#“she also saw at one point Jacob putting his head on Sam’s shoulder/back”

[hyohaehyuk]

“every time director called cut sam & jacob would go next to each other”

i said oh im sure

i am not posting the beginning of the thread bc it might be a season 3 spoiler about the trial but here is the link if you guys wanna read what she said.

Photos via kphagnasay (1) (2) and leticia22ma (this one is a fanaccount. i dont know the original source of the 1st photo 😅)

[trumpkinhotboy]

All in good time

Pairing: Jacob Black x f!reader

Type: Not requested

Genre: Kinda fluffy i'd say

Warnings: None!

Rating: g

Requests: Open (for Narnia and Twilight, maybe?😳)

A/n: Alright, alright, I know I said this blog was going to be centralized on Narnia stuff, but lately I've really gotten back in my Twilight phase🥴 Plus, I had a really shitty week and needed a pick me up. Jacob is one of my biggest comfort characters so I felt it was only suiting. I hope you'll enjoy it😬 I suggest reading this while listening to any kind of Twilight ambiance playlist.☺Also, I know my title sucks HAHA. Couldn't think of anything better so yea, I'm sorry, but this is what you get

Update: changed my title huhu!

* gif is not mine!!

There were days that just deeply and inherently... sucked. Days where everything seemed out of rhythm, where no matter how hard you tried, it all seemed wrong; it all fell apart.

Today was one of those days. When your dad jokingly said: "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." you did not think it the tiniest of bit funny. When you opened one of the kitchen cabinets to get your favorite brand of cereals and found an empty box, you almost threw a full-on seven-year-old crying on the floor tantrum. Especially when you saw the half-emptied bowl sitting in the sink. Too bad, no breakfast for you this morning. Ridiculous, immature, and not changing anything? Yes, of course, but you still did it out of pure spite. As if that would punish anyone else than you.

Like any other day in Forks, it was raining, nothing awful here, if it was not for the fact that the window on the driver’s side hadn’t been properly closed. Your seat was by now totally drenched. With your pants completely soaked you rode to school, your knuckles turning white from angrily gripping the wheel. Once you arrived, it seemed that everyone was annoyingly happy and enthusiastic while you just couldn’t get out of your personal, unchangeable, black cloud. Not to help, your friends only kept making fun of your moody behavior. Could you not be taken seriously on one of your worst days?

In your least favorite class, you were horrified to see written in big letters on the board:

“20% exam!! Leave your personal effects in front of the class.”

You would have run away if it wasn’t for the flow of students coming in to push you further in the classroom. Convinced the exam was for the next week, you did not even open the pages of your manual concerning the subject. It is with panic and exasperation that you sat at your desk waiting for your doom. Did you need to add that along with all that bull crap of a day, the only person who could have made your day a little less annoying was, once again missing. No calls, no texts, no news, nothing. Probably on another mission with the rest of his mutant gang. You got to the Rez after school, hoping you would see him, but were only welcomed by Leah and Seth. It almost felt like they were waiting for you as they were sitting outside of Billy’s house. Why they were the only ones left here was a mystery for you. The pack usually always stayed together.

- “Where are the others?”

- “On some kind of mission around the lands.”

- “Is everything alright?” They nodded nonchalantly. “Then why are you two here?”

The answer Seth gave you while chewing loudly on yet, another snack, made you grith your teeth so hard he thought they were going to fall out of your mouth.

- “To protect you.”

- “I thought it was nothing, so why would I need protection?”.

- “You should talk about it with Black. He’s the one who ordered us to stay to watch over you or something.”

- “I am PERFECTLY capable of WATCHING OVER MYSELF.” you answered a little louder than expected, anger rumbling in your chest. That earned you some awkward looks from your two friends, but at this point, it didn’t even matter, you were seeing red.

Leah, never intimated by you, shrugged her shoulders. Seth looking a little bit more nervous still laughed at your display of anger. Jacob was the one assigning babysitters over you? Of course, you and he would have a little discussion, that mutt would not see it coming.

When you got back home, you called your father to warn him; there was no way you would be cooking dinner. With your luck, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you burnt the whole house down. Fortunately, he was in good mood (unfair) and answered there was no problem; he would get pizza. He got home with the box in hand and a “Hey sweet...heart”. One quick look at your rough appearance and frustrated expression and his mouth closed shut. He dropped politely, almost carefully, a plate with a slice of pizza before quickly leaving for the couch. You mostly played with the food, incapable of swallowing it down, looking at the forest many times, waiting, expecting to see a tall figure appear on its verge but nothing. Time passed, still no sign of life. There was no way that by now Leah or Seth didn’t give him your message. You had time to wash the dishes, do some homework, and get in your sweats. At 7:30 pm you gave up; he wasn’t coming. Your father was still watching TV, completely oblivious to your growing anger. You picked up his plate to put it in the sink but tripped and dropped it, the delicate plate exploded into a thousand pieces.

- “Y/n? Everything okay?”

- “Y..ea.. an accident. I’ll pick it up.”

There was a slight tremolo in your voice. That was it. Your day had been terrible with no sign of sun, and this broken plate would be your breaking point as ridiculous as it sounded. You leaned on the counter, head hanging low, feeling tears of frustration swelling up in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you looked up; in a second you were out the back door.

- “Where you going?” you heard your father ask.

- “Getting the trash out.”

The figure backed in the woods as you rushed into them without hesitation. You smacked against something big and warm, warmer than it was normal to be, yet you had become quite accustomed to it.

- “You little piece of shit.” your index finger digging in his chest. “You weren’t even here today, and it was terrible, and you can’t do this. I do not need any PROTECTION. Oh my god, do you really think I am weak and helpless without you or Leah or Seth or ANY werewolf to protect me?!”

He didn’t interrupt your monologue, only looking at you spitting your anger out.

- “You are SO annoying. Honestly who- who do you think you- are?! I’m- I am not, I can DEFINITELY, I don’t ne-eed any-one.” Your speech was becoming less and less coherent, your emotions taking control of your mind.

Without waiting any longer for you to finish your incoherent thought, he pulled you in for one of his signature bear hugs.

- “You can’t do this to me I’m an-ang-angry...”.

- “Shhh, it’s okay.”

- “You-you weren’t there.” you gave up fighting him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

- “I’m sorry, Leah told me.”

- “Wh- why didn’t you come sooner?” you continued, sobbing.

- “Some wolf things, Paul got in trouble.“ you backed off, immediately lifting your head at the mention of one of your friends in trouble.

- “Is he okay?”

- “Of course, he is, but Sam was very upset this time.” he stroked the side of your face with a small smile. “Enough with the boys, tell me what's wrong.”

- “Everything. I left my car window opened my seat was drenched. At school, everyone was disgustingly happy and in a good mood. I did not know I had an exam, I didn’t even study the subject. And this morning, my dad half ate the rest of my favorites cereals, and then I didn’t eat anything else as a silent protest, I know that’s stupid, but”

- “You didn’t eat anything else?”

- “Yeah, but I…” you lifted your gaze to meet his disapproving one. “I mean, I must have eaten a snack at lunch today…”

- “Must have?” he looked angrier.

- “Y/n??? Where are you??”

The calling of your father interrupted your conversation; he looked in its direction.

- “You should go back inside before your dad comes out.”

- “What? No, please. Can’t you kidnap me for tonight?” he chuckled lightly.

- “Trust me, go back in, okay?”

You looked at him unsure, even though you knew he was worthy of your trust. You finally nodded before running back inside.

- “What took you so long?”

- “Oh, uh, I thought I saw something and got a little carried away.”

- “Mokay, I don’t like you being so close to the woods. We’ve still had a few complaints about some trekkers finding traces of big animals in the woods. I’d prefer you be careful, alright?” You held up a smile, thinking about your friend just outside.

- “Sure.”

You stayed in the middle of the living room, expecting, waiting to see Jacob’s next move. You expected something quick, but when ten minutes later, there were still no signs of him, you felt frustration rising again. Not sure what to do now, you sat next to your father, half paying attention to what was happening on the screen. If he just left you, he was going to pay for it. You needed him, and just like that, he was gone? Probably, got called away by Sam again. Maybe it wasn’t in his control? But if it was…

Knock. Knock.

You looked up, surprised. The door opened with a creaking sound.

- “Oh, Jacob. Hi, what are you doing here?”

- “Hi Charlie, I heard Y/n had a pretty bad day. Came to kidnap her, if that's okay?”

- “Bad day? That’s an understatement. I swear, at one point, I thought she was going to scream at me. I ate her last bowl of cereal this morning; the thing was disgusting, I only ate half of it. I don’t think that helped.” You heard your friend’s low chuckle. Your dad seemed to feel pretty guilty about his crime, which did make you feel a tad bit better. “But yeah sure. Y/n! You have a visitor.”

You walked to them, Jacob awkwardly fitting in your small house; he seemed so disproportionate with his imposing size. For once, he was wearing actual clothes, a shirt and a pair of jeans, a sign he wasn’t planning on having to transform tonight. A sign that he was planning on being entirely dedicated to you.

- “Ready to go? I’m kidnaping you.” He said that last part with a smirk, a hint to your previous request.

- “Sure.” You grabbed your coat, said goodbye to your dad, and left without waiting any longer.

First, he took you away to get some food in you. It wasn’t until your teeth were digging inside a delicious burger that you realized just how hungry you were. Jacob being the glutton that he is, ordered two cheeseburgers along with a pack of large fries. You went for a milkshake, the perfect dessert for a night like this, and took your victuals to the La Push beach. It was empty and peaceful; the sun was slowly going down, the wind just a whisper in the night. It wasn’t even that cold, but the excuse to snuggle into Jake’s wolfish warmth was too good to pass.

- “Feeling better?” he asked while wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

- “Yes. Thanks, Jake.”

- “Kidnapping mission was a success?”

- “Yes, it was.” You answered with a smile.

- “Alright.” He muttered under his breath, looking in the distance.

You stayed for a while in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the other’s presence.

- “So, what were you saying about me not being there today, like that made your day worst?”

His question took you by surprise. A look at his cocky expression was all it took you to punch him in the ribs as hard as you could.

- “You wish idiot.”

He laughed at your attack, he probably didn't even feel a thing but leveled his face with yours in all seriousness.

- “You can avoid this conversation for now since you had a shit day and all, but keep in mind, it’s not over.”

- “And you keep in mind that our discussion about you ordering werewolves to stay behind to protect me, is not over. You won’t get away easily with that one Black.”

He laughed again, visibly amused with your threat. You laughed too but were slightly less amused. These two conversations were important ones, although one you apprehended way more. You looked at Jacob's happy expression and felt a fuzzy feeling warming your body. No, right now was not the time for such serious topics.

All in good time, right?

...

Tagging my two gals because they know how nervous I was😭...@imjustdreamingig @gonzalezyon I did it gals🥺 I hope you'll like it, thank you so much for your support💕💕

[sweatergirlsposts]

Imagine Being Part of The Wolf Pack and Imprinting on Carlisle (Oneshot)

(A/N: Back by demand here is a longgggg oneshot of this imagine. I’m a little rusty, but I hope you all like it)

Ever since you turned, life had gotten lonelier for you. Living the pack life meant separating yourself from your closest friends and finding only solace in your brothers and sister in the pack, but it wasn’t always enough. No one could know your secret, especially your mother. 

Your mother thought all the stories about turning into wolves was entertaining for children, but to ponder on them as adults was a waste of time. Your father was a Quileute while your mother was a resident of Forks. Your father never turned or imprinted but he did fall in love with your mother and stayed on the La Push reservoir until he died. 

You turned when you found out the news of your father’s mysterious death. The police described it as an accidental fall off a cliff, but you knew your father wouldn’t even be near a cliff, for he had an intense fear of heights. According to a police report, that you stole, they found long wavy auburn strands on his body. Your mother’s first thoughts were that your father probably had an affair, but you also knew that your father wouldn’t even dream about being with any women other than your mother. Least to say, your hypothesis was that your father was murdered.  

Still living in La Push, you come up with excuses to your mother of why you’re always out late and how your friends with everyone in the pack. She thinks it’s weird but tells you that if it gets out of hand then she will ban you from leaving the house. You didn’t see the point seeing as were an adult, but you let her say whatever made her feel comfortable.

Currently, everyone in the pack were getting ready to go train with the vamps, or more formally known as the Cullens. 

You only knew/heard of their family and individual names in passing, whenever Sam or Jacob would rely a thought through the pack connection. One name that you heard all time was Bella Swan, the human girl whom you’ve briefly met, that was involved with them. Everyone in the pack would always recoil at the thought of Bella and Edward, her Vampire significant other, being together. You could give less of a care in the world. The only thing you cared about was if they were to kill another human or if they passed into your land.

“Get ready to head out,” Sam yelled who stripped down to his skimmies like everyone else. To say that you go through a lot of undergarments in a week was an understatement. 

“(Y/N), you take behind the pack,” Sam ordered. Sam trusted you to keep the pack safe from behind, seeing that you were just as strong as himself and Paul. 

“Yes Sam,” you responded with compliance waiting for everyone else to turn before you did. 

You changed thinking of the only thing that could make you enraged, the death of your father. Bursting from your human form, came forth your wolf form. You were covered in thick dark grey fur with highlights of white that reflected when the sun hit it just right.  

‘Let’s go’  is all Sam said through the connection as Jacob howled to let the Cullens know that you all were coming.

Apparently according to Sam and Jacob, the Cullens had offered an olive branch because they need your help to take down a common enemy, rouge vampires. These vampires were coming after Bella and therefore were breaking the treaty of harming humans and would get the punishment the tribe saw fit for this conflict; to be put to death. One of the vampires of their coven, Jasper you believed his name was, said that they could train you to fight against these vampires, for his prior experience with some.

‘What is the point in meeting up with those bloodsuckers! What can they teach us that we don’t already about killing their kind.’ Paul sneered through the connection as you ran as a pack to the meeting spot.

‘It’s not about what they can teach us, it’s about keeping treaty and protecting our people, even if it means working with them for short amount of time’ Sam growled with his hackles raising to assert his dominance. 

Sam was the first to make it over the hill to the clearing the Cullens agreed to meet up at. Still in a protective approach, one by one the pack emerged from the brush. Since you were last, Sam expected that you would circle the perimeter to make sure that there were no unexpected guests.

“They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms,” you heard from a soft masculine, almost throaty voice, as you soon finished your circle around the area. 

“They came. That’s what matters” said another voice that sounded silky and comforting. You shake the ghost chill that ran through your fur giving you goosebumps as you made your way up the hill.

“Will you translate?” asked the second voice before the first protested.

“Hold on there’s another one coming up the hill,” the voice sensed your approach making it’s way atop of the hill. Finally showing yourself, you observed the clearing in which everyone would practice in.

Your eyes came across each Cullen and Bella. One by one, you surveyed how each one looked with what you assumed to be their companion, until your eyes stopped on who you assumed was their leader that stood in front of your group. 

And in that moment you could feel you heart almost drop out of your body. Your head became overwhelmed and dizzy as if you had rolled down a hill and you were trying to find your equilibrium to stand. Something flowed through your veins, stronger than hormones and more numbingly intoxicating than morphine. As soon as the feeling came hitting you like you ran into a brick wall, it disappeared. 

You knew what you did and oh boy did you regret it. You imprinted on the angelic blond vampire in front of your whole pack and they felt it through the connection.

The vampire with Bella turned his head towards you with a taken aback look but also one of understanding. It was like he was reading your mind. He looked back and forth between you and ‘him’    

‘Oh fuck’ is all you thought after imprinting on the vampire.

“Carlisle we might have a situation,” informed ‘Bella’s’ vampire to ‘him’ while still staring at you before letting him say anything. 

Before you knew what was happening, Sam jumped atop of you knocking you onto your back.

‘YOU IMPRINTED ON ONE OF THEM!!’  Sam ferociously barked in your face, ready to attack in case you resisted.

‘Disgusting!’ yelled another through the connection.   

‘I can’t control it Sam, you of all people know that’ you whimpered meekly. Considering that you usually had a strong demeanor, you’ve never felt so vulnerable and powerless within your time being in the pack. 

“Hey!” called Bella’s vampire, “Let them go, they can’t control it”

You took advantage of this distraction and pushed Sam off of you. Once freed, for a mere moment, Sam caught you by the leg and punctured it with his massive teeth. 

Letting out a yelp at the sudden pain to your hind leg, you donkey kicked Sam in the face with your other leg and ran away limping. You couldn’t believe what Sam just did to you. You needed air, you needed space from your pack, and from him.

All your instincts told you to turn around to be near your imprint, to protect the bewitchingly good looking vampire from your pack in case, but you couldn’t be near him. The shame that your stupid wolfy senses put upon your shoulders was too much to bare right now. All you wanted right now was be alone with your thoughts and to go get help for your leg.

Meanwhile in the clearing, all but one vampire was very confused at what went down.  

“What just happened?” Bella asked being the first one to verbalize everyone else’s thoughts

“They imprinted on Carlisle,” Edward stated confound, “The one that Sam attacked”  

No one was more surprised than Carlisle. He didn’t really know how to take it, especially if the feelings were coming from one of the people they had a treaty with. One thing he knew for sure was he needed to check on you, if that bite got infected while your out in the forest it was going to cause you a lot damage to your human self. 

Reading Carlisle’s mind, Edward knew that he was coming along to track and translate once you were found. 

Carlisle turned to Jasper, “You continue you to show them how to take care of the newborns, Edward and I will be back soon.”

Leaving the clearing, Carlisle followed Edward so he could track your mind to find you. 

You laid on the river bank, still in your wolf form and bleeding from your back left leg. This river was the one that your father would take you to go fly fishing in when you were a kid. It was the river in between the land of both the Cullen’s and the Quileute’s, but the part you were at was far enough down that the pack wouldn’t hear your thoughts from there. 

The pain from your leg hurt like a bitch. You were so livid with not only Sam and the pack, but yourself. 

‘How could you be so stupid to imprint on one of them?!’ you thought to yourself, ‘Of all people and creatures, it had to be the people that your people were sworn enemies to! The pack will never want me back’ 

Trying to distract yourself from your mind, you tried ‘cleaning’ your wound with your tongue as disgusting as it sounds. 

Edward could hear your thoughts of pain as you tried ‘cleaning’ the bite. Werewolf blood was in a way revolting like the smell of them. The blood was still edible but unnecessary to the vampire diet. Both Carlisle and himself, arrived at the edge of the tree line where you couldn’t see them.

“Let’s try not to scare them off. By the substantial smell of blood, if they keep straining the wound, they’re going to pass out soon,”  Carlisle smelt the aroma lingering in the air, “I think you should go first to talk to them Edward”

You could smell that someone else was there. Vampire with possibly more vampires. You try standing up in case you have to defend yourself but stumble backwards.

“Easy (Y/N)” you whip your head to find Bella’s vampire walking towards you slowly from 10 feet away, “I’m Edward, and I’m here to help”

You wondered how he knew your name but remembered that his kind had special gifts, you assumed his was mind reading.

‘I don’t need your help, I need to be alone right now please,’ you growled lowly as a warning.

“I can’t let you do that, especially if you’re bleeding that much,” he said gesturing to your injured leg and how the thick substance spilled from it matting your fur. 

‘There’s more of you here, I smell someone else’

“I brought someone that could help your leg. I brought Carlisle, he’s the one you imprinted on”

You let his roll around in your mind. It sounded like the name of someone who belonged to bloodline of  royalty. Edward smirked reading how you played around with Carlisle’s name. 

Starting to feel the blood loss, you fall down into a laying position on your side.

“Carlisle!” Edward called over to his adoptive father as he watched you fall to the ground

Catching your breath, you felt two presences over your form, Edward by your muzzle while Carlisle was by your leg analyzing it.

“They’re losing a lot of blood. We’re going to have to get them to turn back so we can wrap a tourniquet around their leg,” Carlisle relays to Edward before turning to you, “I’m going to need you to revert back so I can help you”

You looked into his amber eyes. Even though his colour was similar to Edward’s and the rest of the Cullens, you could see that his had matured longer to be that certain colour. It was like first day break rays hitting rich honey. 

‘I will be nude if I change back. Can I have a cover of some sort?’

“Carlisle, (Y/N) would like to use your jacket to cover up when they turn, if that’s okay they asked” 

Carlisle had no objection there, as a doctor he had seen everything but he understood that you would like to cover any and all modesty. He took off his jacket and placed it over your large form. 

You calmed down and slowly felt yourself shrink back into your human body with the jacket, thankfully, covering enough of your skin. Edward held your head above the rocks, trying to keep you awake. Carlisle took off his blue crew neck sweater, leaving him in a white undershirt, and made the tourniquet on your upper thigh above the teeth gash on your inner and outer thigh. The blood soaked through the sweater but Carlisle didn’t care, his main concern was getting you some where to stitch you up.   

“We should take them back to the house. Edward call Alice to tell them to stay out of the house for a couple hours”

Finally looking to your face, Carlisle had to stop for a second to take you in. Your features were soft yet seemed like they were chiseled in a likeness to statues he had seen in his time with the Volturi. There was only one word that came to how he felt when it came to looking at you in your human form. 

Alive

As if a shock of electricity flowed through him, and jump started his heart he  could see why you imprinted on him. If he was your imprint then you were his ‘true’ mate. 

Similarly to imprinting, when Vampires find their ‘true’ mates an eternal romantic bond is formed, it cannot be broken, and it can be anyone. Esme and himself acted as partners for many years as to not draw attention from the locals, for it would be suspicious that two individuals would raise six adopted children. He too had been lonely for over the last three and a half centuries but he would have never suspected that you, a shapeshifter, would be his true mate. 

Again for the second time today, Edward was astonished but had to stay composed enough for Carlisle and to not drink your blood.

“We should get them back Carlisle,” Edward broke Carlisle’s train of thought back to the fact you were indeed bleeding out. Edward moved away a couple steps so he could get out his phone and call Alice.

“I’ll send you the money for your dry cleaning,” you said to Carlisle, wearily trying to stay conscious.

“No need to do that (Miss/Mr/Mx) (Y/N). Edward and I are going to take you back to our house to give you stitchs”

“I would like that very much,” you slurred feeling the effects of blood loss before falling into unconsciousness.

Carlisle scooped you up into his arms. In perfect contrast, your form burned and he was frigid to the touch. It was comfortable for once not being the temperature of a blast furnace for you, and him to not feel like glacier to others.

Meeting your imprint was far from how some of the pack described meeting their’s, especially with all the blood and confusion. Eventually, you knew that you’d forgive Sam for what he did to you. And he and the pack would come to a place of understanding for their feelings about you and your imprint. For now, you knew while floating in between being conscious or unconscious in the doctors arms, that you’ll never feel truly lonely ever again.

MASTERLIST

(Request are open! Gif Source Unknown)

[andysbubba]

friends [ two ]

-> steve’s your best friend. you know damn well that won’t change. [ also you’re really stubborn in this au and steve has to deal with that ]

AKA two idiots in love but one doesn't want to admit it

link to chapter one | two | three | four |

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

-

10 years later, 2020

“How is it going with you two?” Bucky sips his coffee as he sits across you and Steve.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“I would’ve expected a wedding invitation by now from both of you,” He looks at the two of you pointedly.

You choke on your latte and then glanced at Steve. “Seriously?”

Steve glances back at you and laughed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Bucky bursts out in laughter. “Shit. That was priceless!”

“Oh shut up, Buck.” Steve rolls his eyes at his friend.

“Yeah, Barnes. We’re just friends,” You nudge Steve with your shoulder. “Right, Steve?”

Steve shrugs and nods, leaning in front and picking up a fork to cut into his slice of chicken pie. “Yeah,”

Jesus. What was that stinging pain in your heart?

Steve left for the washroom and it was just you and Bucky.

“Bitch move, Y/N.”

You look at Bucky cluelessly. “What did I do?”

“That guy is hopelessly in love with you and you just told him that you two are just friends.” He pointedly says.

You roll your eyes in reply. “You’re exaggerating. He’s not hopelessly in love with me, Buck.”

“Say that to his lost, sad, depressed puppy dog face whenever you get into a new relationship.” Bucky kicks your leg under the table.

“You’re just bullshitting now, Barnes.”

There was no way Bucky was right. Your mum’s told you the same thing, so did Steve’s parents. And then there was Natasha who said something along the lines too. Lets not forget Sam either.

Steve being in love with you? That’s just impossible.

“You shouldn’t deny the truth, Y/L/N.”

Steve walks back to the table. “Deny what?”

You turn to Steve in slight surprise before you quickly recovered. “Bucky was just saying some things about-”

“-About how you’ve been in love with Y/N since you were kids,” Bucky interrupts you.

Steve blushes immediately, the pink flowing up to his pale cheeks and he stuttered a little. “W-what?”

You step on Bucky’s toes with your boots and glare at him. His knee shoots up and hits the table as he groans in pain.

You turned to Steve and smiled kindly, “Nope, Bucky was just playing with you,”

Steve nods and settles back on the seat beside you.

You thought to yourself while the two guys chat about yesterday’s baseball game.

Steve gets sad when you get into a new relationship? And then he gets awkward when you say that you two are just friends.

Damn it, Bucky.

But Steve’s just being Steve. He’s always awkward... right?

-

“I’m not even kidding, Nat. Like seriously, Steve? Liking me?” You huff.

“Think about it this way,” She was lying on the couch, her legs resting on your lap. “He has a lot of flings and ex girlfriends. But why did none of them last long?”

You look down at her. “Because he hasn’t found the right person?”

Natasha shrugs. “That could be one. But you two already act like a couple.” She shifted and sits up straight, turning to you seriously. “He’s looking around for something he already has. Except, it isn’t official.”

You were meeting Natasha so you ended up leaving the guys earlier at the cafe. Apparently, they were planning on having some guys night with Sam.

You frown at Natasha. “We don’t act like a couple.”

Nat raised an eyebrow at you with a ‘really’ expression. “You cuddle, you know what each other like and dislikes, he spends money on you, you spend money on him and you sleep together on the same bed.”

“Isn’t that the norm for best friends?”

Tasha rolls her eyes. “You don’t see Sam kiss my forehead before he goes home or see Bucky buy me an iPad, now, do you?”

“I’ve known Steve since I was one.” You pointed out.

This topic was seriously making you think like crazy. You didn’t even know you acted like a couple with Steve. Like seriously???

“Valid point. But do you really think his exes give a shit about that when he helps you put on your coat and shit?”

“But-”

Natasha laughs at you, completely stopping your speech. “Denial is not a good look on you, sweetie.”

You sigh as Nat stands up and heads into the kitchen.

She comes back out with two bottles of beer. “Listen, Y/N. All I’m saying is, maybe you don’t see it but everyone around you sees what’s going on.” She settles beside you on the couch. “Your brain just functions at a slower rate than others.”

You gasp and smack her arm harshly. “Rude!”

Nat bursts out in laughter before calming down and snuggled into you. “Just, if it’s meant to be, it will happen someday. Forcing things will only make it worse.”

“Does he really sulk when I get into relationships?” You rest your head on top of Natasha’s.

“Yeap!”

You sigh again. “Okay then, why do my relationships not last long?”

“Because the intimacy you want with said partner is already something you share with Steve.” Nat stops and tried to think of a way to convey her thoughts. “Minus the kisses and sex.”

You sighed for what seemed like the nth time that day. “Alright lets change topics. How are your ballet lessons going?”

-

You had some guy named Jake over at your place a few days after your girls night with Nat. It was just a one night thing and he was already in the corridor outside your apartment when Steve appeared from the stairs, slightly breathless.

You see his face drop when he sees the guy standing outside your door. Wait- why have you never seen that before? It wasn’t the first time Steve came over while there was a guy at your apartment?

Fuckfuckfuck. Damn it, Bucky. And Natasha.

“Hey, Steve.” You turn to Jake, or was it Jacob? “Bye, Joseph.”

Said guy just looks at you in shock. “It’s John.”

“Yeah, potato, potahto.” You flashed him a grim smile before dragging Steve into your apartment and leaving the John in the corridor.

“I’ll make breakfast?” You ask Steve, already making your way to the kitchen.

He follows closely behind you. “I’ll help. What do you want?”

“Mom’s congee?”

Steve looks at you in shock. “You’re the best.”

“I know, Stevie.” You wink at him. “Just fry the chicken. And cut the onions, please, I beg you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Steve hurriedly washed his hand and took whatever he needed from the fridge.

“You wanna call the others to hang out?”

Steve shrugs, “Up to you. But you call. I just washed my hands.”

You took out your phone and shoot a text to the groupchat. The one with Sam, Nat and Bucky.

Y/N: congee day

Y/N: no beer no entry.

Sam: OOOO

Nat: beer and congee? seriously?

Y/N: hey, no one’s forcing you to come nat ??

Sam: there in an hour. with beer.

Bucky: is steve making his fried chiken

Y/N: yeah

Nat: fine i’ll be there with bucky in 20 mins

Y/N: bring gummy bears please thank you ily

-

Steve glanced down at his smartwatch at raised his brows at your last text.

“Gummy bears, really?”

“Gummy bears and beer is literally the best thing Stevie,” You snort, “But of course you wouldn’t know since you’re an old hag, Steven.”

Steve gasps, looking at you in shock. “Did you just-”

You smirk at him, casually walking to the fridge. “You know I did, Rogers.”

You looked inside the fridge, completely not noticing that Steve was already behind you.

You turn around after grabbing a can of Schwepps from the fridge. You jumped seeing Steve towering right behind you. “Jesus, Steve.”

“You wanna try that again?” He held his hands up on both sides of the fridge, eyes twinkling playfully.

You shake your head and pointed at him. “None of the food war crap. I had to clean up the mess the last time.”

Steve gazed down at you. “You better take it back if you don’t want a new mess to clean up.”

You took the time to look at him– really look at him.

Steve's hot, and goodlooking. You’ve already known that. But have you ever really looked at him?

How there’s that weird drain between his brows when he’s frowning, or how his chin is like a shade darker than the rest of his face. There’s a spot on his cheek and his forehead. You’ve never really noticed them before. His eyes always had a shine. The only time you saw it dull was at his dad’s funeral and then again when Sarah Rogers passed away about 4 years after. Your parents took him in straight afterwards.

Those blue eyes are always so intense. Whether he’s trying to get a thread into the needle or reading Paper Towns, Steve’s eyes are so goddamn intense. Like he’s trying to burn a hole through the pages of that stupid book.

“You’re staring,” He noted, even though his eyes were deeply staring into you too.

“You’re staring,” You dutifully told him in return.

“I’m looking,” You see his eyes glancing down to your lips quickly and then back into your eyes.

Your eyes shifted down to his lips too. You know how it feels firsthand. Plump and soft, and it feels so good against your own. The natural pink only compliments his pale skin.

It has never been this intense. He was staring into you and you were gazing into him. His body warmth completely overrides the cold air of the fridge behind you. And his presence was... present, huge. Was this what people called sexual tension?

Damn it, Bucky. And Natasha. And Sam. And your parents.

Fuck.

His gaze switched between your eyes and lips, leaning down slowly and hesitantly. You leaned in too, slowly going up on the tip of your toes.

You could feel his breath on your face.

“We shouldn’t,” You whispered lowly.

“I know,” Steve’s hand still shifted to your jaw, though and he's caressing very lightly.

Your hands trailed up and linked at the back of his neck, and you completely press your lips against his.

Fuck.

It has been at least a year since you’ve been this close to Steve. But this, this was just different.

Steve kisses you back, lips soft but a little rough. It reminds you perfectly of the first time you kissed him he kissed you.

There was a thought in the back of your mind about how this was possibly going to be awkward later. But, fuck. His lips feels too good to stop.

You pull away from him, just about an inch or two away from his lips. “Steve,”

He speaks lowly, “I swear if you tell me that we shouldn’t do this...”

“We shouldn’t.” You breathed deeply. “But we need to talk about this,”

“Talk about what?” His voice raises the slightest bit. “Talk about how I’ve been in lo-”

The doorbell rings.

And just like that, your moment broke.

Steve closed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, before he completely pulls away from you and turned around.

“Go get the door. I’ll get started on the chicken.”

You listened, stepping out of the kitchen and to towards the door. Your mind was still processing what just happened. Was he about to say... But, Fuck.

Even if he did say it, you have no idea what you’d do.

Your hand curls around the door knob and you pushed it down and pulled the door open.

Nat and Bucky were on the other side, holding up bags and something that looks like 10 bags of gummy bears.

Not that you have any complaints.

“Your face looks weird. What happened?” Natasha brushes past you as she strides into your apartment, dropping her handbag on the dining table and then going into the kitchen.

“Yeah, you look weird. Why does the house seem so quiet?” Bucky asks next, pushing past you and going straight into the kitchen.

“Yeah, cause I just kissed Steve. Of course it’s gonna be like the fucking Kardashians’ house, ain’t it?” You mutter lowly under your breath, knowing damn well they can’t hear you.

“Hey, Steve,” Tasha sets the bags in the counter before she goes over and pecks Steve on his cheek. “You look weird too. What happened between you two?” She glances between you and Steve with a question mark on her face.

“Did you have sex?”

You turn to Bucky almost immediately. “No!”

“Alright, no need to get so defensive, Tiger. Did you kiss?”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks and the silence from you was a good enough answer for the both of then.

“Oh, so something did happen, huh?” Natasha teased, eyes glinting with some sort of evil.

“Shut up.” Steve grunts as he continues dipping small chicken cubes into flour and then into the egg mixture.

“Did you kiss his dick or just his mouth?”

You roll your eyes, stepping towards the sink to wash your hands, completely ignoring Bucky’s question.

You eyed Steve from your peripheral vision. He was silent too.

Well, fuck.

-

like comment reblog? i’ll love you forever

[barbecuebabybackribs]

 Being Bella’s little brother and Seth Clearwaters Imprint:

When the two of you met he had no idea Bella had a little brother, let alone that you were his imprint

But when he catches your eye for just a split second- he nearly chokes on the sandwich he had been eating

Suddenly nothing else around him matters, his whole world shifts and he want’s to stay in that moment forever, holding your gaze.

You had only been there to drop something off, Jacob had apparently left something at Bella’s- probably purposefully hoping Bella would come over to drop it off but boy, was he glad you came instead.

The whole packs eyes shift in between the two of you

“Well, he’s not what I was expecting.” Quill snickers, bumping Seth’s shoulder snapping him back to reality.

“Is Jacob around?” You asked, feeling a little uneasy at everyone staring at you, “Bella asked me to drop this off...” You trailed off shifting uncomfortably.

“He’s out on a run- but you can wait here.” Sam said, a smirk on his face as he listened to Seth’s racing thoughts

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just drop it off with you if that’s alright.” 

Seth’s shoulder’s dropped hoping you’d accept Sam’s offer and he’d be able to actually talk to you

You put Jacob’s wallet down on the table, hoping to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible because at this point the stares were deeply disturbing you

Paul threw his shoe at Seth, yelling at him in there heads to say something.

“Uh! Hi!?” He said a little to loud and obviously panicked

You just smiled at him, a little awkwardly but it was enough to get Seth hyped up

“I’m Seth Clearwater, Did you just move here?”

Ah, maybe that’s why they’ve been looking at you so strange, you think to yourself, A random stranger walks into your house and drops off there friends wallet. You assumed Bella had mentioned you coming over, apparently you assumed wrong.

“No, well kind of, I moved in a week after Bella got here.”

“How do you know Bella?” 

Oh so they don’t know about you at all, you laugh slightly, oh course she didn’t, she was such a nice sister but damn, not even mentioning her own brother. 

“She’s my sister...”

Suddenly everyone else was the one’s falling silent and Seth was chatting away about how you should come to there bonfire they were having tonight- they technically weren’t going to be having one but he was gonna be damned if he let you just walk away

You reluctantly agreed and then took your leave

You thought he was nice but were still unsettled by the awkward encounter

Seth however was over the moon, rambling about how nice you seemed and how they needed to throw the best bonfire, when Jacob came back he was attacked with hundreds of questions about you- Most of which he hardly knew the answer to like, what’s there favorite color, do they like muffins, what’s their favorite food, ect.

All the other pack members slightly dread having to listen to this forever.

Boy is excited but nervous when he waits for you

You take one step out of your car and he’s standing there practically jumping with joy

He can’t calm down, he’s just so excited to spend time with you

The pack have to warn him not to scare you off multiple times

Once you get over how excited he is you realized he’s actually pretty fun to be around, you spend all night talking about your lives and interests 

Before you leave you both agree you should hang out again soon- you actually suggest it and Seth can’t agree fast enough

When you leave Seth is so giddy- the entire pack is happy for him but they all start to poke fun at him

He doesn’t care, he’s over the moon happy

Since that day he’s almost constantly around you

You two become quick friends, You finally feel like you’ve connected with someone since you moved to Forks

You adore how happy and innocent he can be, loving his long ramblings about random things and interests he has

He loves how you actually listen to him, not brushing him off or just thinking he’s some silly kid

He invites you too the beach almost constantly- completely forgetting your human and you get cold

One time you ruffled his hair and he’s been obsessed with it ever since

Neither of you meant to fall in love

For you, you realized almost immediately you were starting to get a small crush on him, which only grew the longer you knew each other

He however was clueless for a long while, the pack started to suspect by his thoughts that you weren’t a platonic imprint

All Seth knows is one day it finally clicked in his head one day when you were grabbing fast food for eachother- you remembered his rather large order since this was a regular occurrence for the two of you- he was sitting at a table and suddenly it hit him

He was in love with you

Our man panics at the thought- he knew you cared about him but how much? He was clueless.

He hasn’t even told you that he’s a shifter- and you don’t know about vampires so he has no idea how you’ll react

You notice he’s slightly quieter then usual and you put your hand on his shoulder asking if everything is alright- He nearly jumps out of his skin

He assures you everything is fine while reading into almost everything you do or say, wondering if it’s a sign your just friends or that you like him

When he goes back to the pack that night he tries to clear his thoughts but they’re just full of you.

Paul ATTEMPTS at giving him advice

“Look, man, I don’t know what its like to... ya know be in love with a dude... but I am a dude and I’ve been in lots of relationships so If I were you I’d just come right out to her- I mean him- look just tell him you like him, I’m sure they feel the same way about you... I mean I think... probably.”

“Paul, your horrible at this.”

“Well then, you try since your so good at this, Quill.”

Seth thanks them quickly and leaves, he’s thankful that Paul gave him advice but just telling you almost gave him a heart attack to think about.

That night he writes almost a three paragraph text to you, but ends up deleting it- to nervous to tell you

Leah is sitting in the other room trying not to snoop on his thoughts but unable to keep them out

Ends up giving him some advice, that if he loves you to not let you go, to not rush things, and when he feels like he’s ready to ask you out.

He thanks her before heading off to bed

Turns out he feels ready in three days

The entire pack is internally hyping him up when you pick him up- He invited you to the beach, wanting to have you undivided attention.

Ends up rambling for an hour as he talks around his feelings.

Internally at war on whether or not he’s ready to tell you

“Do you want to go on a date?” He blurts out after a moment of silence

...

“Like... a date date?” You ask hopeful but not wanting to misunderstand

“Yeah... you don’t have to if you don’t want- I just thought it might be nice cause I really like yo-- you know what just forget I said anything it not importan--”

“I’d love to go on a date with you.” You answered, attempting to hide the severe blush rising to your cheeks.

Seth does not stop smiling the rest of your hang out- when he get’s home the pack doesn’t even need to hear his thoughts to know.

“Alright way to go Seth!”

You go home that day also unable to wipe your smile off your face

“what’s got you so happy about?” Bella asks, she secretly already know, Edward told her the minute you walked in the door.

She knew you two had become friends but she had no idea you were gay

“Nothing!” You chimed happily grabbing a soda from the fridge

“Okay.. Hey Y/N can I ask you something and you promise to tell the truth.”

“Sure, Bells, what’s up?”

“Are you... gay?

You both just look at each other for a few minutes before you finally answer “Maybe a bit.”

“Oh.. cool.” She says before going back upstairs, reeling from the new information.

Your left confused on what just happened and how she knew, but deciding it would be best to just accept it and move on

The next time you were in the same room it was very awkward

She didn’t exactly care, but she was raised where it was out of the norm

You thought she did care, and you couldn’t look her in the eye

Once Edward told her that how you felt, she decided it was time to talk

“You know, I don’t hate you... right?”

“... You don’t?”

“Uh no, I was just shocked... I’m glad you told me.”

“Well you did force my hand.”

“Yeah, sorry that was wrong of me.”

“It’s alright.”

Things were still awkward but that was your normal- living in a house with Charlie and Bella meant there were a lot of uncomfortable moments

Although you were glad she knew

On the day of your date both of your guys nerves were high

Everything felt very awkward

You went to see a movie, an action film he really wanted to see, you didn’t like it but were glad he enjoyed himself.

Seth didn’t really know what to do on a date, all he had to go off was Paul and romance movies- neither of those were the best things to base your knowledge off

When he saw you shiver slightly and pull your jacket closer he thought he had the perfect idea in his idea

He did the classic yawn and arm move, and you almost jumped out of your skin when you felt his hot arm lay across your shoulders

Unknowingly he timed his smooth moves with a suspenseful scene in the movie- and you were already on edge so him wrapping his arm around you scared the hell out of you

You felt guilty when he quickly recoiled and whispered a sorry

After a few moments of silence you decided you’d pull the same move on him

He was internally screaming at himself for being so stupid when you slithered your arm around him

You stared straight forward to nervous to meet his eye, however you could see in the corner of your eye he was looking at you

After a few seconds he relaxed into your touch, leaning slightly into you

He couldn’t focus on the movie after that, he was far to excited and if it weren’t for the fact that he was in a theater he would have been nervously rambling

You both went home, punching the air you were both so excited

He went to bed thinking about how good it felt to be in your arms

You went to bed gushing at how cute his face was when you left, his face was a red mess

After that day you guys talked everyday and saw each other every other day

On your third date, he works up the courage to kiss you, sweating nervously while he did it

Is so giddy when you press another kiss to his lips

You would’ve liked to continue but he was so excited he nearly pounces on you with a hug

It becomes a common occurrence to steal a kiss or two here and there

You dad was suspicious you were seeing a girl and not telling him

He tried to give you ‘the talk’ because he ‘was a teenage boy to and know’s what its like’

You were uncomfortably sitting on the sofa, wishing to be anywhere else

“Uhm dad... I should probably tell you something.”

“Oh god... is she pregnant?’

“NO! no no no, it’s not that... actually you won’t really need to worry about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a... seeing someone who’s not.. a girl...”

“So like a...”

“I’m seeing Seth Clearwater.” You decide it’s better to just rip off the band-aid

“Ah... well that’s good then... he’s a good kid.”

An uncomfortable silence falls and you both sip nervously at your drinks,

“You know you still need to use protection right...”

“Oh my god... yes dad I know.”

“I’m just making sure!” 

Things are a little uncomfortable for awhile but Charlie really doesn’t give a damn- he’s still not happy you were seeing someone behind his back, but he let’s it slide

Next time Seth comes over Charlie makes you leave the door cracked

Not that you minded, you just played games and talked- laughing together whenever you’d see Charlie checking on the two of you

The time to tell you about him being shifter finally come and he is terrified but excited to not need to hide it from you any more

“Hey Seth, Why are we going into the middle of the woods?”

“You’ll see!”

He leads you away from the others, before nervously stopping and turning to you

“Uhm so I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to show you... uh don’t panic please.”

The words ‘don’t panic’ made you panic, “Oh god please tell me your not a serial killer.”

“No, not a serial killer.”

“A... Cannibal?”

“Uh, also no. You’ll see.”

When he takes his shirt off you get extremely uncomfortable- When he takes his pants off you look anywhere but to him, “Uh... I should... I should go.”

Your about to turn around when in the flash of an eye the man that was standing before turns into a ginormous wolf

You just stare at him for a few minutes, not saying a damn word

You question literally everything you’ve ever known

“Okay.” You sigh, Finally looking him in the eye, “I don’t really know what to say at that but thanks, for not being a cannibal- your not going to eat me right now are you?”

