#and somehow she managed to hit the water bowl but only spilled a little

[trashycosmos]

Nettle just did the classic cat thing of getting caught in the handle of a (paper) bag, scaring the fuck out of herself, and then hauling ass through the house

[the-dream-team]

Can I Try Again

Another ridiculously fluffy one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week four prompt: picking berries // I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right // the entire song, pink in the night <3

She is beautiful and he is in a perpetual state of falling. Down and down and down the goddamn rabbit hole, but somehow the further James plummets, the brighter his life becomes. It’s the kind of brightness that blinds him- somewhat painfully- and leaves his vision spotty, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lily Evans walks ahead of him, a spring in her step, sunshine pouring through her hair. She’s cut it short for the summer, just above her shoulders, and he’s mesmerized by the way it bounces around her neck as she walks through the gardens of his family’s home. It’s an image he’s played over in his head an infinite number of times, but his rosiest daydreams don’t hold a candle to the real thing. The afternoon light hits his glasses just right and suddenly there’s a halo of glowing stars framing her as she tucks a dark red strand behind her ear. He can’t even see her face, but it doesn’t matter. I could stare at your back all day.

He is the luckiest boy in the world and every moment is made up of the sweetest form of torture. Agony and exuberance whipping his heart back and forth like a rogue Bludger.

She must know, he thinks. Must have some sort of clue that she’s occupied every corner of his mind for well over a year now. Even more so now, after the platform. He wishes more than anything for the ability to read minds as she glances over her shoulder with those startlingly green eyes, that friendly grin.

He can’t help but smile back- or maybe he was already smiling before she even turned around. It doesn’t matter. By some miracle, she’s here, and he can only marvel at the kindness of fate.

***

It had been a passing comment. One of those early morning conversations as his friends frantically scribbled out unfinished essays while shoving waffles down their throats. Chatter muffled by mouthfuls of eggs and yawning. Remus had commented offhandedly about the fruit bowl being passed around, and then-

“Oh, raspberries are my favorite.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already looking at her when she spoke. But truthfully, he was always looking at Lily, a habit he’d long since stopped fighting once he realized how fruitless his efforts were. She was beautiful and he was hopeless. Simply lucky to be in her presence. She was the sun, and he, but a lonely planet, entirely reliant on and endlessly seeking out her light.

Sirius spoke the words James should have if his mind hadn’t gone fuzzy from hearing her voice.

“You know, the Potters have a raspberry patch in their gardens.”

“Oh, really?” She glanced from Sirius to James with a brilliant smile and excited eyes, so purposefully glued to his that he had to duck his head and rake a hand through his hair to hide his heating cheeks.

“That’s right,” he said more to his plate of sausages than to her. “They’re usually ripe to pick by early August.” When he peered back up, she was still looking his way.

“You should come over this summer and take some off our hands,” said Sirius casually, turning towards James as if it had been his idea.

“Yeah,” he jumped in a little too eagerly. “I mean- if you’d like, you’re more than welcome.”

Her smile widened, rounding the apples of her cheeks in a way that made his stomach flip pleasantly. “That sounds like fun.”

He assumed she’d forget the conversation, it had been just another morning, just another casual chat among housemates, but that didn’t keep him from daydreaming about the potential of a far-off day in August rather incessantly during the following months. But then as the school year ended and summer rolled on painfully slowly (and Lily-less), an owl arrived. And her handwriting crawled across the page like a message written in the clouds.

***

Lily swings the woven basket back and forth in her pursuit of the best raspberries. There’s already an impressive bounty growing in her basket, far more than he’s managed to collect- too busy watching her kneel down and pluck berries off their delicate branches to pick any of his own.

He turns to a leafy bush, green and lively and swaying slightly in the warm breeze, and quickly pinches off a handful of berries in an attempt to catch up with her. When she spins around, he’s thankful for the distraction. A minute earlier and she would have caught him staring. Again.

She smiles pleasantly and brushes her fringe off her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist. James’ heart leaps into his throat.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, but not accusingly.

“No I haven’t,” he responds, voice gravelly from underuse. “Just been busy picking raspberries.”

She glances at his measly basket, then back to his face with arching brows and an amused smirk.

He can’t help his own guilty grin. “Alright, Evans, I’m sorry we can’t all be unreasonably talented at everything we do.”

