“Well, thanks for that completely insincere pile of crap,” she said tartly.

“You’re more than welcome.”

Belle huffed, and he rolled his eyes.

“Where are you?” she asked shortly.

“In Storybrooke,” he said. “Where you told me to be. Does that make you feel better?”

“I think we need to have a conversation,” she said. “Face to face, if you can stand it.”

“I agree,” he said coldly.

“So, when can you come to Boston?”

“Wouldn’t you rather come here?” he asked. “A pleasant weekend in Storybrooke? You could visit your father.”

Silence. Gold waited a moment, frowning a little.

“Your father does know about the baby, doesn’t he?” he pressed.

“Of course he does!”

“And you’re not eager to see him? Why is that?”

More silence. His frown deepened, a suspicion taking form in the depths of his brain. One that explained both Belle’s dreadful state when he had first visited, and her unwillingness to accept his help.

“Has he visited you at all since you told him?” he asked. “Has he given you any support? Sent you money, anything?”

“I think you wouldn’t be asking me this if you didn’t already know the answer,” she said stiffly. “If you want to talk about our child, come to Boston. If you want to play mind games, stay in Storybrooke and continue your stupid feud with my dad. At this point I don’t care either way.”

“Belle—”

“I mean it!” she said sharply. “I’m a thousand percent done with your shit! Both of you! Burn in hell for all I care!”

“Belle!”

She hung up with a click, and Gold swore under his breath, shoving the phone back in his pocket and running a hand over his face. So. All that time she hadn’t had a single ounce of help from her father. From the one person who should support her unconditionally. Let’s see what Moe French has to say for himself.

He squared his jaw, turning swiftly on his heel to head towards Game of Thorns, and collided with someone almost immediately. Dr Hopper staggered, clutching at his arm to steady himself and almost losing his tweed cap in the process. He stepped back, tugging it down over his red hair while his Dalmatian, Pongo, watched placidly at his side.

“Excuse me,” muttered Gold, trying to keep from snapping at the man.

“No harm done,” said Dr Hopper, his brow crinkling a little. “Mr Gold, are you - are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said evenly. “Couldn’t be better, I assure you.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s great!” said Dr Hopper earnestly. “Although - if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look fine.”

Gold raised his head, fixing him with a flat stare.

“Thank you for that diagnosis, Dr Hopper,” he said coldly. “When I’m seeking interference in my personal affairs, I’ll be sure to let you know. Perhaps you’d be good enough to mind your own business in the meantime.”

Dr Hopper simply smiled pleasantly. Whatever it was that he took to remain calm and unruffled in the face of open hostility, Gold wanted to know.

“Well, the offer’s always there,” he said. “If you ever feel the need to talk things through, my door is always open.”

He nodded politely, and set off down the street, umbrella swinging from his hand. Gold glared after him.

“The only time I’ll be knocking on your door is to collect the bloody rent!” he called, and Dr Hopper glanced over his shoulder with a nod and a smile, as though he’d wished him a good afternoon.

Muttering under his breath about exactly where Dr Hopper could shove his office door, Gold stomped off up the street towards the florist’s shop. Moe French was inside, sweeping up dropped leaves and scraps of coloured ribbon, and he scowled at Gold, working the broom a little quicker.

“I’ll bring the rent over later,” he said curtly.

“I won’t be there,” said Gold. “I'll send Mr Dove to collect in my absence. I’m heading to Boston.”

Moe straightened up and grounded the broom, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” said Gold, his voice as menacingly calm as he could make it. “I’m going to see Belle. To lay claim to my child. She's carrying my baby, and it's due in May. Funny that all these months I’ve been collecting rent from you, you never thought to mention it.”

Moe glowered at him.

“So,” he said. “She told you.”

Gold felt his mouth flatten.

“Eventually,” he said. “Frankly I would have preferred to have more than a couple of months to make preparations, but we are where we are. You may be interested to know that I’ve moved her out of the squalid mess of an apartment she was in and into one of my own. I can give you the address.”

“I’ll hear it from her, not you,” said Moe ungraciously.