He shakes his head, laughing internally at how that’s your concern right now.

“Okay then...” You trailed off, taking a few cautious steps forward- I mean.. it’s not exactly normal but it could’ve been worse, you thought to yourself.

“Can I... uhm..” You don’t finish your sentence, wearily raising your hand to touch him.

He nuzzled into your hand, you gently stroked his fur behind his ear- it was weird but you were trying your best to accept it, you did love him... all of him and if this is something you’d have to get used to, you were willing to do that.

“Okay,” you say patting his head, “Can you, ya know, unwolf-i-fy please, so I can talk to you.”

He takes a few steps away from you before you shifting, you quickly look away while he get’s changed

“So, what do you think?” Seth asks a little nervous but happy that you didn’t immediately run away

“My boyfriend is a werewolf... I mean that’s cool but, could’ve used a heads up.”

He explains the whole pack history, who is and isn’t werewolves, finally explains what happened to Emily- answering a question you hadn’t dared to ask, when he explains imprints to you, you get lowkey jealous.

“So... who’s your imprint then?”

“...”

“Seth.”

He laughed and motions towards you, it takes a second for it to click.

“... What’s that supposed to-- OH ME?”

“Yep!”

When he walks you back to the pack, Quill groans slightly- he had bet 20 dollars you would’ve ran for the hills

You just squint at the lot of them, not really knowing what to say but deciding you had to say something, “So all of you then?”

“Yes, we’re all shifters.” Sam says, cautious not to say to much.

“Well that’s... cool.”

Seth pulls you away and you decide it’s time to go

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” You asked, and he quickly replied with a “Yep!”

After you take a day to think and process, things basically go back to normal

You get so excited to see him shift that he get’s excited, which get’s you excited, and it just continues to loop

He can show you his strength and agility now so he decides to start sneaking in you window- with your permission

You’ll start hearing little taps on your window almost every night

You’ll look over and see his dopey smile.through the window

Him coming clean to you about his supernatural side means he finally feels comfortable to sleep with you- not the way your thinking

Quite literally cuddled up to you and sound asleep, arms and legs tangled together

Forks is a cold, cold place so you obviously need to sleep cuddled up to your warm boyfriend.

“So you could say your hot in both senses of the word.”

“I-”

He BLUSHES when you flirt with him, he get’s so flustered

When he flirts with you it’s all cheesy pickup lines- if they came from anyone else you’d gag but it’s cute from him

“Are you french?”

“No-”

“Because Eiffel for you.”

He’s a dork but you love him.

It takes a long while for you to get physically intimate

He’ll only be comfortable doing a few smaller things at first, not wanting to go all the way

You kind of expected it, he get’s embarrassed when you kiss him, so sex? Boy would probably die that instant

At the end of the day, he’s so happy he found you and so in love with you it almost overwhelms him

He makes sure to remind you how much he loves you everyday for the rest of your lives together

(SO I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS YESTERDAY MORNING BUT I CLICKED SAVE TO DRAFT AND IM REALLY DUMB. Also this is a request but I lost there request so I’m really sorry and hope you can see this bud. Love y’all, stay safe)

[gothamsglam]

Can I have Your Name? (a SamBucky ficlet)

for @samshield hope you enjoy 😘

(also on ao3 under @/the_fifth_marauder101)

---

“Thanks, can I have your name?” asked Bucky with a charming smile on his face, pulling out a sharpie. However, instead of writing on an empty class as the poor customer thought, he scribbled down “Tony” on one of those ‘Hello, my name is…’ stickers.

“That’s a wonderful name by the way,” Bucky compliments, because fck you Steve, he can be polite. 

He fcking told Steve going into customer service was a great idea. Idiot wanted to continue doing door to door shit, or, even worse, mope around forests for wandering travelers. He told him it wasn’t the 1400s anymore, and to grow up. Damn the supernatural council and their ‘hunt in pairs’ rule, he will go rouge and leave Stevie, he will do it. 

“I’m this close,” Bucky had hissed, holding his fingers in the air so Stevie could see, 

“Your fingers are touching,” Steve deadpanned. 

“Exactly.”

The man doesn’t look up from his flurry of typing, “Thank you, it’s a family name.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies quietly “Alright, your order will be right out,” Bucky grinned, replacing his name tag with the new one without looking away from the brown-haired customer. The second the tag sticks to his shirt, he feels a refreshing rush of energy. Kind of like what he imagines those ‘caffeine/sugar rush’ those damn teens keep harping about. 

“Thank y—” The customer—Tony—looks up from his phone to flash him a grin, only to have it fall from his face when he sees the name tag. 

This was the fun part. Bucky didn’t break eye contact, maintaining it with the same smile, only now he could tell it felt eerie to the human. Like something wasn’t right. 

The man’s brown eyes flitted up and down between Bucky’s face and the name tag, before he surged forward, “What di—”

“Have a good day,” Bucky bit out, still keeping the smile and cheery customer service tone. His eyes were blank, he made sure of it. Honestly, this whole song and dance was unnecessary. Stevie usually just wrote the name tags, and then stuck them on as he was making the drinks. Their shop was typically slow enough that there wouldn’t be people behind to question why the tender had a new name. But Bucky loved to fck with humans. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’s been alive for 70 generations, let him have his fun. 

However, today was a bit different. Another two walked into the shop, Bucky didn’t see it as much as he felt it. Bucky kept his back turned, hollering “Welcome to Stars and Stripes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” over his shoulder as he made the three drinks. What asshole ordered three drinks?

Bucky’s question was answered when he saw the two men walk over to Tony’s table. One of them kissed Tony on the cheek and the other just faux-gagged before giving Tony a hug as well. Bucky called out the order, eyes tracking the way Tony mumbled something to the two men and both reacted oddly, as they probably should. Bucky would expect no less. 

Apparently, he jinxed himself, because the man who hugged Tony came to pick up the drinks. 

“Nice name,” said the man.

“Thanks,” Bucky flashed his uncanny valley smile and offered nothing else. The man winked and then walked back to the table. 

Bucky did not look at his ass, he didn’t. 

---

The next day, the man comes in. Not Tony, but other guy. The cute one. 

“Hi my name’s Jacob, how may I help you today?” Bucky asks politely. 

The man, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash, “Hi I’ll have three—” And he rattled off the same order that Tony had. Bucky resisted the urge to frown, maybe it was just a two-time thing? This group has only come into their shop once before, what are the odds of it happening again, for a third time?

“Perfect,” Bucky slid the receipt across the counter, “Can I have your name?” Bucky asked, as he reached for a pen. 

“Nope,” the man replied. 

Bucky froze in his moments, “What?”

The man shrugged, face showing nothing but politeness, “I’m the only person in this store, you’ll be able to find me.”

Bucky was stunned as he watched him walk back to the spot the trio was in the other day. As he sat down, the man gave a nod of acknowledgment to Bucky, who was still staring. 

His brown—almost hazelnut with the light of the sun—eyes stared into Bucky’s own, and in them all he saw was mischief. 

Fck.

---

For the next two days, Bucky kept a—subtle, he wasn’t obsessed or anything—watch out for Tony or The Man. And for those two days, he didn’t see hide or hair of them. Bucky figured they must have been college students from nearby campuses, wandering in when Starbucks was too full, which happens often enough. Then on the third day, he returned. 

“Hey, Jacob” greeted The Man, his smile so bright—so bright that Nat would have burned like she does under the sun and threaten to bite the man in the jugular. Bucky, who was too gobsmacked to even deliver his customer service opening, stared at him. 

“Not Jacob,” Bucky said, his voice strangled. 

The Man chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the same look from the first day he ordered, “Ok ‘Not Jacob’, may I have—” And repeated the same order from the last two times. 

“Um, right, uh” Bucky stammered, face growing hot as The Man raised an eyebrow at him smugly, “Can I have your name?”

“Put Redwing,” The Man said, shrugging. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a happy smirk—how can a person have a fcking happy smirk?—, not that Bucky was only looking at his lips or anything. 

“Redwing?” Bucky asked, stupidly. Because why ask, idiot, why ask for clarification? He read somewhere that the psyche is powerful enough to make the body do things, like fake pregnancies. Whether that’s something only reserved to humans is up for debate, but maybe, if Bucky doesn’t ask and lives in blissful ignorance, he can feed off of a fake name. But no, because he’s a bloody fool, he asked. 

“It’s my pet’s name,” The Man answered, then looked tilted his head, giving a sheepish smile, “Or at least, that’s what I want to name a pet, I don’t have one.”

“Right,” Said Bucky, suddenly feeling empty in ways that have nothing to do with hunger, “Your order will be right out.”

Their conversation was longer than normal, so when the man went to sit down, the couple came in moments afterward. All three sat in the same place as before. 

‘Oh no,’ Bucky thought in dawning horror, ‘Regulars.’ 

---

“Falcon,” grins The Man, now foregoing any attempts to be subtle and simply being a little shit.

Bucky looked at him, face void of any amusement. At this point, he’s shucked the polite customer service voice and snarked back and forth with the regular like there’s no tomorrow—only in this situation, there is a tomorrow, there always is tomorrow.

Their staring contest probably goes on for a bit too long, judging by the way Tony and his boyfriend—Bucky can feel comfortable calling the two a couple, based on how disgustingly affectionate the two get in the cafe—walk in. 

The Man flashed a smile and turned away to greet the couple. An audible ‘Rhodey!’ reached Bucky’s ears. Now, finally, he has a name for one of the dark-skinned men, the one who kissed Tony’s cheek and was currently walking in with said Tony, arm around his shoulders. Only Bucky doesn’t feel that familiar warmth pool in his gut, refreshing his energy levels. 

‘Oh,’ Bucky thinks, and watches as the man—his regular—laughs with his friends but also how his eyes flit back to peek at Bucky as names are spoken. ‘oh, loopholes.’

Bucky is so screwed. 

---

The names his regular gives become increasingly goofy, and Steve teases him about how flirty they get—Bucky absolutely didn’t have a favorite, and it absolutely wasn’t Angel. But Bucky only believed Stevie when he got a number instead of a random moniker. 

“What?” Bucky short-circuited. 

The man just sighed, “Come on, I gave you my number, work with me here.”

“You finally did it, huh, Sam?” Tony called out from where he was typing away on his computer, which rested on Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey, who was sprawled out in one of their chairs, nudged Tony with his foot, “Shush, let them have this.”

‘Sam,’ Bucky thinks,  and all he can come up with in his blue screened mind is, ‘Perfect’.

In his phone, the name Sam’s contact is under is ‘Angel’.

Steve heckles. 

---

“How did you know, Angel?”

Sam looks at Bucky, and Bucky’s struck into silence, The whole world falls around them in muted sounds and lights fade into balls of blurry color, because as they lock gazes all Bucky can notice is Sam’s eyes. Sam’s eyes—his wonderful, soul-deep eyes that shine with mischief and laughter, that glow so bright and rival the heavens when the sunlight reflects off it just so—are sad. 

“My friend,” Sam says quietly, “Riley. He was one of yours.”

Bucky nods, and reaches out with his metal hand—an injury from decades ago and a gift from a shapeshifter who hissed that his debt was repaired before slithering off into the night—pulling Sam closer to him. They watch the sun go down from the top of the roof, the stars revealed one by one, twinkling against the darkness of the dusk. 

---

(One day, Bucky will ask for Sam’s name again, specifically his last name. Only then, will Sam reply honestly.)

---

AN: This is a more bastardized version of faeries/fae, I just made up my own creature for what Bucky and Steve are. Simply because I just wanted to write a little ficlet about SamBucky and didn’t do much research. Don’t think too hard about it :)

(and the link to the Tik Tok I saw on tumblr that inspired this is also linked on my ao3 fic)

Hope you enjoyed! 

-vix

[volturicangetit]

A.V/J.V- Loved at last

Summary: After getting rejected by your imprints, Emmett and Rosalie, you needed a fresh start. So you go to Italy where you meet two interesting vampires. Maybe they can show you what’s it’s like to be loved.

Reqeust: YES/no @rexburn12​  : Where Male Reader Was Banished From La Push For Imprinting On Emmett, and Rosalie They Reject Him Which Almost Kills Him, and Makes Reader Extremely Sad and Reader Moves To Volterra, Italy To Work As A Mechanic. Alec and Jane Smell A Amazing Scent They Follow It To See Their Mate Reader At Home Who Looks Sad Which Makes Them Growl in Anger and It Catches Reader's Attention He Looks At Them, and Imprints On Them Making Him Shocked. Since Imprinting Is A One Time Thing For Shifters.

Warnings: swearing, self hate

Wordcount: 3226

A/N: I’m turning 17 tomorrow ( may 19 )! I can’t really celebrate my birthday but at least I can celebrate it with my parents and siblings. Also I’m born on the same day as Jojo Siwa so that....nice?

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

Saying that you ' hate yourself ' can't even express the amount of disgust you feel towards yourself. You know that it's something you can't control, something that isn't a choice. But still feel like it's your fault that you imprinted on not one, but two vampires. You didn't even know that it was possible to imprint on something that died decades ago. The fact that they both rejected you didn't help. You knew that they wouldn't love you but you were hoping to at least be friends.

" You fucking what? " Rosalie screams at the top of her dead lungs. You flinch as she takes a step towards you, lowering your head. " They can't control it, " Carlisle tries to reason, but Rosalie and Emmett ignore him. You feel Emmet wrap his hands around you and lift you off the ground. Within a second you're outside of the house where he roughly pushes you onto the ground, right into the mud. You sit there on your hands and knees trying to regain yourself which is very fucking difficult when your covered in mud and getting soaked slowly by the rain pouring down on you. It was like the universe wanted you to suffer even more.

" Did you seriously think that we would accept you? You're a fucking dog. " Rosalie says as she and Emmet are standing on their porch. It's only now that you see the contrast between you all. They're standing dry in their expensive house while you're laying in the mud, which comforts you for some odd reason. You stand up quickly, pushes some of the rain of off your face.

" Please, you know I wouldn't have come here if I could just go without you. ". Your voice cracks at every word. You came here vulnerable and onto the land of your enemies. If Sam knows that you're here, he will rip your head off. Emmett shakes his head but doesn't say anything. He can't bring himself to do so. Sure, he wants to scream at you. To yell some words at you he knows he's going to regret but it's like his mind has shut off. Rosalie, on the other hand, can't stop the words from flowing out. " Go away, you disgusting thing. "

You let yourself slide down the side onto the floor of your shower. The water streaming down onto your already burning skin is way too hot, yet you don't care. You don't deserve nice warm showers. No, you deserve scolding hot showers that makes your skin feel like it's going to fall off. A sob breaks out of your body, causing your shoulder to rumble along with it. You tried so hard to stop yourself from crying. But now you let it all out. Every emotion, every pent up bit of anger, every sad thought. It all comes it whether you want it to or not. Whines and groans come out of your mouth along with the sobs. You know the other pack members can hear you, not just crying, but also through your mental bond. Their voices and questions of concern are being blocked out by you. The only thing you can hear if your own sobbing and a dull ringing in your ears.

You don't know how long you've sat in the shower, but you do know that you're going to have a ridiculously high water bill this month. When you get out of the shower and have gotten dressed in a simple pair of sweat pants and a sweater you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You stop in your track and stare at your own reflection. Your face seems foreign to you. Your normally gleeful eyes are now puffy and look so sickly that you might as well be dead. Your lips are broken from all the screaming and biting at them you've done. It looks weird to see yourself look so broken, but then again, it is said that rejection by your imprint is sometimes not even survived. " What's going on? ". You jump a little as you quickly turn around to see Paul standing behind you. He's leaning against the doorframe, glancing between you and the mirror. " Nothing, you lie. ".

" Oh, come one. We can hear your thoughts, remember? " he says as he taps his temple with his pointer finger. You nod, still looking down at the ground. When you remain quiet, Paul sighs and pulls you into a hug. You freeze at first. He never hugged you, or anyone for that matter. " Those bloodsuckers rejected you? ". You nod as you bury your face into his chest. You needed this. A hug, to help ground you and get you back to reality. " They don't deserve you, you know? ".

" I think I...I think I need to go away for a while, " you keep your voice soft while you speak to try and keep it from cracking. Paul nods before he lets his chin rest on top of your head. " How about Italy? The weather is a lot better there. I know some people there, " Paul suggests. You pull him closer to you. Italy. Nice, warm Italy. Away from Emmett and Rosalie, away from the pack. It will hurt like shit, but it's the best for you. A fresh start. A normal life. No vampires living right next door, no pack fights, no drama between Jacob, Bella and Edward. Just you and Italy. " Yeah, it sounds nice, "

---

Two months. Two months without cloudly Forks. It has done you good. Extremely good. You didn't realize how depressed that place made you until you left. The moment you felt the comforting Italian sun hit your skin was the moment you knew you made the right choice. You didn't talk to Paul's friends a lot. You got a place of your own after a couple of weeks, due to how small the town was everyone who was trying to sell their house was practically begging you to buy their house. You picked up your hobby of tinkering again, now using to be a mechanic though. The town needed one so you were happy to oblige. It was refreshing to have new faces around and a new environment. The sadness that once had its grip on your has disappeared, now only present in dark memories.

You pick up an apple that is laying on your kitchen table before making your way out of your house and towards your work. Not many costumers would come in, if at all. A festival is being celebrated in a nearby town. Naturally, almost everyone in the village has gone there to have a party. You didn't want to do that though, be around people and all. Plus this new free time would give you time to catch up with work and make some preparations for the next day. The walk to your work is short, yet you still enjoy it every day. Back in Forks, you hated the sound of the birds singing but here you enjoy it so much. The birds sing a different song here. One of joy instead of sadness.

" Buongiorno, " you say to your coworker as you walk into the store. Your Italian is far from perfect but it's getting better every day. " Come va? " your coworker, Piero, asks. " Bene. And you? ". He just nods at you with a smile before he resumes to fix what looks like a clock. You really couldn't tell though, most things that come to the store for fixing are broken beyond recognition. You sit down at your workspace and take in the mess that is laying before you. You need to clean that, definitely. You have enough time today to do so anyways

Going for a stroll through the city isn't something the twins would normally do but today was an exception. A sudden rainstorm has been hovering over the area, blocking out the sun and allowing them to go outside without fear. That and the fact that most inhabitants of San Cipriano were now in Volterra for the festival. They dressed down, replacing their usual robes with a dress in Jane's case and jeans and a sweater for Alec. They talked about normal things like the new store that just opened up down the block and books they've read. It feels nice to them to feel so normal. Anyone who saw them would think that they are just a brother and sister enjoying the cool afternoon weather and not two vampires who work for the three kings.

" They have this machine that can induce dreams, " Alec says as he tries to explain the plot of ' Inception ' to Jane. She nods as she only half listens to his story, more focussed on watching a group of children play hide and seek on the other side of the road. The two siblings are sitting on a bench right next to the cemetery, ironically enough. " Sounds fascinating, " Janes says.

Alec nods before resuming his explanation. Jane enjoys seeing her brother so happy. They were both way too serious for their age, not having enjoyed their childhood years as they should have. Seeing him so passionate and happy about something surely put a smile on her face. Alec stops his words however when a sudden gust of winds blows a particularly sweet smell towards them. Both siblings look at each other as they inhale the scent. " Apple, " Jane says

" And rust. Delicious, " Alec adds. Jane slowly points towards the direction of your store. Alec nods and stands up from the bench, getting what his sister means. Both twins slowly stroll to your shop, they want to see who this scent is coming from but at the same time are to content to feel any sort of rush.

The sound of a bell ringing notifies you that someone entered the shop. " Un momento! " you call out from the back of the shop. You quickly wipe the oil that has been building up of your hands with a cloth before making your way to the front of the store to help the new costumers out. The moment you lay your eyes on the twins is when the world stops. You'd be lying to say that they aren't beautiful. Every birthmark on their skins seems so perfect that it has had to be placed there by the angels themselves. A sudden rush of adrenaline fills your body. Every detail about them become highlighted. You know this feeling, you know what this means. You didn't think you could imprint again but here you are, imprinting on the twins. Apparently, your wolf seems to have a preference for imprinting on duos. " I...I...Can I.... ". Your mind can't seem to form words at the moment. It's too busy with taking the twins in, to memorise every single thing about them.

The moment your mind starts to get clearer, you can start to smell them. The dry, campfire-like smell that comes of them suddenly starts to make sense. Vampire. Of course, you had to imprint on vampires again. Jane and Alec also caught the hint of dog and forest in your scent, both realizing that they're in deep shit now. They know you're their mate, they didn't need to notify the other on it. The way they both feel this need to protect you and the way your scent has intoxicated them both said enough. " You're our mate, " Jane says softly. Her usually cold and stern voice now sounds honey sweet.

The realisation of the whole situation only seems to be catching up to you now. The whole two months you spent here, trying to rebuild your life and your mental health seems to be for nothing now. They will reject you. Those words seem to float around your head. You shake your head softly, feeling tears pricking up into your eyes. You take a couple of steps back and away from them. " I-I'm sorry. I can't. Not now, " you say before disappearing into the back of the shop and leaving the confused twins behind in the shop.

You can feel your wolf aching under your skin, begging to be let out. You rush out of the store through the backdoor. You chose your place of work strategically, right next to the forest, which you are very thankful for right now. You let your walls down and let the wolf in you come forth. The ache under your skin stops as your shift begins. Within seconds you're in your wolf form. Tall and frightening for most you stand there for a second, looking back at the store before making a run for it and into the forest. You sit there in your own mind, drowning in your own thoughts as the wolf takes control of your body. Normally, you would try to at least have a sliver of self-control, not now, however. Now you want nothing more than to get lost into the woods.

It doesn't feel like your in your own body, it feels like your floating above it. Memories is all your seeing. Rosalie and Emmett screaming at you. The disgusted looks in their eyes and the harsh words them threw at you without a second thought. They'll do the same. You're sure of it. How could a vampire ever love you? How could someone ever love you?

---

Wet grass brushes against your cheek. The prominent smell of dirt and daisies fills your nose. Slowly, you open your eyes. You're laying on your back, which you only realize now. You stare up at the dark sky above you. The sun is long gone. Now it's replaced by the moon and a thousand stars. It must be later than three a.m. Maybe even later. You should probably move and get inside before you catch a cold but you can't bring yourself to do so. You're to mentally and physically drained from your shift earlier this evening. After regaining yourself, you finally find the strength to get up from the grass. Every bone in your body aches as you stand up for the first time in hours. You stretch a little, getting used to your human form again. Slowly but surely you walk to your front door. The warmth that meets you the moment you open your door falls over you like a blanket. Sudden tiredness washes over you. You let out a jawn as you walk over to your living room, reading to crash on your couch.

Instead of an empty couch, you find two vampires sitting on it, the same there were in the shop earlier. " What are you doing on my house? " you ask. Your body fills with adrenaline again. A warm fuzz fills your brain now that you're around your imprints. " I'm Jane, ". You nod at her statement.

" Cool, and I'm very fucking confused about why you're in my house. ". Both twins laugh a little at your joke. " You got humour in you, alright. " Alec says. You nod, slowly walking a little more towards them. You hate that you're so drawn to them. They like us. You stop in your steps. Why could you hear Jane's thoughts? Is this another part of this weird vampire-imprint thing?

" I'm sure that you have some question, " Alec begins. You cut him off before he can finish his sentence thought. " Yeah like why two members of the Volturi are in my house. ". Both look at you with big eyes, confused as to how you know them. You throw your arms up in the air. " Oh come one, I lived in the same town as the Cullens! You guys came over like every other weekend for Bella and Edward! ".

You sit down on your couch. Letting your elbows rest on your knees so your hands can hold your head up. You let out a deep sigh. Why did this kind of shit always happen to you? " Look, I know you won't want me and that's fine. Just break the news to me, we don't have to tiptoe around it, " you say, just trying to get them to get to the point. Alec's hand is suddenly underneath your chin. He angles your head in a way so that you're looking up at him. " You think we don't want you? ". You nod.

" No, don't ever think that, " Jane says as she sits down beside you. " It's maybe a bit...unusual to have a wolf as a mate but we definitely want you. If you want us. ". You can't help the small smile from spreading onto your face. They want you. They didn't reject you or call you a dog. " Of course I want you, have you seen yourself? You're both hot. ". The twins send each other a smile. Jane gets up from the couch and stands in front of you next to Alec. She holds her hand out for you to grab. " Come home with us. ". You nod at her before grabbing her hand. Finally, you can go to a home where you're loved.

---

The ringing of the phone seems to go on so long that you're afraid you're calling won't be picked up. You wanted to call home, to tell them how well you're doing. You just hope that someone will pick up. Finally, the call gets picked up. " Hello? " Seth says on the other side of the line. " Seth! " you call out happily. The annoyance in his voice is gone in an instant and replaced by happiness. " Y/n! You called! How are you? ".

" Better than ever, " you say happily, glancing over at Jane and Alec who is standing on the other side of the room talking to Demitri and Felix. You know that they are probably listing along to your call but you don't care. " I'm really good. I um...I imprinted again. ". You wait anxiously for Seth's response. " Really? That's great! Who is it? ".

You and Seth continue to talk for another thirty minutes. Back home things are going great for him and the pack as well. Apparently, Emmett and Rosalie are really sorry but you couldn't care less about them. Not now that you have Jane and Alec. " It was nice to talk to you again. Give my greetings to the rest, yeah? Bye-bye. ". You hang up the call. Within a second, Jane and Alec are standing next to you, both giving you a questioning look.

" He's happy for me. Really happy, " you say with a bright smile on your face. Alec grabs your hand and gives you a kiss on top of your knuckles. " See, I know he would be. ". You nod at his comment. You stand there for a moment before pulling both the twins in for a hug. They wrap their arms around you. Sure, it's a little awkward to hug with three people, but it's comforting at the same time. You take in their scent. At first, you hated the smell of vampire but now it smells like home. You feel happy, truly and utterly happy. Maybe someone could love you after all.

TWILIGHT TAGLIST:

@scuzmunkie​ @thanossexual​ @prettyinblack231​

[angstbabyjae]

DSMP Tier List

This tier list was shared in a discord server I’m in, so I thought I’d give it a go. Not entirely satisfied with the section titles, so I used them quite liberally. I will explain why I put people where I did. On the tier itself I didn’t order them by preference but in my explanation I will. Please not that they will be ranked from favorite to least favorite per category (for example: I put Sapnap technically above Niki despite liking her character more) and not by how much they deserve to be in each category (for example: I prefer Technoblade to Phil but I believe people excuse Technoblade’s actions more than Phil’s). I encourage healthy suggestion in the comments since I only joined the fandom around the Green Festival and haven’t seen the history/POV’s of every character, though I try. Enjoy.

Gonna slap on a big ol’ “/rp” here just to be safe.

You've done nothing wrong come here (holds you gently)

So the thing about this section is that I don't believe any dream smp character is completely innocent, so I used this section more like a top of tier than as it's title implies.

1. TommyInnit

Ngl, Tommy is my favorite character in the Dream SMP. As a fellow Loud Person I relate to him a lot and his feelings that nobody really likes him. His mental health struggles are close to my heart and (SPOILERS) his death just made me so devastated. I really hope they don't end his arc like this. Not when he was just starting to heal, please. Tommy has certainly done a lot of things wrong. I'd highly recommend watching the exile decision from both Tubbo and Tommy's POV's because you can really get a grasp of their mindsets. Despite this, he is my fave.

2. Ranboo

Until recently I preferred Tubbo to Ranboo, but cc!Ranboo just totally outdid himself on lore and acting to the point where I couldn't deny it anymore. Ranboo did do *some* things wrong, but they are less extreme than many on this list (I don't count things he might have done under Dream's control since he wasn't conscious). Ranboo's character makes me go into protecc mode. So yeah, very good enderboi.

3. Tubbo_

Tubbo doesn't have much lore for his character, but like I do with many others on this list, I like to overanalyze and interpret certain characters to be deeper than they are. The Tubbo I have in my head is a lot more complex than what cc!Tubbo probably meant to portray. There is so much angst potential with his character, similar to many others, but what puts him top tier for me is the emotional connection I have to his character and how I relate to getting so much put on my shoulders and having to make tough decisions.

you're an amazing character

Okay so technically Schlatt should be on this list if we are speaking from a narrative standpoint, but seeing as the way OP labelled the other sections on this chart I'm guessing they meant morally as well.

4. Alex Quackity

Quackity is my favorite adult character. I don't even know why, I just love the idea of this comic relief character becoming such a catalyst for plot and more serious as time goes on. I love taking the dream smp characters and making them deeper than they probably are, as I do with Tubbo, but now it seems cc!Quackity is fully taking his character to the height of his potential and I can't wait to see what he does with him next.

5. AweSamDude

(SPOILERS) As such a big Tommy fan I must admit, my first thought when Tommy died was that Sam was partly responsible. If Dream told him what he did to Tommy in exile like he claims then he would have at least put up the obsidian barrier between them or something. After watching Ranboo's most recent stream (right now it's March 3rd) I understand why Sam did what he did more. My initial anger towards him has dissipated a bit. I still love his character so much. He really did care about Tommy and now... dang. I can't wait to see what happens with him next.

6. Captain Puffy

It was very close between ranking her or Sam higher, but given all the in depth character stuff we're getting from Sam right now, I'd have to rank him above. Despite this, Puffy is a character that I started out not knowing anything about and am now feeling her climb the ranks in my books. Sometimes I feel like she's the only adult who actually put Tommy's well-being above other things, despite them not interacting often. I wasn't around for the whole "duckling" thing with Dream and have yet to watch the VODs, but I just want her to visit him now and punish him for the Tommy stuff. (SPOILERS) I can feel Dream's next ploy being trying to convince someone to let him out in exchange for bringing back Tommy and if Sam doesn't cave then Puffy probably will. Also, I really hope that her and Niki's relationship isn't forgotten. There's so much angst potential there. Also, I need sapphics to survive.

7. Eret

So, I wasn't a fan of the SMP during season one. I hadn't even heard of it except for like my friend referencing Technoblade now and then. After watching some VODs of Eret's I am slowly starting to fall in love with her characterization. I am so soft for their redemption arc, for the regret he feels. Now that cc!Eret is back from their mental health break I am so ready for more.

8. Fundy

Fundy's a character that I will forget how much I love until he goes live again, or until I reread his old quotes. He has a lot of lore to him that surprises you every time you remember. Whether its his last speech to Schlatt to COCONUT 2020, Fundy always gives the audience something more to think about.

9. "Ghostbur"

Ghostbur is one of the few characters who genuinely make me want to cry. cc!Wilbur's performance was both hilarious and immaculate. I really want to find out more about his lore, though. Do all dead people with unfinished business get an alternate version of themselves to roam the Earth while you stay in the afterlife unable to make contact unless the veil is thin? Was Ghostbur just Wilbur pretending the whole time? (SPOILERS) Is Tommy going to get one? Is Glatt canon? Much to think about.

10. BadBoyHalo

While I despise egg-possessed BBH, normal BBH has my entire heart. The fact he gave up his mind for Skeppy is *chef's kiss*. I am very impressed with everything cc!BBH is writing right now.

11. Karl Jacobs

My second favorite polyamorous dimension hopper after Star Butterfly (let me have Startomco please)! TFTSMP just gets better and better each week. His time travel shenanigans are so fun and mysterious. Karlnapity is just a big ol' pot of angst just waiting to happen. WEDDING SOON PLEASE!

no intense opinion

While I do have opinions on some of these characters, they aren't intense enough to place them anywhere else.

12. Ponk

I don't watch him all that often since he's live during my school time, but what I've seen I love. Him starting that whole side plot expanding on that one TFTSMP episode intrigues me and I can see it tying into the egg somehow. Him and Sam are really cute together (/rp) and I want him to become more plot relevant again.

13. Antfrost

GAY CAT GAY CAT GAY CAT! In all seriousness, I really want him to do stuff with his character to make him more than just BBH's second-in-command (I have similar feelings with Skeppy, but I know he isn't very big on lore). Side note, but I really love the hc that RedVelvetCake is inside the egg. I want him to join so bad.

14. Purpled

I've only just started watching the actual clips from pre-L'Manberg times and Purpled was once much more plot involved than I thought. Him planning on getting his revenge on Tommy at the same time as the "police" investigating the Camarvan back in early season one was comedy gold. Shout out to BlueberryTV on YouTube for making it so easy to watch. In conclusion, we stan an underage mercenary.

15. GeorgeNotFound

Idk if this is a hot take or not, but I feel a good portion of people who love George's character are just DNF shippers who want to turn his crumbs into an angst factory, but you know what? Valid. While I am not a DNF shipper, I have seen the angst y'all have brought to the table and very much appreciate it.

16. ConnorEatsPants

The most I think I've seen of Connor has been the hostage scene and the non-canon party scene from this season. I don't have much to say except that his small speech to Tommy after he was let go about him not being a bad person despite traumatizing him hit surprisingly hard in the feels.

17. Skeppy

cc!Skeppy is not a big roleplayer, and I get that, it's just sometimes his character feels a little like an accessory to Bad's character. Please link me some good Skeppy moments in the comments if you can, I want to try and learn more about his character. His angst with Bad right now is top tier, though, and I choose to believe that Big Daddy Island is canon and that Bad took him there to keep him free from the egg. I actually wrote a fic about this if you want to check it out! Mind the tags, though, I went a little macabre with it.

18. HBomb

When I first learned about the SMP it was two nights before the green festival and I was up until 3am at my aunt's house reading the plot summary. The first clip of the smp I saw was the election VOD, where HBomb joined for the first time. I don't know much about him other than the fact he was Fundy's maid for a time and it was absolutely hilarious. I saw the recent stuff with him leaving Greater SMP to start over and enjoyed it. Hope we get more stuff like that with him.

19. Callahan

Gets all the ladies. What else can I say?

you're trying your best and I respect that

20. Sapnap

I put Sapnap here because he's on his way to becoming an amazing character. The angst stuff with Dream is the stuff George fans can only dream of (pun unintended). I like how he went from the cop, the pet killer, Dream's right hand man, to mushroom cottegecore gay living his best life and dealing with the pain of losing his best friend. The whole "Dream's bitch" conversation with Tommy that I saw an animatic for some time ago made me hurt so good. Also #KarlnapityWedding2021.

you're redeemable, thin fucking ice though

These are characters who I somewhat dislike to a degree, but still have hope for. In my opinion this section should be switched with the one after it in terms of which is worse, but oh well.

21. Wilbur Soot

I know he's already dead but if he's brought back to life I want a redemption arc from him back. (SPOILERS) If neither him nor Tommy come back to life then dsmp has a horrible track record with killing off their mentally ill and (tw) suicidal characters. Wilbur has done some awful things, but if he's brought back I don't think he'd be beyond saving.

22. Jack Manifold

I need to say something about Jack. He is so very very close to being in the "you're trying your best" section right now after his most recent stream. His redemption arc is so close I can taste it and if he is redeemed right I can see him joining my faves. His most recent stream was just so well acted that my heart just wants to forgive him already... until my brain remembers he tried to nuke a child. Don’t know if this is also a hot take, but I think he had more of a right to be mad at Tommy than Niki did, but I know for Niki it's more complicated than that.

23. Niki Nihachu

There was a time that I adored Niki Nihachu and a part of me still does, but she has gone a little bit off the deep end. I do understand it's a trauma response, though. cc!Niki said that her villain arc is almost over, which disappointed me a bit because we kinda barely got to see it since it was so overshadowed, but I am also relieved. I just want my wlw baker back :(

people excuse your actions more than you deserve

I am just going to pretend that this section doesn't say "love". I still like these characters a lot even though they get away with a lot of shit.

24. Technoblade

I love Technoblade too much for him to be ranked this low, but like I said this ranking is based on fitting the section descriptions, not how much I love them. Technoblade's POV is understandable but also that doesn't excuse the pain he's caused so many people. L'Manberg was more than it's a government as much as Techno is more than a weapon.

25. Philza Minecraft

Philza deserves to be in this section a little less than Technoblade because I actually agree with a lot of what Philza fans say. Tommy is not Philza's kid. Phil has a lot of trauma around killing Wilbur, yes. I just don't see how you could watch Ghostbur's Friend speech during Doomsday and think he was in the right for doing it.

i don't like you

26. JSchlatt

JSchlatt is an amazing character in many ways. The acting? Glorious. The dialogue? Spot on. With that being said, YAYY HE'S DEAD!!! I really like leaning into the abusive relationship hc with him and his cabinet. He was probably the most fun villain we've ever had, though.

I WANT THIS MOTHER FUCKER DEAD

27. DreamWasTaken

Come on, do I even have to explain?

[since0202]

Chapter 35: Discovery

The next 10 days were a blend of wonderful and awful. Grace was doing her best everyday to show up, be her truest self, and carry the pack through rounds. She pulled extra shifts, trained more with the new members, and made sure to keep her distance from Jacob to give him the space he needed to reacclimate with his brothers. 

Leah was the hardest on him. Speaking from experience, Leah knew what it meant to be exceptionally burned by someone you love. She wasn’t completely on Grace’s side either. She just understood the pressure of the imprint. 

On one of their rounds together, Leah pushed Jake more: 

So are you ever going to forgive her? 

Just drop it Leah.

I can’t, it’s all you think about. 

Then tune out. He veered left to move deeper into the hedge of the forest, but Leah followed him. 

You know I get this right? I am you in this scenario. 

Jake didn’t respond but replayed an image of Sam holding Emily and watching Leah curl her fist in intangible anger. She winced at his memory. 

Yes. That. But Jake. Grace is not Emily. And Paul is not Sam. They’re not together. They can’t be. The imprint has made sure of that. What they did was beyond stupid, but were you really that surprised after how devastating a breakup they had once Rachel showed up? 

So what? Grace was getting back at Rachel? That’s messed up to. 

No. She’s not trying to get back at anyone. Grace is...lost. Or maybe she was lost. I don’t know but after she went and talked to Ti’Hal, things got better and she is trying. 

I could really care less. 

That’s fine. She hurt you and she deserves to be iced out. But don’t let it destroy you. 

Jacob looked at her midrun and came to a halt at the edge of a clearing. 

I am trying. To let her go. And put it behind me, but it still….sucks. When I was out there on my own, with no one else in my head, it was like the world opened up and I could fade into whatever existence I wanted. 

But you came back…

Because she called out to me. Everyday whether she meant to or not. Or maybe it was me, I don’t know. I thought I was going crazy at first, but I heard it everyday And it’s not fair. Something in me won’t let me let her go and it’s not fair because I want to.

A call and return….Are you sure you didn’t imprint? That’s some serious shit. 

I’m sure. I don’t think the imprint would let me hate her this much for this long. 

Well, whatever you’re trying to do, just don’t let it be at the expense of you. This shit will eat you alive if you let it. 

Thanks. 

Jake brought an image to his mind now, one that showed Grace laughing at something he said awhile back and he cringed. 

She’s still in there, you know. 

I know. That’s what he was afraid of. 

October

Grace stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom and pulled on a cropped red sweatshirt and some dark wash jeans. She laced up her brown boots and pulled her messy black hair into a high ponytail. The red sweatshirt made the apples of her cheek exceptionally warm looking. 

“Me. Be me.” she said to herself in the mirror. “Right, totally easy. Great advice.” she continued sarcastically grabbing her cell phone and shoving it into her back pocket as she bounded down the stairs. 

When she looked up, she stumbled backwards falling back onto the stairs. Jacob was standing in her doorway, shirtless with steam rising off of his exposed chest from the cold rain falling in sheets outside. 

“Sorry,” he said with a faint smile. Grace clutched at her chest and pulled herself up. 

“Fuuuuu-it’s okay. What’s up? I was just heading out.” Grace replied, turning to walk toward the kitchen for some water just to get her gaze off of him. 

“Ah, needed a shirt. Do you still keep some upstairs?” he asked evenly. 

“Yeah, help yourself,” Grace said, no emotion in her voice. As she moved toward the staircase, Grace beelined it for the front door to escape, but he swung around. 

“Hey.” She stopped and turned on her heel trying to keep her face serene. 

“Yeah?” 

“Have you heard from Bella?” His voice was tinged with worry, but she didn’t know if that was why he was asking her that question. 

“Uhhh, no not yet. She’s due back in a couple of days though.” 

“Kay,” he said, still standing there, hands on his hips. 

“Anything else?” she offered. 

“No, sorry I didn’t...mean to hold you up,” he said awkwardly, his eyes fluttering away from hers.

“Okay, see you later,” she said. It took all of her energy not to sprint down the porch steps toward the treeline. As she recast and thought about how weird that completely civil, albeit totally awkward, interaction with Jake just was, her phone rang. 

She saw the number and eagerly answered. Speak of the devil.

“Bella!” 

“It’s me,” Edward said, grim. 

“Edward….what’s wrong?” Grace’s heart dropped to her stomach and she reached out to a tree to steady herself. 

“It’s Bella she…” He stopped. 

“Did you?” Grace was finding it hard to swallow. Did he actually change her while they were on the honeymoon and it had gone horribly wrong? Oh fuck, she was going to have to kill them after all. 

“No..we’re heading home early. I need you to be there when we get back.” Edward said tight lipped. 

“You’re freaking me out, what’s happened to Bella? Is she there, can I talk to her?” Grace was panicking her eyes darting around the forest, calling out for the nearest wolf. 

“Just meet us at the house, please. I need your help.” Edward said before abruptly ending the call. Grace hung up as her whole body shook. 

“Fuck,” she whispered before quickly recasting to the Cullens. 

Seth crashed into the clearing she was just inhabiting as she disappeared and called out to her but only heard the birds chirping and circling above him. 

Grace quickly ascended the steps of the Cullen home and as she raised her arm to knock, Carlisle was there pulling the door open. She ducked inside and looked around frantically. 

“Carlisle, what’s going on? Edward called,” Grace said, starting to sweat a little. Alice was in the foyer now putting her hands on Grace’s arms to help calm her. 

“We’re not sure, exactly. Edward was very vague and what we think it is might not even be possible. I’ll need to see her first to understand,” Carlisle said calmly though he clearly looked worried. 

“What did you see?” Grace spun to Alice, “Is she alive?!” her mind was racing. 

“She’s alive, of course she’s alive. We’re just not sure what the outcome will be yet because no decisions have been made yet. They’ll be home in a few hours, they just boarded their last flight.” Alice tried to soothe. 

Esme was there suddenly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and escorting her into the living room. 

When she was settled with Esme next to her, Carlisle looked at her sternly. 

“I think you should call Sam and let him know you’re here.” 

“What why? That sounds like a really bad idea actually.” Grace said, her voice still rushed. 

“It would be better if he knew where you were so that you weren’t hiding anything from him and to maybe also to…” he paused. 

“To get in front of this,” Esme concluded. Grace looked to both of them. Rosalie and Emmette entered the room now. Rosalie had her face set in a serene, determined look. Alice suddenly zoned out, seeing a vision. Jasper moved into the room to stand beside her. When she snapped from her reverie, her eyes narrowed to Rosalie who was now looking at Alice full on, no shame. 

“Rosalie, why would you do something like that?!” Alice cried. “She’ll die!” 

Grace looked from Alice to Rosalie alarmed. 

“It’s not your decision, it’s Bella’s.” Her voice was hard and she glanced at Grace momentarily. She turned and left the room, Alice going after her. 

“Bella’s going to die?” Grace said her eyes clouded with tears. She clenched her jaw and shook her head. She wouldn’t let them kill her, no matter what happened, as she made a move to go after Rosalie, Esme stopped her. 

“Rosalie isn’t going anywhere. You need to call Sam.” 

Grace stayed in place and looked from Esme to Carlisle now. Carlisle gave her a curt nod and she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She’d need his help anyway if they were going to kill Bella. She made her way out onto the balcony that hung over the forest off of the living room. She knew they would still be able to hear her conversation, but she didn’t want them to see her face. 

“Sam.” She said curtly when he answered. 

“You okay?” 

“Fine. Listen, Bella and Edward are on their way back from the honeymoon.” Grace said solemnly. “I’m at the Cullen’s house right now.” 

“Is she…” Sam said slowly. 