“It’s berry picking, Potter,” she laughs, “not advanced Arithmancy.”

In retaliation, he plucks a raspberry off of the nearest branch and playfully throws it at her. She somehow has the gall to lean her head back and catch the goddamn berry between her teeth. His brain short circuits. He’s quite certain his jaw is on the ground. She acts as though this is no big deal, swallowing the fruit with a satisfied smile, her tongue brushing her lower lip before tossing another into her mouth.

“Oh, these are delicious!”

He can’t form a response even if he wants to. Even if it was a matter of life or death, which it sure as hell feels like. He can only stare at her mouth, at her lips stained raspberry-pink, and lose himself in the knowledge that he knows how they feel against his own- even just briefly.

***

The platform teemed with students stretching their legs after the long journey home from school, saying their goodbyes to friends as their families greeted them for the summer.

A pit sat in James’ stomach- heavy and demoralizing- the entire train ride back to London. He knew she’d be gone soon. Back with her parents in Cokeworth for two excruciating months before their seventh year began. He’d taken their close proximity for granted during the school year, and as he faced a summer without the promise of her warmth, he wondered if it was even possible living in the dark.

He laughed loudly at a joke Peter told, overcompensating for the fact he’d missed the punchline while his thoughts were spiraling over her. Sirius shot him a look that suggested he wasn’t doing a great job of masking his emotions. Had it been so obvious the entire way home? Could she have noticed the despondency in his eyes, heard the heavy thumping of his heart? He rolled his eyes at Sirius and mustered up the most unbothered smirk he could manage.

But then, without warning, she was in front of him.

“Alright, Potter, don’t let your head overinflate while I’m not around to keep you grounded.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans,” he laughed, thankful his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Just so long as you promise to consider switching your loyalties to Puddlemere. There’s no way the Harpies even make it to the semi-finals this season, and I can’t bear seeing you heartbroken again.”

“Oh, piss off, Potter,” she replied, but the way she threw her arms around his neck seemed to argue she didn’t mean what she said. Instinctually, he hugged her back, and thank Merlin he had her to hold onto as the wind was knocked out of his lungs at her touch. An overwhelming warmth sparkled across every surface their bodies met, and it took every ounce of control he had to restrain the truly pathetic sigh that threatened to escape his throat.

“And I haven’t forgotten,” she spoke into his shoulder, breath hot thorough his t-shirt, “you promised me berry picking this August.”

It would be impossible to miss the rapid beating of his heart through his chest pressed up against hers. “I’m already counting down the days.”

When she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders for a beat longer than expected, his body moved faster than his brain could keep up with. He leaned forward, aiming for her cheek, but miraculously landing against her mouth- connecting for the briefest of moments before parting again, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. If it weren’t for the ghost of her lips still burning against his own, he might have thought he’d dreamt it.

“Lily, I’m not waiting any longer, we’re leaving, now,” came the unpleasant voice of her sister from across the platform.

Lily’s disoriented smile faltered slightly before she composed herself again, meeting his eye. “I’ll see you in August?”

“Yeah, August,” he somehow said with his mouth still tingling, forever changed by what they now knew.

***

The memory of her lips, how they feel pressed between his smile, is harder to ignore when they’re in front of him. He can remember the warmth where they touched him over a month ago and absentmindedly he brings a raspberry to his mouth so he can imagine how she must taste.

His emotions were hard enough to control before he knew what he was missing, but now they are impossible to reign in. He forgets how to breathe, and as a result, his head spins maddeningly. Unsure of how much longer he can stand up straight without making a fool out of himself, he walks forward and lays a hand on Lily’s back- partially to lead her forward, partially because the desire to be connected to her in any way is driving him mad.

She lets him guide her through the rows of bushes, under an ancient wooden archway, and across a courtyard of blossoming poppies and forget-me-nots enclosed by walls of hedges. Yellow and purple petals reflect brilliantly in her green eyes, creating their own fields of wildflowers within her irises. He walks her towards a wide, circular fountain in the middle of the grass where bubbling water spills over onto stone tiers and pours into the basin below, its floor littered with glinting coins, dancing under the water’s rippling surface.

He sits down and she follows suit on the stone ledge surrounding the water, partially shaded by an impressive plum tree. Cool droplets spray off the fountain, refreshing like summer rain singing I love you, I love you, I love you. Lily glances his way and he wonders if she can hear his thoughts.