“Suit yourself,” said Gold. “It’s just that I was under the impression that the two of you aren’t exactly on the best of terms. Why is that?”

“My relationship with my daughter is my business!” snapped Moe. “And I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

“Well, the imminent arrival of our baby makes that impossible,” said Gold dryly.

"Am I supposed to believe you suddenly have an overwhelming need to be a parent?" Moe snorted. "Give me a break!"

It took a lot of effort not to threaten to break every bone in his body, but Gold managed not to snap back at him.

“Believe it or not, I'm not actually here to argue with you," he said. "I'm here because she's alone and scared, and she needs her family. Useless as you are, you're all she's got. So spare me your bluster, I’m really more interested in why you saw fit to abandon her.”

“You’re here to lecture me on how I treated Belle?” scoffed Moe. “You’ve got a bloody nerve!”

Gold showed his teeth, fingers opening and closing on the cane handle.

“Oh, I’m well aware of my failings, Mr French,” he said. “When I broke up with her I made damn sure she wouldn’t want to see me again. With your encouragement, I might add."

"Breaking up with her is the first decent thing you did!"

"Well, you could be right about that," he acknowledged. "However, because of the - manner - of our break up, I suspect that my relationship with Belle will never be anything more than coldly indifferent. But honestly I’m not sure if I’m capable of anything more than that.”

“And that’s what the kid has to look forward to, is it?”

“No,” said Gold evenly. “My child will know it’s wanted, I assure you. By both its parents.”

Moe curled his lip.

“Like hell,” he said. “I know I’m a piss-poor father, but I’m willing to bet I did a better job than you ever would. You were a bastard to Belle and you’ll be just as bad to any of your bloody spawn, I reckon.”

Gold took a step forward, fury welling up inside him. It must have shown in his face, in his eyes, because Moe took a step back, looking wary. Gold clutched at the cane handle, knuckles white with the effort of not cracking him over the head with it.

“Our child will know its father,” he said, through his teeth. “It will never want for anything as long as I live and breathe. If you were anything approaching a decent parent you would understand that, but I suspect Belle got all her most admirable qualities from her mother.”

“Don’t you dare mention my wife!” snapped Moe, eyes bulging. “If she were here, she’d—”

“If she were here, I suspect I wouldn’t have had to pull Belle out of an apartment block that should have been demolished years ago!”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a white fucking knight, are you?” Moe sneered. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it. You waltz on in with your money and think it can buy you whatever you want, when really you’re the same heartless bastard you’ve always been.”

“Is that any worse than what you can offer?” demanded Gold. “Cutting her off when she needed you the most? You’d rather your own daughter and grandchild suffered because she had the poor bloody judgement to sleep with me?”

“It’s not like I was never gonna speak to her again!” said Moe defensively.

“No, you’d just let her struggle through the trauma of pregnancy and birth and turn up when the child was two or something,” said Gold sarcastically. “Or maybe you’re waiting until that heart attack you’ve been working towards actually hits, so you can guilt her into looking after you.”

Moe seemed to swell with rage, a tide of red sweeping up from his neck.

“Get the fuck out of my shop!” he barked, gesturing to the door. "Go on! I won't have you judging me when you're the one that broke her heart!"

Gold took a step back before he could really lose his temper, and shook his head disgustedly.

“I hoped you might be able to see past your hatred of me and concentrate on what’s best for Belle,” he said. "God knows she needs someone in her life to do that."

“I’m not taking lectures from the likes of you!” snapped Moe. "I'll deal with my daughter in my way, got it?"

Gold sent him a twisted smile.

"Well, in the meantime, I'll just have to do my best to give her what she needs," he said. "Whatever that may be."

“You stay away from her!”

"Make me," said Gold bluntly.

He turned on his heel, stalking towards the door.

“You have no place in her life, don’t you get that?" Moe shouted after him. You’ll never be anything to that kid but the guy who buys McDonalds twice a month!”

Gold slammed the shop door behind him, cutting off Moe’s voice, and took several deep breaths to calm himself before setting off down the street at a brisk pace, his nostrils flaring, skin humming with rage. He shut her out. He had her love, and he shut her out.