“Not sure. I wanted to let you know.”

“Can you hear Jake still?” Sam said quickly. Grace winced and concentrated. His thoughts floated into her head quickly like they’d been playing behind a door left slightly ajar. She could always mostly hear him, she just tried to tune it out so that she could give him space. It was second nature at this point though. She heard him more clearly than any member of her pack no matter how hard she practiced with the others. 

She tested it still, Jacob, can you hear me? 

There was hesitation, like he was thinking about not answering and then a quick, Always have. 

She let out a quick breath at this and answered Sam, “Yes.” 

“Okay. Thank you for being honest with me.” 

She snapped her phone shut. 

What’s going on? Jake called out to her. 

Bella’s coming back. But it doesn’t sound good. Sam’s gathering everyone. I’m at the Cullen’s. 

She went back inside and sat on the couch, trying to keep her face smooth. “Done.” 

“Thank you.” Carlisle said, softly. 

The next few hours were spent watching Carlisle pace the living room with Esme getting up and moving things around in their places and then trying to sit back down. Alice and Rosalie hadn’t returned. Jasper and Emmett were sitting over a chess board, playing back to back games. 

Grace kept a line in to Jake. He presented her with memories of Bella, of her, of him, anything to keep himself, and Grace by proxy, calm. She sank herself into those memories for some solace, thankful for the distraction. 

The door could be heard opening and closing downstairs and Grace got to her feet, Esme beside her. Alice and Rosalie were still missing. Edward and Bella walked into the living room, a small smile on Bella’s face. Edward looked disheveled. Could a vampire look disheveled? His arm was looped around Bella protectively and his eyes were wild with fear. Carlisle was to them in a second. 

“Grace!” Bella breathed, happy to see her. 

She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay. Grace kept repeating in her head to Jacob showing him Bella’s face as it shone before her. An audible sigh of relief sounded through his head. 

Carlisle was talking low with Edward and Bella went to hug Grace. She was warm, human, Grace could clearly hear her heartbeat and it made her shiver. When she pulled back Grace was crying and Bella looked at her alarmed. 

“What’s wrong?” she wiped the tears falling from Grace’s eyes. 

“I thought...Edward said...You’re okay!” Grace let out a sob and then tried pulling herself together. Bella looked over her shoulder at Edward and glared at him. 

“You told her I was hurt?!” she accused. 

“No.” Edward said simply, his tone thick with anger. “Bella please, Carlisle needs to examine you.” 

“Wait what’s going on?” Grace held tight to her arms looking frantically at Bella’s face again. But when Bella turned to look at her, she was smiling brightly, shy even and let a hand fall to her stomach. 

“This is going to sound crazy. I know it is...but Grace….I think I’m pregnant,” Bella said, clear as day, happy, content, excited. 

Grace looked at her wide eyed in surprise before stuttering out a, “Holy shit,” and loosening her grip ever so slightly. 

“Bella, please come,” Edward pleaded from the doorway. 

“Come with me,” Bella said grabbing Grace’s hand and pulling her toward the door. As she passed Edward, he looked at her with desperation and Grace felt confusion rattling through her. 

Grace. Jake called out to her, calm, sure. 

She’s okay, I think. There’s….there’s something they have to figure out. Grace said, trying to cull her thoughts and not give away the whole picture. 

What are they figuring out? 

Grace was watching as Bella lay out on the makeshift exam table that Carlisle had set up in his study. 

Grace. Jacob called out again, fiercer this time. 

I don’t know. But she’s okay. Grace showed him Bella’s human face, the bright happy smile on her face as she told her she might be pregnant with none of the dialogue. 

Is she sick?! What are they figuring out? 

Grace blanked him out. 

Carlisle was preparing the ultrasound and Bella was cautiously rolling up her shirt. Edward stood in the doorway but would not come into the room. Grace moved toward Bella and stood next to her, taking her hand. 

Carlisle worked the wand over Bella’s seemingly flat stomach, scrutinizing the screen. 

“Is this even possible?” Grace asked looking at Carlisle. 

“There are stories, but I’ve never seen anything like this before. I can’t see anything. It’s like there’s a thick protective barrier. I’m just looking for a—” he stopped short as the sound came in clear over the ultrasound—the clearly beating heart. Bella’s face was awash with wonder and surprise as her eyes moved over to connect with Edward’s. She let out an excited laugh and then her fact turned when she saw Edward’s twisted face. Grace held tighter to Bella’s hand, her eyes never straying from the machine. 

“Edward,” Bella pleaded. Edward shook his head and said softly. 

“I won’t lose you,” as he turned to leave. 

Grace was still in shock when a voice clearly broke through, echoing in it’s anger. 

ANSWER ME, GRACE ALO. 

She was snapped back into focus and the clear command in Jacob’s voice shook her. 

Grace couldn’t muster the words to tell him what was going on but she showed him the ultrasound, the beating heart, everything to try and communicate the situation. 

Grace leaned down on her forearms bringing Bella’s hand to her lips and holding it there as she stared at the machine. A buzzing was happening in her head, the pack in disarray at the news. She just needed it to be quiet while she figured this out. 

Rosalie was standing in the room now. Carlisle gave her a stern look and shook his head, disappointed. Bella swallowed hard and gripped Grace’s hand harder. 

“What do we do?” Grace asked no one in particular. The looks around the room volleyed between pain, happiness, calm, and absolute uncertainty. 

“I don’t know what you guys are going to do, but I’m going to have a baby,” Bella said to herself quietly. 

It was dark before Grace left the Cullen house. Bella became glued to Rosalie after the ultrasound. Carlisle had set himself up in his office to do more research and Edward was nowhere to be found. Once she reached the edge of the forest, she quickly recast herself to Sam’s house, holding a hand to her head as she came across the threshold. 

Everyone was gathered around the table and Sam was leaning against the island with his arms crossed. Jacob stood up when Grace entered and no one said anything for a minute. The silence was deafening but a welcome reprieve from the buzzing going on in her head from earlier. Grace let out a slow breath and looked to Sam. 

“Is she pregnant?” Sam said, hoping for a different answer. Grace nodded. 

“Seems like it.” Grace confirmed. 

“What do we do?” Jared said, confused. 

“We can’t let that thing live, it goes against nature.” Paul said. Grace squirmed a little bit and Jacob’s eyes moved from Paul to Sam. 

“It’ll kill her,” Jacob said. 

“So what? We kill the thing but don’t kill Bella?” Leah asked. 

“What did Carlisle say?” Seth asked quietly. Grace looked at him and put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed a hand across her eyes. 

“Every Cullen except for Rosalie is against it. They want to get it out of her. But Bella is adamant about...keeping it and Rosalie is protecting her.” Grace recalled the events from today, as Bella had explained to Grace why she wanted to keep the baby as if it was the easiest decision in the world and not guaranteed to kill her. Rosalie was on board but everyone else thought the same as the wolves: this thing whatever it was, was unnatural. 

Jacob’s face fell and Grace took an automatic step forward. She stopped herself and let Seth pull her into a brief hug. 

“Sam, we can’t let this thing live. I’m not super psyched about Bella dying but she’s made her bed. We have a job to do, right?” Paul continued. 

“It’s not that easy,” Grace said. 

“She’s right, if blondie is protecting Bella, there’s no way we could even get to her without engaging the Cullens and that would end in casualties,” Jacob said. Grace nodded. 

“And I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not interested in losing anyone. I need to figure out more about what this thing is and maybe I can convince Bella to…”

“Get rid of it,” Embry said simply. 

“But you don’t even know how much time we have,” Sam said skeptically. 

“It’s worth a shot if it means Bella lives,” Jacob said sternly. Sam hesitated and looked at Grace for a little bit. 

“Can you convince her?” 

“I can try, but it’s not going to happen overnight.” Grace said. 

“Fine, we’ll run this line first and then if in two weeks we’re no closer to a definitive way to solve this because Bella refuses, then we’ll go from there.” Sam said. Paul grumbled and Jared shook his head. 

Grace looked at Jacob worriedly and he gave her a shrug.

Two weeks quickly turned into two months. Grace spent most of her days holed up in the Cullen house with Bella watching movies and talking. Edward refused to leave her alone for too long after that first day and his eyes were black as night and terrifying. The uncertainty that Bella’s pregnancy brought kept everyone on edge and most of the Cullen’s were skipping meals. 

In the evening, she would report to Sam or send updates to Jacob through their link but for the most part, it was kind of boring. She was having a fairly normal pregnancy according to Carlisle other than the fact that he couldn’t see the fetus due to the protective layer that couldn’t be penetrated by an ultrasound, needle, or any x-ray. Carlisle was going off purely how Bella told him she was feeling to track the progress of her pregnancy. 

Rosalie was also skipping feeds and she and Edward were getting into fights on a regular basis much to Grace’s irritation. 

“What about Sylvie?” Rosalie said threading a glittering button to a doll that she was making. 

“I told you, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a boy,” Bella said happily, putting a hand on her slowly developing baby bump. “I keep having dreams that it’s a boy.” 

“You know they say that it’s usually just the opposite of what you expect. My mom thought she was having twins, but then she had me prematurely.” Grace said as she chewed on some beef jerky sticks. Bella was dipping a banana into sour cream and eating it much to everyone’s disgust. 

“I just have a feeling,” Bella said. 

“Well, we’ll just get two sets of clothes, one if it’s a girl and one if it’s a boy. Easy!” Rosalie tittered. Edward scoffed and muttered under his breath. Rosalie immediately took the bait. 

“What was that?” 

“You’re talking about clothing an abomination. It’s ridiculous.” Edward said. 

“An abomination? Really?” 

“Here we go,” Grace sighed as she moved closer to Bella who’s heart rate started to pick up with stress. 

“Guys,” she tried to stop them. 

“When are you going to knock off this charade Rosalie? You don’t care about Bella, you could care less if she died.” Edward accused. 

“How dare you,” Rosalie spat. 

Grace tried to tune them out but it was hard when Bella became wide eyed and stressed every time they went at it. 

“Guys!” Grace tried again. But they continued, Rosalie hurling an insult about how terrible of an expectant father he was being and Edward instantly throwing it back that he wasn’t a father to that thing. 

Are they fighting again? Jake’s voice warmly pulsed through her head as she leaned it on the back of the couch next to Bella. 

It’s all the time with these two. And it’s freaking Bella out. Like yes she’s pregnant with a demon spawn but she’s still pregnant. I’m pretty sure stress is bad for any kind of baby.

She heard Jacob laugh at that and he showed her what he thought the demon spawn would look like. It was a grotesque twisted stunted demon with Edward’s face. Grace let out a laugh and Bella turned to look at her. 

“Is it Jake?” she asked. Grace nodded and showed Jacob Bella’s face. Grace enjoyed the warmth that flowed through Jacob’s consciousness as he looked at her.

She looks good. Are we sure this thing is gonna kill her? 

Honestly, I have no idea. She seems super healthy, but I’m not holding my breath. 

This was how Jacob and Grace often talked now. Their shared consciousness only got stronger after Jacob returned from his time away from her and so they used it all the time. Grace appreciated the company and Jacob didn’t seem to mind, seeing it as a necessity to stay updated on Bella’s progress. He couldn’t bring himself to see her in person just yet. Grace used his mind as a reprieve from the constant tension at the Cullen house, often letting her mind drift in and out of his serene thoughts. He showed her La Push, laughed as Quil stumbled on a loose rock and bumped into Embry, thought about sleep, and sometimes, just for her benefit, he’d think about the cove in front of her home, the waves gently lapping onto shore, touching her feet, a strong hand reaching out to brush the hair back from face before the image would go black.

As Jacob ran through the thick of the forest, the light casting cool shadows across the floor, Grace settled into his consciousness and drifted off to sleep. 

[badgersprite]

Fic: Desiderata (10/?)

Chapter Title: Collide

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob, Jack

Pairing: Miranda/Samara, I told you it was a fucking slow burn 

Story Rating: R

Warnings: I don’t think any specific warnings apply for this chapter. Certainly nothing that doesn’t apply to the fic as a whole. Just assume any past warnings remain relevant.

Chapter Summary: The ‘flashback’ storyline comes to an end at the party on the Citadel. In London, Miranda’s insomnia is affecting her worse than ever before. Then Samara shows up at her door. And everything implodes.

Author’s Note: “If I'd have said I love you, she'd have said it back. And then everything would have been different.” - Sue Trinder, Fingersmith. Featuring Citadel dates that aren’t dates except they’re totally dates part II. I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of proud of myself here with the contrasts and parallels going on between the flashback scenes and present day scenes. People at their best, versus, well, close to their worst. Spotify playlist below the cut again.

(Link to Playlist)

*.    *     *

Miranda had been on the run from Cerberus for so long that it still hadn’t fully sunk in. She wasn’t hiding anymore. Wasn’t looking over her shoulder every waking moment. Didn’t get startled awake by every sound she heard in her sleep.

Somehow, she’d done it. She’d turned against The Illusive Man, and lived to tell the tale. For now, anyway.

The events at Sanctuary were so fresh in her mind that she’d barely had the chance to stop and catch her breath since. The bruises had mostly healed, but she still felt lingering echoes of her fight with Kai Leng, which could have ended a lot worse had she gone in unprepared. Not even ten days had passed since she hugged Oriana on Horizon and said her goodbyes, perhaps for the last time.

And yet she wasn’t thinking about what lay ahead. Not really.

Miranda was here. Living in the now.

For this one night, she was able to just...stand in one place, and enjoy the moment. That was something she had never taken the time to do previously, before all this came to pass. On an unconscious level, she had always taken tomorrows for granted. Never stopped or cared to appreciate today.

Suffice it to say, her head hadn’t quite fully caught up to where her body was, and that this was no mere illusion. It felt like at any second she would wake up and find herself alone in the dark again, scurrying like a rat through the shadows in hidden passages of the Citadel where nobody but the keepers could find her. 

But this wasn’t a dream. It was really happening.

It meant all the more that at this particular moment she was surrounded by familiar faces from The Normandy she hadn’t seen in months, plus a few new ones. For a while there, it had felt like she would never see them again.

It was something to savour. So she did. 

Miranda drew a deep breath and allowed herself to be present. To exist. To not be in her own head. She took in the scene as she made her way through Shepard’s apartment, letting her eyes wander the party going on around her, her gaze landing on each person she could see as she passed them by.

Liara and James Vega had spent a good portion of the evening arguing whether biotics were superior to brawn, or vice versa, with Jacob and Ashley having joined in on the great debate earlier. That still seemed to be ongoing, from what she could tell. The answer should have been eminently obvious to anyone, Miranda thought. Then again, she didn’t feel the need to convince anybody why her own preference was correct when she already knew she was right, as usual.

On a related note, Miranda might not have been the best judge when it came to reading signals between people, but even she was starting to get the sense that James and Ashley might be more than just shipmates by the end of the night, if they weren’t already. Good for them.

Tali, the last time she’d seen her, had been very much enjoying how uncomfortable EDI was making Samantha Traynor, talking openly about the crush Sam had on her voice. Although, come to think of it, Miranda was pretty sure Traynor had at long last managed to escape that awkward conversation and gone to hide under a table somewhere. Or maybe she’d just locked herself in the bathroom until she felt safe to emerge again. Either way, fair.

Speaking of potential couples, it hadn’t eluded Miranda’s attention that EDI and Joker had definitely become, shall it be said, a lot closer ever since EDI got a body. In retrospect, that wasn’t surprising, although the idea of the two of them becoming...entangled in that way had obviously never occurred to her before. Why would it have? But, come to think of it, the two of them had always bickered like an old married couple even when EDI was just a disembodied voice. From that perspective, Miranda supposed it kind of made sense.

And lastly on the list of possible relationships, there was also a...vibe coming off of Tali and Garrus, which was by far the most unexpected. And a little weird. Jacob had picked up on it before Miranda had, and she wished he hadn’t pointed it out. It was like finding out that two people she had thought of as more of a brother and sister might be hooking up. But it was none of Miranda’s business. In any event, the two of them seemed to mostly be avoiding each other. Perhaps they hadn’t confronted whatever this was between them yet.

She’d also caught sight of Zaeed and Samara admiring the artwork adorning Shepard’s new apartment. Miranda had thought about intruding on that, since that duo included the one person at this party she had been hoping to speak to tonight above all others, but she ultimately elected not to disturb them just yet. There would be other opportunities to catch up with her.

Somehow, she got the sense that Zaeed had finally been brave enough to shoot his shot with Samara after all this time. Judging by the expression on his face, and given that he was now drinking alone and very much not with Samara, presumably it had gone exactly as smoothly for him as had been predicted a year ago. She would be lying if she said she felt sorry for him.

A big group that included Joker, Garrus, Wrex, Steve Cortez and Javik had been arguing about guns and target practice or some similar nonsense, which hadn’t sounded particularly riveting to her in all honesty. Boys and their toys. They were still in that discussion from what she could hear. Unfortunately, Shepard seemed to have encouraged that line of thinking, which Miranda wished she hadn’t. Guns and alcohol were not the best mix.

Meanwhile, Kasumi had been popping in between all groups almost as much as Shepard had, like the perpetual snoop she was. She always loved getting up in everybody’s business. Miranda would have been a pretty big hypocrite to take issue with that, though. Although, when Miranda spied on people, it was for entirely professional reasons, not because she liked to gossip.

She had heard Grunt yelling at party crashers over the intercom a while back too. Who better to be a bouncer for a party than a genetically perfect krogan? She didn’t care to interrupt him. He’d done a good job of keeping the riff raff out.

And, honestly, for as much as Jack still grated on her nerves, a small part of Miranda had been somewhat relieved to see her there too, because if nothing else that meant she had survived long enough to attend this reunion. Miranda may not have liked Jack in the slightest, but if anybody thought she was actively rooting for any of her former Normandy comrades not to make it through this conflict, even Jack, then they really didn’t know Miranda at all.

Sure, they had instinctively traded barbs when they unintentionally crossed paths, because god forbid Jack actually behave like a fucking adult for once. But then Shepard had appeared out of nowhere and, for some bizarre reason, suggested that they, quote unquote, ‘work out all that unresolved tension between them’ and go have sex, or words to that effect.

In a weird way, that stupid comment had inadvertently somewhat doused the animosity between herself and Jack because, for once in their lives, they finally agreed on something - being that that would never fucking happen, and they would sooner drink broken glass than even think about it.

Credit to Shepard, though, Miranda and Jack hadn’t fought after that.

Maybe that had been the point.

Unfortunately, not all members of The Normandy had made it this far. There were missing faces. Only a few, but too many. From what she knew, they had all gone out like heroes, whatever that meant, and if it made any difference.

Thane had died giving his life to protect the Council from Kai Leng when Cerberus attacked the Citadel. Mordin had sacrificed himself to end the genophage, undoing what he had in retrospect come to believe was his greatest mistake. And Legion, well, to the extent that Legion could be considered ‘dead’, he had certainly ceased to exist in any recognisable form - giving up his ‘individuality’, for lack of a better word, to achieve peace between the quarians and the geth.

It wasn’t until after being forced to go into hiding for so long, believing some Cerberus agent would find her and put three bullets in her head before she saw any of her Normandy comrades again, that Miranda began to regret that she never took the chance to get to know her shipmates better, especially now that there were some with whom those lost moments could never be reclaimed.

What was that saying - you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone?

Yeah, this was definitely one of those instances.

She’d always liked Thane, come to think of it. There was little to dislike. He had been one of the few on the ship who had never been anything other than extremely civil towards her, even when, admittedly, Miranda hadn’t been particularly courteous in return, misjudging him as a man of tenuous loyalty.

He never complained or questioned any task he was given. He just did it. A consummate professional. Exactly the kind of person she would want on any team.

Mordin, she respected. Hadn’t trusted, no, nor completely understood, but respected. They’d teamed up on a fair few field missions with Shepard early on when they were still studying the Collectors. Between her warps and Mordin’s incineration tech, they could tear through any armour in seconds. And he was undeniably a genius. Back on The Normandy, he was probably the only other person who’d spent as much time hard at work as Miranda. Maybe more.

With the benefit of hindsight, she wished she had taken more of an opportunity to pick his brain, and work with him on his endless list of projects. Even if he did talk at a million miles a minute, it was only because he had so much to do and no time to waste doing it. A sombre smile came to her face as she thought how many of the galaxy’s ills the two of them could have solved given enough all-nighters and enough pots of coffee between them.

And then there was Legion. In truth, she hadn’t had much time to speak to him, much less get to know him. He had been on The Normandy so briefly. Less than a month had elapsed between finding him, and Miranda being forced to leave. He was the one she knew the least. But he was unique.

She had been wrong about Legion, hadn’t she? Miranda still didn’t fully know where she stood on the whole question of whether machines could be considered ‘alive’, but that wasn’t the point, was it? Did it even matter if they weren’t? Either way, it would have been wrong to send him to Cerberus, like Miranda had initially suggested. If that had happened, Rannoch might not be at peace right now. With his final sacrifice to unite the quarians and the geth, Legion had definitively proven himself to be more than the mere sum of his programs.

So the question remained. Why hadn’t Miranda taken the initiative to get to know them? To speak to them? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that the time Thane and Mordin had was short, irrespective of intervening events. She’d just...not bothered.

It hadn’t occurred to her back then to think that was something she ought to have done. The old Miranda hadn’t cared to do such things. Because other people didn’t really matter to her.

By the time Miranda had started to defrost and emerge as a more tolerable (and, in turn, more tolerant) person to be around, it was already too late. The mission was over. The Alpha Relay was destroyed. And everyone went their separate ways.

But there was no changing the past. Perhaps there was no sense in wondering what could have been, or what she would have done differently if she had known then what she knew now, or if she had been the person back then that she was now, because that just wasn’t possible. And Miranda could do many things, but even she couldn’t make the impossible possible.

Well, not usually.

She couldn’t have those days back. But she still had this day. This one night. Best not to dwell on what was missing or the mistakes of yesterdays gone by when there was so much that she had to be thankful for. And, moreover, so much which she had, for once in her life, finally learned to appreciate.

And it wasn’t lost on her that this one night of joyful reunion was almost certainly the last one they could ever have like this. The last time they would all be together. The last time that all the faces in this room would still be here to celebrate as one. 

Because they wouldn’t be alive much longer.

The reality was, the whole galaxy was at war. And it was a war they were currently losing. Their chances of victory were slim to none. From what Miranda had gathered, all organic life was essentially banking its hopes on some ancient miracle superweapon passed down from previous cycles called The Crucible that they didn’t even fully understand or know how to use yet. And if that failed?

...There wasn’t a plan B. Not yet, at least.

Even if The Crucible worked and they somehow defeated the Reapers, the chance that more than a handful of people in this room would survive the war was infinitesimally small. And, perhaps more than anyone else at that party, Miranda had no expectation that she would be among the living when the dust settled. Because Miranda had never been happier than she was right then. Never had more to live for. And if that wasn’t a curse that put her right at the top of the list of ‘most likely to die’, then she was not only naive, but delusional.

The universe was a cruel place. The people who had the most to live for were always the first to die. There was no way that Miranda could rationally believe that the future she now saw for herself and Ori after the war might ever actually come to fruition. Because, if there was one thing that Miranda’s thirty-six years had taught her, it was that she would never get to be that fucking happy.

Things like that just didn’t happen. Especially not to people like her.

Or, if they did, then they shouldn’t.

Seeing what Cerberus had become, knowing she’d spent just shy of twenty years of her life working for them? No, she didn’t deserve a good ending.

As that thought went through her head, Miranda glanced up, and spotted a singular, solitary figure standing alone by the second floor balcony, watching the scenes playing out below. Samara. Somehow, that she was by herself was the least shocking thing Miranda could have imagined.

Finally sensing her long-awaited chance to catch a private moment with the one person she had been more eager to spend time with than any other, Miranda ascended the stairs, a glass of wine curled in her grasp.

“Not mingling?” Miranda asked as she joined Samara’s side.

“I am content to observe,” Samara replied, maintaining an upright posture with her hands clasped behind her back. She seemed to mean it, preferring to watch and listen from a distance than to be directly involved in the action for the most part. Considering she was about four hundred years out-of-practice when it came to this sort of thing, being a passive onlooker probably genuinely was the most enjoyable way for her to experience this party at her own pace.

“Normally, I would do the same.” Miranda leaned on the railing beside her.

“Yet you appear to be enjoying the festivities,” Samara noted, pleased with that.

“I know. It feels incongruous, doesn’t it? Me, being social? A year ago I would have been telling you all to stop wasting time and focus on the mission,” said Miranda, finding it rather bizarre to consider how far she'd come from the cold, aloof person she was previously. Well, not that she couldn't still be those things. But she was less so now. Especially among this dysfunctional bunch of misfits she had reluctantly become fond of, despite her better judgement.

Being part of The Normandy crew had changed her irrevocably. More than she'd realised at the time. Meeting her sister had done that too. And Samara, of course. And so had losing all those things when she went on the run. It made her appreciate aspects of life she wouldn't have otherwise.

It was almost enough to make her call them all her friends. Even Jack.

...Almost.

“You do not need to deprive yourself for my sake,” Samara assured her, gesturing towards the party going on beneath them, as if believing Miranda was only approaching her out of a sense of obligation to ensure she didn't feel excluded.

“I'm not. I enjoy your company. I always have.” Nothing had changed in that respect. No matter how much time had passed, Miranda would never feel any less at ease in Samara’s presence. She just had that effect on her. A vague smirk came to her as she thought back on the last time they spoke, toying with her wine glass. “I was right, you know?” she said, recalling her own words from all those many months ago. “I did miss you more than anyone else.”

“Even Shepard?” Samara inquired, her lip quirking with amusement.

“Even Shepard,” Miranda confirmed, taking a sip. “Don't pass this on, but Shepard was always barging into my office when I had a lot to do. Ask Garrus and he'll tell you the same thing about his calibrations.” She gestured to their comrade, currently setting up a number of glasses on the bar, resembling a firing range. That was going to end badly. “That was something I always liked about you.”

“What was?” asked Samara.

“You might be the only person I've ever met who never wanted anything from me,” Miranda explained, having had plenty of time to think about that in her loneliest moments this past year. “Not to be presumptuous, but it wasn’t because you simply didn't care, or wanted to get rid of me. You just...accepted me, as I was. I never felt as though I had to earn your approval, whether through my usefulness, or my accomplishments, or even through keeping you entertained with conversation. I could just...do nothing around you – literally, just sit there and say nothing in your presence, and that was fine with you.”

That was no exaggeration. They had spent hours together in serene silence, or in meditation. Maybe more than they had spent talking. It never mattered what they chose to do. One was never any more or less welcome than the other.

“It was,” Samara confirmed, her voice soft and reflective. “And, no, you are not being presumptuous. You may be more forthright than I am about such things, but, if I ever desired to be left alone, believe me, I would not have made a secret of it.”

“Ah, good, so you weren’t secretly dreading it whenever I showed up because you were too polite to tell me to bugger off this entire time,” Miranda joked. She already knew that, of course, but it was nice to have it on record.

“I am unfamiliar with that term. But no, I was not,” Samara answered kindly. “I would be a fool not to value your abilities. The things you have accomplished are remarkable, let alone what you have yet to achieve. But such things are only possible because of who you are. That is what is truly important. And I asked nothing of you, because I already enjoyed your companionship.”

Miranda wasn’t prone to blushing like an idiot, but it took an uncharacteristic amount of effort not to glow at such sincere praise. “You aren’t so bad yourself,” Miranda wryly replied, gently nudging Samara with her shoulder. 

“No, I am terribly dull. I assure you, I am aware of this,” Samara replied, a self-effacing smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the misplaced compliment.

Miranda snorted at that assertion. “Are you kidding? You were the only one out of this lot I found even remotely interesting to talk to most days. And, considering the company we keep, that’s saying something,” she said, indicating their cohorts below, who included some of the most famous heroes and infamous outlaws in the galaxy. “You’re one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met. Besides, I owe a lot to your wisdom and advice. More than you know.”

“It pleases me that you feel that way. However, if I may, I do not consider myself especially wise,” Samara humbly responded, downplaying her role. “If I appear so, it is only because experience has taught me one lesson that can make even the most dimwitted person appear well-considered in their thoughts, and that is to speak as little as possible, until I have something worthwhile to say.”

“See? That’s the most intelligent thing I’ve heard all evening,” Miranda pointed out, earning a faint chuckle from Samara. “In all seriousness, though, I really have been looking forward to catching up with you.”

“And I you. Much has come to pass since last we met. For both of us, I suspect,” Samara reflected, as if she had often wondered in her journeys where her friends were, how they were faring, or what they might be doing. Miranda knew, because she had done the exact same thing. “If it would not trouble you to share it--”

“I killed my father,” Miranda nonchalantly answered, filling in the gaps of what had transpired over the past few months before Samara could even ask her to, bringing up the subject about as casually as she might remark on the weather.

“Good,” Samara enthused, without a hint of hesitation. She didn’t even need to ask whether or not he deserved it. She already knew the answer.

That Samara took it so in stride almost made Miranda laugh. That exchange would have sounded so bizarre out of context. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man,” Miranda commented, taking another drink from her glass, nearing half-empty. “So, yeah, I’ve gone from having the absolute worst year of my life so far to feeling pretty bloody wonderful, if I’m being honest.”

“I am glad to hear you say that. However, if I may...are you sure you are alright?” Samara asked with the warmth and gentleness Miranda had come to expect from her. Although her own experiences with Morinth were very different, no doubt they gave her an insight that, irrespective of how much Miranda hated her father or how justified she was in her actions, killing the man who had been her only family for sixteen years of her life might unearth some complicated feelings. “It would be no failure on your part whatsoever if you are not.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Believe me, if there was any small part of me left that might have wanted to let him live, or might have felt something resembling an attachment to him, that part of me died the moment he hurt my sister,” Miranda declared, her voice unwavering. She glanced down. “Unfortunately, I...should have gotten there sooner. Oriana’s adoptive parents weren’t spared. They didn’t make it.”

“I am sorry,” Samara said, her sympathy sincere. “Is there anything you could reasonably have done to prevent this from happening?”

“No, probably not,” Miranda acknowledged. She had been fighting so hard just to survive some days. To stay one step ahead of The Illusive Man and his agents. She’d kept an eye on her as best she could, but it hadn’t been possible to watch over her and protect her the way she used to from such a position of powerlessness. She hadn’t even known she was in danger until it was too late.

“Then you must not blame yourself,” Samara encouraged, ever the voice of compassionate wisdom. “If your actions could not realistically have changed anything that transpired, then you cannot be held responsible.”

“I suppose not,” Miranda conceded, staring down at her glass.

More than anything else, Miranda hated that feeling of helplessness. Knowing that Oriana had suffered and felt pain she never wanted her to experience, and there was nothing she could do to shield her from it. She would have traded her own life in a heartbeat to take it all away and wind back the clock for Ori and her family, if it were within her power. But such things weren’t. It couldn’t be undone. It couldn’t be fixed. They just had to keep moving forward.

“Enough about me. How about you?” Miranda changed the subject. “I tried to keep tabs on everyone but...you are a hard woman to find, Samara.”

“That is my way,” Samara affirmed, calm and quiet. “I have no possessions, but that which you see before you. And I often journey through very remote places.”

“You’re off-the-grid,” Miranda translated. Certainly, Samara was about as disconnected from galactic society and unplugged from the network as it was possible to be in this day and age, short of eschewing those things completely.

“You could say that, yes,” Samara gave a firm nod, accepting that description. She stepped away from the balcony, gesturing with her hand as she spoke. “You may not know this, but there are villages in remote parts of asari space where people have...returned to a simpler way of being, rejecting modernity and embracing tradition in every facet of life. Even though their ancestors may have come to those worlds by spaceflight, they prefer to live as their predecessors did thousands of years ago. It would not be an exaggeration for me to state that several such places I have visited recently would still not currently be aware there is a war going on as we speak, and would never have heard the term ‘Reaper’.”

“Doesn’t sound that strange. There are people and places on Earth that haven’t changed at all in the past two hundred years, if not longer. As long as they aren’t holding back social and scientific progress for anyone else, why force them to adapt?” Miranda shrugged. If people wanted to stay stuck in the past, that was their business. She would happily continue moving forward and enjoy all the trappings and privileges of modern life that they rejected.

“...I have always liked such places, at least since I became a Justicar. They remind me of my temple somewhat,” Samara confessed, her eyes losing focus, drifting into thoughtful contemplation. “Just as there is tranquility in being surrounded by nature, there is truly no wiser woman than she who is content with her life, however humble it may seem. Would that we could all achieve such harmony.”

The hint of sombreness in Samara’s final words wasn’t lost on Miranda.

“Speaking for myself, give me twenty-second century technology any day,” Miranda remarked, both because it was true, but partly in an effort to lighten the atmosphere. It wasn’t clear whether Samara even heard her, in all honesty. “So where did you go after that?” Miranda asked casually. Given that she was here, she must have run into Shepard again somehow.

At those words, a sudden flicker of sorrow passed across her features. Samara turned away, one hand falling across her face, as if struck by a surge of sadness, and needing a moment to collect herself.

Needless to say, that reaction definitely didn’t escape Miranda. She moved closer to Samara, concerned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Samara summoned a heartbroken smile as she looked up at her once more. “Forgive me. My thoughts turned to the day I encountered Shepard,” she began, a hard story to tell. “I heard that the monastery where my daughters were taken four centuries ago had issued a distress signal, and none who had been sent to investigate had returned. As soon as I knew they were in peril, I did not hesitate. I had to go to them. I feared the worst, and my fears were not misplaced. The Reapers were indoctrinating Ardat-Yakshi, turning them into…” Samara couldn’t even say it. There weren’t words to describe those creatures.

Miranda listened to her recount the events in heavy, dread-filled silence. Nobody had told her that. She had no idea about any of this. 

“Fortunately, both Shepard and I arrived in time to rescue Falere from that fate. However, we were not quick enough. I lost...I lost Rila.” Samara’s voice caught in her throat, choked by a sob as she relived the all-too-raw pain of her death. 

Her oldest daughter. Gone.

Miranda’s heart sank. “Samara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” she said with heartfelt remorse. Miranda never would have brought this up if she had suspected anything had happened to what little family Samara still had left. Why hadn’t anybody said anything? Why had no one told her about this?

“No, it is…” Samara shook her head, raising a hand as if to signal that it was not her fault for inadvertently touching upon an open wound. As if she thought the only misstep made was her own for letting grief cloud the moment, when she had so much still to be thankful for. “I should not. Not today.”

Miranda didn’t quite know what to make of that reaction, but if Samara didn’t want to talk about the death of her child, she couldn’t exactly blame her. She certainly wouldn’t force her to.

Their moment of quiet was interrupted by glass shattering somewhere below.

“Oh, God,” Miranda groaned miserably, getting the sense that the boys were in fact about to break out the guns and start shooting after all. She was not particularly keen to be near them when that happened. “Do you want to go somewhere a little quieter?” Miranda asked, thinking that would be best.

“As you wish,” Samara replied, gesturing for her to go ahead, composing herself as she followed in Miranda’s footsteps. With that, they retreated into Shepard's bedroom, seeing that it appeared empty.

Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda glimpsed something. Shepard's closet was open, but the clothes were shifting ever so slightly as they hung there. Hmm. She had a fair idea what was causing that. However, this wasn't the time to address it. Not when this moment with Samara could be one of the last they ever had. She made a mental note to file her theory away for a little later.

Ignoring the disturbance, Miranda stepped inside. She supposed they could have sat on the bed, but, somehow, that just didn't seem fitting. “Here, for old time's sake,” she said, sitting down on the floor, her legs crossed, patting a spot beside her. “I know the view isn't as good, but—“

“I have spent many years gazing out over the stars, and I will see them again before my days are at an end,” Samara interrupted Miranda, joining her by her side, mirroring her posture. “In comparison, I have spent far less time with you. This is more worthy, do you not agree?”

“Definitely.” Miranda glanced down, having reflected on that sort of thing a lot recently. “Cutting myself off from...everything like I did made me appreciate the value of how I spend my limited time in this universe. I’ve come to understand what I want to do with my life, after all this is done. Assuming there is an ‘after’. And it turns out you were right, but you probably already knew that.”

“I...do not,” Samara replied, mildly perplexed. “If I said something in the past that you are referring to, I am afraid that I do not recall it.”

That happened a lot, Miranda thought. She had a near-perfect memory, by human standards. It felt entirely natural to her to harken back to conversations that had taken place long ago as if they’d happened only yesterday when, almost invariably, by that stage, the other party had forgotten them completely.

“You remember how you would encourage me to concentrate less on devoting all my energy to my work and other external achievements and to focus more on my inner development instead? Well, you asked me once which of those two things ultimately has greater meaning to me,” Miranda refreshed her memory.

“That does sound like something I would say,” Samara acknowledged, certainly remembering words to that effect, even if a few more specific details had faded.

“You did. And you were right,” Miranda continued. “I had a lot of time to myself these past several months. Completely to myself. And when that crushing isolation was just starting to tip me over the edge, I thought of you. I thought of us, our time together. And so I tried my hand at meditating again. It succeeded at calming me down and clearing my head but, more importantly, finding that state of tranquility gave me the first chance I’d had since leaving Cerberus to really stop and think about my life, and the direction it was heading, even before this.”

Samara’s expression revealed she knew that epiphany all too well, as if she had undergone something similar in her own life. Possibly more than once. It was no wonder she considered meditation such an essential facet of her existence.

“Serenity is the key to mindfulness. The only key. Even the simplest truths are often lost to us in the noise and chaos of life, or clouded by impenetrable shadows of anger and despair,” Samara spoke sagely, from the benefit of experience. 

That was the truest and most astute thing Miranda had heard anyone say in a long time. And beautifully poetic. And, as she looked at Samara then, Miranda had to once again wonder how she could possibly believe herself to be dull or unwise, even if she had only made those disparaging remarks about herself in jest. 

“What came to you in the silence?” Samara prompted, keen to hear it.

“I thought of the person I was before I met you, and, out of nowhere, it suddenly hit me - really hit me - that all that time I spent working for Cerberus was...wasted. It meant nothing. And I knew it meant nothing because all I could think was that, if Cerberus did catch up to me and kill me, then I would be leaving behind absolutely nothing that I could look back on and say, ‘Yeah, you know what? I’m satisfied with that.’ Not one thing. Except for bringing Shepard back, but any contentment I feel about that has less to do with me, and more to do with Shepard.”

“Because you were never satisfied with anything you produced,” Samara intuited, sensing what Miranda had come to terms with. “Nothing could ever truly meet your own unattainable standards that you set for yourself. And no amount of work could ever fill the void that you felt inside. A void that festered because you were...completely avoiding focusing on your inner life.”

“Yes, I was. And, no, it couldn’t fill it,” Miranda confirmed, seeing now what she had been too distracted to see before. “And, although I didn’t realise it at the time, I really did not like the person I was when I was working for them. I was not happy. I thought I was, compared to the life I had before. But, in actuality, I wasn’t any less trapped with them than I was with my father. I was like Shepard’s stupid hamster, running in a wheel, doing the same things over and over again, thinking I was getting somewhere, but going nowhere. Deep down, I was...I was fucking miserable. And...honestly, I think I was lonely.”

Samara watched on, her eyes glistening with unfeigned sympathy and understanding. “I gathered as much,” Samara admitted, barely above a whisper. Miranda wasn’t surprised to hear her say that. She wasn’t sure at precisely what point it had occurred to her to suspect that Samara’s spiritual intervention in her life might be intentional, but she’d made no secret of her guidance. 

“I’m glad you noticed, because I never would have. It was you who gave me that gentle push that made me re-examine what I was doing with my life, how badly I was treating myself, and reflect on what really mattered to me,” said Miranda. Hell, Samara had known what Miranda was missing better than she knew it herself. “So, as I was having this moment of insight and meditating on all those things you said to me, it made me think, maybe the path I’ve been taking until now isn't what's fulfilling to me. That's why, once the Reapers are defeated, if I make it out alive...I think I'm done,” she stated frankly, shrugging her shoulders.

“Done?” Samara echoed, curious as to her meaning.

“Done being that person,” Miranda clarified. “Done leading my life that way. Or at least I’ll try to be someone different for a while, until I figure out what I really want to do now that there’s nobody controlling me anymore. I'm not planning to be a puppet for another shadowy organisation. I'm not going to go off on some grand mission to save the galaxy. I’m not going to spend sixteen hours a day hunched over my computer screen, stressing over worthless administrative tasks to meet the arbitrary standards of people who don’t care at all if my crippling addiction to perfectionism sends me to an early grave,” Miranda announced, voicing that commitment aloud as though it were a vow. “If I’m finally going to take charge of my own life, then I'm going to focus on what's most important to me.”

“And what is that?” Samara asked, suspecting she already knew.

“My sister,” Miranda answered without hesitation. Oriana was her be all and end all. Whether she knew it or not, she always had been, ever since she was brought into this world. She made Miranda feel complete, or as close to whole as she had ever felt, anyway. “I made a promise to her that, when this is over, we're going to find some nice, quiet place on a colony world and start living our lives together as a family. And that's the only thing I want to do. The only thing I know will make me happy. I don't care about anything else.”

“You are...retiring?” Samara inferred, tilting her head in questioning.

“In a manner of speaking, I guess you could say that,” Miranda affirmed. As she glanced over at Samara then, it wasn’t lost on her that, while she was clearly impressed with the level of growth Miranda was demonstrating, suffice it to say that there was a hint of scepticism. “What?” Miranda prompted her, always preferring people to be direct rather than refrain from speaking.

“Forgive me. It delights me to hear that you have chosen a path which you believe will bring you inner fulfilment, but...with greatest respect, after our many conversations, I find it difficult to imagine you content with embracing idleness,” Samara noted with interest, even though she obviously supported her decision. She knew it drove Miranda crazy when she didn’t have enough work to do. She was perpetually busy, by choice. She hated being bored more than anything.

“No, I'm not saying I’ll be idle. I mean, I am only thirty-six, and...well, you've seen what I'm like,” Miranda conceded that fault, aware of her workaholic tendencies. She didn’t expect those qualities to fade, and she wasn’t sure it would be a good thing if they did. They were part of her personality. “But the point is that I’ve been doing the exact same thing for twenty years and getting nothing in return - except money, I guess. Before that, I was my father’s prisoner. I’ve never had the chance to be my own woman. I need a clean break. A hard reset. To steer things in a new direction. I need some time to...do or be something else, for the first time in my life. I need to…” She trailed off, struggling for the right words.

“Find yourself?” Samara suggested.

“Something like that,” Miranda confirmed. She’d never had a chance to discover herself and her identity except insofar as it related to her upbringing, or to her career with Cerberus. What else was there? Who was Miranda Lawson when she wasn’t working? Or wasn’t busy solving all the galaxy’s problems?

She would have loved to know. It was a shame she wouldn’t get to live long enough to meet that person. But, God, did it feel good to live in denial, and allow herself to hope, for just one night.

“I don't know how long this experiment will last, or what this phase of my life will look like,” Miranda continued, “And I'm sure that at some point in time I'm going to find ways to keep myself productive, because I probably can't do otherwise. But, whatever I decide to do with my time and my skills, I'll be doing it of my own volition. Not because I'm tethered to anybody else. Not because somebody else is running my life and telling me what to do. It will be because I took time to think about it, and found a way to devote myself to something that actually makes me feel good when I do it. Whatever that ends up being.”

That was the core of it, when it came down to it. She wanted to be her own master. To have control over her own life. To be her own boss. Wanted the freedom to cut ties with anyone or anything that was toxic to her quest for self-actualisation. 

“Either way, from now on, all those other things are going to be secondary, because my family is my priority. Oriana is,” Miranda professed, and that was immutable. “And, while I already knew that, you helped me realise what that means. So thank you for that.”

“If I was able to be of any assistance, then seeing you embrace your innermost desires is thanks enough. I am glad that you and your sister have found one another,” Samara said, her sincere smile reaching her eyes. “Truly, you have come so far from when I first met you. Wherever your path takes you, I wish you nothing but happiness. And I hope you both lead very long and peaceful lives.”