“Are we finished picking berries?” she asks, eyes squinting and nose crinkling in the sun.

“I figured you had enough to feed a village.” He reaches over and grabs a raspberry from her basket and she gasps in faux outrage.

“Are you really stealing my raspberries, Potter?”

He adores his name on her tongue. “My apologies,” he says, pulling a silver Sickle out of his pocket and sliding it over to where she sits. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “For your troubles. Go on then, make a wish.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up and she takes hold of the coin, lifting it to her heart as she closes her eyes in search of a wish.

He thinks he could look at her forever. Happy, sunkissed, an unconscious smile playing across her lips. With her eyes shut, he uses a minute to take a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart and compose his dopey grin. They’re sitting close together, knees almost touching with the basket of berries between them. As she tosses the Sickle behind her shoulder, he smells the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo.

She noticeably tries to hide her smile when her eyelids flutter back open.

“What did you wish for?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

She freezes with her eyes locked on his. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, growing darker the longer he stares back at her. “I can’t tell you,” she says, words sounding choked, “or else it won't come true.”

Her flushed face awakens something in his chest, a confidence that blooms magnificently, turns his nervous, pattering heartbeat into a steady, powerful drum.

His voice drops to a hoarse whisper when he asks, “Can I guess?”

Her breath hitches. “I think you might already know, James.” Her words, the sound of his name, melts him down to a puddle. By some miracle, she continues speaking. “Look, I know I’ve kissed you before-”

“But I didn’t do it right,” he says frantically, his hands finding her face and brushing through her hair. He starts to understand why people advise against looking directly at the sun because being this close to her fills him with such astounding emotion he thinks he might explode. She stares up at him, blush deepening, lips parting, and he takes a ragged breath. “Can I try again?”

This time, when she smiles, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans in slowly, letting their breath mix together, their noses bump lightly before he closes the space between their lips. She’s soft and warm and beautiful and radiant and he’s never felt a happiness quite like this one, never experienced a kiss this perfect. His fingers travel over her scorching skin and brush her neck as he deepens the kiss, tasting the raspberries on her tongue, his heart soaring as she responds blissfully until they’re both left breathless.

“And again?” she asks, pulling him back with a smile against his lips.

“And again,” he smiles back, marveling, once again, at the kindness of fate.

[isayamasideblog]

PART 2

This will be Eren’s POV. It is part two of this Thank you for waiting! 

I hear rain outside, it’s not heavy or violent, it is peaceful rain... renewing rain. My eyelids feel heavy and I struggle to open my eyes. My head hurts and for the life of me, I can’t remember anything that has happened. Where am I? It feels like I’m on a bed, as I fist the sheets underneath me. Suddenly it hits me! I was inside the titan… where am I? 

I am finally able to open my eyes and I see the rain outside the window. My body is aching and every inch of my body is throbbing. I wipe the fog that has accumulated on the window to get a better view of the outside. It seems like I’m in a cabin, and there’s forest surrounding it. Who brought me here? I move my legs and push them to the side of the bed, and try to get up, but I struggle to get my footing. How long have I been out? 

I hold on to the nightstand next to the bed and notice that my clothes are different from last time. Someone changed my clothes? I shake my head at the thought. I think of the two people that could have done this for me, then shake my head. No… not after everything I’ve told them and the hurt I caused them. They hate me and are probably scared of me. 

I manage to make my way to the kitchen. Someone is cooking something, it’s at a low simmer meaning that they might be out. I look around the small kitchen and sit at the table. I don’t know why, but I feel that I’ve seen this before… but where? As I sit on the table, my eyes feel heavy again. My stomach grumbles, but I am too tired to pay any attention to its demands and I slowly cradle my head in my arms and fall asleep against the table. 

As I rest my head on the table, semi-consciously awake, I hear someone outside. It sounds like they are chopping something. A few moments later they are opening the door. The person seems to drop everything they hold in their hands. I slowly open my eyes to find her staring at me. She is shocked, tears brimming in her eyes. “Mikasa?” I say equally shocked. She looks at the wood she has dropped and quickly picks it up. She sets it on the table and seems nervous as she fidgets with her hands. 