“Don’t we all?” Miranda remarked. That was the hard part, though. The entire galaxy was under attack by genocidal, unknowable cosmic horrors. But nobody wanted to think about them right now. Not tonight. “What about you and Falere?” Miranda asked, hoping she wasn’t treading on too sensitive ground by asking that question. “Will you do the same with her?”

“...I cannot; my adherence to The Code does not end with the salvation of the galaxy,” said Samara. Though it was clear she accepted that, her response left her visibly conflicted. No doubt, she wished it could have been otherwise. “I am the last of my Order. When I perish, so do the Justicars perish with me. It may seem futile to continue to walk this path when there is no one left to demand it of me, but I must. I must, for those who can no longer walk it with me.”

Samara’s devout pledge carried a hint of sadness, but it was well-camouflaged. What she personally wanted was irrelevant, ever since she'd renounced her former life and sworn her service to the Justicars. Being their sole living legacy only further cemented what had already been true. She wouldn't turn her back on her obligations, no matter how tempting it was to savour every moment she could with her daughter. She could never forgive herself if she did.

“However, I have also promised Falere that I will return, if I survive – when I am able,” Samara continued, though her tone did not change. It remained distant. Almost resigned. Layered in over four hundred years of history between them.

Miranda couldn’t quite make sense of the mixed emotions she sensed in Samara’s voice. Perhaps she was disappointed that they couldn’t be as close as she would like - that there were restrictions standing in the way of them fully reuniting in the same kind of way Miranda and Oriana had. Falere was still an Ardat-Yakshi, after all; she could never live a normal life. It was too dangerous.

“But you will see her? You will have a life together?” Miranda surmised, in a subtle attempt to encourage Samara to think of her circumstances more positively.

“...Yes,” Samara answered hesitantly, deciding that was indeed true, in part.

“Then, if both of us have reasons to survive, I don't like the Reapers' chances,” Miranda spoke with false confidence. If she said it with enough self-assuredness, perhaps she might actually start to believe it. But she wasn’t trying to convince herself. Only Samara. “If we've said we're going to do these things, then we already know what the outcome of this war has to be.”

Samara didn't share in her display of bravado, but she did appreciate her sentiment. “Though I am not afraid of death, I certainly have found a great deal more to live for than I ever thought I would have again...” Samara trailed off at that thought, her eyes briefly drifting out of focus, almost pensive in her reflection.

“Here's to living,” said Miranda, raising her mostly empty glass in a salute, finishing the last of her drink.

At that, Samara shook herself from whatever temporary trance had come over her. “Yes. Indeed. As you once said to me, I will…’see you on the other side’,” Samara echoed Miranda’s words from The Collector Base, nodding her head in agreement. There was nothing more worthy of affirmation than the desire to emerge from the ashes when all this was over. “The hour grows late, and I fear I have kept you too long. Do you wish to return to the festivities?” 

“You go on ahead,” Miranda encouraged. “And don’t just sit in a corner and meditate all night. Go...fucking have fun, Samara. You deserve it.”

Samara uttered a soft chuckle. “I am not entirely sure what that means, but if you are insistent, then...I will try to avail myself. The atmosphere is certainly...energetic,” she commented, as if sounding faintly overwhelmed by the party.

Miranda didn’t need to be a genius to recognise that it had been a long, long, long, long (too many longs to possibly put into a sentence) time since Samara would have experienced anything like this. The young Samara she had heard tales of had definitely been a wild child, but she had ceased to be that person even before her personal tragedy befell her. As a Justicar, she had been travelling alone, in total solitude, for over four hundred years, barely even speaking to anyone for most of that time, except as required to carry out her duties.

How many centuries had it been since she was able to get together like this with a group of friends? Since she even had a group of friends? Since she...relaxed and unwound? It was no wonder that, so far, she seemed content to watch from the sidelines more than actively participate in the unfolding chaos. 

Still a little sad, though. At least from where Miranda was sitting.

“Will you join me?” Samara asked, extending her hand as she got to her feet.

“In a bit,” Miranda declined. “There's something I have to take care of first.”

Samara didn't ask what Miranda meant by that, respecting her decision. “Very well. May we speak again soon,” she said, taking her leave and rejoining the others. 

Once Samara was gone, Miranda uttered a faint disgruntled sigh. “I know you're there, Kasumi,” she said, annoyed. “Samara may not have noticed, but I did.”

“Aw, what gave it away?” Kasumi playfully whined, de-cloaking in front of Shepard's closet.

“The movement as you rifled through those clothes,” Miranda answered plainly.

“Ooh, you're good,” Kasumi acknowledged. Most people wouldn't have seen it.

“Genetic enhancements. Superior vision. You've heard this story,” Miranda explained, waving that nonsense away. She elected not to ask what Kasumi was doing by rifling through Shepard’s clothes. That was the least unusual thing about this. “So, were you riveted by our conversation?” she asked.

“Actually, yes,” Kasumi replied, her answer apparently unfeigned. “Samara wasn’t kidding; you really have changed your perspective for the better. This new you, it's nice. You seem happy. I hope everything works out for you and your sister.”

Miranda couldn't quite manage to be cross with her after that kind response. “Yeah, well...I’ll never hear the end of it if the crew thinks I’ve gone soft and sentimental, so don’t go telling anyone. Besides, I haven't changed so much that I won't be capable of making your life hell if you let word of this spread around,” Miranda idly threatened, not meaning it at all.

Kasumi lost any trace of heartfelt sincerity after that. “On the other hand, I was also enthralled because I thought your little love session was going to end with you and Samara christening Shep's sheets,” she teased.

Miranda arched an eyebrow. Her and Samara? How absurd. “Of all the comebacks you could make...Really? A gay joke? In this day and age? What century are you from?” Honestly, it was the lack of creativity and wit that disappointed her more than anything. Kasumi was normally funnier than this.

“Who’s joking?” Kasumi wryly replied. “I was going to take bets from the others on which one of you topped. I picked you, for the record.”

Miranda snorted, not even humouring this nonsense. “Sure. If you say so.” 

“Be dismissive if you want, but I was right across the hall from Samara. I overheard more than one of your conversations. I know nobody else knows how much time you spent together, but I do. Besides, Shepard has it all wrong; Samara's a much better match for you than Jack would ever be,” Kasumi nonchalantly commented.

Miranda sighed heavily and let her head fall in her hand, massaging her forehead in visible annoyance. “What is it with everyone tonight--”

As soon as Miranda began to utter the question, she found that Kasumi had already cloaked herself and disappeared, leaving her by herself. Miranda rolled her eyes, not even slightly shocked. Kasumi had done that to everyone all night.

Seriously, though, why was everyone suddenly so intent on getting her to sleep with women at this party? They knew she was straight, right?

*     *     *

Drip.

Drip.

She stirred at the disturbance. Her right eye flickered open, but the other didn’t respond. Twisted metal and exposed wires loomed over her against the backdrop of an empty sky.

Drip.

Drip.

A body hung out of the seat above her. Half a body. A cracked ribcage visibly protruded from a burned uniform. Entrails dangled from the open corpse. Droplets of blood ran down a lifeless arm swaying limp in the light breeze.

Drip.

Drip.

Miranda had been here before. So many times. But this time, she was frozen in place. Trapped. Stuck. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t shift her body. Could only feel the blood and the viscera. It surrounded her. She was practically floating in a pool of it beneath her.

It was still warm.

Drip.

Drip.

She could taste copper in her mouth. She was covered in sanguine from head to toe. She wasn’t sure how much was hers, and how much was the pilot’s.

Drip.

Drip.

Her eyelid fluttered as a drop landed directly in her iris. As she blinked, she noticed something she’d never seen before. The pilot’s neck was bent back the wrong way. But there was a head. Half a head. Split clean open. Down the middle.

Her helmet had come off, exposing blonde hair. Stained with a crimson mask.

Drip.

Drip.

Miranda’s instincts reacted before she did. Her heart began to race - her pulse quickening with a deep, abiding dread. Adrenaline surged through her veins. And she didn’t know why. Until she saw.

Until she saw the body above her move.

Drip.

Drip.

That bent-backwards broken spine shifted consciously. And, with a wilful snap, suddenly that limp neck was above her. Hanging. That half-skull hovered directly over her. Looking at her. Appraising her.

Drip.

Drip.

Miranda tensed with the urge to fight or flee, but she was frozen in place, as if made of stone. She couldn’t move a single part of her body below her neck.

Drip.

Drip.

That torn face, broken in two, shifted back and forth, as if studying Miranda. Examining her. Asking itself…why did this stranger live, when I died?

Drip.

Drip.

With one click of a button to release her harness, the pilot dropped to the floor, freed from her restraints. Miranda could only watch as that unliving corpse of the woman blasted in half by the Reaper unnaturally positioned itself above her. Then the thing looked over to one side. Its eye was fixed on Miranda’s left arm.

Her wounded limb hung like dead weight from her shoulder. Fractured. Lifeless. Her forearm was twisted around completely the wrong way from the elbow down. Miranda couldn’t so much as twitch her fingers in self-defence.

Drip.

Drip.

Without warning, it seized her left hand.

“Ah!” Miranda gasped in pain, but couldn’t fight her off. Couldn’t move.

All she could do was lie there helplessly and watch as this dead creature lifted her broken, mangled arm. She willed herself not to scream from how much it hurt. Not to give it the satisfaction of breaking her.

Drip.

Drip.

The pilot stared down at her, unmoved by her anguish. It felt nothing.

It never broke eye contact with her as it lifted her backwards-twisted hand towards itself. Until Miranda’s fingers were almost touching that split-open face.

Miranda would have resisted if she could, but it felt like her arm would rip clean in half at the elbow if she pulled back with even the slightest force.

Drip.

Drip.

And then the pilot opened her mouth.

And a river of maggots came pouring out.

Wriggling.

Writhing.

Miranda could do nothing except watch as those horrible, crawling larvae spread from her fingers, down her palm, and to her wrist. And everywhere they touched, her flesh was consumed with rot. Infection. Disease. Death.

She could smell it.

She could fucking smell it.

And they just kept coming.

Drip.

Drip.

Some of the vile things fell onto her abdomen, there were so many of them. And the rot took hold there too. Turning her skin sickly septic. Pestilent. Necrotic. 

The pilot let go of her arm, letting it fall to the floor as the maggots swarmed her.

That half-body reached down and grabbed a fistful of the squirming things that were feasting on her still living corpse. It held that pulsating mass above her.

Drip.

Drip.

“No,” was all Miranda could say, knowing what it intended.

But there was nothing she could say that would stop it.

Drip.

Drip.

It shoved that handful of maggots directly onto her face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Instinctively, Miranda reached over and slapped the alarm off before anyone else would hear it. The next thing she did was bite down on her pillow to keep from screaming, or vomiting, stifling the lingering echoes of her nightmare.

Once the panic subsided, Miranda flopped onto her back, catching her breath.

Four forty-five in the morning.

This had been her bright idea to get some sorely-needed rest. She’d set her alarm to go off every half hour - to wake her before she could dream. It worked for the first three cycles. That was the fourth. Another failed solution. Another plan that hadn’t helped. Every time she slept, it was hell. It was always hell.

Miranda lay there in darkness, staring at the ceiling, listening to her ear ring. At least she’d got two hours before the nightmares struck this time. Thank Christ for that small mercy. But she was still so tired. She was so fucking tired.

Miranda could run on far less sleep than the average human. Persevere longer before frayed edges started to show. But even she had limits on what she could withstand. The longer this went on, the harder it got just to function.

How long did she have before she was physically incapable of staying awake?

Miranda had given up trying to pass time during the night. With anything. Didn’t use her computer. Didn’t read. Didn’t listen to music. Didn’t go out for walks by the river. Didn’t do any of the things she turned to in the past.

It was all so...boring. Everything was. Every single thing in her life that she used to use as a crutch to ward off these dreams had lost its lustre. Nothing was worth the effort of doing anymore. Expending the energy. All she had to keep herself awake anymore were her thoughts. And that sound.

That relentless

Fucking

Sound.

Days bled together in a blur. It almost didn’t feel like the past few hours had even happened. Fresh memories were like watching scenes from someone else’s life. What little release she’d had from getting off with Shiala earlier that night had already worked its way out of her system. It had been nothing more than a fleeting distraction, which offered scant relief from the problems that plagued her. And now she was back to this. A torment she’d been living with for so long that she no longer even remembered how it felt to be rested.

But thinking about literally anything else was preferable to dwelling on the nightmares, and she could only count the same cracks in the ceiling so many times before that would drive her clinically insane. So Miranda replayed the night in her head, trying to make sense of it all, and where it left her.

If sleeping with Shiala had accomplished one thing, it had proven that her feelings for Samara weren’t just in her head. No, the desire she’d felt when she imagined Samara in Shiala’s place, picturing her body beneath her, had not been some mere delusion. Those physical reactions couldn’t be faked or exaggerated. The sheer fucking want. That was real, vivid, stark, and intense.

So that was just great. After all that, not only had she not managed to convince herself that she was any less in love with Samara, she was now painfully conscious that she was sexually attracted to her. Extremely so.

It was the opposite of what she’d hoped to achieve. Fucking Shiala hadn’t been a release for her feelings. If anything, it had only crystalised them.

It was no wonder why Samara was dominating her thoughts. This obsession with her was about the only thing Miranda could feel at all anymore, outside of her nightmares. When it came to everything else in her life - all the death, the destruction, her own survival, her injuries, and the loss of all but a small handful of people she knew - everything else that should have provoked her to feel something, anything...there was nothing there. A hole. A void. An empty space.

She was just so fucking…

Blank.

Neutral.

Numb.

She couldn’t feel anything at all. Just hollowness. Except when Samara was there. And then, when she looked at her, when she felt her standing by her side, everything got so intense and so achingly real and corporeal that it burned. She came so alive in her proximity that she damn near couldn’t stand it.

But Samara wasn’t there.

She had gone again, leaving her to wilt in the dark.

And there Miranda lay. Staring at the ceiling. Avoiding her dreams. Listening to her ear ring. And she felt dead inside. Like every breath she took, she wasn’t getting enough air. Like she was asphyxiating, bit by bit. Suffocating so slowly that nobody would even notice if she simply stopped breathing. Not even herself.

But what the hell did she have to complain about?

She was still here.

Millions of others weren’t so lucky. Hell, billions. 

As her mind began to wander in the way that minds could only wander when they were desperately tired and teetering on the verge of sleep, she thought about The Normandy. About the shockwave that had destroyed the mass relays, and all ships anywhere near them. The faster-than-light blast that killed her friends.

Miranda hadn’t even been conscious when it happened. She’d only heard descriptions of what it looked like when the Crucible fired. It painted a pretty grim picture. Jacob had told her how he’d seen people standing only a few feet in front of him scream as they disintegrated in front of his very eyes. Torn apart on a cellular level, in a single, bright, flash.

Was that what happened to The Normandy? Had it been sudden? Had they been scared, in their last moments? Had they felt pain? Did they even know that they were in danger? That they were going to die? Or did they just...blink out of existence, blissfully quickly?

Did it matter?

People didn’t go anywhere when they died. There was no soul. No afterlife. No heaven. No hell. There was just...nothing. People were, and then they weren’t.

They would never even find any trace of them, would they? They would never have anything to bury or lay to rest. Even reading out their names as she had done hadn’t added a sense of catharsis or closure to it. It still didn’t feel entirely real, even though Miranda knew it had to be. The Normandy would have either reported in or been found by now if anyone had survived.

And then she thought of the people who were serving aboard The Normandy when it disappeared. People she had spoken to only a few months ago - a mere matter of days before the battle for Earth. People she would never speak to again. People she probably hadn’t earned the right to call her friends.

Tali, Miranda had never had a problem with. They only talked when it was directly related to the ship or the mission, which had been an ideal working relationship from her perspective. She wasn’t on The Normandy to make friends. That wasn’t something she wanted or thought she needed back then. It was only around the time of Shepard’s party on the Citadel that Miranda had finally begun to twig that Tali actually did not like her at all, and never had. To her credit, she had simply been far too professional to let it show, or interfere with her job.

That was perfectly fine, honestly. And, if Tali really did hate Miranda this whole time, that made her not a bad judge of character, in fairness. She hadn’t realised it about herself when they served together but, in truth, Miranda hadn’t liked herself all that much either. Still didn’t, on some level.

Garrus, by contrast, was notoriously snarky and sarcastic towards her. She’d never thought turians could smirk before, but Garrus had proven they could. He would meet her commands with smart-arse quips and a wry glint in his eye. He never took Miranda’s shit. Needless to say, she hadn’t been his biggest fan because of that but, in retrospect, she couldn’t blame him. With the gift of hindsight, she now recognised she had been pretty intolerable to be around at times. If she’d had a better sense of humour, they could have traded some witty banter. But the old Miranda took herself far too seriously for that.

Liara, Miranda had met earlier than any other member of The Normandy, save Jacob. Miranda had enlisted her help to retrieve Shepard’s body from the Shadow Broker, before it fell into the hands of the Collectors. It was strange to think that that brief crossing of their paths had set all subsequent events in motion.

Miranda had been so focused on her own goals at that time that she never formed particularly strong impressions of Liara, beyond a mixture of respect for her capabilities, tinged with appropriate suspicion and mistrust. That mistrust had mostly faded through a combination of being there when Liara took down the Shadow Broker, and perhaps more importantly from getting to know Shepard well enough to trust her judgement about the company she kept.

She didn’t know Liara well enough to speculate as to whether she shared that sentiment. Miranda rarely cared to ponder others’ opinions of her. Presumably Shepard didn’t have quite as many positive things to say about Miranda as she did about Liara, given their relationship. But they’d never had any issues.

James, Javik and Ashley, Miranda obviously didn’t know. She’d barely been introduced to them, really only meeting them when Shepard threw that party. She hadn’t formed particularly noteworthy opinions of any of them, beyond that James was a bit of a meathead (albeit, a fairly charming one), Ashley was what happened when the quintessential military brat grew up and became a soldier, and Javik was coping with being the loneliest man in the universe by staying alive through the sheer burning willpower to avenge the destruction of his people. 

Then again, maybe she was wrong about them.

Joker and EDI, though, Miranda definitely knew. Joker had never been shy when it came to talking shit about everyone on the ship. Miranda was no exception, although he was more cautious about her than most, given that she scared the crap out of him. Still, that hadn’t stopped him from spending an entire week humming the Wicked Witch of the West theme every time Miranda approached - a reference Miranda hadn’t understood (because of course she didn’t) until Jacob explained it to her, which led to her swiftly putting a stop to that.

And EDI? Well, EDI was The Normandy. The closest thing it had to a soul.

It was difficult to say whether Miranda could truly consider her a ‘person’, but on some level she supposed she did. She did think of her as one. Miranda had always found herself being instinctively polite to EDI, even in moments when she didn’t extend the same politeness to anyone else. But for as calm and helpful as EDI could be, she also had a personality. A sense of humour. Desires. Wants. In some ways, maybe she was more human than Miranda herself.

And then there was Doctor Chakwas, and Gabby and Ken, and Engineer Adams, and Kelly Chambers, and Mess Sergeant Gardener. So many people. So many faces that had become part of her world. She didn’t even like all of them, but they were there. And now they weren’t.

And Shepard.

Where did she even start when it came to Shepard?

Meeting Shepard had changed Miranda’s life on a fundamental level. She’d led by example, and shown her a different way of being. She was the undeniable proof that being kind and empathetic wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. That making friends with the people around her wasn’t a distraction from more important work, but an essential tool she used to build a strong and loyal team.

She was, without exaggeration or qualification, as close to a perfect human being as Miranda had ever met. If humanity strived to be more like Andrea Shepard, then the galaxy would be a better place.

Huh. What would Shepard say if she could see Miranda now?

Do you even miss us?

At all?

Good question, Miranda thought. Was this what it was like? Was this how a normal person was supposed to act when they missed people who had died? Because it didn’t feel that way. If this was a test, she was failing. Despite what Samara had said about there being no correct or incorrect way to grieve, it certainly didn’t feel like she was mourning the right way, whatever that meant.

Do you even care that we’re gone?

You haven’t cried.

Not once.

Not even the faintest sting in your eye.

No, she hadn’t. She’d never really been able to do that. Only Oriana ever brought that out of her. And Miranda wasn’t speaking to her right now. Because she still had nothing positive to say.

At this rate, it wasn’t looking like that was going to change anytime soon.

Miranda lay there in the dark for two more hours, forcing herself not to slip into slumber. It was seven in the morning when she finally willed her weary limbs to get her up and out of bed. She had already heard the pipes going, so she knew some of the kids were awake. Sometimes she got up before them, but she usually waited for them to stir as her signal to stop pretending to sleep. It aroused less suspicion if she wasn’t the first one up every morning. And her ruse must have been working because so far none of them had noticed.

She got up, had her shower, got dressed, and joined the early risers for breakfast.

“Morning, Miss,” Leah Brooks greeted her.

“Morning.” Miranda opened the fridge, her voice slightly hoarse. She stopped, blinking as she glanced back at the students. “...Is that actual fresh milk in the fridge?” she asked, wondering if she was just hallucinating from insomnia.

“Sure is,” Rodriguez confirmed.

“How on Earth do we have that?” said Miranda, on a slight delay.

“Black market,” Rodriguez answered with a shrug.

Miranda gave her a single nod of approval, grabbing the glass bottle. “Good girl.” She was teaching them well. It was worth every credit to have food that didn’t come in powder form whenever they could manage to get their hands on it.

With that, Miranda poured herself a bowl of cereal and joined the kids at the table. They ate in silence for a solid two minutes. Despite not paying the students much mind, she didn’t fail to notice that they were sneaking surreptitious glances at her, and being awkwardly quiet. They were usually chattier. She didn’t ask them what this was about, because she didn’t care. It was always some teenage nonsense with them. As long as it was harmless.

“...Screw it, I’m gonna ask her,” Reiley eventually broke the silence.

“Don’t! Don’t fucking ask her,” Rodriguez warned, hushing her voice as if that would somehow make her imperceptible, even though Miranda was sitting right across the table and could see her and hear every single word uttered between the two of them. “I’ve played this game, it doesn’t go we--”

“Miss…” Reiley began, completely ignoring Rodriguez’s protestations. “Is it true you banged an asari last night?”

Miranda fumbled her spoon.

Fuck.

“First of all, that’s a very inappropriate question,” Miranda responded, not at all impressed with Jack’s students. And she stood by that assessment, even if she knew damn well she was being a giant hypocrite, because she was also prone to asking questions she wanted to know the answers to without caring who she offended in the process. But the key difference there was that she did that to other people, and this was now happening to her. And that was obviously unacceptable. “Secondly, where is this even coming from?”

“I overheard you talking to Mr Taylor last night,” Leah solved that mystery.

At that, Miranda’s normally faultless composure cracked. “You...what?”

“We sleep right there.” Leah pointed at her room. “Voices carry.”

Instead of coming up with some elaborate fiction, which she was far too drained to do, Miranda simply ran her fingers through her hair and uttered a frustrated groan. Damn it, Jacob. She should have guessed at least one of them might be awake and listening through the door when she came home.

“Holy shit. You were right. She did,” said Rodriguez, finding all the proof she needed in Miranda’s reaction, and complete lack of any defence.

Leah made a gesture with her fingers. “I told you. Pay up.”

“You know it's rude to eavesdrop on people,” Miranda pointed out, displeased.

“Pfft. You would do it to us,” Reiley remarked.

“No, I wouldn't. None of you have anything remotely interesting to say,” Miranda countered, going back to her cereal, seeing little point in denying the truth, although there was no way in hell she was going to divulge anything further.

“Yeah, well, if we did, you would,” Reiley replied with a shrug.

Miranda never liked admitting when other people were right so she didn’t respond.

“Was it Samara?” Rodriguez asked, immensely intrigued, or at least pretending to be for the purposes of screwing with her. “I know I sensed a vibe between the two of you. So were you lying when you said she wasn't your girlfriend?”

Miranda rolled her eye. She hated her life. She hated everything.

“You will run out of cereal eventually, and then you’ll have to talk,” Leah teased.

Miranda fixed her with a one-eyed glare as she ate, making it plain that this pestering would get them precisely nowhere but ignored. She really did wish that Jacob hadn’t made her be nice to these teens. Back when they were intimidated by her, they never would have pulled this stunt.

At that instant, Prangley emerged from his room, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes.

“Jason. Good to see you,” Miranda called his attention to her, seeing an opportunity to escape this torment. “Do me a favour. Bring my pistol over here and shoot me with it, would you?” Miranda requested with an entirely straight face.

Prangley blinked blearily, certain he must have misheard. “What?”

“Kill me,” Miranda reiterated, in the same tone. “I don't want to live anymore.”

“What? Why?” asked Jason.

“She boned an asari last night and Leah overheard her and Mr Taylor talking about it,” Rodriguez explained. “It was totally Samara,” she added in an aside.

“Oh. Nice,” said Prangley, continuing his march to the kitchen, unfazed.

Miranda exhaled in annoyance. “Damn it, Jason.” He’d been her best hope of backing her up and putting a stop to this. And he’d failed her. She was disappointed. “You were this close to being my favourite,” she complained in jest, holding her thumb and forefinger a small distance apart.

Jason shrugged. He wasn’t about to interfere with this. She was on her own.

“Samara seems really cool, Miss,” Reiley commented, nodding in approval.

“And also super hot,” Leah chimed in. “And I mean that in both a feminist way and a lesbian way. So, you know...good for you.”

Jason snorted. “Did you just congratulate her on who she had sex with?” 

“Yes. Absolutely,” Leah confirmed. “I mean, have you seen Samara?”

“It wasn't Samara!” Miranda insisted, finally getting fed up with this.

Rodriguez gasped excitedly. “So you're seeing someone else? Who is it? Is she your girlfriend? Is that why you and Samara aren't together? Wait, oh my God, Miss, are you cheating on Samara? Is that why she left London?” 

Miranda let her head fall forward and hit the table with a thud. This was why she normally chose to stay silent when they tried to get a rise out of her like this. Shame she’d forgotten that strategy in her exasperation.

“Wow. You’ve officially done it. You’re all dead to her now,” Jason noted.

“Oh, I crossed that boundary a long time ago,” Rodriguez assured him, evidently proud that she’d finally managed to break Miranda. “I have nothing to lose.”

“How about the roof over your head,” Miranda retorted, picking up her cereal, deciding she would rather starve than continue to be subjected to this.

“Pfft. You don’t mean that,” Rodriguez brushed her off. Miranda just silently arched her eyebrow at her as she limped away. Rodriguez began to sweat, turning to her partners in crime. “She...She doesn’t mean that, right?”

Jason just pulled a face, as if to say he’d warned her.

*     *     *

“I heard a rumour about you,” Shepard began, approaching Miranda near the lounge on the second floor.

The party had gone fairly late into the evening by that point, and the energy was starting to wind down. Miranda hadn’t asked but somehow she got the sense that everyone was planning on crashing at Shepard’s for the night, since nobody had made any motions to leave yet. 

“I’m the subject of many rumours, Shepard,” Miranda dryly replied, sitting back against the armrest. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Although, if it’s the one about the incident with the drop bear, I swear that only happened one time and only three people died.”

“Drop bear?” Shepard echoed curiously, tilting her head, as if trying to work out whether that was Miranda’s serious voice or her sarcastic voice. Miranda just gave an ambiguous shrug. If Shepard couldn’t tell, then she wasn’t going to spoil it. “Nah, it was nothing that exciting. Although remind me to ask you about that later. I’ve been told you’re considering an early retirement?” 

Miranda sighed, not needing to guess where that had come from. “Kasumi...”

“Mhmm,” Shepard confirmed the source of her information. “And, from that look, I'm starting to think it's true. So, this is really it for you, huh? Once we get rid of the Reapers, you're out – you're done.”

“Well, not immediately. I'm not about to leave people dying in the streets. But yes, you heard correctly,” Miranda replied, taking a sip from her freshly refilled glass of wine. It was a relief that not every single bottle or glass had been destroyed when Garrus set up that makeshift shooting gallery. “I’m my own woman now.”

“Really?” Suffice it to say, Shepard didn't seem to be buying it. “Not working for anyone at all, other than yourself. Ever. You're sure?”

“I haven’t made up my mind about ‘ever’, but yes. As of right now, that's the plan,” Miranda answered.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but who are you and what have you done with the real Miranda Lawson?” Shepard teasingly remarked, since this was the single most uncharacteristic thing the Miranda she had come to know a year ago could possibly have said or done.

“Oh, she’s dead. I buried her under the floorboards. I probably should have mentioned, I’m also an escaped Cerberus clone. You are the fake Shepard, right? Because if you’re not, then this is a joke and you should forget I said that,” Miranda responded, her tone completely deadpan.

Shepard laughed, moving to sit across from her on the opposite sofa. “Seriously, what brought this on? Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

Miranda exhaled, shifting until she was seated on the armrest, deciding to stop being snarky and start being direct. “Being on the run this past year...It's been the worst year of my life. Including all the years I lived with my father. But if nothing else, being on my own for so long made me realise that, for as long as I've been alive, everything about me has always been controlled by other people. In one way or another, I've never been free to make my own choices. Except for a few months with you. I need to take some time away to breathe. Just be me, without anyone expecting anything from me. Figure out how to be...”

“What?” Shepard prompted, when Miranda fell silent.

“I was going to say ‘an actual fucking person’ and then I realised how depressing that was,” Miranda muttered with appropriate self-awareness, earning a light chuckle from Shepard. “I guess that’s the whole point. I don’t even know who I am when I’m not working myself to the bone. I could be anybody under all this.” Miranda vaguely gestured at herself.

“And what if you can’t stand having nothing to do?” asked Shepard. 

“Then I change plans,” Miranda answered plainly. She wasn’t so attached to this idea that she couldn’t be flexible if it didn’t work out, and she wasn't sure why it mattered. As it stood, the chances of any of their dreams for the future coming to fruition were slim at best. “But how can you be so certain that I'll hate it? I'm not; I've never had the freedom to do nothing before. Maybe I'll thrive.”

“But you were always putting yourself under pressure to stay busy, even when you didn’t have to. You love how much of a workaholic you are. Don’t deny it. You were practically begging me to give you more stuff to do towards the end there. What would you even do with your time if you’re no longer devoting yourself to some kind of high-powered career?” Shepard wondered aloud.

“I don’t know. There are a lot of things I’ve never done before, and never thought I’d do.” Miranda shrugged. “Maybe I’ll try being a blonde for a while. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo. Maybe I’ll become Wiccan. Maybe I’ll get fat.”

Shepard stared at her sceptically, sensing the obvious sarcasm.

“What? Don’t think I couldn’t do it if I set my mind to it. I’m secretly a foodie at heart, you know,” Miranda pointed out, her tone drier than her wine.

“And you have a superhuman metabolism,” Shepard countered.

“Ah. Right. Scratch that one off the list then,” said Miranda, taking another sip from her glass. “Blonde, tattooed Wiccan it is.” Shepard laughed, entertained.

“Well, when Hell freezes over a million years from now, I look forward to meeting that version of you. But, until that happens, you know it’s not a two-party system, right? You don’t have to choose between going in a totally new direction forever, or staying exactly as you are right now. There's a lot you can do that isn't either of those things,” Shepard reminded her, gesturing as she spoke. “You'd excel at anything you tried. It doesn't have to involve life or death struggles over the fate of the galaxy. And, if you’re sick of bringing people back to life, you can retire from science and move onto something else. I could definitely see you taking well to life as a lawyer, or a CEO, or even a political leader.”

“Politics?” Miranda snorted, reaching out across the gap with an insincere handshake. “Hi, I’m Miranda Lawson, former terrorist. Vote for me.”

“Point taken,” Shepard conceded.

“You also realise that all the professions you listed have a higher than average ratio of sociopaths compared to the general population,” Miranda noted.

Shepard scratched the back of her head. “Sunday school teacher?” she offered.

“Can’t do that. I’m becoming Wiccan, remember?” Miranda quipped. “Did you really come and find me just to try and talk me out of this?”

“No. No, I didn't. It's...actually the exact opposite,” said Shepard, shaking her head and leaning back against the cushions. “Because the truth is I've been thinking the same thing; that this is the end for me too,” she confessed, piquing Miranda's intrigue. “If I make it through this...I don’t know if I can keep fighting other people’s battles anymore. If I can, I don’t know if I want to.”

“I guess after stopping a galactic genocide, all other conflicts start to look petty in comparison,” Miranda mused, swirling her glass, strangely empathising with that sentiment. What would be the point of Shepard saving the entire goddamn galaxy from the Reapers, only to then continue imperilling her life, risking getting shot and killed day after day over some insignificant political squabble that didn’t matter the slightest bit in the grand scheme of things? 

Shepard had been lucky enough to get a second chance at life. Literally. She had more reason than anyone to realise how precious that was. And also how fragile.

It would have been beyond tragic if Andrea wouldn’t get to savour a calm, peaceful future if the war with the Reapers ever ended - a future that would only be possible because of her. Because she was the one person who saw what truly mattered, and valued collective unity over selfish, shortsighted division.

“Don’t take anything I’ve been saying about you as an attack. It’s not,” Shepard assured her. “I'm just surprised, and maybe projecting a little, because...I have no clue what I'm going to do after this, and it's terrifying to me. I’ve never...I’ve never not been a soldier. I don’t even know how to be an...an ‘actual fucking person’, like you said. And neither do you. And yet here you are, and that doesn't bother you at all. I thought it would have been the other way around.”

“Me too,” Miranda conceded. “But things are different now.”

“You mean you're different now,” Shepard added, impressed by Miranda’s growth.

“You helped,” said Miranda. She crossed the floor and sat down beside Shepard, sinking into the seat, leaning her head back on the lounge to look up at the ceiling. “I’ve been cognisant for a very long time that I’m not a normal person, Shepard. Not only that, but...I don’t have the faintest clue how to pretend to be normal,” Miranda elected to be frank about that flaw. Though she rarely showed weakness, she felt safe sharing that with her. “My whole life, I’ve never seen the point trying to fit in with other people when I know I can’t, and don’t even want to. So, while I might not be showing it...I am more scared than you think. But I’m also just kind of over worrying about anything anymore? Maybe because I’ve spent most of this past year living in constant fear. I think I got sick of it.”

Shepard paused, considering Miranda’s words. “Can I be honest with you?” she began, after several seconds had passed. Miranda gestured for her to go ahead. “I also have no idea how to be a normal person. I think that’s what’s freaking me out about what comes next. What if I’m bad at it?”

“What a horrible thought. Being bad at mundane problems,” Miranda dryly commented, hoping her sarcasm would help Shepard put her anxieties into perspective. “What if you mix up your recyclable plastics with your non-recyclables? Perish the thought. That’s a disaster, right there.”

“I’m being serious,” Shepard insisted, though it was obvious she got the meaning behind Miranda’s comment. “Look, you get what I’m going through better than anyone. You and I, we’re both...not to sound arrogant, but we’re both fuckin’ good at what we do,” Shepard stated plainly. And she wasn’t wrong. They were the best of the best. “What if we suck at everything else?”

Miranda shrugged. “Then it was a fun experiment, both of us trying to be ordinary people for a while. I think it will be worth it.”

Shepard exhaled, and rested her head on her hand. “So...what does being a regular, everyday person look like to Miranda Lawson?” she wondered aloud. “What does a nice, safe, boring future look like to you?”

That was a question Miranda had no problems answering. She had a singular vision. “I’ve promised Oriana that we’re going to find a quiet spot on a colony world. We’ll buy a big plot of land far away from anyone else, and build our dream house. Somewhere with a view, where we can sit out on the deck, watch the sunset, drink wine and eat sashimi while we talk about our day,” Miranda revealed, trusting Andrea enough to tell her what she said to Ori before she left.

“...That sounds pretty great,” Shepard said softly. In that simple description of what life after the war meant to her, and the goal she was fighting for, it had instantly clicked into place why Miranda was so content with the idea of ‘retiring’.

“What about you?” Miranda asked, gently nudging Shepard’s knee with her own. “Where does Andrea Shepard see herself in five years’ time?”

“That’s the million credit question, isn’t it?” Shepard spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. She sat forward, electing to just give voice to what was in her heart. “Honestly, this is going to sound corny as hell, but...when I think of my future, I can’t see anything but Liara. That’s it. Nothing would make me happier than just...I don’t know, having a boring fuckin’ house with a yard and a white picket fence, and lots of little blue children running around.”

“Maybe I’m getting sentimental in my old age, but that might possibly be the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Miranda commented, eliciting a sheepish chuckle as Shepard rubbed the back of her neck.

“Oh, God, we are getting old, aren’t we? And we’re only in our thirties,” Shepard realised aloud, as if it had hit her that both of them had been through enough to fill several lifetimes. No wonder they both wanted to ‘retire’ so young.

“Mhmm. And I’ve got five years on you, so I can promise you it’s all downhill from here,” Miranda confirmed, taking another sip of wine. “But I meant that, though. Don’t be ashamed of that dream. Lots of people would kill for something like that.” Herself included, she thought. “And you will make an excellent…father? Father’s the correct word in this context, right?” Miranda asked aloud, earning a nod. “Take it from someone who killed hers: you would be the best Dad ever.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.” Shepard gave her a light knock on the arm.

“I’m not. I’m really not. Okay, I know it sounds like I am, but…” Miranda trailed off for a moment, a thought occurring to her. “Huh. You know what? I just realised something. You and I actually both have the exact same dream,” she pointed out, turning to face Andrea. “We want a family.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, we do, don’t we?” Shepard nodded in agreement, seeing the clarity in Miranda’s words. “Ours just look a little different from each other.”

“So, that settles it. We’re both going to hang up our weapons and retire somewhere nice and dull so we can each have the families we always wanted,” Miranda reiterated. Despite her efforts to be hopeful, at those words, she couldn’t keep a pessimistic sigh from escaping her. “Now, we both just have to convince ourselves that we'll live long enough to do that.”

“I'd bet on you,” Shepard acknowledged, glancing over at her.

“And I’d bet on you,” Miranda replied with a bittersweet smile, but it lacked the conviction to reach her eyes. “Don't get me wrong; I haven't given up, and I'm going to fight for that future as hard as I can. But I can't believe that it's going to happen until I'm standing in the rubble and the Reapers are all gone.”

Shepard exhaled heavily, sinking lower against the couch. “That makes two of us.”

The more Miranda thought about it, the more it became painfully apparent that their odds of getting to lead those lives they were imagining were slim to zero. Even if by some miracle they did find a way to defeat the Reapers, it was virtually impossible that both she and Shepard would survive whatever came next. At best, it seemed like a binary choice. One or the other. And Miranda knew which of the two of them was least likely to endure if push came to shove.

Her body tensed imperceptibly. An apprehensiveness fell over her. A sense of urgency rose in her stomach. Words she couldn't leave unsaid.

“...Shepard,” Miranda began, her tone serious. “If anything happens to me—“

“Miranda,” Andrea attempted to cut her off, but Miranda ignored her interruption. She couldn't forgive herself if she stayed silent about this.

“Just listen, Shepard. If I can’t be there for her, for whatever reason, promise you'll keep an eye on Ori for me?” Miranda persisted, needing to hear Andrea give her word on that, because she understood what this meant to her, and she would absolutely follow through. Even if Andrea had to die to honour her commitment to Miranda, it wouldn’t stop her. “Make sure she's okay.”

“You can do that yourself,” Shepard replied, either refusing to fear the worst, or determined not to let her crew see that she possessed any doubts that they would live to see those tomorrows, come what may.

“Hypothetically, then,” said Miranda, rolling her eyes at Shepard’s reluctance to answer the question. “If something happened to me, whether now or twenty years from now...I need to know: would you look out for Oriana if I couldn't?”

Andrea relented, realising what she was asking, and why. “Of course I would.”

“Do you swear?” Miranda pressed.

Shepard sighed, and held up her pinkie. “I swear.” Eyeing that gesture somewhat peculiarly, Miranda eventually extended her own little finger. However, Andrea pulled away before they could interlock. “Uh uh. But before we do that, I need you to make the same promise to me. So, if--”

“Liara does not need protecting, Shepard,” Miranda reminded her. 

“You had your turn. Let me finish,” said Shepard. Miranda signalled for her to take the floor. “Thank you. Now, if anything ever happens to me...you’re the one person I trust more than anyone else to step in for me when I’m gone. No matter what, you’ll have your shit together, and you’ll do what needs to be done. So, if I can’t be here…” Instead of articulating it all in words, Shepard flicked her gaze out towards the balcony, down to the lower floor, where everyone else was. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but...just do what you can for them. Watch over them for me. Make sure they’re alright. And, if they’re not...do what you think I would do.”

At that request, Miranda softened. It hadn’t been what she’d anticipated Andrea would say, but perhaps she should have seen it coming. Shepard loved her crew like family. She was their North Star. A guiding light who united so many disparate personalities in a common cause, and brought out the best in all of them.

Shepard really was a hero.

A bloody icon.

How could Miranda possibly say no?

“What else is a second-in-command good for if not that?” Miranda extended her hand once more. At that, Shepard finally locked pinkies with her, swearing on it. “You know I’ve never done this before - pinkie promised,” Miranda noted, finding it a bit juvenile. 

“Of course you haven’t.” Shepard shook her head, not at all shocked by that. It was at that particular moment that a certain AI came up the stairs, into view. Shepard called out to her. “Hey, EDI. I have a question for you.”

“What would you like to know?” EDI asked.

“What the hell is a drop bear?” said Shepard.

Miranda arched her brow, and took a long drink, saying nothing.

“One moment.” By the time she finished saying ‘one moment’, EDI had already concluded her search of the Extranet. “Here is what I’ve found: the drop bear is a hoax Australian folklore creature. The origins of the drop bear hoax are unknown, though it appears it may have originated as a campfire story in the early-to-mid-20th century. Australians have been known to pretend the drop bear is a real creature so as to frighten and confuse tourists and non-Australians for their own amusement.” EDI paused for a beat. “It is a joke.”

“Thank you, EDI,” said Miranda, concealing a smirk. Way to ruin the fun. 

Shepard slowly turned to her, eyeing Miranda in quiet bewilderment. “...Did you of all people just prank me with a two-hundred-year-old joke?” 

“Not that I’m that attached to it, but I’m pretty sure I would be stripped of my citizenship if I didn’t do that at least once before I die,” Miranda informed her.

Shepard’s expression didn’t change. “Mhmm.”

*     *     *

“So are you gay now?” was the first thing Jack said to her the next time they saw each other, a week after their last meeting.

Miranda sighed. God damn it. Nobody could keep their mouths shut about anything, could they? “I’m something,” she muttered, taking off her wet jacket. It had been raining all day. And not the usual soft English drizzle that didn’t even warrant mentioning, but actual rain.

“Good for you,” Jack replied, not actually interested. “Let’s play.”

Miranda slumped down into the chair across the table from Jack, the raindrops pittering off the windows behind her. “Your advice was terrible, by the way,” she told her as she moved her first piece.

“Nah, you’re just a shit lay,” Jack countered, making her own opening.

Miranda flicked her eye up at her, unamused, but decided it was best not to validate that comment with a response. 

All of a sudden, Jack started laughing at something unsaid.

“What?” Miranda asked suspiciously.

“...‘Meh’-randa,” Jack remarked, making an appropriately nonchalant gesture.

Miranda exhaled heavily, rubbing her temple in annoyance. “Jack, I need you to understand this,” she began, placing her elbow on the table and leaning forward as she spoke, eerily calm. “One of these days, you will forget that this conversation ever happened. You will go on with your life, and there will come a day when you are blissfully ignorant and happy. And on that day, I will come to wherever you live. And I will break into your room. And I will suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Fair,” Jack conceded. “Worth it, though.”

Miranda leaned back in her chair, oddly relieved to have gotten that off of her chest after biting her tongue for so long. “God, that felt good. Why did I ever stop insulting you?” she wondered aloud, starting to think she should snap back at her more often instead of taking every jibe Jack threw at her in stride. 

“Because you’re a fucking pussy now apparently.” Jack shrugged, focused only on the game. “Shut up and play me.” Miranda didn’t need to be asked twice.

She didn’t know what it was about that particular day. Maybe it was the dreary weather, and the sound of the rain making the tinnitus a little less abrasive for once. Maybe it was how long both of them were taking between moves. But, for whatever reason, Miranda found herself stifling yawns as the game went on.

She moved a pawn, and leaned her head against her hand as Jack studied the board, weighing up her strategies, keen to avoid falling into another trap.

God, she was so fucking tired.

It had been three days since she last slept. Or...wait, was it four? She couldn’t remember. Six or seven days seemed to be her absolute limit before she started passing out irrespective of willpower, and that was because she was, quote unquote, a ‘genetic freak’ as Jacob had once put it. She’d only managed two hours of thirty-minute naps the last time she got any rest at all.

Her eyelid felt so heavy. Every single time she blinked, it stayed dark a little longer, and it took a little bit more effort and time to open it again. 

What harm would it do to just rest her eye for a second, she wondered? It wasn’t like she was going to fall asleep, sitting up like she was. Although, leaning on her hand felt so fucking comfortable. She didn’t want to move.

So Miranda let her eyelid drift shut for a moment, listening to the rain.

…

…

...

“Hey, eyepatch.”

…

…

...

“Eyepatch?”

Miranda was vaguely aware that someone was talking, but it didn’t reach her in the darkness. That was, until Jack hit the table, hard, and startled her awake. Miranda’s head slipped off her hand. At that jolt, she panicked and reflexively reared back so hard that she damn near fell out of her chair.

“What? What? What is it?” Miranda took a few moments to blink and remember where she was after being shaken from her stupor. It only clicked when she found Jack sitting across from her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Am I boring you?” Jack remarked, arms folded across her chest impatiently.

Miranda shook her head, trying to save face. “It’s called ‘thinking’, Jack. You should try it sometime,” she retorted, moving a piece quickly as if to prove she hadn’t just blacked out for a couple of minutes.

Jack glanced down at the board. “You can’t do that.”

“What?”

“That’s not a legal move,” Jack pointed out. Miranda checked the board. She honestly didn’t even know what piece she’d just touched. Jack reached across, and dragged her knight back to where it should have been. Jack sat back in her chair and fixed her with a stare.

“...Fuck me dead,” Miranda muttered under her breath, realising she actually had to stop and concentrate to figure out her next move.

“Forget it. I’m out.” Jack pushed her chair back from the table and stood up.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” Miranda insisted.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to beat you when you’re like this. That wouldn’t even count,” said Jack, gesturing listlessly towards her, having lost all interest.

“I’m not ‘like’ anything. I’m just…” Miranda trailed off, staring at the board, stuck for a move. Her head was so full of fog that she couldn’t see any options. The whole table was a blur. A featureless mush. Every piece looked the same. She couldn’t even fucking think. If someone asked her to name a single rule of the game in that instant, she would have drawn a complete blank.

“Go home. Take a fucking nap or whatever. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you look like death, by the way. More even than usual,” Jack casually observed, opening her fridge and pulling out a can of energy drink.

“I’m fine!” Miranda barked, a little too loud, willing that lie to be the truth.

“I honestly don’t care. You could jump off a bridge for all the difference it makes to me. I wouldn’t stop you,” Jack said frankly, nonchalantly gesturing with her drink in her hand. “All that matters to me is making sure you don’t have a fuckin’ excuse when I destroy you. So get the fuck out of my apartment, and don’t come back until you stop sucking at the only reason I keep you around.”

Miranda swallowed a groan, the pain in her head only growing. Jack obviously wasn’t going to change her mind. This game was over. “Alright. Fine. Suit yourself,” she grumbled as she got up, collecting her things. “See you next week.”

“Only if you don’t look like complete shit by then,” Jack commented, prepared to close the door in her face if she wasn’t going to play her at her best.

Miranda left and went out into the cold December rain, which showed no signs of easing. The problem was, she didn’t have anywhere to go. She couldn’t go home. There was nothing there to keep her awake. And she absolutely was not ready to fall asleep, and contend with the nightmares that awaited her.

She couldn’t go to the bar, because drinking would make her tired. The last time she got drunk, the nightmares were so visceral that she woke up vomiting. 

She thought about it a bit longer, and then one option came to mind. She still had a key to her office. Bailey had banned her from working weekends out of concern for her wellbeing if he didn’t, sure, but he wouldn’t be there. Even if he was, she could avoid him seeing her. Nobody else would question her presence. She ranked above them. They would just assume something had come up, and most of them were too intimidated by her to talk to her anyway.

So Miranda fell back on her one and only crutch. Her only coping mechanism. Her favourite distraction from her problems. She buried herself in her work.

“Director Lawson,” the man at reception greeted her. She glanced at his name tag to remember who the hell he was. “What are you doing here on a weekend?”

“Losing control of my life, Ian,” Miranda remarked as she limped right past him, heading straight for the lift without stopping.

He chuckled at that. “Aren’t we all? You have a good day, now.”

Miranda rolled her eye as soon as he looked away. As predicted, there were no interruptions between her and her office. Nobody thought to question her.

She didn’t even glance at the clock as the hours ticked by, and file after file went across her desk. Task after task got done. When she finished her own matters, she moved onto work delegated to her subordinates, just to stay there longer. Nobody bothered her. Even without distractions, it was hard to concentrate. Her mind was full of fog. Everything she did was lost in a haze, forgotten mere seconds after she did it. But, in the present, it was something to focus on.

It wasn’t easy, though. She had instances where she...lost time. Just drifted into space for a few seconds, here or there. When that happened, she would go and fill up on coffee. She only decided she’d had too much when she started to feel her heart beating a little too fast in her chest, and her fingers got jittery, and she had to flex her hand to keep it from shaking. If she had any more she would probably start hallucinating, as if she wasn’t on the verge of that already.

So maybe she’d hit her limit as far as caffeine toxicity went.

But she was awake.

She was fucking awake.

It was dark out, and still raining by the time she was snapped out of her work-induced daze by a text message alert. She already knew who it was. Miranda squeezed her eye shut, resting the base of her palm against her forehead, fighting off the constant, nagging pain that had become her permanent companion. She knew she shouldn’t look. But she had to. She couldn’t resist hearing from her.

Miranda opened her message tab on her computer, and clicked on Oriana’s name.

“Still not talking, huh?” said the first message. And then a second and third popped up. “Okay. That’s fine. Take your time. I’ve got more jokes.”

Oriana could see that Miranda was reading her messages in realtime. She would know that she was there on the other end at that very moment, not replying back. And yet, in typical Oriana fashion, she wasn’t calling her out on it or judging her for it or demanding a reason for her silence. Just letting her be.

“A horse walks into a bar and the bartender says, ‘Why the long face?’ And the horse says, ‘I have crippling depression, Steven. I’ll thank you not to mention it’.”

When that joke garnered no response, Oriana sent another.

“A glazier invited me to high tea. It didn’t go well. Turns out people in glasshouses shouldn’t throw scones. Eh? Worked on that one for ages.”

Miranda felt the warmth of a single, stray tear trickling down her cheek. God, she loved Oriana. She loved Oriana so much it physically hurt. No one else could be so...bright, and radiant, and happy, and genuine about it. Her positivity and cheerfulness wasn’t faked, or feigned, or insincere. She was just like this. Just funny, and kind, and...and fucking perfect.

“Why did the funeral director need to go to the doctor?” Oriana asked. “Because he couldn’t stop coffin--okay, no, that one was atrocious even for me. I’m sorry. Please delete that. You deserve better.”

If she were in a better mental and emotional state, all of this would have brought a smile to her face. Of course it would have. Oriana always did. Miranda thought about finally texting her back. Saying something. Anything. Even started to type. Just wanted to let her know she was okay. Just wanted to talk to her. Needed that connection with the person who mattered to her most.

But she stopped herself.

What the fuck did she have to offer Oriana right now? What could she say to her that was worthwhile when she was this dour and miserable?

She could just see how it would play out. She would say something, and then Oriana would eventually start asking questions. She would need, and deserve, some sort of explanation as to why Miranda had been so quiet. So distant. Any half-hearted excuses would be recognised for the lies they were.

Oriana would ask her if she was okay, because of course she would. And, then, if Miranda started telling her the truth, that she really wasn’t, and hadn’t been for a long time, she didn’t see how she could stop the floodgates from opening. Everything she’d been holding back since the shuttle crash, Oriana would bring it out of her, like a torrent after a storm. And she just...refused to be that person. Refused to drown her little sister in her unresolved trauma.

Oriana was the Sun. She was light, and warmth. Basking in her presence for even a few minutes could make even the lowest person feel uplifted, and stronger, and brighter. She was doing just fine without Miranda. She always had.

Why bother her? Why disturb that?

In fact, all the best times in Oriana’s life had been the moments when Miranda had pushed her as far away as possible. When she wasn’t involved. When she kept herself at a distance. Ever since Miranda introduced herself to Oriana on Illium, Ori’s life had only gotten worse. Never better. A downward spiral. 

Perhaps that was a sign.

What did she really think was going to happen when they met up with each other again anyway? That they were going to spend the rest of their lives together? As if. Oriana was twenty. She would be twenty-one before too long. She was only just starting to grow into her own as an independent adult. She would want to go do things normal twenty-one-year-olds did, without anyone cramping her unique personal style, or getting in her way as she formed new connections.

The Reaper Invasion had cut short her degree and compelled her to start work earlier than expected, but she probably planned to finish her education at some point. Chances were she would want to move in with friends her own age. Eventually, of course, she would meet some boy she liked (who Miranda would absolutely hate) and she would want to find a place with him. Statistically speaking, that would happen more than once over the course of her life.

She wasn’t a kid anymore. Oriana was an adult. At exactly the age where families like theirs...tended to drift apart from one another. When young women like Ori wanted to go out into the wider world and discover themselves, and carve out an identity free of any ties to their childhood. And it was at that moment that a thought abruptly struck Miranda that had never connected before.

When she and Oriana had talked about finally getting to be a family, they probably had very different ideas of what that looked like.

And Miranda’s vision of that future was completely fucking delusional.

It always had been.

She wasn’t helping Oriana by being near her. Wasn’t protecting her, because the man who posed a danger to her was dead. With Henry Lawson out of the picture, Ori didn’t need her in her life. In many respects, she never had.

Miranda wasn’t some noble self-sacrificing big sister anymore. She was a fucking leech. Sucking her sister’s energy and her positivity, consuming it for herself. She was a chain holding Oriana down, when what she truly deserved was to spread her wings and fly wherever she wanted like the free spirit she was. 

Wasn’t that precisely why Miranda had denied herself the connection she craved with Ori in the first place? Wasn’t that why she had given her up? Because she knew it was the right thing to do? Because, deep down, she knew that the best thing she could do for Oriana was to ensure that she grew up completely isolated from her - so that she could become as unlike Miranda as possible?

She’d succeeded at that, at least.

Where Miranda was cynical, Oriana was optimistic. Where Miranda was closed-off and antisocial, Oriana was outgoing and friendly. Where Miranda was rigid and concrete, Oriana was creative and open-minded. Where Miranda was bitter and sarcastic, Oriana was lighthearted and funny. Where Miranda was cold, Oriana was warm. Where Miranda was dark, Oriana was light. Where Miranda lacked empathy, Oriana was sensitive, and the kindest person she knew.

They couldn’t have been more different.

And Miranda wanted it to stay that way.

None of her qualities were things she would wish upon Oriana. And, if Oriana did become more like her, Miranda wasn’t sure she could ever forgive herself.

The most loving thing Miranda could do for Oriana was just let her live her life in peace, the way she had done for her before. She really would be better off just being cut loose, without her older sister weighing her down, shackling her to the weight of despair, damage and loneliness.

So Miranda didn’t text. She deleted the message she’d started typing, and the three dots to signal that she was writing were erased. She closed the app, got up and left her desk, deciding to head home.

She didn’t see the next message her sister sent.

“Miranda? Whatever is going on with you right now, please just remember that you are my most important person. I love you more than anything. And I’m here for you whenever you need me. You do know that, don’t you?”

Miranda limped home in the dark in the rain. It was freezing. She didn’t know how late it was. She hadn’t kept her eye on the time. She dragged her weary body up the stairs. Aside from the fact that her head was killing her, parts of her body that had never hurt before were starting to feel sore, and tight, and tense.

“Hey, Miss,” Seanne greeted her when she heard her key in the door. A few of the kids were gathered together in the main lounge, watching some sort of movie on the television. “We saved dinner for you. It’s in the fridge.”

“I’ll have it later,” Miranda muttered, not hungry at all. Just tired. 

“No problem,” Seanne replied, too focused on the film to pay her any mind.

Without another word, Miranda retreated to her room, and shut herself away, prepared for another night of staring at cracks in the ceiling in the darkness in a desperate attempt to ward off her dreams.

She slumped on her bed and ran her hand through her hair, staring into space.

And that was when it hit her. She didn’t...know what she was doing with her life anymore. Or why. She didn’t have a plan. A goal. For the first time since she’d reunited with Oriana, she no longer had a future she was working towards. Because that hope, that dream, had been snuffed out. A lie. A delusion.

The one thing that had made getting up every morning worth it since the shuttle crash - believing that, one day, she and Oriana would start a new life where nothing tore them apart ever again - had been exposed as a figment of her imagination.

With that dream dead, when she pictured her future now, there was...nothing.

Absence.

An empty, black abyss. Filled only by the ringing in her ear.

Miranda lay down on her bed. Curled up. And stared. And listened to that perpetual sound. And her mind, like her future, was blank. She watched the time tick by on the clock. Barely even registering it in her fatigue. 

One hour.

Two hours.

What was the point of anything anymore?

What was the fucking point?

Three hours.

Four hours.

It was after midnight when she was disturbed from her near-catatonic state by an urgent knocking at the front door. It came once, such a strange and unexpected sound that, at first, she wondered if it was just a trick of her mind. But then it came again, even more insistent. 

Reluctantly, Miranda dragged herself out of bed and shuffled into the entryway, not even bothering to grab her cane. She saw the door to one of the students’ bedrooms was open. Jason was leaning out, as if to go investigate. 

“I’ve got it,” said Miranda with a dismissive wave as she limped to the door, assuming it was probably for her. “Go back to sleep.”

Jason gave her a nod, but lingered in the doorway, just in case.

The frantic knocking came again. With an annoyed grunt, Miranda undid the lock, wondering who the hell was bothering them at that ungodly hour.

“Jesus Christ, what is it--?” The words caught in Miranda’s throat the second she flung the door open. Her weary eye flickered wide awake. “Samara?”

*     *     *

Miranda stepped over snoring bodies and discarded glasses on the floor, not keen to wake anyone up when half the crew were spread out at various points on the spectrum between ‘fast asleep’ and ‘passed out drunk’, and all of whom were likely to be very cranky if awoken. Miranda hadn’t drunk as much as most of the others, and neither was she prone to going to bed early. 

Indeed, she was very much awake, not even close to tired. And it was not her idea of a fun end to the night to hang around being as quiet as a mouse, forced to pretend to doze off because everyone else was such a goddamn lightweight. 

With that in mind, Miranda crept over near the door to where Shepard kept her keys, pinching them for herself so she could let herself back into the apartment. Shepard wasn’t going to miss them. She and Liara had gone to bed some time ago for very obvious reasons. They wouldn’t be seen again until morning.

However, Miranda’s cunning plan was not one concocted purely for herself. A thought had occurred to her while she waited for everyone else to nod off, being that there was one other person she expected might be awake. Someone who, by all appearances, had not been a drinker for centuries. Someone who Miranda was eager to spend a lot more time with one-on-one, particularly given that it was not lost on her that this might well be the last opportunity they ever had to do so - the last time they might ever see one another.

Sure enough, she found that very person meditating under the stairs.

“Samara,” Miranda whispered just loud enough to be heard. Blue eyes opened, and shifted her way. “Can’t sleep?” Samara did not respond verbally, but let her current state speak for itself. “Me neither.” At that, Miranda held up Shepard’s keys and made a signal towards the door. “Feel like going out?”

Samara glanced at her slumbering companions scattered over the lounge. After a moment, she held a finger to her lips, and silently stood.

Taking that as acceptance of her invitation, Miranda stealthily snuck over to the door, and held it open for Samara. She closed it behind them as quietly as she could. There was a faint ‘click’ as it automatically locked.

“Do not mistake my surprise for protestation, for it is not, but...to what do I owe this?” Samara asked, once they were safely out of earshot of the others. Evidently she had not been anticipating this - that Miranda would seek her out. 

“What, did you really think I’d just forget about you after a single conversation?” Miranda rhetorically remarked. “I told you I missed you more than anyone else.”

Samara allowed herself a small smile, touched by her intentions. “You did.”

“Since you and I are both still awake, and I have way too much energy to sleep, I figured, hey, the Strip is right here, and nothing ever closes - let’s go enjoy it while we can,” Miranda offered, circling Shepard’s keys around her finger before slipping them into a discreet pocket. “Nobody will even notice we’re missing.”

“No, they certainly will not,” Samara concurred, clearly not regretting her temperance when it was apparent most of the crew would be nursing hangovers come morning. “I must admit, given I saw you partaking earlier, I did not expect you to be in such a better state compared to our other comrades.”

“Good genes, plus I know how to pace myself,” Miranda casually explained. She gestured for Samara to follow her. “Come on. Let’s go be stupid for a while.”

Samara suppressed a chuckle. “An enticing prospect. Very well. Lead the way.”

“I was planning on taking you back to my favourite sushi place - you know, the one we went to before. Unfortunately, it’s not open right now.” Miranda sighed, putting a hand on her hip. “There was an incident. Shepard was involved.”

“I see. That is unfortunate,” Samara commiserated, needing no further explanation as to what had happened. For as much as they both loved Shepard, it was no hyperbole to say that trouble followed her everywhere.

Ultimately, Miranda didn’t have a preference as to where they went, or what they did. This entire venture was little more than a flimsy excuse to spend time with Samara without anybody else interfering. A throwback to those intimate moments on the Starboard Observation Deck, and a means of paying her back for all her kindness, assuming Miranda succeeded in showing her a good time.

“There is the casino,” Miranda thought out loud. She’d been there before, and didn’t mind the atmosphere of the place. Plus another drink or two wouldn’t go amiss to kick things off - she was still a fair few away from her limit. 

“After you,” Samara gestured for her to go ahead, trailing in Miranda’s footsteps. A reverse of the last time they had visited the Citadel together.

Unlike the Presidium, the Wards didn’t operate on artificial day and night cycles. Virtually everything on the Citadel stayed open at all hours, with everyone resting and working shifts according to their own personal needs and wants. Thus, when they came to the casino, to nobody’s shock, it was still as busy as ever. 

The people here had been affected by the war, of course, but there was a sense of safety and security that existed nowhere else. As all the homeworlds fell, the Citadel stood strong as the heart of Council Space - the one place most species would unite to protect. If anywhere would survive the war, this was surely it.

“Can I get you anything? The food here’s not bad, if you’re hungry,” Miranda offered as they both made their way up to the bar.

“Just water, thank you,” said Samara. Miranda ordered something much stronger for herself, and the bartender filled up their respective glasses.  

“So, how have you been, Samara? Really?” Miranda asked, keen to make up for lost time. Now that they were alone, they were free to talk as long as they wanted, which was something they couldn’t really do at the party. That was precisely her intent in sneaking out like this. It would be several hours at least before anybody else woke up and wondered where they were. The Silver Coast Casino was no Starboard Observation Deck, but it would serve well enough.

“That is a...complicated question,” Samara acknowledged, still a little caught off guard by Miranda’s genuine eagerness to catch up with her, as if she hadn’t expected to warrant her attention. “Some days have been kind to me. Others have not. Many somewhere in between. I imagine you could say the same.”

“Most of my days have ranged between terrible and awful since I left. I’m glad you had some good ones.” Miranda took a sip of her drink.

“Forgive me. I am aware this past year must have been difficult for you.” Samara bowed her head, as if she had misspoken. “As a Justicar, I am not unfamiliar with the peril of knowing there are many people who would seek to have me killed, nor am I a stranger to looking over my shoulder expecting to see a gun each time I turn my head. Although, by the same token, my status affords me many privileges. Many asari will lend me aid or support without question, for no other reason than because they see my armour, and know what I am. You do not have that luxury.”

“No, sadly,” Miranda confirmed. Hiding like a cockroach in parts of the Citadel not fit for human habitation had not been fun. Having any allies she could have safely turned to, beyond her few limited contacts with Shepard, would have made a world of difference. “But I’m out in the open now. If anybody still wanted me dead, I would have been executed days ago. I think it’s safe to say what little is left of Cerberus no longer sees the point in targeting me.”

“I hope you are correct.” Samara instinctively cast her eyes about the place as she said that, scanning for signs of any suspicious activity. Miranda picked up on that, of course. “If it would be safer--”

“Samara, seriously. It’s fine. You can let your guard down. You don’t need to be on alert. Not for my sake,” Miranda assured her, reaching out to touch her hand to make sure she understood that. Nobody was hunting her anymore. 

“If you are certain…” Samara took her at her word, despite a hint of hesitancy.

“Yes. Relax. I insist. If you don’t, it somewhat defeats the whole purpose of going out,” Miranda pointed out. At that, Samara seemed to concede she was right. Being paranoid would only spoil their time together. “Enough talk of serious subjects. Have you kept up reading human literature?”

“When I have been able, yes. Although, I must confess, I did not have such access when I was travelling in asari space. The Citadel libraries have been a source of great assistance. Tell me, I must know, was this ‘King Arthur’ a real person?” As soon as she asked, Samara just as swiftly changed her mind. “No, no. On second thought, I would prefer you do not answer. I fear I would be disappointed.”

Miranda laughed, endeared by Samara’s odd, childlike fascination with such figures. If it wouldn’t have sounded so patronising to describe a woman in her mid-to-late 900s as ‘adorable’, that label definitely would have applied.

“Oh. That reminds me. Kurosawa,” said Miranda. Samara tilted her head in questioning, not sure what that meant. “Not an author, but a director. I’ve been told, if you’re interested in samurai media, his films are the place to start.”

“I see. Thank you.” Samara nodded, taking that recommendation on board.

“What is it with you and this sort of thing anyway?” Miranda decided to finally broach the question that she had been wondering for a while, earning a curious glance. “Knights. Samurai. Why are you so interested in them?”

Samara did a poor job concealing a grin. “Yes, why would I, a lone wanderer who adheres to a strict moral code and seeks to bring justice to the places she visits, see any appeal whatsoever in stories about virtuous, heroic wanderers who adhere to strict moral codes and seek to bring justice to the places they visit?”

Miranda couldn’t argue with that logic. “I withdraw the question.”

“You did not withdraw it. I answered it,” Samara corrected.

“No, no. I withdrew it,” Miranda maintained in jest, as if she had come to that conclusion entirely on her own, without any assistance. Samara affectionately shook her head. During that pause in the conversation, the song changed.  “You know, I saw you dancing before,” Miranda said with a smirk, indicating the dancefloor. “I’m glad you listened to me about enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I did. However, if I remember correctly, you once stated to me that you would dance when I danced,” Samara reminded her. Miranda raised her eyebrows and took a drink, averting her gaze. She’d really hoped Samara had forgotten that conversation. “And yet you did not join me. How perplexing.”

“Oh, so you haven’t noticed that I’m a pathological liar until just now. Good to know,” Miranda joked, toying with the stem of her glass as she placed it down. 

“You must be. You keep insisting to me that you are not funny, even though you clearly are,” Samara cleverly countered, a glimmer of mirth in her kind eyes.

“I--” Miranda stopped before she could retort, taken aback by that comment. Nobody had told her that before. Nobody thought she was funny, because she wasn’t. According to everyone else, she was just mean and sarcastic and unpleasant to be around. Eventually, Miranda awkwardly rubbed the back of her head, managing to mumble a response. “I think you have a very different definition of ‘funny’ than everyone else in the galaxy, but...if you say so.”

It didn’t seem lost on Samara just how much that compliment actually meant to her. But she didn’t harp on it, letting it stand unchallenged. “There is still time for you to keep your promise to me before we part ways,” Samara pressed and, though her tone was lighthearted, it was evident the offer was genuine. “After all, there is a dancefloor here, and I am finding this music rather persuasive...”

“Still time for me to continue breaking my promise forever, you mean? Yes. I intend to. Glad we’re in agreement,” Miranda remarked. Samara’s enquiring gaze didn’t shift. “...Okay so I did dance at Shepard’s tonight, just a little bit.” Miranda reluctantly held her thumb and forefinger slightly apart.

“Good. I am delighted to hear it,” Samara enthused, pleased to see that Miranda had heeded her own advice and let herself go, and allowed herself to have some fun at the party. “My only regret is that I did not witness it.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Miranda assured her. “But I fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

“No, you did not. This imbalance must be rectified immediately,” Samara persisted, getting up from her seat and extending her hand. Miranda did not accept the invitation, quite intent on not moving anytime soon. “You made a promise to me, Miranda Lawson. As a Justicar, I must insist that you keep your word. You said you would dance when I danced, and I am going to dance. Hence...”

“No. You knock yourself out, but I am very comfortable on my stool.” Miranda shook her head, waving Samara off, making her stance plain.

“Then hand me the keys, and I will return to the apartment,” said Samara.

That got Miranda’s attention. “What?”

“You were the one who said, and I quote, ‘let us go and be stupid for a while’, and it was you who suggested we both sneak out after midnight for this purpose,” Samara noted. “That was the evening that was represented to me - one spent in inane, ridiculous frivolity. Yet, so far, you are being extremely sensible. If you are not going to do this with me, then I fear I have in fact been misled.” 

Miranda saw right through Samara’s feigned disappointment. “You’re evil.”

“In this moment, perhaps,” Samara conceded, but she still extended her hand.

“This is peer pressure,” Miranda complained.

“Yes, it is,” Samara confirmed, without shame, her mischievous smile widening.

Miranda sighed, but it was hard not to be uplifted purely from seeing Samara this outgoing and cheerful. That was a rare privilege. The last time she’d seen her like this was...well, the last time they visited the Citadel together, which must have been around nine or ten months ago by that point.

“You’re in an abnormally good mood tonight, aren’t you?” Miranda observed, certainly not complaining, but wondering what had made her so upbeat.

“Why would I not be?” Samara asked plainly. “I am with you.”

Miranda’s heart skipped a beat. Honestly, Miranda was so thoroughly charmed by that response that Samara could have asked her to do anything in that moment, no matter how embarrassing, and she would have been powerless to resist.

“...If you’re trying to butter me up to get me to dance with you...good strategy, because it’s working,” Miranda admitted defeat, seeing no point in even pretending to warn her otherwise. No doubt Samara could tell the warmth in her cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Samara was evidently entertained by that reaction, but equally quick to dismiss any notion that her words were coming from an insincere place. “It is not falsity. The time you and I spent together aboard The Normandy was the most I have enjoyed myself in many years. Longer than you can possibly imagine.”

“Oh, wow, that's depressing,” said Miranda. “Because I am not fun at all.”

“Neither am I. Perhaps this explains it,” Samara quipped. 

Miranda didn’t agree with that, but that wasn’t the point. “You’re not dropping this are you?” she deduced, realising she didn’t have a choice in this.

“I am afraid I cannot,” Samara confirmed, as if the decision was out of her hands. “Just as you have sensed that I am in a good mood, I have also been astounded by the change in you tonight. I have never seen you so unshackled from your burdens as you are now. So, if we are ever going to keep our promise and share a dance together, I fear this will be our only opportunity. We may not get another. And I cannot abide a broken promise,” she pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong. Tomorrows weren’t exactly guaranteed.

“Well, you bloody got me, alright? Now that you’ve accused me of being good company, I feel compelled to live up to the hype.” With that, Miranda threw back her head and downed her drink, determined to be ‘fun’ for once in her life. “You get one song.” She held up one finger. “And only because it’s you.”

“One song will suffice,” said Samara, taking Miranda by the hand at long last, leading her to the dancefloor. That was all she had been promised.

Maybe it was just the drinks talking, but as she let go of her inhibitions, started moving to the music and surrendered to not caring whether she looked stupid, Miranda found herself having a far better time than she would have thought.

Most of all, the best thing about it was getting to see Samara let go of her usual restraint, and glean a rare escape from the harsh and austere lifestyle that she was required to abide by as a Justicar. It went without saying how much she deserved this reprieve. Not merely to have fun and enjoy the evening, but to have a chance to let her walls down and be herself. Her real self, beneath the armour. Just one fleeting night in however many centuries, free of worries or cares. 

If Miranda could give her that, then making a fool of herself would all be worth it.

Miranda didn’t know what had suddenly made Samara so open to things like this she would have politely declined a year ago, aside from the same ‘carpe diem’ reason that applied to everyone at the moment, nor did it really matter. The point was that they were here and they were doing it while they could. And any time spent with Samara, no matter what they were doing, was never time wasted.

One song turned into two. And two into three.

In truth, because the music all blended together with similar rhythms and chord progressions, it was hard to tell where one track began and another ended. And, for the first time, Miranda began to understand that perhaps that was the whole point. It would have been pretty jarring and moment-ruining to have the flow disturbed by each new song. So, for now, she stopped being critical of that.

It was as the music changed to a fourth song that they were rudely interrupted.

“Heyyyyy, ladies,” a complete stranger wandered up to them, making finger guns and clicking his tongue. “Can I be the meat in your sandwich?”

Miranda gave the man an unimpressed look. “Mate, if that line ever actually works on a woman...she deserves you,” she said, earning a confused expression in response as the insult went over his head. 

“...Is that a no?” he asked, clueless.

“Yeah, look, I’m in a good mood, so just save yourself some embarrassment and…” Miranda signalled for him to walk away, not particularly keen on wasting time and effort verbally destroying him when she would rather not bother.

To his credit, he took that rejection without a fight and left without causing a scene.

“Sorry about that.” Miranda turned to Samara. Unwanted male attention was something that happened to her a lot, so she was used to dealing with it.

Samara seemed more perplexed than perturbed. “He made this gesture.” Samara somewhat awkwardly mimicked his finger guns, as if she’d never seen anyone do that before. “...I assume I should not interpret that as a threat.”

Miranda blinked. Then, as soon as it clicked that Samara was in fact joking, cracked up with laughter. She’d never forgotten how funny Samara could be, but that sneaky delivery of hers still took her by surprise when it came out.

“Why are you laughing? We may be in grave danger,” Samara feigned ignorance.

“Alright. That’s it. That was the last song,” Miranda declared, taking that disruption as their cue to leave. “Since neither of us are gamblers, I think we’ve seen as much as there is to see of the casino. We should move on.”

“Where should we go next?” Samara prompted, letting Miranda take the lead.

“Hmm.” Miranda pondered that. What she would ordinarily do versus what Samara would expect of her on a night devoted to frivolity were two very different things. Fortunately, the Strip did serve the latter quite well. “There's an arcade not far from here. Did you know I've literally never been to one?”

Samara looked rather impressed with that suggestion, given that it was entirely out of step with Miranda’s usual character, and hence very much in keeping with the evening of inane silliness she had been promised. “I believe you humans have a saying that 'there is a first time for everything'.”

“Alright. Arcade it is.”

It certainly wasn’t far to get there. And Miranda wasn’t kidding when she said she had never had the simple pleasure of playing these games in her childhood. Or any games. She had been deprived of anything resembling fun growing up.

That being said, the lightgun game came pretty naturally to her, even if Miranda did maintain the only reason she didn’t score higher was because the controller was a shitty piece of plastic and the sensor must have been broken. If Samara thought otherwise, she just smiled and didn’t correct her.

By contrast, Samara definitely did recognise some of these games from her youth.

“You’re telling me that some of these machines basically haven’t changed at all in nine hundred years?” said Miranda, arching a sceptical eyebrow.

“No, they have not,” Samara happily confirmed, an audible tinge of excitement colouring her voice at the prospect of coming across something familiar.

Miranda snorted. So much for creativity.

“Oh. This. I remember this.” Samara went over to a particularly old-fashioned machine in the corner. ‘Whack The Thresher Maw’. “It was not thresher maws when I played it. I do not recall what it was. But I was very little. I could not have been more than...twelve? I remember vividly; it was shortly before my father left Thessia to come live here on the Citadel. That was the only day I spent together with both my mother and father - the only day that they ever both took me out together,” she spoke softly, nostalgic for that fond memory.

Miranda’s eyes twinkled as she stood by her, listening to Samara reminisce about her past. She said nothing as she waived her credit chit over the machine, spurring it to life. When Samara glanced at her in questioning, she leaned against the wall, and gestured for Samara to go ahead and play. And she did.

The next game they played was a version of what Miranda would have called air hockey, using a virtual puck. Miranda was winning up until Samara cheated, using her biotics to subtly move Miranda’s wrist away from the goal. 

“I would never cheat,” Samara professed, not even trying to conceal her guilt.

“Mhmm.” Miranda fixed her with a knowing look. Two could play at that game. The very next round, she used her own biotics to move the table right when Samara least expected it, allowing her to get her goal back. “I would never cheat,” Miranda echoed back to her, mirroring Samara’s false innocent voice.

“Hey!” At that, one of the arcade workers pointed at a sign behind the counter which clearly stated ‘no biotics’, giving them no further warning than that.

Keeping track of the scores kind of went out the window when they could hardly make it through the next few rounds without cracking up. They called it a draw and gave up before they did something that got them both banned for life.

They moved on. The next thing that caught Samara’s eye was the claw machine.

“I used to be very good at these,” Samara noted, examining it.

“Really? I thought they were all rigged.”

“No, not at all. Certainly made to be difficult, yes. But if you could not win, that would be illegal. There is a skill to it,” Samara explained. Miranda gestured for her to go right ahead and show her. “I have no money,” Samara pointed out. “And I could not keep the prize even if I won.”

Miranda sighed. “...Just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean I don’t know this is a waste of money on the same level as gambling,” she said, making it clear that nobody was to know she had done this. She put credits into the machine.

Samara appraised the prize spheres to see which would be the easiest to grab. “Aim for that one,” she advised, indicating a sphere that was higher up than the others. “It may take more than one attempt, but if you line it up correctly…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it,” Miranda waved off her backseat driving, still sceptical that it was even possible to win.

The first time, she didn’t get it at quite the right angle, and the claw slipped off. The second time, she was sure she lined it up properly, but the claws snapped shut above the prize sphere, without picking it up, like the prize was too heavy.

“See? The machine is rigged,” Miranda insisted. “It’s not possible.”

“You are very close. And you have one play left,” Samara encouraged. Miranda rolled her eyes, reluctantly deciding she may as well use the game she had already paid for. “Try coming at it slightly more from the left.”

Miranda did as Samara suggested, and this time, the claw grabbed it. She blinked as the claw lifted the prize and took it all the way to the chute. “Huh.”

“I believe the appropriate phrase is ‘I told you so’,” Samara teased.

“Alright, alright. No need to get cocky,” said Miranda, opening up the prize sphere to see what she’d won. It was a keychain in the shape of Blasto the Hanar Spectre. She uttered a tssk. “I’ve never seen any of these movies. They look like rubbish.”

“Sometimes, that is precisely the appeal,” Samara advised. Miranda didn’t share the sentiment. “I think that triumph signals that we have overstayed our welcome here,” said Samara, aware they were still being watched by the same employee from before in case they cheated again. “Where to next?”

“Hmm.” Miranda glanced around as they left the arcade, thinking of options.

“There is a combat simulator here, is there not?” Samara piped up, as if she’d been holding onto that idea for a while. “I would be eager to try that.”

“By all means. Though what people find fun about a laser arena is somewhat lost on me,” Miranda remarked, probably because her father had subjected her to similar combat programs when she was a kid. “It just feels like training.”

“Its intent is to recreate something we experience as a regular part of our lives. It is fun for them because it is unfamiliar. For us, it is not a deviation from the norm, save that for once we have the liberty of not being in any actual peril,” Samara astutely observed. She had a point, Miranda thought. It wasn’t the most relaxing pastime, but Miranda could run combat sims in her sleep. She had no problems teaming up with her if that was what Samara wanted to do.

“Okay, that absolutely was rigged,” Miranda loudly complained as they emerged from the combat arena a while later. “I hit that soldier dead between the eyes, and he still had twenty percent health left? That's nonsense. No human being could possibly survive that,” she argued, gesturing as she spoke.

“We still did extremely well,” Samara pointed out, content with their performance.

“If this program was realistic, my name would be on top right now,” Miranda proclaimed, waving her hand towards the scoreboard. She was nothing if not competitive, when she wanted to be anyway. Her rant was interrupted when Samara uttered a quiet, amused chuckle. It was impossible not to soften, seeing the unfeigned affection shimmering in Samara’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Samara shook her head, her smile reaching her eyes. “I simply...I did not forget how much I missed spending time with you, but...in a way, I forgot just how much I missed spending time with you,” Samara acknowledged, well aware of the contradiction in her own words, but unable to say it another way.

Miranda knew exactly what she meant. Memories of the Starboard Observation Deck were no substitute for the real thing. They didn’t do justice to just how at home she felt in Samara’s company. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And do not think I did not notice,” said Samara, a very proud look coming over her. Miranda tilted her head in questioning. “Reave. You mastered it,” Samara clarified, somehow wholly unsurprised to witness that.

“Oh. Right. That.” Miranda brushed that off. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Do not undersell yourself. It is not an easy feat,” Samara told her, not about to let this go unremarked upon. “Well done, Miranda. You are the first, and I suspect only human ever to learn this ability. And it would be a great achievement even if you were asari. Indeed, I have personally never met anyone, other than some fellow Justicars, who have mastered it.”

“Well, I owe that entirely to you. So here. Present for you.” Miranda held out the Blasto The Hanar Spectre keychain she'd won from the claw machine earlier, as a token of her appreciation for Samara’s teachings a year ago.

Samara smiled, politely raising her hand to decline. “Although I am grateful, I am afraid I cannot accept this; Justicars eschew personal possessions.”

Miranda's brow crinkled, looking down at the stupid thing in her hands in abject incredulity. “...It's a keychain.”

“That is not the point,” Samara reminded her, although clearly not at all shocked or offended why someone who had not chosen a religious life might fail to understand this. The fact that the gift had no material value did not make it any less of an indulgence. “I have sworn an oath to the Goddess. I can own nothing but what you see before you - my weapons and my armour - for that is all that is essential for me to carry out my duties as a Justicar.”

“Alright. Allow me to rephrase,” Miranda began, sensing a solution to this issue. “This is a...tactical keychain,” she informed her, arching an eyebrow as she twirled the chain around her finger. “It provides an entire additional square inch of armour plating. So I insist that you take it for your own protection.”

Samara laughed, more freely than Miranda had ever seen her do so. “There is that sense of humour you maintain you do not have again,” Samara wryly commented. “I will never comprehend why you insist on claiming that you are not funny.”

“Because I'm not.” Miranda shrugged, wearing a small, self-deprecating smile. “You also described yourself as ‘terribly dull’ earlier when you’re by far the most captivating person I’ve ever spoken to, so if we’re going to start this debate right now, then I’m pretty sure I’m going to win.”

“You would not be a stranger to that, would you?” Samara sighed, realising Miranda would not relent from her position. “Very well, then. You have convinced me.” She took the keychain, clasping it in her fingers. “Make no mistake, this is still yours,” she said, pointedly. “However, I will hold this in safekeeping on your behalf. And I will return it to you the next time we meet.”

“See? Was that so hard?” said Miranda, glad they'd reached a compromise.

Samara tried not to smile, because it was evident that she knew she was technically stretching the rules by accepting this gift, even on loan (though Miranda naturally assumed that she was kidding about intending to return it later), but despite her intentions she couldn't really fight it off. Not tonight.

“If you do not mind my asking, I know what your plans for the future are in the long term, but what of the short term?” Samara asked her, curious to know where Miranda would go when she left the Citadel.

“What else is there to do but get ready for whenever Shepard needs us?” said Miranda, leaning against a nearby railing overlooking a lower section of the strip. “I’ve taken command of a small ship and started putting together a team of Cerberus defectors. So, whatever happens, I’ll be there.” She looked over at Samara. “I suppose I don’t need to ask you, but...what about you?”

“I am as I am,” Samara answered, confirming Miranda’s assumptions. “When the day comes, I will walk into the fire, alone, with nothing but what you see before you, and fight to my last breath. And, should I die, I can only pray that my final acts honour the memory of all the Justicars who perished before me.”

“...I don’t see how they wouldn’t,” Miranda said softly. “I mean, you’re you.”

Samara didn’t respond to that. “Miranda, I...” Samara hesitated. Her expression was unsettled, but she swallowed, quickly finding an equilibrium and settling on what she intended to say. “Though I imagine we will be fighting on the same battlefield in the near future, it has not eluded me that we may not get a chance to speak like this before that time comes to pass. Or...ever again.”

“I know,” Miranda admitted, glancing down. The same thought had been swirling in her head even before Shepard’s party. She wasn't sure if they were meant to address that, or if that looming spectre of death was an open secret they weren't supposed to confront, but she was glad Samara had raised it. The problem was, there were too many things she wanted to say if this was going to be the last conversation they ever had. Thoughts she hadn’t even put into words in her mind, and could never fully express. “...I really am sorry about Rila,” was where Miranda chose to begin. It would have felt wrong not to tell her that.

Samara swallowed and nodded her head, trying to stay strong. Then her resolve cracked, and the tears came. Her hands went to her face, unable to stem the tide. Even the strongest woman in the universe could only carry so much.

For a split-second, Miranda thought she had made a mistake bringing this up, seeing how much Samara was hurting over her recent loss. But then it occurred to her. Maybe Samara breaking down in front of her didn’t mean she’d done anything wrong. Maybe it showed just how much she needed this moment of connection with someone she trusted - to allow herself the vulnerability to be hurt.

Had anyone even comforted Samara at all since it happened?

Had anyone given her the chance to grieve for her daughter?

“I did everything I could to save her. Even though I should not have. Even knowing it might mean putting myself in the position of choosing between my children and The Code. Even while the rest of my Order gave their lives to save so many on Thessia.” Samara drew a deep breath, but it wound up shallower than she intended in her sorrow. “...I violated one of my Oaths, Miranda.”

“What do you mean?” Miranda asked, not knowing enough about the Justicars to understand what that meant. “You mean you broke The Code?”

“No. No, I would never...never break The Code. Not while I draw breath,” Samara insisted, making that clear, even through her tears. “But the first step to becoming a Justicar is to take the Oath of Solitude. That means you are forsworn from any family, including children. I did not utter a single word to Falere or Rila in four hundred and thirty-one years, save for when I wrote to them a year ago to let them know Mirala was dead. However, when I heard their monastery may be under threat...I did not go to them as a Justicar.” Her breath hitched as the moisture trickled down her cheeks. “I went to them because I am their mother.”

“Of course you did,” said Miranda, feeling nothing but sympathy for her, and a touch of anger towards the Justicars for subjecting Samara to that dilemma in the first place. For depriving her of the shattered, broken remnants of a family she had left, and making her feel ashamed for protecting her daughters from certain death. “There’s no oath in the universe anyone could swear that would make a mother stop loving her children. Not a mother like you.”

“No, there is not,” Samara confirmed, her voice breaking under the strain as her body was racked by another sob. “I saw so little of Rila before she died, but what I saw...I could not be prouder of the woman she became, in spite of the cruel hand fate dealt her. I always knew her to be the most responsible of my daughters, always taking care of her younger sisters, though she was barely any older than they were. But she was so strong, Miranda. I never knew she was so fearless. So ferociously protective. She gave her own life so that Falere could live.”

“And you,” Miranda added. “So that you could live too.”

Samara didn’t reply to that.

“How’s Falere?” Miranda asked, after Samara didn’t respond.