“How are you feeling?” she finally asks. I am at a loss of words, I clear my throat and she quickly gets me a glass of water. I mumble a quiet thanks and clear my throat again. “I am tired, but I feel okay. Mikasa… are we in your parent’s home?” I ask and look around the home. I was only here once on that tragic day, but I remember how it looked. She hums a response and it is quiet again. Whatever it is she’s cooking begins to whistle in the pot and she gets up to turn off the fire. When she opens the pot a pleasant smell takes over the small kitchen and my stomach is the first to speak with a loud grumble. 

“Want some?” she asks. I can’t deny her, since my stomach made it loud and clear that I’m hungry. She carefully looks for a bowl, she knows what cabinet to open, and carefully scoops the food into the bowl. I am somehow entranced watching her do this. It reminds me of when my mother would serve my father and how he’ll impatiently wait for his food. Every single time he would compliment her food and follow it with a kiss. 

When she sets the bowl in front of me, she does it ever-so carefully, not wanting to spill any of it. I gulp, am I nervous? I wonder. The scent of the food fills my nostrils and I shakily lift the spoon she has handed me. I still feel tired, drained, and powerless. 

“I’ll leave you to eat, I need to do some stuff outside,” she says, and before I can taste the food she is out the door. In the old days she would probably force feed me and tell me that I mustn’t get weak. But so much has happened. I don’t really know where to pick up on our… friendship, if I can call it that. 

She probably hates me. Maybe she’s doing this because of her bond to me and not for anything else. I grip the spoon just thinking about it, but it isn’t her fault. If anything, it’s my fault. I let her follow me, I let her be by my side, thus strenghtening the bond. I always thought that I was allowing it for her sake, but I never realized that it was for mine. The realization happened during the first few days of being away from her in Marley. Other times I knew she’d come looking for me, but this time, I knew she wouldn’t, well it was more that she couldn’t. 

I remember the nights I thought about her. My face gets red thinking about it. I still remember how my heart raced after not seeing her for so long. I was on the verge of tears with so many mixed emotions. My heart clenched for how she looked, how sad her eyes were, and how badly I wanted to tell her that I missed her. But I couldn’t, I had a mission, however right now, I don’t know where that mission has gone. 

I take a bite of the food and am instantly comforted, it’s been so long since I’ve eaten her food. Trust me when I say that I tried not to think about her, but the harder I tried the more she’ll appear in my dreams both night and day. I finish the contents in my bowl and look out the window to find that it is still raining. What is she doing out in the rain? I look out the window and see her sitting on a chair in front of a patch of dirt. It looks like it used to be a garden with the way it is shaped. 

“You should come inside,” I say, and she startles when she looks at me. “You should be resting,” she says quietly and turns away. She continues to look at the dirt. Her hair is completely matted wet. Her clothes stick on her, and I try not to pay attention to that. 

“Why’d you bring me here? You didn’t have to do any of this,” I say, trying to push my feelings down. She doesn’t respond at first. “They think you’re dead, both you and I,” she finally says. What? Dead? I don’t have to voice my questions, when she answers, “Armin faked our deaths a week ago, that was the only way you could come out alive.” “You have to stop protecting me, I was sure the bond would be broken by now,” I say with a little more anger than what I’m feeling. 

“Is that why you think I do this?” Despite the rain, I see teardrops fall on her lap. And my throat has gone dry. I don’t know what to say. She covers her face and looks away as she stands up, her fist has gone limp at her side. “Do you know how many days… how many nights I spent worrying over you, wondering where you were, what you were doing… if you were eating right, if I’d see you again-” her voice breaks, and she still won’t face me, “I just want this to be over… it’s that simple.” When she says this she walks away, but I grab her arm before she can go any farther. 

“Tell me why you do this for me?” I ask almost desperately. Mikasa remains in the same position, when she says, “You are important to me, more than anyone… because I love you.” My grip falls from her arm. “Mikasa, I…” is all I can say. We both don’t move for what feels like hours. She must be waiting for something for me to say, but she gives up and is walking away . 

“I missed you,” I blurt out. She stops walking. I feel a chain break from my heart when I confess this, I don’t think I am able to say more, but my heart speaks for me, “No matter where I go, or what I do, you will always be a part of me.” I walk behind her and reach around her with my arms and hug her, I press tighter than I thought I would. Letting her know how much I mean the words. Finally, I mutter a heartfelt, “I am sorry.”