“She is well. Alone, but well.” Samara glanced down at her hands, her tears beginning to dry on her cheeks. “She was always a gentle and sensitive soul, so much like her fath--” Samara’s voice caught on that word. She couldn’t say it. It hurt to speak of her. “The woman she has grown into...she is so much kinder than I could possibly have imagined. She had not seen my face or heard my voice for four hundred and thirty-one years. She had every right to hate me. But, instead, she...when all was said and done, she embraced me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” said Miranda, thinking that should have gone without saying. “She’s your daughter. She loves you.”

“That is more than I deserve.” Samara’s voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Miranda couldn’t stand to hear her talk about herself that way. “Samara--”

Samara raised a hand to silence her. “Respectfully, Miranda...It is no fault of yours, but there are some things that are beyond even your understanding. I believe this is one of them. I would prefer not to argue with you.”

Miranda sighed. She hated to admit it, but Samara had a point. If she felt that way, it wasn’t like it was a poorly-considered opinion. She had lived her own life for nearly a thousand years, and the disconnect between Samara and Falere had been there for centuries. It wasn’t Miranda’s place to debate with her about her perception of herself, or where she stood with Falere, much as she wanted to.

“...But you weren’t lying before, right?” Miranda pressed, unable to leave that thought alone. When Samara said things like this, it made her worry about her. “You are going to keep seeing Falere, aren’t you?”

“My Oaths say I should not,” Samara acknowledged.

“But you will,” Miranda intuited.

Samara held back the last of her tears, the first signs of a conflicted, broken smile coming to her lips. “I have no choice. In truth, there is no power in the universe, nor within myself, that could force me to stay away,” she said honestly, recognising she did not have the willpower to resist seeing her daughter again, especially knowing Falere had nobody else to look after her.

“Good,” Miranda forcefully enthused. For as much as she respected Samara, she might have had to slap some sense into her if she said otherwise. “No offence, and I know this is easy for me to say because I don’t have a single religious or spiritual bone in my body, but any oath that would compel you to stay away from the one person in your life who makes you happy isn’t an oath worth keeping. For me, that person is my sister. For you, that person is Falere.”

At long last, Samara allowed herself to smile again, her eyes glistening from her tears, but shedding no more. “She is.” Her voice was soft, perhaps even fragile, but Miranda had never heard it filled with so much tenderness. “I should not permit myself to feel this way, but...if you thought you perceived a change in me tonight, Miranda, you did,” she admitted. “Though losing Rila broke my heart, and my wounds for her will bleed until my dying days...even so, I have never felt more at peace than I do at this moment. Or, if I have, then I cannot remember it.”

Miranda could only imagine. In her own life, she had gone without seeing Oriana for nineteen years. And, the moment they met on Illium, it was like a weight she hadn’t even known she was carrying had been lifted off her shoulders. That was nothing compared to what Samara had endured.

Going four hundred and thirty-one years not seeing her daughters, the people who mattered most to her...it must have been torture. Now, that torment had finally stopped. Even though Rila hadn’t lived long enough to be part of this new reunion, Samara had still regained a connection with Falere she never thought she would have again. She had some semblance of her family back.

That was life-changing.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Miranda said sincerely. After everything she’d lost, Samara had more than earned her just reward. "And, for what it’s worth, I hope this is merely the start of newer and brighter things for you and Falere.”

After recollecting her composure, Samara faced her. “Thank you, Miranda.” 

Miranda was not anticipating that shift in focus. “For what?”

“For this. For tonight,” Samara clarified, gesturing at their surroundings. “For allowing me to enjoy myself more than I have in centuries. And for reminding me to savour these effervescent glimmers of happiness while I still can.” She paused for a moment, averting her gaze down towards her hands on the railing. “I think, perhaps, on some level, you sensed I needed this. But perhaps you do not appreciate just how much I did. So, again, I thank you for spending your night in the company of this poor, tired old woman, when it was not required of you.”

Miranda hesitated at that. Of course, it meant a lot for Samara to tell her that she had gotten so much out of their time together, and that it had helped her in some way. But Miranda never liked it when Samara made those resigned, self-defeating comments about herself. They made her sound like some washed up, retired old racehorse about to be put down with two barrels behind the garden shed. And that was the furthest thing from reality.

Samara was amazing. Beyond compare. She had not lost a step. Aside from being a matriarch and continuing to get stronger with every passing year, she did not show a single sign of age. It certainly hadn’t hindered her yet, and probably would not for many decades yet to come. Asari regularly lived to be over a thousand years old. Hell, although hitting eleven-hundred was rare by most accounts, even that wouldn’t be unheard of. Not by a long shot.

Not that Miranda was an expert, but just from knowing her, she would guess Samara was still a long way off from the natural end of her life. About as far off as any of the human members of The Normandy. So why did she so often talk about herself like she was past the point where she had anything of worth left to offer - a broken relic of a bygone age to be carelessly discarded and cast aside?

Did she think Miranda was just doing this because she felt sorry for her?

“...I didn’t invite you out with me because I pity you,” Miranda broke the silence, glancing over at Samara. That had never been what this was, and she would correct any such mistaken assumptions as promptly and frankly as possible, so that there was no chance for misinterpretation. “I wanted to spend time with you because I like you, and I care about you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Samara confirmed, returning Miranda’s gaze. “And I hope you know that I did not spend time with you because I was merely seeking some distraction from what has come to pass in recent weeks.”

“I do,” Miranda replied in kind. She folded her arms across the railing, seeing no reason not to continue being so transparent. “This probably isn’t going to be a shock to you, because there aren’t exactly a lot of contenders for the title, but did you know you might very well be the best friend I’ve ever had?” 

Jacob may have been her friend for longer, sure, but they butted heads a lot, often on pretty fundamental things. There were some things she hadn’t told him, and may never tell him. Some things she couldn’t go to him about. Whereas Samara just...knew her so intimately. She got her on an entirely different level. One that didn’t even require words, a lot of the time.

Samara’s eyes dipped slightly. “It...occurred to me, some time ago, in fact, that...I could possibly say the same thing about you,” she replied. Miranda was taken aback by that, and it must have shown on her face. “You doubt me, but you have a stronger claim to that position than you know.”

Miranda brushed that off, finding it too hard to believe. Samara had been alive for over nine centuries. She’d definitely had better friends. “You’re just being nice.”

Samara squinted at that comment, visibly perplexed. “I do not know where you have garnered this impression that I am ‘nice’, or would say things I do not mean just to be thus. I can assure you, I have never at any stage of my life been renowned for being particularly ‘nice’ to anybody. Quite the contrary,” Samara assured her, wanting to clear up that mischaracterisation. “I mean no offence, but...in that regard, you and I are more alike than you seem to think.”

“None taken,” Miranda nonchalantly replied. She supposed she understood where Samara was coming from by not accepting that description. If anyone tried to tell Miranda she was ‘just being nice’, she would have looked at them like they had grown a second head. “And I guess you do have a point. I mean, the first time I met you, you crushed a woman’s skull with your foot.”

“You would have used a gun,” Samara noted.

“Yeah, probably,” Miranda conceded. “You were always nice to me, though.”

“Not always. There were times when I challenged you. Like you, I am not prone to remaining silent when I disagree with someone. If I am less stubborn and stern than I once was, it is only because experience has humbled me, and I have spent many centuries practicing patience and mindfulness,” said Samara. 

Samara wasn’t wrong about any of that, Miranda thought. Samara had indeed called her out on her bullshit a couple of times, although whenever she did offer advice she had always treated it as something constructive rather than an exercise in judgement, which was largely why it had been so effective.

“However, if despite all that you perceived me as being especially nice to you...I probably was,” Samara admitted with a small sigh, willing to concede that wasn’t misplaced. “It is easy to be nice to a person you are already fond of.”

“Why though?” Miranda couldn’t help but ask, earning a confused look. “That’s something I’ve never been able to figure out. Look, I know I’m not the most self-aware person, but I’m better than I was. And, God, I could be fucking intolerable sometimes.” Miranda grimaced in annoyance at her own memory of herself, eliciting a faint smirk from Samara. “But even at my worst, you never had a problem with me. So, why did you like spending time with me?”

“How long do we have before our absence will be noticed? Because, if I answered that question comprehensively, we would be here a very long time,” Samara stated. That was, without question, the most heartwarming thing Miranda had ever heard another person say about her. “If I am being truly honest, I have often wondered the same thing about why you chose to spend your time with me.” 

“Is that a joke?” Miranda asked, not sure how Samara could even question that.

“You know very well that it is not,” Samara said astutely. She wasn’t a liar.

“Well, then, you and I remember things very differently, because you had countless things to offer me. Wisdom. Insight. Friendship. A place where I could just sit in silence for a while. You've taught me so much, but somehow you never made it feel like you were lecturing me. Even when you clearly were,” Miranda remarked, with a hint of teasing to her tone. “The only problem is that I've gained so much more out of knowing you than you have from knowing me.”

“That is not true,” Samara firmly insisted, the quickness of her response catching Miranda somewhat off guard. “The life of a Justicar is a solitary one. We meet many people, but have no companions. I had no companions. Until you. The connection we share is unlike any I have known in centuries. Or...even before that. You have enriched my life. I am better for having known you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Miranda instinctively replied. Samara was...well, she wasn’t a ‘perfect’ person per se, because they didn’t exist. But she was as close as Miranda had ever seen to one. She was a perfect version of what she strove to be. So how could Miranda make her better than she was? How could she possibly do anything to improve upon such sheer mastery of the self?

“Goddess, you do not even know…” Samara’s suddenness took Miranda by surprise. She watched as she let her fingers fall across her face, sighed deeply and shook her head, choosing her words carefully. “Forgive me. It is difficult for me to say this, but...when we travelled together, there were times where I thought…” Samara stopped herself, as if reconsidering what she intended to say. “Perhaps I did not always recognise it then, but in hindsight there were days where I do not know how I could have withstood my burdens if you were not with me.”

Miranda didn’t know what to make of that. It just...didn’t make sense. Samara was so strong. “But I didn’t do anything,” Miranda pointed out. 

At that, Samara uttered a quiet sound, almost like a short, sombre laugh. “But you did,” she said, meeting Miranda’s gaze once more. “You were there. And you have shown me nothing but kindness from the moment we met.”

Miranda still couldn’t accept what she was hearing. Besides, she didn’t remember doing anything that would strike a normal person as especially compassionate, because that wasn’t who she was. “But I’m not kind,” she said.

“No, perhaps you are not,” Samara acknowledged, never blind to the person Miranda was. She was not known for being sensitive or sympathetic, for good reason. “But you were to me,” she stated plainly. That was all that mattered.

Miranda didn’t completely agree with that. But she was glad Samara thought so. And, if nothing else, it was true that Samara did make her want to try to be a better person than she was, and had brought different shades out of her in a way that nobody else had, irrespective of whether they came naturally to her.

That was the thing about people like Samara, Miranda thought. When a person had a special connection with someone else, a special relationship, then they got to know a version of them that didn’t exist for anyone else. Parts of them nobody else ever saw. Truths nobody else ever knew. So maybe the Miranda reserved for Samara's eyes only really was gentler than the one everybody else had met. But, if so, that was only because their friendship brought that out of her.

As the silence lingered, the memory of one very unkind thing she had done emerged in Miranda’s mind. It wasn’t lost on her that there was still one regret she had in their friendship. One mistake for which she’d never made amends.

It was not something she had forgotten about. She recalled with discomforting clarity how she’d never taken her numerous chances back on The Normandy to confess to Samara about looking into her past without her consent. She’d never apologised for it, though she had intended to do so, eventually. She would have done it after The Collector Base but, when the Alpha Relay was destroyed, the thought had genuinely completely fallen from her mind amid so much death. By the time she thought about it again, it was too late. They had already parted ways.

So many months had passed since all of this transpired that part of her just wanted to let sleeping dogs lie, and not raise the subject now. But Miranda knew this was the only chance she would get. If she was ever going to apologise, this was her moment. She had to take it, or live with being a coward.

“...Samara, can I say one more thing?” Miranda broke the silence.

“You may always speak freely with me, Miranda. Indeed, that you always say precisely what is on your mind is perhaps my favourite thing about you. Certainly, one of them,” Samara said with a charming twinkle in her eye.

“Okay, then.” Miranda took Samara’s encouragement at face-value, and elected to come out with it, even if it was a heavy subject. “What happened to your family wasn't your fault,” Miranda began, deciding to approach the topic from that angle. The unexpected shift in the conversation caused Samara to stiffen visibly. “And you know I'm not the sort of person who'd say something I didn't think was true purely to make you feel better, no matter how much I like you. But you didn't do anything to make that happen. None of it is your fault. None. So please stop blaming yourself for what happened four hundred years ago.”

Samara didn't seem to know how to react to Miranda’s words, as they were the last thing she had anticipated. It was obvious it was a message she struggled to accept, even after all this time. Of course, she had no idea how much Miranda knew about her past, beyond the broad picture she’d painted. Not yet.

“Has anyone ever told you that before?” Miranda asked, curious.

“...They have not,” Samara answered, no less taken aback. From prior conversations, Miranda knew she had scarcely spoken about her past. Her daughters’ diagnoses made her a pariah as soon as they happened, leaving her nobody to turn to, and Justicars did not discuss the people they were before they swore their Oaths. Samara had carried her burdens alone every day since.

“Then I'm glad I said it,” Miranda replied, already feeling a sense of relief just from stating that out loud, though she knew she was far from finished when it came to things she had to get off her chest. “I should have said it a long time ago.”

“Then may I also say something I should have said a long time ago?” Samara cut her off, speaking rather quickly. Miranda gestured for her to go right ahead. If she was being that abrupt, then it must have been important. “I wish you loved being Miranda Lawson as much as everybody else believes you love being Miranda Lawson,” Samara spoke plainly. “Because she is and has always been a far, far better person than you seem to think she is. And there is not a single thing about her that makes her a ‘failure’. It wounds me whenever you think otherwise.”

Miranda was totally blindsided. She hadn’t expected Samara’s response at all, since she would never say anything unless she truly meant it. In fact, any prior thoughts Miranda had were completely ripped from her mind.

Samara didn’t need to ask whether anybody had told Miranda that before. She knew they hadn’t. Evidently, that knowledge bothered her a great deal.

“Miranda, I...” Samara reached out and touched Miranda's arm, as if considering saying something more. She swallowed, glancing away for a moment before meeting Miranda's eyes. “I think we have been gone longer than we ought. We should return before our absence becomes a cause for concern,” she said, mustering a faint smile, sensing they had both lost track of time.

“Of course,” Miranda concurred, too dumbstruck by Samara’s confession to remember that there were words she had left unsaid. “After you.”

With that, Samara led the way back towards Shepard's apartment.

As she trailed behind her, Miranda discreetly wiped at the corner of her eye, maintaining her composure, masking any lingering signs that betrayed any frailty, and just how much Samara’s words had touched the core of something she hadn’t even known was as raw and vulnerable as it was.

It may have been a scant two hours that they’d shared there alone on the Silversun Strip, but stealing that precious time together felt like the best decision Miranda had ever made. It may have been over sooner than she would have liked but, if nothing else, at least she could look back on this night in the coming days and feel content with the way she left things between them.

She wanted to part ways with Samara on a high note. After all, deep down in her heart, Miranda knew it was the last time Samara would ever see her again.

*     *     *

Of all the people Miranda had expected to be banging on her door in the middle of the night, Samara was not high on that list. She hadn’t expected to see her anytime soon, given she had left only two weeks ago. And, when they eventually did meet again, Miranda hadn’t imagined Samara would look like this.

“Samara, what are you doing here? It’s freezing out, and you’re drenched--”

“I must speak with you,” Samara cut her off, her voice firm, and her eyes ablaze with a strange intensity Miranda had never seen in her before. It seemed as though Samara didn’t even feel the ice-cold rain on her. “It cannot wait.”

Judging from her tone, that wasn’t a request.

“Uh...Of course,” was all Miranda could mutter as she held open the door for her, closing it behind her. It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to say no. Not when Samara was in such a state, moving with such urgency. “In here.” Miranda gestured towards her room. Samara marched in without hesitation.

Suffice it to say, Miranda was a little stunned. What the hell was happening?

She followed her inside, and clicked the door shut. There wasn’t much space in her small room, but Samara found enough to pace back and forth. She was uncharacteristically wringing her hands as she wore wet tracks in the floor. These were things Miranda had quite literally never seen her do before.

“Samara, what is this? What’s going on?” Miranda asked.

“Forgive my intrusion. But I needed to see you. I could not...the way we left things, I…” Samara paused for a moment, meeting her gaze. “I fear that perhaps you already know what has brought me here, and what I wish to discuss.”

Miranda said nothing, too disoriented and sleep-deprived to be capable of doing anything other than staring at her in a dazed silence. She had no idea what she was talking about, or what could make her act so out-of-sorts. Miranda had never seen Samara so dishevelled. So discombobulated. So...frazzled.

“Oh. Oh, I see. You do not. I see. Very well, then. I…” At that realisation, Samara resumed her pacing, running her hand along her crest. “I suppose I shall have to start from the beginning, then. I do not know why I expected to avoid this.”

“Samara, please slow down.” Miranda raised her hand, her mind far too clouded with fog to make sense of any of this. Even just watching her march back and forth felt like running a marathon, which would have been an exhausting prospect even if she had slept in the past four days. Her request fell on deaf ears.

“Miranda, I was...I was dishonest with you the last time we spoke,” Samara began. “No, worse than dishonest. I have been deceiving you, for no other reason than because I have been too craven to admit the truth. What is worse, I fear that you have sensed my deceit, and that this is what has damaged our friendship. I cannot...I cannot abide this. I cannot continue to lie to you.”

Miranda could barely even make out what she was saying as she paced. She was speaking so quickly, and with such adamance that it felt like she might spontaneously combust from internal friction if it weren’t for the rain soaking her skin. Miranda had never seen Samara in this state. She was like a completely different person. A stranger wearing the face of someone she knew.

Samara was so restrained. So dignified. So elegant. She was a woman who had walked alone, unflinching into mortal peril thousands of times with no regard for her own life, and somehow emerged unscathed, even where countless others had fallen around her. She was the most fearless individual Miranda had ever met. 

There was none of that here.

She was...overcome.

Her proverbial armour had cracked.

“Samara, respectfully, you’re a category five hurricane right now. I need you to bring it down to a stiff breeze,” said Miranda, gesturing for her to cool her frantic energy just a little bit, because right now this was impossible to follow.

At last, Samara halted, and stood still. “...Yes. Yes, of course. You have my apologies,” Samara replied, no less anxious, but at least she seemed able to recognise what an incoherent onslaught her words must have sounded like. 

Miranda leaned back against the chair that was tucked into her desk, gripping it with her hand to take some weight off her bad leg. Whatever could have left Samara so shaken, it had to be serious. Nothing ever rattled her.

Except apparently this.

“What have you been lying about?” Miranda asked, that being about the only thing she had managed to make out of Samara’s hasty, jumbled rant a moment ago.

At that question, Samara held her stare, a distant expression falling across her face. “...After all this time, you truly do not suspect, do you?” she asked aloud, the realisation sinking in, as if that was a possibility she had not contemplated.

“Suspect what?” was all Miranda could say, tempted to utter a desperate laugh as she shrugged her good shoulder, not because there was anything remotely funny about this, but because she was so fucking tired, and so fucking lost.

“Why I abandoned you as I did. Why I fled this city and deserted you. Why you have been forced to contend with so much pain, suffering and death alone, when I ought to have been here to share those burdens with you, and taken care of you when you needed me by your side,” said Samara. Her voice was shaking.

Miranda softened when she heard that. Did Samara really think she was angry at her for leaving? “Samara, no.” Miranda shook her head, unconsciously gesturing with her amputated arm as if to strike that thought from history. “Of course I understand why you left. You’re a Justicar. You have your Code--”

The moment that word left her lips, Samara laughed a humourless laugh, laced with turmoil and despair. Miranda was struck mute by that. It was so unlike her.

“Oh, my sweet Miranda, you truly still believe that about me?” said Samara, her hand on her forehead, as if she couldn’t fathom what she was hearing - that even now people still trusted her at her word. “No. No, my dear, it is a fiction. A comforting lie. A shadow I hide behind.”

Miranda damn near recoiled in abject confusion. “But you are a Justicar.”

“Yes, but that is not why I acted as I did. When I turned my back on you, it had nothing to do with The Code,” Samara unburdened herself at long last, revealing a secret that had been silently killing her. “When I left, it was for one reason only. And that was because I...because I could not be here to watch you die…”

Samara’s voice cracked on the last word, and her hands covered her face as tears began to swell from beneath the surface.

Miranda was dumbfounded - rendered speechless from utter astonishment. She had only seen Samara break like this twice before. Had only seen her cry twice before. That was when she killed Morinth. And when she opened up about losing Rila. Only the deaths of her daughters affected her like this.

Samara trembled, her hand over her mouth. Her eyes shone with remorse as she met Miranda’s frozen visage across the room. “I am so sorry,” Samara told her sincerely, her words cut by the hitch of a breath. “I know my contrition means nothing, but I am so deeply, deeply sorry. I do not blame you if you despise me. You should. I know I deserve it, because the truth is that I failed you. I failed you because I am weak, and I am broken, and I could not...I could not lose you.”

Miranda’s heart tore in half when she heard that. Her head fell, and she pressed her palm to her eye, squeezing it shut. Was this why Samara thought Miranda had snapped at her the last time they spoke? Was she responsible for hurting her like this? God, she regretted that day even more now than she already had before.

“You didn’t fail me, Samara,” Miranda quietly assured her. “You saved my life.”

“That, too, was selfishness,” Samara confessed, owning up to her sins. “When the dust settled, I saw you had not returned. When I realised how close you had been to the Conduit, I went searching for you. And only for you.”

“That’s not true,” Miranda interjected, refusing to let Samara denigrate herself for what had been unparalleled heroism. “You saved dozens of lives in the wasteland.”

“Because The Code demanded I must, and my life would be forfeit if I did not. Every time I came across another survivor, I had to stop and render aid. But, though The Code compelled me to do everything in my power to rescue those in need, I tell you plainly I did not want to. I did not care about any of them. I would have abandoned every single one of them if I could,” Samara said starkly, stripping bare her truth. That revelation hit Miranda like a shockwave. It was something Miranda would have said. Not Samara. “People thought me brave, but I was not. People thought I was saving lives, but that was never my goal. My deeds should not entitle me to praise, but rather scorn, because I was selfish. I was so selfish. My only reason for going out there again and again was to find you.”

Samara swallowed. Miranda would have, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

“...And I did,” Samara continued, her features softening as she gazed upon Miranda. “You were caked in blood and dirt when I found you. So much so that I could barely recognise you. And then you...and then you stopped breathing.”

Samara took a moment to compose herself, affected by those painful memories. She drew a deep breath, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

“I did not merely believe that you would die. I knew it. I was certain of it,” Samara quietly admitted. “The infection had already reached your blood. It was shutting down your organs. There seemed to be no hope that you would survive. The only reason you were breathing was because machines were doing it for you. Your pulse was so weak. Your condition showed no signs of improving. As I sat by your bedside, I came to understand that I was doing nothing but watching your life slip away before my very eyes. Every day, you were slowly dying in front of me. And I could not endure it. I...I broke. I ran away, rather than face it.”

“But you left me that message,” Miranda pointed out, struggling to fit the puzzle pieces together in her clouded head between things she already knew, parts of the story she had been told by others, and what Samara was saying now.

“A lie,” Samara said bluntly, her voice too strained to speak louder than a whisper. “To convince myself that I had not forsaken you. That I was not hiding in the shadows from my fears. That I was merely doing as I ought to, as a Justicar. A lie that rang hollow.” Samara glanced down at her feet, ashamed of her actions. “If I truly believed that you had any chance of recovering, I tell you from my heart, I would not have left. Never. And, if I had sincerely been forced into some temporary departure by my Code as I claimed, I would have placed a much better message beside your bed for you to find when you awoke. But I did not do so. I did not do so, because I could not bear to step into your room again. I was afraid each time I went near you, it would be the moment you would…”

Samara couldn’t even finish that sentence. She didn’t have to.

Miranda didn’t interrupt her, too overwhelmed to respond. 

“This is why I have returned now. To apologise for my selfishness. Not to seek your forgiveness. Just to apologise,” Samara explained, repentant for her recent failings. “You have earned nothing less than that.”

“I…” Miranda didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t...form the words. It was a lot to take in. She could scarcely process it in her heavily fatigued state. She couldn’t think. She was so tired. So confused. “I still don’t understand. You’ve seen death before. Why couldn’t you be here? Why did you have to leave?”

“Goddess…” Samara turned away, facing the wall. “You truly do not know…”

“No, I don’t. So tell me,” said Miranda, growing exasperated with how Samara kept doing things like that. Acting like there were things she should already know, which she didn’t. She wasn’t psychic. She couldn’t read her mind. Obviously not. Samara had come all this way to throw this confession at her feet out of fucking nowhere. Why hold back now? “You’ve already said so--”

“Because I could not bear the pain of losing you!” Samara snapped back, her voice sharper and louder than before, as if she had to force the words out, fighting against herself to speak them. But, once they were said, they couldn’t be retracted. “I did not trust what I would do. How I would withstand it. Goddess, Miranda, I was coming apart. I had already broken The Code for you!”

Miranda’s eye widened. “What do you mean?”

“You know this. You said it yourself.” Samara faced her once more, moving a step closer. “I...I threatened to murder doctors, because they wanted to turn off your life support,” Samara confessed, hard as it was for her to say. “You were functionally dead, and I was prepared to harm innocents rather than accept it - to use violence against healers so I could keep you hooked to those machines.”

Miranda’s heart stopped in her chest.

Wait, what? That wasn’t something Jacob had just misunderstood? Her weary mind went black. She couldn’t even comprehend that revelation. 

“I breached two tenets, in total. Not only by threatening innocent medics, but that I lied about The Code in order to compel them to spare you,” Samara confided in her, exposing her transgressions, her shame. “This is not permitted. I was unjust. Had I any sisters left to judge me, I might be expelled from the Order for this. At worst, perhaps even executed. Though, if there is but one small mercy to be found, it is that my words, evil though they were, were only words. I took no violent act, drew no weapon, and made no attempt to carry out my threats. Had I done so, The Code would not suffer me to live. Nor should it.”

“...You…wait…” Miranda couldn’t hear herself, her ear was ringing so loud.

What the fuck was happening? This couldn’t be real.

“In what small part of me was still capable of thinking rationally, I knew my behaviour had made me a danger to myself and others,” Samara continued. “If you passed, I could not take the risk of what I might do. At least, that was what I told myself. In truth, by that stage, I was simply too afraid to stay. Afraid of how much it would hurt when you...” She trailed off into silence, her meaning clear.

Miranda didn’t even catch all of that, her thoughts blank. No, this didn’t make sense. Samara was a Justicar. A servant of her Code. She was the embodiment of her way of life. She stuck to it rigidly. She never bent the rules, much less broke them. She would never do that. She was so disciplined. So loyal to it.

Samara hadn’t even broken The Code when it came to her own daughters. An Oath, yes. But not The Code. From what Miranda understood, that was the difference between breaking a promise, and breaking the law. She had told Miranda straight to her face that she couldn’t do the latter. That she would never.

And yet now Samara was standing there in front of her telling her that she had not merely violated The Code, but that she had done so consciously. For her.

Twice.

“Now you see me for what I truly am. Frail. Weak. A fraud.” Samara glanced aside, accepting that what she had done would forever tarnish her in Miranda’s sight, as it should. “So, like a coward, I ran. As far as I could. Every day thinking, is this the day she died? Is this the day? Surely, she must have passed by now, Samara. Just go back. Just go. Confront this. Be with her. But I could not. I could not return, because I was not ready to know. Because I was not ready to feel--”

Her voice caught, rendering her unable to finish that bleak thought.

Miranda felt a heavy tide rising inside her. Like she was swimming in a maelstrom. Sucked in under the water. Unable to breathe. Unable to think or react. It was so much all at once. It was as if she’d been consumed by a tsunami.

“...Why are you telling me this?” Miranda asked through the haze.

“Because you do not deserve to believe you are at fault,” Samara insisted, taking another step towards her. “I abandoned you in your hour of need, not because you mean nothing to me, but because you...you are so important to me it scares me. But that is my burden, not yours. You should not have to suffer for my lack of bravery. I could not bear it if you thought that I have treated you so carelessly because you have slighted me in some way. You have not. I am to blame. Only me. The failure is mine, and mine alone. I am the monster here. Not you.”

“Please don’t say that,” said Miranda. It hurt to hear Samara berate herself like that. She was the opposite of a monster. “I wouldn’t even be here if not for you.”

“But I should have been here.” Samara took another step. As the space between them shrank, Miranda felt a shiver pass through her body, but not because it was cold. “I should have watched over you. Cared for you when you awoke. Been by your side as you rebuilt this city. Weathered the terrible news with you when you learned what became of our friends. But I could not. Instead, I left you. I let fear take hold, and surrendered to despair. Worst of all, I gave up hope. I did not have faith in you, when I should have known you are beyond extraordinary.”

“You don’t owe me anything--”

“Please.” Samara quietly cut her off, refusing her forgiveness, feeling unworthy of it. Even so, she could not refrain from reaching out, curling stray strands of hair back behind Miranda’s ear. Miranda’s pulse spiked, thundering like a drum. “I was distraught for so long. Too paralysed with sorrow to return, and face the news. So convinced that everything I dreaded had come to pass. That I had been too late when I found you in the wastes. That you had succumbed while I was away. That I would find nothing here but your grave.” Samara’s eyes shone as she looked upon her, a warm smile coming to her face. “I do not know how I ever doubted you would defy the odds. You are truly incredible. You always have been.”

Miranda didn’t dare to breathe, Samara was so close. All those bottled up feelings came flooding to the surface. It felt like somehow Samara should just know. That she should be able to lay eyes upon her, and glean from a single glance how easily Miranda came undone in her presence.

God, the things it did to her for Samara to be this near, her fingers on her skin. It was too much. She should have withdrawn and pulled away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want Samara to stop. She needed her, with every fibre of her being.

Miranda couldn’t take it. For her own sanity, she had to force herself to turn her head away. To look somewhere else. Anywhere else but Samara.

"Do not hide from me.” Samara’s fingers curled beneath her chin, lifting her head, compelling Miranda to lock her eye on Samara once more. “I know I ran before, but it was not because of you. Do not think it was ever to do with you.”

She realised then that Samara must have assumed the reason Miranda averted her gaze was because she’d felt self-conscious in that moment. Of her wounds. Of the scars on her face. Little did she know that had nothing to do with it.

It became achingly apparent then as she got lost in that shimmering sapphire stare that Samara had no idea what Miranda felt towards her. And that those feelings were so powerful and intense that they were threatening to devour her. 

How could Samara not see what she was doing to her? 

She was laid open. Bare. Exposed.

Samara’s fingers combed through Miranda’s hair until they grazed the cord that held her eyepatch in place. Miranda was so transfixed that she almost didn’t even feel her touch it. “May I?” Samara asked her permission to remove it, gauging whether Miranda trusted her enough to show the extent of her scars.

Miranda swallowed and nodded, giving her consent. That was never the problem. Least of all with Samara. Miranda stood stiff against her desk, knuckles turning white against her chair as Samara carefully slipped it off.

Samara released a slow exhale as she set that black cloth down on the table, a wave of heartfelt warmth washing over her features as that barrier fell by the wayside. As if on instinct, her fingers reached out to touch her face, but she stopped her hand just short of Miranda’s scarred cheek. “Will it hurt if I…?”

Miranda shook her head, almost too tense to speak. “Not if you’re gentle,” was all she could manage. And when was Samara ever anything less?

With Miranda’s tacit approval, Samara softly cupped her cheek. Miranda’s breath hitched. How could she be so on edge that such a feather-light caress could make her feel like her entire world was on the verge of exploding? 

“I have been devout in my faith for a very long time, and yet...Believe me when I tell you, the only time in my nine hundred and seventy-one years of life that the Goddess has ever answered my prayers was when I turned around on that balcony, and saw you standing there in front of me,” Samara professed.

If she moved so much as a single muscle, Miranda wasn’t sure there was any power on Earth that could stop her from crashing her lips against Samara’s, no matter how wrong she knew it was, or how bad of an idea. She willed her body to stay stone still, because it was all she could do to control herself.

If Miranda hadn’t been leaning so heavily on the desk and chair behind her, she was certain her legs would have given out right from under her. Samara’s skin was still so cold from the rain, but her touch was hotter than fire, and Miranda like wax beneath her fingertips. She could have melted into a puddle on the floor.

“I know I should not, but…” Without another word, Samara tilted Miranda’s head down, and pressed a tender, savouring kiss to her forehead. Miranda’s palm shook against her desk. She was trembling like a leaf. When she parted from her, Samara let her head rest against Miranda’s, cradling her jaw. “...I am sorry, but that is all I have wanted to do ever since I learned you were alive.”

Miranda’s heart wasn’t just pounding. It was screaming.

Somehow, she just knew, if she dared to utter a single sound, she wouldn’t be able to keep from shouting the truth at the top of her voice. The desire to say those five pivotal words seeped from every pore. She was bursting at the seams. 

“No, I should not have done that.” Samara shook her head, taking a step back. It was only then that Miranda realised she hadn’t taken a single breath in the last minute, and sharply gasped for air. “I have been selfish. Allowed myself to…” Samara stopped herself, as if suddenly coming to her senses. “Forgive me, Miranda. I have said all I needed to say. I should--”

The instant she turned to leave, Miranda’s hand shot out and seized Samara by her wrist, grabbing her as tightly as she’d ever held onto anything in her life.

“Don’t you dare walk away,” Miranda growled. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Samara hesitated, caught off guard. “...I thought you did not want me here.”

“Why would I not want you here?!” Miranda shot back, her tension built to breaking point. She felt like she was going insane, trying to find her balance on shifting sands. Nothing made sense anymore. For all Samara’s honesty, she still didn’t understand what the hell was going on.

“Because I abandoned you,” Samara answered. That had been the whole reason for her confession. Her apology. “Because I hurt you. Because you hate me.”

“Hate you? Samara, you idiot, I’m in love with you!” the words tore themselves from Miranda’s chest before she could stop them. Samara froze. Miranda released her tight grip on Samara’s wrist. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror as she realised what she’d said. But it was too late to stuff that confession back in.

God damn it. She’d really just said that out loud, hadn’t she?

“Fuck…” Miranda cursed under her breath, realising there was no going back. It was out there now. She had to confront it. “I’ve never...you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way. It’s like a kind of madness.” She wasn’t sure what to say, or whether it was even a good idea to keep talking. But she had to. Now that she’d said it, she had to. “That was why I asked you to leave me alone before. Not because I hate you, but because...I feel the exact opposite.”

Miranda pressed her hand to her forehead, fighting off the incessant pain in her skull. The insomnia that made it so hard to think. To put these complicated feelings into words. She was so not in the right frame of mind to have this conversation.

Yet here they were.

“I’m pretty sure I have for a long time, actually. I was just too bloody stupid to figure it out any earlier. But...” In place of adding anything further, Miranda simply gestured, leaving her feelings out there, in the open, for Samara to do with as she wished. It was a horrible position to be in. She hated every second of it.

“...No,” was the first thing Samara said. Her voice sounded so distant. And it was tinged almost with a sense of...dread. “No. You do not. You should not.”

“I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I do. I think about you all the time. And I don’t...I don’t know what to do about it,” Miranda admitted, shrugging her shoulder. 

“No,” Samara repeated herself, more insistently. Her suddenness startled Miranda a little. “You...you are mistaken.”

“I’m not,” Miranda reflexively answered back. She couldn’t help but get defensive, hearing Samara tell her she was wrong about her own feelings, when she knew painfully well she wasn’t. “I tried to convince myself that I was, but--”

“You do not know what love is. And you do not know who I am,” Samara coldly shut her down, refusing to hear this. “If you did, you would know there is nothing about me that is worthy of you.”

“Fucking hell, Samara…” Miranda ran her hand through her hair. This was not how she would have planned this to go. For one thing, she never anticipated she would have to contend with Samara being in staunch denial about her dramatic love confession. But then she paused, as the final part of Samara’s sentence gradually registered in her tired mind. “...I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

“You…” Samara swallowed heavily, realising she had perhaps revealed more than she ought. Maybe because she thought her own feelings had already been blatantly obvious, and it hadn’t occurred to her to think Miranda wouldn’t have realised them by now. But she didn’t take it back. “No, I cannot do this.”

Samara moved for the door as if to leave. In response, Miranda extended her hand, biotically lifting Samara six inches off the ground, holding her in place.

“No,” Miranda sternly commanded her, not letting her run off and hide again. She was getting pretty bloody sick of that. “We’re talking.”

Samara could have overpowered her easily if she wanted to. Miranda was no match for her biotic prowess, especially not in her current state. She could have broken out of this grip with little more than a shadow of a thought. They both knew that. But she didn’t fight. She didn’t resist.

After a moment, Samara just gave her a nod, as if to confirm she would stay. Miranda let go. Samara’s feet hit the floor. She didn’t so much as stumble.

“You were saying,” Miranda prompted, losing patience for her evasiveness.

“...You heard what I said. It is as it seems,” was all Samara could bring herself to say, not denying Miranda’s suspicions. She would not lie to her.

“Do you feel the same way about me?” Miranda asked, forcing her to acknowledge it out loud. To put it into words. There was no room for misunderstanding here.

“That is not the point,” Samara responded, tersely.

Miranda sighed heavily, intuiting what she meant. “Of course. You’re a Justicar,” she said. It didn’t matter what Samara felt about her, if The Code forbade it.

Samara’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I...am uncertain what you mean by this.”

Miranda’s expression mirrored Samara’s, equally bewildered. “Doesn’t the Justicar Code forbid...?” Miranda didn't finish that sentence, simply glancing down at the space between them, choosing to be deft in her words. Using any specific term that entered her mind might be perceived as demanding or presuming too much, or too little, and she wouldn’t risk that. 

Samara stared at her, the open-ended meaning not lost in the silence. It was obvious from looking at her expression that she wished her status as a Justicar permitted her to speak falsely. That would have made things so much easier. “...It does not,” she replied to Miranda's myriad unspoken questions, and the words running through her mind. It was the same answer for all of them.

At that, relief dared to trickle through Miranda’s skin. 

“That was never the problem,” Samara continued, not allowing Miranda to think that information changed anything. It didn’t.

“Then what is?” Miranda replied. “There’s obviously a connection between us. We both feel it. And if your Code says there’s nothing wrong with that, then--”

“Because I deserve to be alone!” Samara professed. “That is my penance.”

Miranda recoiled. It actually, physically hurt to hear that. “How can you say that?”

“Miranda, listen to me,” Samara implored her, holding her focus. “You are a remarkable woman. You are brilliant and exceptional, in every respect--”

“So are you,” said Miranda.

“No, you are not listening.” Samara raised her hands, determined to continue. “You are so young. You still have so much life ahead of you. So much potential. When others see you, as I have seen you, the entire galaxy will fall at your feet. As it should. You have nothing to gain from me. I am...I am regret, and ruin,” Samara told her, a faint glint of unshed tears in her eyes. “If you truly saw me for what I am, you would know there is only death and misery for you here.”

“I do know you, Samara,” Miranda spoke quietly. “I know that, despite all the tragedy you’ve endured that would break a lesser person, you somehow still manage to wake up each day and choose to be warm, and kind, and good--”

“I am none of those things,” Samara assured her.

“You are to me,” Miranda persisted, undeterred. “I know you are, because you found me when I was at my most jaded, my most cynical, my most closed off--”

“Miranda, no.” Samara shook her head, pleading with her not to feel this way.

“And, instead of rejecting me, you...you reached out to me,” Miranda continued, talking right through any interruption, or resistance. Because this needed to be said. “You made me smile more than anyone has ever made me smile. You showed me that...that opening up to someone you trust and letting yourself be vulnerable around them isn’t a weakness, but that it takes bravery and strength.”

“Please stop this,” Samara begged her, her voice a whisper.

But Miranda didn’t stop. “You single-handedly made me a better person than I was before I met you.” There was no denying that. Without Samara, she wouldn’t have learned from her past mistakes. She would have kept perpetuating the same cycles, and never stopped to reflect on her preconceived notions about what mattered to her, and what made her happy. “So, if you’re unworthy of love, then what does that make me? Because, from where I’m standing...Samara, there aren’t enough superlatives to describe you.”

“Enough!” Samara swept her hand across her body, signalling for this to cease.

But Miranda wouldn’t.

“No.” Miranda pressed forward. She was pouring her heart out. She’d never done this before, because she’d never felt this way about anyone. And, now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. “Don’t you get what I’m saying? You’re it. You’re it for me. I will never feel the way about anyone else that I feel about you, and I know because I’ve tried, and those efforts failed so hard I didn’t even think the ability to fall in love with someone existed in me, until I met you. You’re not just beyond comparison to everyone else. God, you’re...you’re fucking transcendent.”

“Do not...say these things!” Samara cut her off, her voice so loud and forceful that there was no doubt it bellowed through the whole apartment. Miranda had never heard her raise her voice before, let alone like that. “You know not of what you speak. You love a shadow. Nothing more.”

Miranda’s gaze narrowed. “What is it you think I don’t know, Samara?” she challenged, determined to prove herself. “I know more than you think.”

“I killed the last person I loved!” Samara shot back, refusing to subject herself to that indescribable agony a second time. She would never let that happen again.

“No, you didn’t, Samara. She killed herself,” Miranda curtly replied.

“You know nothing of it!” Samara insisted through her teeth.

“I know everything,” Miranda interrupted, unshaken by what Samara thought were secrets. They weren’t. “I know every little fucked up detail you didn’t want me to know. I know you tried to kill yourself too, and the only reason you failed is that your neighbour found you. I know you blame yourself for Mirala becoming Morinth because you think whatever you said to her the night before her test scared her into running away and melding with her best friend to prove she wasn’t an Ardat-Yakshi. I know the police blamed you and wanted to charge you with something, anything, and that you broke down during your interrogation and told them you blamed yourself for everything too. I know the whole world turned against you for something that wasn’t your fault. I know it all.”

Miranda’s response thrust Samara into stunned silence. Miranda had the decency to look contrite, already seeing the fire of betrayal in steely blue eyes. Exactly like she expected. Exactly why this admission had been so easy to put off.

“There’s nothing about you that’s a mystery to me,” Miranda continued, quieter than before. “I looked into your past when we were aboard the SR-2. I’m surprised you didn’t already assume I did. I mean, this is me we’re talking about.”

As that slowly sank in, Samara stepped away and shook her head. “I am disappointed in you, Miranda. Yet I suppose you are correct; I cannot claim this was a shock,” said Samara, in a tone Miranda had never heard before. “After all, you have at all times been nothing if not transparent about your duplicity.”

Miranda’s eye darkened. That hurt.

“Fuck you, Samara. You don’t get to turn this around on me right now. In case you haven’t noticed, between the two of us, I’m not the one lying.”

“Yes, how very dare I be hurt by your treachery,” Samara countered, looking her in the eye once more, her words laced with biting sarcasm. “I should know better than to criticise you, or confront you with consequences for your actions. After all, you are Miranda Lawson. You can do nothing wrong.”

“I’ll apologise as much as you want later. But that’s not what this conversation is about. So don’t change the subject,” Miranda snapped. 

“What more is there to say?” said Samara, her arms folded across her chest, unwilling to discuss it further. This hadn’t helped. “You know my answer.”

“There is so much more to say, because you’re pulling away and I don’t even know why. To punish yourself for some imaginary sins? Is that it? Look…” Miranda crossed the distance between them, reaching out and gently clasping Samara's hand, guiding it to rest upon her chest, where she could feel her heartbeat. “Whatever this is, I...I want this,” Miranda assured her. “Do you?”

Samara withdrew, resisting the temptation. “What I want is irrelevant.”

“Why is it irrelevant?” Miranda pursued her. “You’re a person, Samara. An incredible one, but still just a person, with feelings, and wants, and needs. You've spent four hundred years being selfless, to a greater degree than your Code required you to be. You don’t have to do that. You’re allowed to feel things. To want things. To need things. You’re allowed to...to move on with your life.”

“Move on?” Samara echoed incredulously. She turned her body away, refusing to look at her, visibly caught up in a tempestuous tumult of conflicting emotions.

Hurt.

Anger.

Grief.

“If you knew me half as well as you claim to, you would understand what an insult it is to me that you would tell me such a thing,” said Samara, shaking her head in contempt and disbelief. “‘Move on with my life’. The audacity...”

“I'm not saying that to get something from you. Genuinely, I'm not. You don't have to...” This wasn’t working, was it? “What I’m trying to say is that, whatever this is between us, this doesn’t have to go the way I want it to. I’m not even sure what that is, or what that would mean. I was so convinced this could never happen. But don't you deserve a bit of happiness?” she asked, trying to catch Samara’s eyes, though she was intent on avoiding her. “If I bring that to you, then—“

Before she could finish, Samara exhaled heavily and stepped closer, until the space between them virtually evaporated. Miranda trembled as she stumbled backwards on instinct, until she could go no further, and hit the wall near the door.

“Do not speak of happiness.” Samara pinned Miranda in place without exerting any force whatsoever. Without touching her. Whatever Miranda had intended to say before swiftly fled her mind. “My happiness died centuries ago. And I promised myself -- I promised myself, I would never...never betray that.”

Miranda moved to protest, but stopped abruptly when it became apparent Samara wasn’t really talking to her, but rather that she was arguing with herself.

“But, I...you were not...you were not part of that plan. I did not foresee how much I would...how much I would come to...” As her dilemma tore at her soul, Samara grimaced and braced herself on the wall, as if in physical pain. “I do not know what to do. I know I do not deserve this, but...perhaps we can, without...”

“Yes,” Miranda all but whimpered. Whatever she meant, her answer was yes.

She wanted this. So bad. Even if it might have been a terrible mistake. Even if it might have ruined everything they already had. At that moment, she didn't care.

Miranda wanted to kiss her. To sink her teeth into her neck, and tear her armour off. Her body was screaming at her to do those things, desperate to touch her, and powerless to resist if this was what Samara chose. But, in what little part of her brain could still think, she knew she had to let Samara take the initiative for whatever happened next. If she didn’t, she would push her away forever.

They probably only stood like that for a few seconds, but time moved so slowly it felt like minutes. Miranda could see the cogs spinning in Samara’s head. The conflict. The indecision. Temptation. Torn between resistance and surrender.

Samara’s fingers brushed her bare arm. She’d leaned so close Miranda felt her breath against her lips. Then, blue eyes went black. And Miranda felt the magnetic sensations she recognised as a meld beneath Samara’s fingertips. 

In an instant, everything changed.

A wave of sheer, uncompromising despair crashed over Miranda, plunging her into the deepest, darkest, blackest abyss she had ever known. It felt as if her very soul had been ripped from her body and murdered in front of her, leaving behind only a hollow, empty shell. Any memory of happiness or joy was stripped from her mind, and shattered into a million pieces at her feet.

She had never felt more devastatingly, crushingly alone.

Bereft of hope.

And, although it had come over her as suddenly as the blink of an eye, it felt like she had never known anything else.

Abruptly, Samara glowed blue, her biotics repelling Miranda, like a barrier between them, pressing her back against the wall. The meld ended only a fraction of a second after it began, leaving both of them visibly shaken. The moment they separated, Miranda's hand flew to her lips, trembling as tears spilled from her eye, coursing down the unscarred side of her face, beyond her control.

Samara staggered backwards, as if she had seen a ghost. “No, I...I cannot.”

“No, don't...” Miranda could hardly speak, overcome by a grief that she could not name. She shook her head. What was happening? She never cried, unless her sister was involved. But this sorrow. It had lasted only a fleeting moment, but it was intense and crushing and it dwarfed any sadness she had ever felt. So much so that it hurt just to breathe. Just to be alive. “I'm sorry, I don't...I'm not...I'm not normally like this. I don't know why this is happening.”

“Because it came from me,” Samara answered, her lips scarcely moving.

“...What did you say?” Miranda lifted her head, staring at Samara, shellshocked. But she hadn’t misheard. Whatever she was feeling, these weren’t her own emotions. In that brief instant that they had started to meld, Samara had inadvertently transferred whatever she was currently feeling onto her. 

“I did not mean for this to happen. I am so sorry. I...I thought I could contain myself. My boundaries. I never wanted you to experience this...” Samara whispered until her words trailed off into silence, confirming it to be true.

That realisation struck Miranda to her core, that agony still permeating her being.

“...Is this how you feel about me?” Miranda asked, a deep, dull ache pooling like lead at the base of her heart at the very thought - that this was how miserable she had made her by putting her in this position. Samara didn’t respond, neither confirming nor denying it. “Is this how you feel all the time?”

“It does not matter. This cannot happen,” Samara stated, her voice hollow.

“Samara.” Miranda reached out for her, but Samara raised her hand, signalling for her not to come closer, convinced this had been a terrible mistake.

“In another time, or another life, this would have been...” Samara didn't finish that thought, shaking her head. “I cannot contemplate this. I must not.”

“So, what? You’re just going to run off again?!” Miranda’s shout was enough to momentarily stop Samara in her tracks. Her throat was strangled with emotions that weren’t entirely her own. But some of them sure were. “Tell me, Samara, when did the strongest woman I’ve ever met turn into such a pathetic coward?”

“This is what I have always been!” Samara hissed in response, despising herself for this horrible misdeed. There was no hint of the stoic, composed, restrained person Miranda previously knew. “I have always been a coward. A fraud. A monster. A mistake. A worthless, selfish waste! I have the blood of over a thousand murders on my hands! I am nothing! I should not even be here!”

“Then why don’t you just fucking go!” Miranda shot back, lashing out in pain.

Samara took her at her word, looking at her one last time before she stormed out. Miranda heard the front door slam. The instant it did, Miranda slid down the wall, tears spilling from her eye, the weight of what just happened combining with Samara’s despair, still coursing through her body.

She felt so cold. Like everything right, or good, or light was just...absent.

There was only shadow.

Only grief.

A shaky exhale escaped her lips. What had she done? This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. She’d told Samara the truth, and pushed her away forever. They would probably never speak again. Not after this.

She didn’t even realise that the door to her room was still open until a few heads peeked around the corner to see her. Obviously, they’d been roused by raised voices, and the door slamming. The walls weren’t that thick. They probably hadn’t heard everything. But they would have heard enough.

“Are you okay, Miss?” Reiley asked, visibly concerned.

Miranda wiped her eye and picked herself up to her feet, refusing to let herself look vulnerable in front of them. Even though it was too late for that. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, taking her eyepatch off the desk and putting it on.

“You don’t look fine,” Jason pointed out as Miranda limped her way past them.

“Samara left in a hurry. And we heard fighting,” Rodriguez noted, not really sure how to approach this. “...Did you fuck things up between you?” she asked, in what sounded like an effort to be understanding and comforting. It wasn’t. Jason chastised her insensitivity with a light slap to the back of her head. “What? It’s fucking obvious they just had a fight…”

Miranda ignored them, grabbing her things, pulling on her jacket and scarf.

“What are you doing?” said Jason, shaking his head at her. For a second, it almost sounded like he was the responsible adult in the house. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Miranda answered stonily.

“It’s 1:00am,” Jason pointed out, as if convincing her to see reason.

“I don’t care.” Miranda slipped on her shoes, and took hold of her cane. She couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t lie there and think about this. Couldn’t feel this.

“Are you coming back?” said Reiley, confused.

Miranda was tempted to lash out at them and say no out of sheer bitterness and spite, but she couldn't. Unlike Samara, she didn't run from her problems.

“...I'll see you in the morning,” she said, before she closed the door and left. None of them knew it then, but they would not, in fact, see her in the morning.

And, when they did see her again, they would wish they hadn’t.

So would Miranda.

*     *     *

[forpeopleidontknow]

falling into you - h.o.

chapter two - married in vegas

mob!haz au

warnings: swearing (i think that’s it)

word count: 2k

author note: i’m trying to think of a good posting schedule but I feel like posting once a week is too little and posting twice a week is too much so i’m in a bit of a pickle but I’ll figure it out!

chapter one ✕ masterlist ✕ chapter three

You wake up, closing your eyes shortly after opening them to avoid the blinding light. After giving yourself some time, you could finally open your eyes. Looking over at your desk clock you read the time

1:28 PM

Fuck. You reach over to grab your phone while being greeted with new messages from Harry

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

3:34 AM: hey, I’m just making sure you got home safe. I can’t have my poker date dying lol

6:05 AM: good morning. A car will be there to pick you up at 6. Don’t make him wait

6:06 AM: I just realized I don’t have your address so send that to me

You

1:30 PM: hey, yeah sorry. I just woke up lol. I will send you my location.

1:31 PM: and did you say you would send a car for me?

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

1:32 PM: I did. Also, the dress code is black tie. Something like you wore last night will work.

Well, that’s great. You have nothing like that in my closet which means you have to borrow clothes from Y/F/N. You get up from your bed walking towards the door when you see the heels you wore last night, instantly reminding you of the guy who caught you. You quickly shake him out of your head and head to your roommate’s room. You knock on her door lightly knowing that after last night her head is probably pounding.

“Go awayyyyy” she groaned, making you laugh lightly

“I need a dress, black tie.” you say while opening the door and walking in

“Since when do you want to wear a dress like that?” she lifted her head to look at you

“Some guy asked me to be his date for poker night and I agreed now please get me a dress, I need to be ready by 6.” you plopped down on her bed laying in the space next to her.

“Okay fine.” she got up making her way to her closet. She digs in for a few seconds before pulling out a black dress, similar to the one you wore last night and some silver heels.

“Here, now get out!” she hands you the articles and then plops back down on her bed, covering her head with the covers.

~

It was 5:48. You had showered, styled your hair, and successfully did a smokey eye. You were walking downstairs to wait in front of your building. 6 on the dot a Mercedes-Benz pulls up and the door opens.

“Hey darling, you look stunning.” Harry greeted you

“I don’t know why I agreed to do this.” you stated while getting into the car. You looked at Harry, he was wearing the exact outfit as last night, just missing the sunglasses.

“Would you care to explain to me why someone is driving us?”

“Bossman insists, I just follow orders.” he shrugs

“You play poker with your boss and he sends you cars? Where do you work!?” you asked being flabbergasted about the information you just received.

“The less you know the better.” You thought he was joking but his face was serious. You let out a nervous chuckle in hopes to clear this newfound tension in the air, but it seemed to make it worse. After being in the car for what felt like hours but more like 20 minutes the car started to slow down. You brought your gaze to the window to be greeted by a gate.

“It’s Pruitt. Arriving with Harry Holland and company. Buzz me in.” The chauffeur spoke into the call box. The gates started opening as he was buzzed in. Driving for a little while until you were shocked at the sight was in front of you.

A mansion. You counted the 33 windows that laid on the front of the house as the car pulled into the round motor court, housing a few other cars similar to the one you were in. The driver got out of the car and went around to Harry’s side, opening the door. Harry stepped out.

“Thanks, Jaxx. I’ll take it from here.” He patted the man on the shoulders and held his hand out for you to grab. You took it and stepped out of the car. You put your arm around Harry’s and walked up the stair. At the front door, were two men. Security you were guessing. You walked into the front door, hearing your heels click on the limestone floor. Your eyes went straight to the double staircase the met that the top and a crystal chandelier hanging over your head. You were torn from your thought when a voice spoke.

“You weren’t lying when you said you had a date.” A man who looked comparable to Harry spoke to us. Harry unraveled his arm from yours to take a step closer to the man.

“Don’t be such a wanker” Harry opened his arms and engulfed the man in a hug. Stepping away Harry rejoined you, next to your side

“Tom, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my brother, Tom.” Harry introduces you to the man. You hold out your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Tom winked and then kissed your hand. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. “Well we are about to get started, the boys are in the game room.”

They led you down some stair and a hallway until you reached an archway. Your nose was greeted with the smell of cigar smoke. Walking in a bit more the sound of your heels was silenced by the rug under you. You put your hand on the pool table in front of you and turned your head towards the bar on the left side of the room.

“And the boy made it with his date” You snapped your head. Another man, he had is arm around Harry’s shoulders. You were guessing another brother. He moved towards you putting his hand out.

“Sam.”

“Y/N.” you shook his hand.

“Well I’m glad you could join us y/n” he smiled. You smiled politely back at him

“Where’s Harrison?” Harry asked looking around the room

“Behind you, you div.” A guy walked in thumping the back of Harry’s head. He then looked at you and then it hit you.

The Mystery Guy. The mystery guy is standing in front of you. What?!? Your internal panic was interrupted

“Uh y/n, you alright?” Tom asked you

“What? Oh yeah uh, just uh... a little parched. Could I get some water? You nervously stuttered out while quickly trying to look anywhere but in his eyes.

“Could we get the girl some water?” Harrison spoke out loud, not directing the question to anyone in general. “I believe we didn’t get the chance to meet last night, I’m Harrison and you are?”

“Y/n and yeah sorry about that. My friend was waiting in a cab and I just couldn’t... keep her… waiting so...” You couldn’t form a normal sentence to save your life making you even more nervous. A man hands you your water and you thank him. You took a fairly long sip to get rid of the uncomfortable dryness in your mouth.

“So y/n, are you playing?”

“I don’t know how to play.”

“I’ll have to teach you one day.” Harrison smiles then walks away dragging Harry with him. “So what's the deal between you two?’

“Huh?”

“Are you two serious?”

“Mate, if I tell you this you have to swear on your life you don’t tell anyone else?”

“Code one of the Omertà oath.” Harrison holds up his hand to show his ring.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Harry laughs and punches Harrison in the arm for his dramatics. ”We aren’t even dating, I met her last night at the nightclub opening. You have my blessing, now go make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Harry said in a godfather-Esque Italian accent.

“And you are calling me dramatic.” Harrison chuckles then walks back over to you “Now let get this pretty lady into a chair.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the table where two other men were sitting. He pulls out a chair for you, pushes it in and then sits next to you. After a few minutes you learned the names of the other men at the table, Tuwaine and Jacob. Harrison cheered again after he won another game.

“Boss man, you should put your house on the bet.” Tuwaine jokingly suggested.

Wait Harrison is the boss?

“You can get my house when you do what I do.” Harrison smiled at him checking his cards

“You live here?” You had forgotten where you were after being in this room for the whole night.

“Yep, all 126 room belong to me.” He smirked while putting some chips in the middle

“What could you possibly do that gives you enough money for a house like this?”

“I don’t think you want to know that sweetheart.” He winked at you and then directed his attention back to the game. After a few more minutes you wanted to stretch your legs. You pushed your chair out getting ready to get up

“Hey love, where are you going?” Harrison speaks putting in a few more chips in the middle.

“Just going to stretch my legs, I’ll be over there.” You pointed towards the bar. You got up and walked over to it. Leaning on the counter instead of sitting on the bar stool. You ordered a cherry coke. You were about to make your way to the couch in the back of the room when you got drenched with a cold liquid. A crash following soon after caught everyone’s attention. Harrison swiftly moved from his chair and across the room to you.

“What’s all this about?” His voice was aggressive, nothing like he had been tonight.

“I’m sorry sir, I tripped. I’ll get it cleaned up.” The bartender was practically shaking leaving you with the question of why. Why was he so scared?

“Like hell you will!” Harrison spoke just a bit too loudly making you flinch. That caught his attention. His eyes softened when he looked at you.

“Follow me.” His voice was gentle now. He held out his hand. You were hesitant to take and he noticed. He looked at your eyes for some sort of reassurance but all he saw was fear. He scared you and now you were frozen in place.

“Can someone call Amy and tell her to bring one of my shirts?” Harrison spoke again not to anyone in general but just out loud. A few minutes later an older woman walks in with a shirt.

“Thanks Amy, you are an angel.” He gives you a warm and kind smile. A complete 180 from the bartender. “Here love, let's get you out of these clothes.” He put his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bathroom and handed you the shirt.

You took a second to breathe in your surroundings. It wasn’t big, only housing a toilet and a sink but somehow it was still stunning. You quickly stripped yourself of the alcoholic smelling dress and put your arms through the silk sleeves. While you were in the bathroom Harrison walked back into the game room.

“Alright, games over.” Harrison’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. As much as the boys wanted to stay they know not to make him ask twice. They all filed out of the room.

“Do you want me to take her home?” Harry approached the blonde.

“No, I got it. Thanks though mate.” He patted his shoulder. You peaked your head out of the bathroom looking at the back of his head. You walked towards him.

“Where did everyone go?” You asked while approaching.

“Felt bad for taking all their money.” You laughed at his comment making him smile.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I can get you a car if you want to go home.” He has sincerity in his eyes.

“Actually if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here a bit longer.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

I was looking up different types of house while writing this chapter so the layout made sense in my head and I stumbled across this GIANT HOUSE and when I say giant I mean it. So I based some parts of Harrison’s mansion on it. If you guys want to see it you can click here! 

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Secrets and small talks (White Demon’s Love Song, Part 6.)

Series description: A new job was what the reason you found yourself on a lonely roadtrip on the western coast, ending up in the woods of Olympian Peninsula. Yet a sudden car malfuction was what cause your unplanned stay in Forks. To your surprise, there was a lot of sinister things going on under the veil of fog.

Part summary: The secret was finally out - many questions were about to be answered. Yet no-one said it will be enjoyable for either of you. 

A/N: Okay, I am 100% positive that Seth would believe there’s something wrong with Jacob before realizing that she just means the wolf thing (IT’S JUST A WOLF THING). Also, I am sorry (not sorry) for the lenght of this part, but I got a bit carried away.

Tagging: @missdictatorme​

Word count: 5.5 K

Twilight playlist: ✨ Twilight Crackheads ✨

Series masterlist: H E R E

The wolf turned around to look at what caused the loud thud behind him. His blood froze in his veins when he realized what was he looking at - you've been laying on the damp, hard, and ice-cold ground. He could smell it in the next second - the iron-like, dry smell in the air. The vampires would most likely describe the smell as sweet, just lovely - yet Jacob's stomach was turning upside down as he felt it. No - you didn't hit your head so bad you'd be bleeding out. There was just a small amount of blood dripping out of a small wound on your forehead, the drops were slowly soaking into the soil. Jacob wasn't panicking, he was just surprised to find you there - you were just fine, your breath didn't even hitch, he could still feel the warmth coming out of you, your heart was beating steadily. Don't worry, you were just fine.

But Seth, who saw the view through Jacob's eyes, started to panic at the sight of your unconsciousness - while Jake found the expression very funny, the boy started to freak out. - 'Jacob, help her, why are you staring at her?!' - Seth cried out to both Jake and Quil's heads, he wasn't sure about what was happening. - 'Jacob can't change back now, Seth. She's bleeding a bit, what if the leeches will smell it?' - At that, Seth breathed out; Jacob and Quil felt the decision Seth made the very moment the boy realized it himself. In the next moment, he was running to meet Jacob just to help him. - 'Seth, don't leave your position!' - At the same time, Quil took a deep breath and howled loudly for the others to know something had happened.

The members of Sam's pack and Jacob's pack couldn't hear on the same wave - only Jacob and Sam themselves could communicate. Every time something unexpected happened, a member of either pack howled and changed into their human form to describe the issue. It was extremely time consuming and also a bit exhausting, but they didn't have a better solution.

It was too late for Quil to stop Seth from running your way. Jacob's bitterness could be felt in the mental web, yet he didn't tell a word - he just watched the perimeter, ran around, and made sure that any of the bloodsuckers was after you. While Seth was on his way and Jake already looked around, he started to move you around. If you'd be awake, he knew you'd freak out - his teeth bit on the cap of his raincoat as he dragged you closer to the garage, not having a problem with lifting you. The tops of your feet were sometimes touching the ground as Jacob scampered around in the direction of Forks. Thank God, you were barely a minute away when taken from a wolf's point of view.

Suddenly, Jacob couldn't tell what Seth was thinking, neither he could see what Seth was seeing - which meant just that Seth was close. And soon, the huge animal turned its head at him. It was looking quite funny, seeing Jacob running around with you hanging out of his mouth... Without a context, it would sure make Seth laugh hard. - "Hey, Jake." - Seth mumbled and tried to flatten you inside his arms. - "Let go of the cap, I have her. Jacob. She won't fall to the ground. She's breathing... I can hear her heartbeat. It seemed that she did something to her brain for a moment." - And there Seth was, rambling about a ton of stuff that meant... Nothing.

If he'd stop himself from acting up, just for a second, he'd know that you were alive the whole time. Jacob heard you breathing and your heart beating... Before Seth brought it up. And seeing the way the wolf was staring at Seth, the boy immediately knew he did something wrong. But Seth didn't care at all - he just moved your body in his arms a bit, smiling at you. - "Don't worry. I'll stay here and make sure Y/N's good, okay?" - The sunshine boy grinned at Jacob. - "Maybe some of them will appear here... They've been here before and now, there's the stench of blood in the air." - Slowly, Seth walked backward to the door leading inside the house, letting Jacob disappear between the trees.

Seth has done just like he told Jacob he would - the boy made sure to tug you into the big, super-warm blanket after taking the coat and boots off. Like a nurse, he cleaned your forehead with disinfection, taping it together with white medical tape. While happily strolling around the flat, Seth turned on some of the heating, made sure the place will be ventilated, and... Because Seth was Seth, when there was nothing left to do, he started to clean around - doing the laundry, folding clothes... When Seth was done and looked around the place with a satisfied smile, you wouldn't know that you were at this place before.

Jacob... He was a messy person. He was one. The whole flat was the perfect reflection of said behavior. And you weren't there to change that - most of the time, you even weren't inside the flat, for the love of God - at least, he was doing the dishes and his bathroom was tidied up and smelled very nice. It was all you could ask from a person who had offered you a stay at their place in exchange for buying the food. Yet after Seth spending an hour there, the flat turned into a place you hadn't seen before - the boy swept both the dust and the floors, he tidied the sofa from all of the dry soil and carefully re-arranger a fluffy blanket over it so it would be looking presentable. When Seth was done with the flat, he made sure the door to the guest room is opened, just before he sat down to watch some TV. He made sure to listen to the rhythm of your breath - before he fell asleep himself. The boy had an undoubted skill of falling asleep everywhere and anytime, snoring almost unison with how you breathed. The boy was a light sleeper, he'd sure wake up if he'd heard something he would not perceive as 'normal'. Just like when you started to stretch in the bed, growling unpleasantly.

The dream you had was... Fucking crazy. You dreamed about walking to the woods behind Jacob, following him around. At one point, the man stopped - you did so too, watching him, hidden behind a tree. You remembered that in your dream, it was raining and it was pretty darn cold. Your breath hitched as you watched Jacob falling on his knees, grunting in pain. And then he turned into a fucking wolf. Into a huge, unnatural wolf. Jacob was nowhere to be seen. With that, you woke up - just as your head hit a root which was peeking out of the ground.

Your breath was above normal rhythm as you sat up and looked around to understand where you were. Fuck. You were just in your bad and this was just a bad dream. Jacob was most likely on his late-night walk and you fell asleep instead of following him. There was something wrong with your blood pressure because the room was gently smudged in your peripheral vision and it was shaking a bit. The colors weren't right either. And why was the pillow full of dirt?

Trying to shake the strange headache, you gently smoothed your temple, just to hiss at the feeling. Fuck. Your head hurt as if someone took you out with a damn frying pan. Was this Jacob's found? Without a problem with recognizing the material, you brushed over pieces of medical tape with your fingertips, wondering at what the hell had happened. You didn't remember hitting your head anywhere, this didn't make sense. Or, maybe, the dream...

"Hey, there!" - A young boy exclaimed in a happy tone. He was standing in the doorframe, shirtless, having a grin on his face. Who on Earth was this? And why wasn't he properly dressed for the cold weather? There was a strange tattoo on his shoulder and... He wasn't wearing any boots. Yet his feet, when compared to Jacob's, were nicely clean. - "Nice to see you up and well. Name's Seth, I volunteered to take care of you while Jake's off." - Without any further explanation, he offered you his palm. Confusedly, you held it in yours while the boy did the shaking. - "I have two simple questions. Why aren't you wearing a reasonable amount of clothes and why is there tape on my forehead?" - Seth was kind of surprised when you didn't ask something like 'also, why did Jake turn into a huge ass animal in front of my very eyes?'. Either you didn't connect the dots yet, or you knew something about all of this.

"Oh, sorry. I'll borrow a shirt if it makes you uncomfortable," - Seth smiled even more widely than before, disappearing for a bit before he put on an old, flannel shirt he borrowed from Jacob's closet. It didn't even cross his mind that he's not properly dressed. Most of the La Push boys just walked around shirtless for the most part. It was kinda nice to talk to someone... Normal. - "But my physical temperature is a bit higher than yours. I won't get cold... And I don't feel cold. I haven't felt cold for the last couple of years." - Seth explained to you as if you were supposed to know what the hell he's talking about. Most of his friends were used to his happy ramblings, but you weren't local. Seth was a stranger to you - and for the dearest God, you didn't know what was his point. - "And the medical tape? Oh, don't worry, I cleaned the blood and the wound first. It was a horror to get it out of your hair, I tell you that. I was worried that I might just... You know... Tear some hair off your scalp. Jake neither would be too happy about that." - Tearing hair off your hair? What was the boy on about? You were just as confused as before the boy started answering your questions. Maybe even a bit more.

Even though he answered both the questions, he hadn't told you anything. Maybe he was being dodgy, maybe he just really didn't know he's rambling about nonsense. Honestly, you couldn't tell. - "I was bleeding?" - "Well, not like bleeding... It was a few drops here and there, but it stuck around the wound and then it kinda dripped down your face." - Seth answered with an honest smile. Okay, so he just wasn't aware of misleading you even more, cool. Now you knew. - "And I hurt myself... Or..?" - You needed to be more direct with the questions to get a proper answer out of the boy. - "Oh, yeah, you fainted in the woods and fell on a root, that's what happened." - Oh, so that was why the dirt was in the bed. And why your forehead was taped together carefully. Sure. And that also meant...

Seth could heart your heartbeat picking up and your breath getting irregular as you realized something. Suddenly, your hormonal balance had changed as your body started to sweat. You were stressed. And also, this was the reaction you should show before. - "Seth, you need to help me." - You mumbled, climbing out of the bed. The room suddenly spun around and you barely stood on your feet - the boy's arms caught you and he carefully helped you stand straight. - "At first, I thought that Jacob is a killer. Don't ask me why I just got that vibe." - What the hell were you now on about? Seth watched you packing your stuff in a state of total panic, you were running around the room, picking every piece of clothing you could find. You didn't care what will you leave there, you needed to run away as soon as possible. - "A killer?" - The boy answered with confusion - suddenly, you pushed all the clothes you found into his arms, picking up the rest. Where was the bag, goddamnit?

"But it's worse, much, much, MUCH worse." - "It is?" - He asked back and for a moment, you managed to get him distressed as well. Seth was one of the people you shouldn't be having this type of conversation with at all. Even if Seth knew about every thought that ever went through Jacob's brain, he was now on the same ship of panic as you. - "What is he, then?" - "Trust me, if I'd tell, you'd think I'm crazy. And we don't want that. I'll take you out of there with me, what do you say? We can... We can try to ring at Charlie? Jacob always leaves his keys in the car, so the tow truck is a fairly good chance." - Your brain started to put together a situation. The chaos was too much for both of you - for a moment, Seth was thinking about actually escaping with you from the menace that Jake was supposed to be in your eyes. - "He can... He can... He can..." - Slowly, you looked him in the eyes, trying to get the words out. The boy was hanging on your lips with his eyes, curious to hear about what the hell Jacob was. - "He can turn into a wolf. I saw that with my eyes and I swear I'm not crazy. You need to trust me on this, Seth." - At that moment, every sign of suspense in Seth's face faded away as a grin replaced it. Oh, okay, so this was the late response Seth was expecting when you've woken up. - "What are you grinning at? I didn't lose my marbles! We need to go, now! Or he comes back, turns into that... That animal and tears us apart!"

"I know you're not crazy." - Seth whispered carefully, which made you stop for a moment as you looked into his face, searching for hints of sarcasm or something like that. You thought that maybe, Seth will tell you that you hit your head too badly or something like that. - "And I know that... Because I can do that too." - What was he saying? Was he also walking to the woods in the late night, turning himself into an animal at will? That couldn't be... Again, the room around you spun - one time, two times, three times... The third time, you've been already laying on the bed, passed out. The man let you lay there for a second as he put your clothes back in place. This time, you've been quicker to wake up.

It didn't take you even five minutes to gain consciousness and this time, you did not doubt in your mind about what happened. As soon as you heard someone standing next to the bed, your eyes flew open as you gathered to stand up on the bed, trying to get away from Seth, who was standing there with a glass of water and a small smile. One of your hands rose high to keep Seth away from you, but the boy wasn't on planning at all. - "If you'll come just a step closer, I am going to scream." - Yeah, who would hear that? It was your last defense. Your phone was in the raincoat you've borrowed from Jacob, Seth was standing next to the door and... You could still jump out of the window, but it was pretty high, to be honest. You could hurt yourself pretty bad if you'd be considering jumping out and you would not run too far if you'd break your leg. - "Be careful and reasonable, come on. You hurt your head pretty bad." - The boy seemed to be nice, yet it could easily just a mascarade. Just when he mentioned your head, the whole room spun and you had to support yourself by putting your palm against the wall.

Jumping out of the window suddenly seemed like an even worse idea than before. - "I think you might have a concussion, so, can you just sit down?" - Seth stepped forward and in response to that, you started to wave your hands around more wildly than before. The boy grunted in frustration, rolling his eyes back. For the most part, you've been acting like the child out of you two. After calculating the situation once more, you told yourself it might be better to co-operate. For now. Until you get a better view of the flat door. Just as you were climbing down the bed, the room spun again. Great, so now, you had a fairground amusement just from walking around. - "Will you let me go?" - You asked quietly once you've given up on any resistance. Without any further theatrics, you took the glass from Seth and even the painkiller coming with it.

"It's not safe out there... Listen, no-one's holding you here against your will, but it wouldn't be smart to leave now." - That was all he could say without giving away too much. Seth couldn't just straight away tell you that most probably, you're on the vampire menu now and that they will have a hard time trying to get you out of that trouble. Not like he couldn't talk about it, he just didn't want to give you more reason to go into a full tantrum. - "Why? Are there wolves in the woods?" - You grinned at your own, not-so-funny joke. It didn't make Seth even smile. - "There's something... Different out there. So, please, just don't do anything unplanned, dumb, or dangerous. Jake wouldn't thank me if you'd just do a bunk." - "He asked you to keep an eye for me?" - Then, there was the question if Jacob just wanted to keep you in the flat or if something was lurking in the woods for real. Both answers sounded more or less probable to you.

"Well... Not entirely, I volunteered to be here. I would be grateful if you'd just... Tried not to do anything crazy. Jacob should be back by six, he decided to do a longer one today." - And with that, Seth let you be with your thoughts alone, which was worse than when he stuck around and stared you down like a baby, that was dangerous to everyone. After the conversation ended, he was highly reluctant to tell you any information - he kept telling you that Jacob should be the one talking you through it when he was the one you've seen... Doing it. Not even when you circled a different conversation back to the topic - Seth was smarter than just giving you what you wanted.

In the meantime, you've cooked something for yourself and Seth, you even went as far as to let something for Jacob as well. Precisely at six o'clock, Seth's head turned in the direction of the forest as he got up from the couch and simply... Disappeared. You could hear a long, painful howl, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You just closed all of the windows and curtains, hiding under your blanket on the couch. The whole time, you've been watching some animal planet, until you simply fell asleep. It was Sunday and the garage would've been closed anyway. After some super-long document about mantises, you've fallen asleep - in that state, any danger was lurking behind the windows and you've been safe, laying on the couch.

Jacob came home late that day - Seth was nowhere to be found, which was understandable. Sam has found one of the vampires and tried to catch it... Embry, of course, ran after Sam to support him - yet the leech, it was a man this time, was quicker than them and broke Embry's leg. Embry, being the fighter he was, twitched the man's palm. That sure as hell won't make the bloodsuckers happy. The palm was now burned to ashes, yet it was almost 100% sure that the vampires will come for their revenge soon. And honestly, instead of talking to you, he slept under the trees, in the cold outside, just to make sure the confrontation will wait for a bit.

As a means of reconciliation, Jacob brought you some take-out from the steak, just like you talked about it - and there was a momentary relief when he found you dead asleep while watching a David Attenborough documentary about ants. All it took was to wait for a bit - and while you slept, he decided to work on your car again. The sooner it would be done, the sooner you could leave the town. It wasn't too hard for you to understand Jacob was back and working again - the noise was undeniable. You crept behind him, your face was colorless and you didn't feel good at all while doing it... But you two needed to talk - the sooner, the better.

"Good to see that you're... Human again." - You could hear him freak out under the car - his forehead banged the chassis with a loud bang and after a moment, Jacob rolled out with a violet bruise above his eye. - "I didn't know you were spying on me." - "You're doing weird, suspicious stuff and expect it to go unnoticed? No way in hell." - At this accusation, Jacob put his arms crossed over his chest, sending a raster nasty gaze. - "If I remember correctly, I'm not the one who thinks I am a serial killer and I don't stalk you when you want to be alone." - For a moment, you were opening and closing your mouth, trying to figure out some kind of an answer. Yet solid got a solid argument. - "I'm sorry, but you have more than six feet, you're not a very nice person and sometimes, you're kind of weird. I thought you were a serial killer and it turns out you can turn into a wolf! That's some Harry Potter shit right here, come on. I don't know which one's worse." - "Like you aren't. Who meets  someone for the first time and immediately goes 'That guy will kill me the first chance he gets'?" - "I'm just paranoid!" - You exclaimed all over the garage and looked Jacob in the eyes. Heavy rain started outside as you stared each other down. The silence was intense.

"I suppose you'd like to know more... About what you've seen, huh? Now you've seen it, there's no point in hiding things." - Jacob sighed as he wiped his dirty hands in a rug, his expression and stare were blank. - "Yeah, that would be nice." - A similar blank sigh left your lips. When you were on your way up, you've picked up some of the papers declaring all the gigs he had done, since you've been mistreating your work in the last couple of days. The man left the TV play while he heated the food he brought from the steakhouse, putting it on the small table in his living room/kitchen. Your eyes sometimes slipped to a documentary about lions and their prey as you chewed on the food. It took Jacob quite some time to start the conversation. - "So, what are you interested in? I mean... Regarding the wolf things?" - "That's what you call it?" - You fired back instantly, not even looking away from the TV. The food was tasty - it would've been even better if you'd just eat it right after Jacob brought it.

"Yeah, that's how we call it. I thought you've been dying to know more." - It was a subtle callout, yet it didn't make you even furrow. - "If Seth had told you so, he had been lying like a pre-schooler. You shouldn't be trusting that boy." - Once again, your eyes had barely left the TV screen. A small sting of the past had stabbed him close to his heart as he remembered how... She was eager to learn everything. Your attitude to the unknown was more Charlie-like: the less you knew, the better. - "Okay, okay, okay." - With that, you looked at him. - "How comes that you're a werewolf?" - Suddenly, you were staring him down like an eager interview. And you were saying that Jacob was the one with a split personality disorder?

"That's a start. We were born with it..." - "You and Seth? He told me he can do this tomfoolery as well." - "Not only me and that boy. There are around fifteen werewolves in La Push and Forks now. I can't tell since I've separated from the other pack a long time ago." - The man was talking while eating, so you had slight trouble understanding everything he had to say. - "That's quite a number. Everyone's as big as you or..?" - "No. Most of them are smaller." - For a moment, you've been just eating. - "Are you going to hurt me? Or other people? Or... What does a normal wolf do in these woods? This town, no offense, doesn't look like a place where shit would be going down." - Now, it was Jacob, who looked away from you for a second.

This was his chance to repent, to show you that he isn't the killer you thought the whole darn time. But... Should he tell you about vampires? He knew how paranoid you were. Knowing about the unnatural situation Forks found itself in might won't do the best for you. On the other hand... Maybe you'd finally believe something is happening and therefore, you wouldn't try to escape. Seth showed the whole pack how did the night at Jake's looked like making the others laugh uncontrollably, Maybe, you would finally believe that he's not that insane. - "We would never hurt people... Voluntarily. That's not what the Protectors are here for," - "You call yourself the Protectors? What?!" - At that, you started to laugh. It was so loud that Jacob widened his eyes in surprise. - "What kind of boyband name is that? Holy fuck!" - You got out of yourself whilst crying from laughing so hard.

Jacob was looking at you the whole time, waiting for you to stop laughing - but in the end, you've been laughing so long that it made him smile as well. - "It's a name Sam came up with. You'll get used to it, eventually." - "So, Sam's a member of your boyband?" - At that, Jacob rose is eyebrows as he thought of the answer, but right after that, he shook his head. - "No. He's the leader of the other pack. I have one and he has one." - "But what are you protecting this sleepy town from? From having fun? From sunny weather? From warm days?" - Sure, now, you were joking, but something in his face told you to take it just a bit more seriously. There was this... Blank, subtle flame inside his eyes as his expression went flat again. - "The cold ones." - Jacob said. At first, you thought that he might be joking - but... He turned into a huge animal in front of your very eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't making things up. - "Will you tell me who are the cold ones? Never heard of them."

"You're wrong. You already heard of them, everyone did. Bram Stoker did, the movie directors did... Let it go through your head. Who's werewolf's natural enemy, hm?" - You did know which mythical creature Jacob was talking about, but come on - it felt so dumb to say it out loud. A smile slowly crept on your face as you grinned - rather than answering, you've been concentrated on stabbing your steak with a fork. - "I know you know who am I talking about..." - Jacob whispered as if he was just asking you not to sit there in silence. - "The thing in the woods, the one chasing me... That wasn't a mountain lion, was it? The cats don't jump that high up on a tree. It was a cold one." - Dear Lord, you refused to say the word 'vampire' out loud. It felt stupid to even thinking of that. Inside your mind, you've been saying the word again, again, and again, but your mouth couldn't make the sound because of its utter stupidity. - "That was why you let me drive to Charlie, wasn't it? And then to La Push. Does he know?" - "Bits and pieces here and there. The less he knows, the better." - Jacob admitted quietly. That was why Charlie told you to call him as soon as something would be happening.

"And La Push? I don't believe that Charlie Swan, the police chief, is some secret... Vam-pi-re slayer." - Ugh, the word didn't want to leave your mouth on its own, goddammit. - "I was born in La Push. You can call it werewolves' natural habit because most of us are the children of mythical, legendary Quileute chiefs, who could turn into their spirit animals... And then to wolves." - "Wow. But why was I meant to go there?" - You asked again. Oh, you didn't catch what Jacob was saying... Never mind. - "It's the smell. It's the strongest in that location, quite literally soaked in it because we live there." - "The smell?" - With that, you took in a huge load of air to your lungs, smelling only the freshly cooked food. It hadn't done anything to you, but it made Jacob relax a bit more. - "Our smell, not yours. To a leech, the wolves smell like... A wet dog. But for them, it's almost unbearable. They can stay in our company only if they are a bit used to it." - "And what about them? Can you... Smell the cold ones too?" - And this was the moment Jacob understood you've been wrapped inside the conversation and its topic.

"Yes, naturally. It's like... Damn rotten tomato. It's so sweet, but it smells like a burnt body at the same time." - "Do I smell like that?" - It was a genuine question in combination with a genuine tone which made Jacob roar with laughter now. - "Of course you don't smell like that. You're human. Dear Lord." - Once again, you took in some smell and smiled at the man. - "Well, you don't smell like wet dog to me either... I can smell a bit of soil, something woody... A bit of orange... And sweat and oil. You need a shower, man." - "Flowers and something sweet. But your smell is nice." - Jacob answered immediately, now he was looking at the TV screen. Suddenly, he was the one stabbing his mashed potatoes with a nervous expression. Of course, he smelled your scent, hell, the workshop and the flat, especially the bathroom, and the guest's room were full of you. Literally.

"Thanks, I guess. So... Tell me more about the wolf thing, will you?" - It didn't seem that you're scared when you smiled at the man, cutting another bite from your steak. Honestly, you've spent a few hours sitting at the table, just talking about the werewolves. Jake told you some of their legends, why did they turn, what did even mean to be a werewolf. - "And are all the cold ones bad? I mean, do you have to kill all of them? I think..." - A quick growl escaped your lips. - "I think I know they did something to Bella." - At the sound of her name, Jacob visibly stiffened and for a moment, it seemed that the conversation was over. - "No. Some of them try not to kill humans. Like the Cullens." - The man muttered out the name with the biggest amount of self-denial you've ever seen on anyone. - "They're what happened to Bella. And don't bring her up ever again, I don't want to talk about her."

"But the ones that are in the woods now... They are bad, right?" - You changed the topic quickly. So... Bella became a vampire? Was she now hanging from the ceiling, did she have fangs? Was that why they broke up? Was the man on the photo also a vampire? And the small girl, presumably their daughter, who the hell was she? - "They are bad, yes, that's all you need to know." - But that wasn't everything. And you weren't stupid to figure it out on your own. The bad vampires were hunting you, they knew you were a human... Which meant that they won't let you be until you'd leave Forks... Maybe not even after that. They will try to harm you, and not only you - they won't stop until the wolves will kill them.

Now, you understood that the wolves weren't bad as it seemed at first sight. But you still needed to get used to the idea that person with whom you've been sharing your living place for some time now was a mythical creature. You wanted to know more... As you thought about it, you started to bite your lip, which made Jacob look at you once more. - "Something else on your mind?" - It made you jump on your chair as you got back to reality. - "Yes... Do you think you could... You could show me what happened again?"

[o-neillwith2ls]

I told you so!

Prompt number: 11

Fandom: Stargate SG-1

Rating:T

Warnings: implication of abuse

—

Can be read with ‘Your cover story could do with some work’ in my episode tags. Again I’m exploring the kind of relationship Jacob and Sam had before we meet him and get to love him (because I do love Jacob, I really do!) its also a feel around for a Pre-Series story I have in mind about Jacob and Sam in particular, there’s lots of pointers towards that series in there, so feedback/ideas/comments are welcome. And you know I heard “I told you so” and thought of Jacob--for some reason 🤔

Also, thanks to Julie, my BETA I changed things back from the last time you saw them! I’m sorry in advance!

Pre-Series, about two years before season 1 begins.

Sam splashed the water in her face, hoping to cool down. She was blushing bright red and was uncomfortable.

This shouldn’t be so hard! This man! He’s supposed to be her father! She envied other kids growing up. Ones with fathers who praised them and paid them attention. She genuinely believed that she wasn’t trying hard enough and that's why he always paid more attention to Mark. No, she wasn’t envious of Mark. This wasn’t a sibling rivalry thing although she wished it were.

Every time it came to her achievements, it was “Well done, sweetheart--” then a mild push away before Mark would be praised over the smallest thing. It felt as though she was being underplayed for Mark’s under achievements. So, she’d try harder and harder, push herself more. At the age fourteen, she achieved a 4.5 on her high school diploma. He missed her graduation for work. The only cheer she heard was that of Blake’s, the one senior who had been a friend, well more than that if their age difference hadn’t been such a big deal. It's not that she didn’t love Blake for doing it, but she didn’t want to hear his cheers. She wanted her dad, her brother -- her mom. Gosh, she really missed her mom.

She closed her eyes as she used a paper towel to dry off the water from her face.

Mark had promptly ran away from home, informing Jacob that he was never joining the Air Force. Sam was five years older and even though she had rebelled a little after her high school graduation and has since college, she had come down to see her father’s head bow in self defeat. Generations of Carters had been in the Forces, ever since (possibly before) the civil war. In that moment, he thought it would all end with him.