She puts her hand over mine, and turns around. We are face to face, we wait to see what’s going to happen next. “Are you going to leave again?” she asks. She is pained when she says again. And I realize that I am the one that’s always running away and I was hurting her every time I left. Her tears fall, and I gently wipe her cheek with my thumb. She closes her eyes and turns away from me, but I gently make her face me. 

****

I always thought that I was wrong for wanting to do this. That it was wrong of me to want to kiss her and feel her lips on mine. But when our lips met, it felt so right. My hands were calm and steady as I held her face in them. The rain slipped between our faces and dripped down our chins. The forest listened, the trees clapped with the wind. Her hands moved to wrap around my neck and I moved mine to wrap around her waist and lifted her closer to me. If I knew this is what kissing her felt like, I would’ve done things differently. 

When we part, we are both breathless. I push her hair back behind her ear and smile. For the life of me, I can’t remember the last time I did that. She smiles back. We don’t say anything, as we go back inside the home holding hands. We enter the warm home and the thought of calling this place home crosses my mind. We are completely soaked and I absentmindedly take off my shirt. Mikasa blinks her eyes several times before I realize what I did. 

Suddenly, the thought that we’re alone and that there’s no one that could possibly bother us crosses my mind. I’m sure she has had the same realization as she looks everywhere else but me. “I should have a dry shirt around, I’ll be back,” she hurriedly says, but I grab her wrist before she walks away. She is caught by surprise and lowers her gaze to the floor. We stand there in silence, my body knows what it wants, but my mind keeps stopping me. My hand slowly creeps up to rest at the buttons of her blouse. “Can I?” I say breathlessly. She gives a quick nod before looking away. 

I take my time unbuttoning her blouse moving slowly. The steadiness of my hand has abandoned me, as it trembles with every undone button. Her breath is getting heavier and I notice the goosebumps that have risen on her skin. Finally, I am done unbuttoning her blouse, but many things hold me back from removing it. I peek at her exposed torso, and the valley of her breasts. She looks down too, and slowly takes her shirt off. 

She gently places it on the floor and wraps her hands around my neck. When our lips meet again, there is something urgent about the way our lips mold into each other’s. Every movement is a conscious act, every item of clothing removed happens in awkward grace. I graze my hands onto every inch of her body, and she melts into every touch. I am sure the rain is still falling, but I would not know, as her beating heart against my chest and her quiet moans are the only thing that fill my ears. 

***

When the sun peeks through the window the next morning, the sun rays make sure to hit her naked skin. I stare at her and put her hair behind her ear. I kiss her exposed shoulder and move the blanket to cover her. I continue to stare at her and think about what happened last night. A smile creeps up on my face at the thought and I can’t help myself but kiss her cheek. She smiles and blinks her eyes open. I pull her close to me under the blanket and kiss her forehead, then her lips. Why did I deny myself this happiness? 

I whisper a groggy good morning and she nestles herself on my chest. “I won’t be leaving again,” I say meaning every word. Her body trembles for a moment, and her hands hold me tighter, “I won’t let you leave.” I can feel the smile on her face when she says this. Right now, all I want is to hold her close, to make the genuine smile on her face last for as long as time exists, that is my mission for now.

[akp-1327]

dear diary // chapter one

Hi, everyone! This is the first chapter of the new series I’ve started. I hope you enjoy and stick around for future chapters! 💕

Find a series “description” and other detailing here!

Word Count: ~ 5.3k

(*) Warnings: none

July 16th, 2020

Dear Diary,

Nothing would make me happier than to visit the city. The bright lights, the busy streets, the shops, the smell of car exhaust. For all the wonders I’d discover, for all the opportunities I’d face. For the experience, for the fun.

Living in a small town is boring. It’s the same, day after day. Then as soon as you bat an eye, you’ve turned eighteen and have barely left the state. Some would call me a hobbit, some would call me lazy. But it’s hard to get out of town when your family can’t really leave because of their job and you’re too scared to learn how to drive.

The diner that my parents own is great; awesome pancakes, delicious milkshakes, and every single pie flavor you could ever imagine. It’s called the Golden Griddle and it’s located right in the heart of Cedar Cove, Oregon. You’d have to be blind to miss the sunny yellow paint (that’s ever so slowly chipping away, but don’t tell my dad) smeared on the bricks.