So, she took Mark’s place. After all, for the best and the brightest, the air force had ways of getting their people on spacecraft, and she would go up in one of those programs. She already had her bachelor’s degree and her Masters. Yes, she could get a sponsor, or a grant for her PhD. With her education and skills, the Air Force could and would pay for her to join and she would have a career at the end of it and a possible way into space.

She thought it would be enough for him, that he would finally be proud of her.

Turns out she was wrong on that front too.

Even when Mark came back briefly, it just turned into another way for her Dad could criticize her, at a closer level. Every grade (despite the fact she was still the highest scorer in her class), he’d inspect and point out her flaws. To make matters worse, Mark had stopped talking to her, claiming she had taken dad’s side and wouldn’t listen to her reasoning, if she joined the Air Force he wouldn’t have to. The name Carter--would still be in the Air Force!

Then Mark left again, and her Dad blamed her… again. They didn’t speak for a while.

Then she had met Jonas.

She knew now it had been a mistake, but at the time—oh, at the time she had been flattered at the very much older, very distinguished then Captain who wanted her. She relished in the attention. Who wouldn’t? He was handsome and intelligent, but she really couldn’t see the controlling and manipulative behavior. When she introduced Jonas to her father, that behavior was the one thing her father had pain strictly pointed out to her.

As if their relationship wasn’t frayed enough, as if he hadn’t already lost his son because of this behaviour, he carried on for an hour.

She had rebelliously snapped back that she didn’t care what he thought, and she was going to marry Jonas anyway. In the end, she finally wised up to see for herself what kind of the man her fiancé actually was, and she finally ended it. All it took was a physical reminder. She was better than that. She wouldn’t accept that fate.

Sam sighed and put the paper towel in the bin. She looked at her visage in the mirror. All she saw was a woman who was alone again. A little bit older. A little bit wiser. She pulled her shoulders back and whispered, ‘no more’ to herself.

She didn’t contact her father two and a half years later after she had broken it off her engagement, for the exact reasons he had pointed out. She never wanted to give him the satisfaction of being right. She knew in the end, that’s all that mattered to him.

Not Mark, not her, not the Air Force, not anything. Just him and his opinions.

So, although she wished for her relationship to be different than what it was with her dad, she knew it never could be. He wouldn’t care if she'd been promoted to Captain, or for her theoretical work in ‘deep space radar telemetry’ No, he’d focus on her failed relationship. Even though she had broken it off two and a half years ago, he would still focus on that.

She still took a deep breath and left the ladies’ room. After all, she was a Carter.

She saw her father across the restaurant, he was still in his dress blues, she should have known and not dressed in her own casual clothes. Now he could criticise her clothes, or maybe the length of her hair. Oh god, had she smudged her makeup?

"Hey kiddo." He said standing as she approached. "No uniform?" He asked.

"No, I um, I got changed when I left work." She admitted.

"It's pretty." He told her, referring to the knee length flowery skirt and white shirt she had picked out.

She took a deep breath. Like her, not even her clothes could pass the 'beautiful' mark in her father’s eyes. Everyone who had ever met her claimed a likeness in Sam to her mother, she had sorely wished it to be true, she thought her mother was the most wonderful and beautiful person in the world as a child. But her father had never pointed it out, she supposed he couldn't see it so never said.

"Thanks." She said quietly as she sat.

He looked at her again. "You cut your hair."

She touched upon her short bob and took a deep breath in. She'd cut it from her long locks she'd had from a child after she broke up with Jonas, she'd found it liberating to do and found she felt as though she was a real woman for having done it. "I always liked it long."

She sighed heavily feeling like she disappointed him all over again. "It was taking too long to do." Sam admitted.

"What does Jonas think of it?" He asked her.

She felt the pink work up her shoulders to her neck. "He wouldn't know, I broke it off." He had a question in his eyes but wouldn’t ask it. She told him brusquely. “Two and a half years ago.”

She couldn't look as she waited for it. Four little words which would break her heart all over again.

"You--what?" He asked obviously surprised.

"He was overbearing, controlling--"

"Abusive?" Jacob said looking at her with that all knowing look he had.

"You know, dad--" she started, a little annoyed at his condescending tone.

"I told you so." He cut across.

Sam scoffed and shook her head. "There it is." She replied with an ironic chuckle.

"What?" He asked innocently.

"The famous Jacob Carter and always being right!" She exclaimed as quietly as she could.

"Well I was, sweetheart--" he started.

"Not everything is about being right, dad." She tore across him. "Did you think that maybe your daughter might like to hear 'Gee I'm sorry the one chance of love you've ever had didn’t work out.' Just once instead of hearing once again about how you're right again."

"Sammy--"

"Stop that!" She objected "I'm not a little girl anymore."

Jacob grinned. "So what? Now, you come here with a new haircut and suddenly you have all the answers?" He ended with a pity grin at her. "Have you considered that part of your problem is just that you take after me and you always have to be right?" He asked an ever- increasing pink Sam.

"No, Dad there is a difference between being correct and being right. You can be correct and still be wrong and you are just the upright example of correct."

"Thank you." He said flatly to her.

She let out a puff of air and shook her head "I can't believe I thought this was a good idea." She said as she stood to leave.

"Samantha, where are you going? Sit down."

"I'm not one of your Airman to order around!" She snapped before she walked out.

It wasn't until she was outside that she heard her dad behind her. “Samantha, stop!”

Her father gave an order and like the airman she was, she immediately stopped as her father approached.

"Do you know what you need, Samantha?" He asked as he got closer.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Well, I'm telling you anyway." He told her. "You don't need someone who just sits and listens to all your academic smarts. You need someone who listens to you. You don't need someone who hangs on every word you say. You need someone who encourages you to learn, develop, and grow. You need someone who sees you with all your imperfections and still would die for you. Most of all, you need someone who would love you, Samantha. All of you."

She scoffed and glared at him. "l'll bear that in mind." She said before she headed towards her Volvo. She got in her car and with tears in her eyes, she drove away not looking at her father. She didn’t see the lonely man, standing at the curb, looking dejectedly after his daughter as she left him behind.

4 years later Jacob’s Viewpoint (Bold from S02E09 Secrets no copywrite intended) 

I saw a man, obviously a Colonel, come over with drinks in hand. I look at him and saw immediately by sight that he was Sam's type. Older. Confident. The man needed to pass us by altogether in my opinion. I was perturbed (to say mildly) when stopped in front of us. And I saw the smile my daughter sent his way as he approached.

"Sam?" He said as he handed her the drink.

"Thank you, Sir." Sam replied politely.

'Sir?' I question in my own head. 'She knows this guy?'

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, Jacob Carter."  His old buddy, General George Hammond, made the introductions.

I almost burst out laughing although I've trained myself not to. I straighten my shoulders and look at her seriously, surely, he'll be like anyone else would be, intimidated by my two stars on my shoulders.

I don’t believe THIS was the Colonel O'Neill George had harped on about for months? This was her commanding officer? Holy Hannah, George do you know what you've done? This guy was not the right man to be her commanding officer!

"Carter? As in?" said Colonel quietly, he turned a questioning face to my Sammy.

"As in my father, Sir, yes." Sam blushed.

"Get outta town." He says and while obviously teasing her "Sam's Dad? I've heard nothing about you, Sir." He says bringing out his hand, I shake it. Damn! I start to object to my own opinion of him. I like him, the first one brave enough to shake my hand. Also, the first one to look me directly in the eye. Sam, on the other hand, looks like a deer in headlights as I say:

"What's there to say about an old general waiting to retire?" I ask him with a sly look to my daughter.

"Dad, I talk about you all the time." She tells me. Yeah right, Sammy, now pull the other one, because I'm not buying it.

"I retired myself one time. Couldn't stay away." O'Neill told me as he took a sip of his drink.

I'm also not buying this from him. "From your analysis of deep space radar telemetry?" I ask, barely hiding the sarcasm in my voice. .

"Well, it's just so damn fascinating." He quips, and I like it, he's quick and receives a smile from my daughter. I don't immediately think too much on it, I'm too busy enjoying the banter.

"I'm sure it is. Otherwise you wouldn't be receiving the Air Medal." I shot back. I find myself drawn into conversation with him.

"We have our moments." The Colonel admits and then there it is again; she's giving him THAT smile. "Um, will you excuse me? We just don't get out of Cheyenne Mountain enough. I'm going to grab some air. Outside. General. Captain. General." He starts to walk away, and I smile. The guy is certainly not afraid of me. A refreshing change from Sammie’s previous suitors.

I realized that I liked him as he watched the Colonel turn and call out, "Waiter." As I turn back, I took a look at Sammy’s face and I see it. The look on her face was familiar to me. It was the same one my wife used to give me.  'Oh Sammy, I told you so!' I think to myself, then dread hits me, I suppose my father instincts take over,she’s sleeping with her superior officer! I can’t believe George would let that son of a bitch with his smooth talking and his charming persona trap my Sammy like this! I can’t believe I let him fool me!

Silly love sick Sammy! Did she not know the Frat rules were there for a reason!?

[barbecuebabybackribs]

 Being In a Poly relationship with Sam Uley, Paul Lahote, and Jacob Black would include: (Male! Cullen! Imprint! Reader)

Requested: Yes

(Your all in a relationship)

Everyone Knew they were in a relationship

They got a lot of strange looks and backhanded comments

But they were able to get through it together- luckily not many people had the guts to say it in front of there faces considering they were all tall buff men

It did get to them slightly, and it took them a long time to be public with there relationship but eventually the hiding got to them and they came out

The pack already knew of course, it would be hard to hide the longing looks they gave to each other normally, but since they can hear each others thoughts? They were outed very quickly

Embry and Jared nearly choke when they first hear a passing thought go through Jacob’s mind about an intimate moment they had shared- and everything quickly unraveled from there

You are the youngest of the Cullen children, mainly because you are human.

You had a rough childhood and were taken away for your family at a very young age

One day you had gotten hurt by and equally poor foster family

Carlisle was your doctor, he instantly noticed the signs of abuse and also realized just how wonderful of a kid you were

He followed procedure and reported the incident to CPS

You were taken away but then you were without a family once again, Carlisle tried not to think about you, knowing there were plenty of poor children in situations like yours and his home wouldn’t be safe for a human child

But when you come back in, this time with a broken arm, he discusses it with the family.

Him and Esme start the process of adoption and cross there fingers.

They’re accepted.

You’re only four so they panic and buy everything they can think of to childproof there house, and set up a room for you- which Alice and Rosalie take care of

You don’t trust them at first, your past foster families had been abusive and even though you were young you still associated the process with being hurt

Jasper keeps his distance from you but uses his powers to ease your stress

When you first go there your three favorite people are Esme, Rosalie, and Carlisle

You love Esme because she makes you your favorite foods and she reads you bed time stories every night- she also was the first person other then Carlisle you met

You love Carlisle because he was the first person who was nice to you in a long time, he was always nice to you and was the first real father figure you had, so of course you want to talk to him for two hours about cartoons and the cool bug you saw outside- although he’s a sucker for your ramblings

You loved Rosalie because she loved you, she babied you, played with you, dances with you, watches cartoons with you every Sunday morning while your still half asleep.

You soon warm up to the others though and over the years your close with them all

When they first told you about vampires they only confirmed a suspicion you had already had

“Wait, so I was right?”

“Yeah a bit...” Edward piped up awkwardly from the corner having forgotten to tell them about your theory on why they were all the same age as when you had met, never ate with you, and never slept

Your still all close, even closer in fact now that they don’t need to hide everything from you

So when they ask you to deliver a message to the wolf pack- who you had never met but were familiar with- you complied

Happily pulling up you grasped the note tightly- technically you knew what to say, just tell them when the training would take place- but that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous about forgetting

With three snaps of your wrist you knocked on the door, eyes low as you tried to keep your nerves at bay- just drop the note off, then leave. It’ll be simple

The door swung open and a stern looking woman opened the door

“Hello?”

“Uh hi, I’m supposed to drop this letter off with Sam Uley.”

“Ah so you’re the Leeches human.”

“Uhm- and you’re Leah the Female wolf?”

She mumbled a yeah and motioned for me to come inside, when you walk in you instantly recognize the wolf pack- mainly because of there tattoos but the fact that they were all shirtless was a large hint.

“Which one of you is Sam?” You asked looking at the four men sat at the table eating a variety of foods displayed on the table.

Two of the men- one you had recognized from Bella’s description as being Jacob black- stopped mid bite and stared at you, which made you shift nervously

little did you know Jacob and Paul were currently in the midst of there entire world shifting below there feet, and suddenly it wasn’t just there partners who mattered above all else, you were at the center of it all.

Right when you were contemplating turning around and leaving before you had the option to give them the letter, or to find out why they were staring at you so intensely, like they were a second away from jumping over the table and tackling you- someone cleared there throat from next to you

You nearly jumped out of your skin and quickly turned to look at the man who had scared you

He was tall, had a stern yet handsome face- and gave off an incredibly intimidating aura

His tightly knit brows instantly relaxed as we made eye contact- which made you think you might have something on your face considering everyone is staring at you

“Are you... Sam?” You asked, trying to put on your best smile despite the feeling of three men staring into your soul causing your skin to crawl

“Yes, and you are?” He spoke, gentler then you were expecting but his voice still carried a powerful undertone

“Y/N, Carlisle sent me to give you the detail on your whole training session.”

He paused for a moment, taking the letter from your hand and glancing at the others

“Your the Cullen’s human?” He asked but it came out more as a statement

“I prefer Y/N, but yes- I’m the Cullen token human.” You tried to lighten the suddenly serious moment, but when you were met with more confused stares and strangely longing gazes you let out a nervous laugh, “You know... I’m just gonna go...” You said sounding slightly more nervous intended

There was a few more moments of silent and Sam, Jacob, and mystery pack member shared a knowing but slightly panic looked.

“Hey, Why don’t you stay for lunch- since you’re already here and everything.” Jacob smiled from his seat at the table- repeatedly hitting the shoulder of another boy until he moved and then motioning at the free seat.

“Oh... I shouldn’t, I mean I’d hate to impose.” You waved your hand slightly, a small smile on your face. They seemed nice but the thought of being glared at for any longer made you want to die on the spot.

“Ah come on, we’d love to get to know the infamous vampire boy.”

You let out a slight sigh before admitting defeat- not wanting to seem rude at this point. “I guess I can stay for a bit- If you stop calling me Vampire boy.... or ‘the leech human’.” 

“Deal.” Mystery boy said before motioning his head to the now-free chair, “Now sit.”

You end up sitting down and are able to enjoy yourself, most of the pack other then Jacob, Paul, and Sam don’t talk to you to terribly much, other then introducing themselves.

“Oh, by the way, what’s your name again?”

“It’s Paul.” He practically beamed at your slight attention- you didn’t know it but the three men were all suddenly very desperate to get to know you and have your attention. Hence why they didn’t want you to leave.

Time flew by quicker then any of you would have liked, they all hung onto your every word as you talked, and you found yourself doing the same when they talked.

The rest of the pack quickly caught on and were either fighting back a laugh the entire time or dreading the drama that would likely ensue from not one, not two, but three werewolf’s imprinting on the human Cullen.

Speaking of which, none of the Cullen’s know until the training scene.

The whole day is put on pause for a few minutes as Edward quickly is able to read the thoughts of the pack and tells the others.

Your standing near Bella- confused on what exactly an imprint is but not asking because you had a suspicion it wasn’t good.

Carlisle and Esme are fairly calm, this wasn’t the kind of thing you could control and they were happy you would have three werewolf’s looking out for you- since they were known for being protective of there imprints

Jasper, Edward, and Emmett, had no idea how to feel.

The one time Jasper is stumped with emotions, he knows imprints are usually happiest with their imprinter- or imprinters. But how could he know you’d be safe with them? Alice wouldn’t be able to see if something was going to go wrong so anything could happen

Emmett was slightly confused but he guessed he was happy for you? But also upset that the mutts imprinted on his human

Edward was, just, couldn’t, wrap, his, head, around, it.

Rosalie and Alice were fuming

You were Rosalie’s kid, if they thought for one second they could have you they’d have to get through her

Alice did not like the mutts, especially when they were imprinted on her favorite human- her usually happy demeanor shifted and she held herself back but jasper was gently holding her hand to try and keep her calm

Rosalie however went off

“What do you mean they all imprinted on him! As if dealing with one of them wouldn’t be enough!” She hissed, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind her- which caused the three wolves to snap and growl slightly

“Uh- It’s okay Rose?” You tried to ignore your confusion and comfort her slightly

“No- It’s not Y/N!”

Everyone was very tense for the rest of the training session, you were mainly searching through your memories trying to remember what imprints were- when you did remember you let out a small “oh”

Although you didn’t know the relationship would move past being close friends

Which is exactly what you were for awhile.

Carlisle was able to convince Rosalie to let you go see the pack, not wanting to start a dispute by withholding you

She still gave you a pocket knife and a long rant on how if they try anything or you get slightly uncomfortable to leave immediately- and to listen to you instincts.

But your instincts tell you to completely trust the pack.

The first few meetings the four of you have after the training session were awkward at first but you quickly warmed up to them

You spend a lot of time on the beach and especially just hanging around Sam’s house

You four can just talk for hours enjoying eachothers company

Jacob likes to spend private time with you at the beach, he likes watching you collect seashells- you may have grown up in the area but you were never allowed to go to the beach so you’ve got almost a child-like excitement when you’re there.

Paul likes to take you places, any place you want to go- you got it- he likes seeing new movies with you, especially action films but you’ve dragged him to a few cheesy werewolf movies specifically so you could crack up at them and whisper in your ear, ‘So do you do that?’

Sam likes to have more chill time with you, he takes the brunt of patrolling and just being able to rest, and hang out with you knowing your safe is enough. Not that it’s boring though, he still finds different ways to fill the time but it’s much more relaxing things- one time you made him paint and he refused to show you his piece for days because it was ‘so bad’, you assured him it wasn’t although inside you both knew it was. When he tried to throw it away you stole it out of the trash and brought it home

When you all hang out your in for a fun day, your usually doing something specific because keeping four people entertained can be a hassle if your just hanging out- not that you don’t just hang out but things run more smoothly when your doing something

If they had a particularly long day patrolling you’ll let them just relax- always offering to leave if they need alone time since you do know they might just went to spend time with their partners, but they always insist you stay

They usually lay on the couch and you’ll make them dinner since they do have huge appetites, and Esme did give you cooking lessons so you know your way around the kitchen

Plus it’s nice to cook for someone else other then yourself

Jacob and Paul are always pumped when you cook for them- Sam always reminds you that you don’t need to cook for them, but is secretly just as excited because your an extremely good cook

Speaking of being a good cook- that’s something the entire pack appreciates your skill because you always conveniently make just enough for them as well- totally a coincidence if anyone asks you

Leah starts to warm up to you- she still doesn’t like being around Sam but she realizes your not a bad guy and she enjoys being able to be around you and only you so she can escape the other pack members thoughts but also have company

The rest of the pack loves you- partially because you make them food but also they think your fun to be around- although your rarely alone with anyone other then your three imprintee’s

None of you know when exactly you start having non-platonic feeling for each other

I mean Jasper does, which means Edward knows, and of course they had to tell Alice and Bella, so they all know way before you realize.

None of them are particularly bothered by you being gay, Jasper and Edward have known since you’d get crushes on the male cartoon characters on your shows, Alice didn’t mind you fell in love with a man-men- she just was hesitant about the men you fell for. And Bella always had a sneaking suspicion so it merely confirmed a suspicion she had- although it did go against her religious beliefs, so did being a vampire and she was able to accept that so you liking men? No big deal

Jacob is the first to realize of the three shifters- and since he is the first one to know he panics at the thought of the others not also liking you in the same way

However there is a Domino effect and almost within 24 hours they all realize they all feel the same way- but do you?

“The Cullen’s are going to kill us- not only imprinting on there son but this?”

Them slowly testing the waters to see how you feel is how you realize you like like them

Paul wrapped an arm around you when you shivered in the cold air, he couldn’t fight back the smug smile that painted his features when you leaned further into him

Sam mainly observes your behavior, not wanting to push you so he tries to read into all you slight movements.

Jacob mainly makes jokes under the same style ‘what if we all went on a date together... haha jk jk... unless?’

After five of those kinds of jokes you get suspicious- those paired with Jacob suddenly wanting to spend a lot more time with you and getting you small gifts- along with Sam becoming a lot more touchy feely and also giving you small gifts- you were suspicious the feeling were mutual.

All of you danced around your feeling.

Until you overheard a conversation.

“Jake, we have to take our time, we don’t want to push him.”

“Sam! We’ve been waiting for weeks, we should just tell him, lay all our cards out on the table.”

“Oh yeah, Jake just three shifters cornering you and saying ‘hey you know how we said imprints are sometimes completely platonic? Well this is not one of those times’.”

They had not realized you were standing on the front porch right next to the very open window

Your plan was simple- just back away and stay near your car for five minutes then come back and pretend you didn’t hear anything- simple right?

Not quite since you didn’t hear Jared walking up behind you- and of course he was very loud with his greeting

After a few moments you see Jacobs head stick out the window looking a tad panicked- “Oh Y/N I had no idea you were here!”

“Uh yeah... just got here an bumped into Jared.”

Jared only needed to pick something up and then he was gone and you were left alone with three men who were wondering if you had heard them.

An awkward silence was in the air before Sam finally sighed and asked “Did you here what we were talking about?”

Your face gave an answer before you could speak, but you tried none-the-less “psshhh.... nah I didn’t hear a single thing...”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

Jacob is happy you know and can make a decision if you’d like to stay merely friends or possibly become more, Paul is panicked your going to be completely put off by them all falling for you- they didn’t even know if you were gay so this could actually make you run back to the Cullen’s and never come back, and Sam is a mix of both- he doesn’t think you’ll run but he is worried if you don’t share there feeling your relationship will never be the same, although he was eager to hear what you have to say

“So... you all want... to date me?” You held your breath awaiting an answer.

“Basically..”

You let out a small ‘oh’ as a smile fights it’s way onto your features

They don’t know if your happy or if you’re making fun of them

Sam doesn’t beat around the bush and asks if you have feelings for them in a purely platonic sense, or not.

You lightly punch his shoulder and joke lightly “Not”

“What?”

“Not.” You said again,

“Y/N What the ever living fu-- OH YOU MEAN YOUR FEELINGS AREN’T PLATONIC!” Paul blurts out in confusion and then excitement

You just smile slightly and nod at him, having to many butterflies in your stomach to talk.

The day goes absolutely wonderfully after that- you were planning on just watching The AmittyVille Horror and having dinner, and that’s what you did

But even though none of them had officially asked you out, you all just unanimously agreed you were theirs now and they were yours

For the first time Sam wasn’t the only one helping you with dinner

You had to give Paul and Jacob easier jobs as they were absolutely terrible in the kitchen, Paul was in charge rubbing the seasoning-that same had mixed- on the meat and he was in charge of the playlist so you all had music to listen to- Jake was in charge of chopping, which he was slow and sloppy at but he did his best

You and Sam had already cooked many meals together so you moved smoothly through the kitchen preparing the rest of the food

You all ate together and then watched the movie, none of you were to particularly scared however you all enjoyed the movie

You went home that night very happy and Edward stopped you before you even got through the door

He unintentionally outed you- before you were ready. He hold’s the guilt of that for years- even after you forgive him.

No one really says much, Esme and Carlisle say they’re happy for you and then let you awkwardly walk right back out of the house

Carlisle is technically extremely religious but he knows that god loves all his creations and he knows the bible has been through many different phases, so he know’s it is not a literal guide book- he knows who you are and he loves you regardless

Esme has already known since you were a kid and you told her you secretly has a crush on a guy in your class- when you were in kindergarten- which you completely forgot but she’s always known and always loved you.

Rosalie is fuming- not because your gay, I mean she at one point questioned her own sexuality and she really doesn’t care what sexuality you are, but she does care that the MUTTS THINK THEY HAVE ANY CLAIM TO HER SON

they’ve already been stealing you every other day, but now? what if you move in with them, what if you start seeing them everyday, where will she be in your life? She’s mad and insecure, you end up telling her she’ll always be the best mom and that it doesn’t matter who your with, you’ll never leave her

Emmett is just flabbergasted, you get imprinted on by three wolves, you fall for all of them, they’re all men, they all fall for you. It’s a lot, he still loves you, but it’s a lot

You go right back to Sam’s house- you take a slight detour, you weren’t ready to come out to them so you need a minute

You knock and Sam’s door and only have to wait a second before it swings open- he heard you coming

“What happened?” He said when he saw your face- which you hadn’t realized must’ve looked upset

You just sighed and mumbled “I love them but sometimes living with vampires sucks ass.”

He chuckled lightly and pulled you inside, you didn’t see his eye twitch in agitation that the cullens upset you “You want to talk about it?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Well then, what would you like to do.”

You shrugged and plopped yourself on his couch “If you were doing something I can just chill here.”

“I was only going to clean and go to bed- I’d much rather spend time with you.”

He said plopping down on the couch with you, you ended up talking random things including the scary stories you believed in when you were small and debating what kind of pasta was the best

After awhile you both got pretty tired and you said you should probably go, with a sigh

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to- I mean I’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed if you’d like.”

You ended up agreeing with him but insisting you sleep on the couch- threatening to leave if he sleeps on it since he has patrols the next day

You two stay up a tad longer then he let’s you get some rest

It takes you awhile to fall asleep since you’ve never really stayed here over night

In the morning he’s in a bit of a rush but you spend a few mintutes together and then he’s out the door

When you go home all the cullens are hella worried

Takes you an hour to calm them down and convince them your alright you were just to tired to drive

They’re not exactly thrilled but they let it slide- just this once

It takes them awhile to get used to your relationship but once they see your happy and safe they accept it

Jacob drives you around on his bike a lot- sometimes if you need a lift but also just to be with you

Paul is the one most likely to tackle you- it’s actually how you have your first kiss- which is kinda romantic but he also scared the hell out of you

If you want to be technical your first kiss with Sam was a cheek kiss, which he did in the middle of making lunch which through you off

But your first lip kiss was almost just as random but a bit more romantic, he walked you to your car after you all had gone on a date and the others hanged back- he told them to in there minds but you didn’t know that- and kissed you before you got in your car

Jacob was a bit jealous he was the last to the party but he makes up for it in being really cute

Not-so-stealthy wraps a warm arm around you and pulls you close, your sitting on the cool beach so you cuddle into his warm chest, he calls your name quietly so you look up to him and  then he goes to kiss you- but his nose smashes into yours

He immediately apologizes while you die of laughter, unclinging from him and practically rolling in the sand

Defeated he grumpily crosses his arms and refuses to look at you

“Hey Jake~” You call, and now he’s the one turning to you and you steal a kiss

After that you instantly cuddle back up into his warm chest despite the fact your insane blush heated you up

They are always affectionate to each-other and if you think you escaped that- think again,

At least one of them is always touching you in some way- Jake loves to hold you hand, Paul likes to have a hand on your thigh/lower back- and Sam likes to wrap his arm around your shoulders

Sam is a big sucker for face kisses 

Paul looooves when you play with his hair but refuses to admit it

Jacob likes to just casually carry your around on his back/in his arms

It takes a good long while for all of you to get intimate

You mess around one on one with each other but it’s intimidating for three Tall Hunky werewolves to just take you

But they do regardless as long as you’re okay with it- Edward and Jasper are very uncomfortable with the new intimacy in your relationship

Whenever there is a supernatural threat you spend 95% of your time with them- the other 5% with the cullens

They will not let you out of you sights, you almost think your getting heatstroke at night when you’re surrounded by three bodies- two of which have arms around you- radiating heat

speaking of which in the winter you still don’t need blankets because they’re all more the willing to be your blanket

One time Paul lost control and shifted near you and your tackled by jacob so you don’t get hurt

Paul spends a weak apologizing

He always hates his temper but it’s been a lot better since you came along

They all become better people with you around- but not because you force them to be, because they want to be with you around

They love you wholeheartedly and that’s all that truly matters

You guys live a long happy life together and no one will ever tear you apart

Word count: 4,571

(sighs in having 20 drafts but ADHD brain won’t let you finish any, also I hope you like it ^^ @shamelessloverhairdopainter sorry I haven’t completed any of your other requests yet but trust me I’m trying to write every free chance I get, everyone have a good day and stay safe y’all)

[thirsttrapholland]

The Proposal

Requested?    Yes  

By: anonymous

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Anonymous said to thirsttrapholland:

An imagine were a super nervous Tom proposes to the reader on the day of her college graduation??

Warning(s):  None.  Pure fluff.

Word count: 1538

Picture found on: Pinterest

Hope you like it, anon.  So sorry for how long this took me.

Feedback is always appreciated.

“Do you have the ring?”  Harrison asked for what must have been the tenth time in the last twenty minutes.

“Why do you keep asking me that?  As though I’m sort of div that’s always losing things.”

“You’re right,” Harrison said, a note of contriteness in his voice.  “By the way, have you seen your air pods lately?”

Tom turned around to look at Harrison.  “Why would you ask me that?  You know I lost those stupid things ages ago.”

“You don’t say.”

“I can assure you however that I’m a little more invested in keeping up with my engagement ring than I was some damn air pods.”

“You don’t have to be so touchy.  I just don’t want anything to go wrong today.”

“Thanks.  I’m sorry if I snapped at you.  I’m just really nervous.”

“No problem.  I get it; I’d be nervous too if I were you.  Y/N is graduating today and heading to grad school in the fall. You’ve got yourself an ambitious, highly educated woman.  This might be your last opportunity to lock it down before she realizes she can do better.”

“I hope you know you just talked yourself out of a best man position.  It’ll have to be Jacob or Harry now.”

“As if they wouldn’t be saying the same things if they were here.”

“You’ve probably got a point.  You know what?  I’m going straight to Sam.  He’s always been the nice one; he’d never talk about me this way.”

“Not to your face anyway.”

Tom took a deep breath and turned back to the full-length mirror.  He smoothed the lapels on his navy-blue suit and adjusted the collar of his light blue dress shirt.  “I don’t know about this suit.  Do you think I should change?”

“Do I think you should change?” Harrison asked, struggling to keep the exasperation out of his tone.   “Change out of the suit that you had tailor made for this specific occasion just because Y/N likes the color blue on you? Are you hearing yourself right now, Tom?  No, I don’t think you should change.”

“So, I look alright then?”

“You look gorgeous, wonderful.  Like a real life Disney prince.  Swoon worthy.  I am literally swooning.”

“Alright, alright.  That’s enough.”  Tom caught Harrison’s eyes in the mirror.  “Do you think she might say no?”  All of Tom’s usual bravado had disappeared from his voice.

“Given the almost literal hearts in her eyes every time she looks at you, I don’t think that’s a real concern.”

“Yeah, I know she loves me.  But what if—?”

“Tom.”  Harrison stood behind Tom and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “Stop. This is a huge step and I can’t imagine how nerve wracking this must be for you but you’re just psyching yourself out for no reason.  Get a grip, mate.”

“You’re right; you’re right.” Tom took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “When’s the last time you spoke to Harry?”

“About an hour ago.  Everything will be set by the time we get there.  You know he wouldn’t let you down with something this important.”

“The lights and everything.”  

“Yes, Tom.”

“And the gazebo’s been reserved?”

“Over a month ago. You made the reservation yourself and I’ve had to stop you from calling them every other week to confirm that it’s still reserved.”

“Right.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Tom.  I promise.”

 Y/N’s POV

You didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or embarrassed about the amount of noise that had risen from the audience when your name was called and you had walked across the stage to accept your degree.  Between Tom’s family and yours, the applause, cheers and whistling had been absolutely deafening.

After the ceremony, everyone had headed to the park where your family was throwing your graduation party.  Tom held your hand tightly but had been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive over.   After you had arrived at your destination, he had given you a few minutes to mingle with family and friends before insisting that you take a walk with him.

“Where are we going?  My dad was just about to cut the cake.”

“The cake will still be there, I just need to talk to you for a minute.”

“Between your brothers and mine, they will attack that cake like a pack of hyenas.  If it’s all gone when we get back, you’re gonna be sorry.”

“You’re the guest of honor, they’re not going to eat all your cake.”

“That’s what you said at my birthday.”

Tom put his hand on your chin and tilted your face up towards his until your eyes met.  “Darling, I assure you that the cake will be fine.”  He took your hand and led you down a path lit on either side by paper lanterns.  You stopped walking when you reached a clearing.  What you saw there literally took your breath away.  

There was a gazebo illuminated by what seemed like hundreds of candles and fairy lights; their brightness a stark contrast to the darkness created by the densely populated surrounding woods.  

Your favorite flowers, white and yellow lilies were draped all about; their sweet fragrance sent your way by the light summer breeze. There was a wooden bench in the center of the gazebo; as you got closer you could see that there was also a table bearing a chilled bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

You turned to Tom and put your arms around him.  “This is so beautiful, Tom.  Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”  He took a step back from you and ran his fingertips up and down your arms before clasping your hands in his.  “Have I told you how proud I am of you today?”

“Only about a million times, but I don’t mind if you want to tell me again.”

“I’m so proud of you and I love you so much.”  You couldn’t help but notice a hint of tremor in Tom’s voice.

“I love you too.”  The tremor in his voice was soon joined by a slight shakiness in his hands. You squeezed his fingers with your own, hoping to calm him down a bit.  “Are you alright, Tom?”

“Yeah.”  He smiled in that way that always made your heart melt.  “Yeah.  I am.” He took a deep breath and gestured to the bench.  “Sit with me for a minute?”

“Okay.”

Tom sat beside you and turned sideways so he could look at you as he spoke.  “So, I need to say something and I’m a little nervous, so I want to apologize in advance if I start rambling or if some of it doesn’t make sense.  Just bear with me okay?”

“Of course.”  

Tom took your hands in his and started to speak.  “You know that I love you, but I don’t know if I’ve ever explained to you exactly why I love you.  I love how smart you are; your mind amazes me on almost a daily basis. I love your kindness, your sympathy for others.  You really care about people.  You always support me but never hesitate to let me know if I’m being an idiot.  And I know in my heart that you love me for me. I know that it would make no difference to you if I was Tom Holland, the actor or Tom Holland, the carpenter, you just love me.”

As the realization of what was happening slowly started to sink in, it felt like an entire garden’s worth of butterflies had been set free in your stomach.  

“Since the moment that we met, it seemed like we fit into each other’s lives so seamlessly.  It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s always been right; meant to be.   It was almost like I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t have you by my side and what I’ve come to realize is that I don’t ever want to be without you by my side.”

You had imagined in the back of your mind that this might happen one day but some far off day in the future; you had not in your wildest dreams been expecting that this would be that day.

You felt like your heart was trying to escape your chest as Tom slid off the bench and knelt in front of you.  You gasped, clasping your hands over your mouth; your voice slightly muffled as you spoke.  “What are you doing?”

Tom chuckled, a bit of playful cockiness resurfacing in his demeanor.  “You know exactly what I’m doing.”  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.  He popped the box open to reveal the ring inside.  “Y/N, will you marry me?”

You felt lightheaded; your breath stopped in your chest. You opened your mouth but at first no sound came out.

“I’m starting to get a bit worried, love.”  Tom laughed nervously.  “Please say something.”

“Yes,” you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“Yes,” you said again, loudly. with tears streaming down your face.  You looked at Tom, unshed tears glistening in his soft brown eyes and you had never seen anyone more beautiful in your life.  You couldn’t begin to imagine not spending the rest of your life with the kind and loving man in front of you.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

 permanent taglist: @thewinchesterchronicles @pxterbpxrker

[darkforestimagines]

Stay in the Truck

"Stay in the truck," Bella said, hopping out of the truck while she strode over to the door of Jacob's house. You could see Billy answer the door and shake his head. From your point of view, you could see Jacob leave the house by the back door, shirtless... oh wow.

Bella turned back to the truck and you pointed towards the back end of the house. She turned around, spotted Jacob, and headed after him.

You remember what your cousin Bella had been like before Jacob (and after Edward). You knew Uncle Charlie wouldn't be able to take her catatonic state, and you'd do anything to help your cousin get her friend back.

You watched her walk up to Jacob and start... yelling at him. You were too far to hear what was going on, but the exchange was clearly heated. It began to mist, and then rain, and neither one of them budged.

You spotted more men in the distance, emerging from the forest like they lived there. Weird. They approached Bella and Jacob and the argument began to escalate.

One man in particular was really leaning into Bella, and another was grabbing Jacob's arm to pull him towards the woods. Against your cousin's instructions (and your better judgement) you hopped out of the truck (almost stumbling, it's a long drop for you) and rushing over to your cousin in time to watch her slap one of the men. His eyes widened and his whole body began to shake. Realistically, it would have been easy to say he was cold: like Jacob and the others, he wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes.

"Paul, calm do-" one of the boys? men? began. But he didn't finish, his gaze moving over to you. You had grabbed one of Bella's hands and were trying to pull her back to the car.

"Paul, get out of here. Jacob, we need to leave." the oldest of the boys? men? said. He looked at the boy who was staring at you, and then you, and then back to the boy, who he pushed firmly backwards until he almost fell. When he steadied himself, he kept looking at you. What was his problem?

"C'mon Bella," you said, your teeth beginning to chatter. She didn't move, watching Jacob and his friends retreat into the trees.

"Seriously Bells, we're gonna freeze." You said. She turned sharply, surprising you, and headed back to the truck.

_

Bella hadn't said a word to you for the rest of the day. You were able to get her to take a shower, but in the meanwhile you had caught a bit of a cold. You took the initiative to order pizza for dinner. Uncle Charlie was working late - something about another bear attack.

You took your shower, but you couldn't warm up. You got out colder than when you got in. Putting on your warmest pyjamas, you braided your wet hair and called it a day.

You heard someone knock on the door. Pizza!

Bella made no move to leave her room, so you bolted down the stairs, bills in hand from the money jar.

You opened the door to three people: one uncomfortable, lanky delivery boy, shirtless Jacob, and shirtless staring boy.

"Th-that'll be twenty-six ten," the delivery boy stuttered. You gave him thirty and told him to keep the changed, and he practically ran back to his car.

"Can we come in, Y/N?" Jacob asked. You held the pizzas and bit your lip.

"As long as you're not a dick to Bella," you said. After Jacob sighed and nodded, you moved out of his way.

You set the pizza on the counter, taking out two plates and making a plate for Bella. You gave it to Jacob. "That's for Bella. She's in her room." you said. Jacob left, carrying the food tribute.

You turned back to the other shirtless boy, who was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

"Are you just waiting for Jake?" You asked, hopping onto the counter to give you some height. You took your plate and began munch on the pizza. It was hot enough to give you shivers.

"Sort of," the boy said. You could tell he was a boy now, even thought he was built like a professional athlete. "I... kind of wanted to talk to you."

Now you were confused.

"Have... I met you before?" You asked. It came out sounding a bit more rude than you intended. Oops.

"Oh! Right. I mean, I was there today, um, when... Anyway, I'm Embry. Embry Call."

"I'm Y/N, Bella's cousin."

"I know, Jake told me." Embry said. You decided he was cute when nervous, not thatt you could figure out why he was so jittery. You weren't exactly threatening at 4ft 10 inches... and in pyjamas to boot.

"S-so," Embry began. You could both hear Jacob and Bella arguing upstairs. "I-I was wondering if you'd like to come to a bonfire we're having next weekend. There'll be food, and um, the elders tell the old legends and stuff. It's fun, especially if you haven't heard them before."

"Jake!"

A second later, Bella was standing at the top of the stairs.

"Jacob just jumped out the window!"

You gasped and jumped off the counter. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine," Embry said to both of you. Bella glared at him.

"I don't know what you've done to him. You need to leave, Embry."

"We didn't do anything to him! It's not our fault." He said, glancing to you.

"You should probably go check on Jacob, Embry."

Embry's mouth was just left slightly open. He looked from you to Bella, and then, resigned, left to find Jacob.

_

Somehow, within a week, Bella and Jacob had mysteriously patched things up. It made you a bit suspicious, but it also meant that you were being dragged along to the bonfire.

"Embry'll be there," Bella had said, as if this was supposed to entice you. Sure, he was cute, but you didn't really know him.

You wanted Bella to be happy, so begrugingly you accompanied her to the beach. You were still a bit sick from the week before. Truth be told, you were so stressed you hadn't had time to recover. You showed up in jeans, boots, a sweater and a windbreaker, with an armfull of blankets. Embry had the audacity to show up in a t-shirt and shorts. He grinned and waved at you when he saw you. Something about his smile tugged at your lips until you were reciprocating. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"She's so cute and little I could eat her up!" someone said, patting you on the back.

"Shut up, Paul." Embry said.

"What? She's so short! Are you sure she's even in high school?"

"I'm sixteen," you piped up. "I can drive too."

"They let you drive when you're that short?" Someone else said. A few people chuckled and an unfamiliar young woman put an arm over your shoulder.

"Leave Y/N alone." she said, escorting you to a seat between her and Embry. Her name was Emily, and she even made sure you got something to eat before the boys chowed down.

Once you were fed and bundled up, you were content to listen to the legends. It wasn't so bad after all. Except when you got too cozy and started to drift off, Emily would nudge you awake.

At the end of it all, you tried to help Emily clean up but she released you. You folded up your blankets and turned to find Bella -- and instead found Embry.

"Jacob walked Bella back to the truck," Embry said. "Um, I'll walk you up too. It's pretty dark."

"Okay, thanks."

"So... what did you think of the legends?" Embry asked as you walked. The beach shore was full of smooth pebbles, and you were trying your best not to trip in the dark. Every now and then, Embry would reach out a hand and grab your elbow to steady you.

"Um, they were neat. Very detailed," you said. "Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem," Embry said quickly. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you..."

Embry stopped, his arm moving out to stop you too. His body was tense.

"Embry?"

He moved in front of you. In the distance, you could see a female figure with long, unruly hair.

"Go back to the fire, Y/N. Promise me. Run now." Embry said. He glance back at you, his face a bit pale.

"What's wrong?" You asked, but he was running away from you. He jumped up and his body contorted. He landed heavily... as a wolf.

You fell back hard. When you got up, the wolf was almost at the woods.

You abandoned the blankets and ran, hearing nothing but the waves crahsing on the shore and your heartbeat in your ears.

You reached the fire in a panic.

"Embry," you said, eyes wide. Everyone looked at you. Sam stood up. His face suddenly scrunched up.

"Paul, Quil, stay here. Jared, come with me."

"What is it?" asked one of the elders. Emily walked over to you and put an arm around you. Sam and Jared were making their way into the forest, dropping articles of clothing off as they hurried off.

Paul and Quil were helping clear up. "We need to get everyone out of here." Paul said, sounding serious for the first time ever infront of you.

Paul walked at the front with you and Emily and the elders in between. Quil brought up the rear, and you all walked briskly across the dark beach. Emily scooped up your abandoned blankets and pushed them into your arms.

Minutes later, Paul was opening the truck door and helping you get in.

"What happened?" Jacob asked. Bella took a look at you and asked the same thing.

"It's the cold one. The red-head. You go with the Swan girls." Paul said, hoisting you up into the truck without warning. Jacob got in after you, and instructed Bella to drive home.

The drive was silent. No one knew what to say. You stumbled out of the truck, eager to get in the house and lie down.

"Y/N!"

Embry came out of the forest, wearing only shorts. He exchanged a hard look with Jacob.

"We need to get them inside," Jacob said. Bella was already unlocking the door. Embry shepherded you inside.

"What the hell was that?" you whispered to Embry when you two were alone in the hall.

"Remember the legends?" Embry asked weakly.

"Is that seriously your explanation?" you asked. You were shaking, maybe from the cold, maybe from shock. Who knows?

"I know it's a lot." Embry said. "But I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

"What do you want with me? I can't turn into a wolf. I'm not going to turn into a wolf, right?"

"You won't." Embry said. "I'm the wolf in this equation. And every wolf has a soulmate out there, the one person they're meant to protect and be with." He said. These words seemed rehearsed.

"That was one of the legends, right? The instinct... no, the imprint?"

He kneeled down and took your hands, taking a few shaky breaths before looking back to you.

"Y/N, you're my imprint."