Anyway. I’m Charlotte, but you knew that already, didn’t you? Of course you did. Well, if you needed a reminder of my sob-worthy life story...my brother and I are adopted. But you probably remembered that, right? Wow, I need to stop ranting about how you probably remember me. You’re a literal book for God’s sake.

Wait; back on topic. I want to go to see the city. So badly. Oh, and have I mentioned that I got accepted into my dream school? New York University, here I come. How have I not written about that yet? Holy crap. NYU preparations have been coming along nicely. I already have half my room packed and almost all my dorm stuff that my mom insists on buying. My brother Henry, too. He’s going to Ohio State on a football scholarship and a desire to pursue athletic training. Big dreams!

Me, you ask? Good gracious, Diary, stop interrupting! (Oh boy, I’m talking to myself. Skye would laugh...). I’m pursuing acting and theater, of course. A major in drama and a minor in production. I’m chasing the sun here, okay? I am a future Broadway star and actress with dreams as far as the eye can see!

I am ecstatic to make the big move at the beginning of August. More updates to come. Sorry if this ending was abrupt. My dad made his famous chili tonight and I gotta go get it while it’s hot and before Henry inhales it all like the vacuum he is.

Yours, Charlotte :)

*

*

The faint, familiar smell of spices filled my senses as I put the old and tattered diary down. It was a gift I got years and years ago from a friend, but I never used it. May as well start before the wild ride of my new life starts, right?

I threw my blonde hair into a bun as I walked out of my room, avoiding boxes piled up high on the floor. Right as I stepped into the hallway, however, my foot met a ball of fluff curled right outside my doorway.

“Aw, Cooper,” I cooed, leaning down and scooping the little snowball I called a dog into my arms, cradling him close, “you’re missing all the food downstairs, buddy!”

A small whimper came from him as I made my way down the stairs. Henry was spread out on the couch and watching some sort of European soccer, er, football on the TV.

“Hey, just in time!” Henry smiled, waving me over to sit next to him. I obliged, setting Cooper down onto the floor and taking a seat next to him. 

...It was crazy how he was twice my size. And how I was the older one by three whole minutes.

“What’s up, Henry?” I asked, nudging his arm. A laugh escaped his throat as he gestured to the screen and unpaused the video (wait, it was paused this entire time?). I watched the screen to see a player get hit in the head with a soccer ball.

“Hah!” Henry laughed, his deep pitch echoing off the walls. I gasped and swatted his arm.

“Henry! Laughing at someone else’s pain is so rude! What if he got a concussion that ended his career?” I said, a twinge of amusement in my tone. All in all, I loved to see my brother get all flustered. He was such a goody-two-shoes that even something like this comment would make him blow a gasket--

“He’s laughing, sis. I don’t think the dude’s hurt.” Henry said, his tone smug. Maybe college was finally really going to his head.

I shook my head with both surprise and disappointment as I stood up, gesturing for the walking vacuum to follow suit. “C’mon, knucklehead. Dinner’s almost ready.”

We both walked into the kitchen to see the finishing arrangements being set up for dinner; Mom was retrieving bowls and utensils as Dad strained the water from the elbow macaroni at the sink.

“You two are in here early,” Mom teased, giving us a side glare as she placed the bowls and spoons on the counter, “what about?”

A sweet, innocent smile crossed my face as I batted my eyelashes at her. “It just smells so good that I couldn’t stay away!”

“I’ve heard that one before, you jest. Come get your bowls.” Mom chuckled, stepping away. Henry and I grabbed a bowl right as Dad turned to us.

“Get it while it’s hot!” Dad said, grabbing a bowl of his own. Henry and I both dove for the noodles and chili, somehow managing to get our servings without making a complete mess like we usually do. It’s crazy to think of how people mature over time...

The old seats at the table squeaked as we all sat down and started to dig into our chili. A comfortable silence blanketed the table and just as I got used to it, Mom broke it.

“So, you two have been packing, yes? Even the stuff you aren’t bringing?” Mom asked sweetly, dabbing a napkin at the corners of her mouth. She’d always been the politest one in the family; too bad no one else at the table had her mannerisms.

“My room is basically packed except for some of my clothes and books,” I said in between chews of the (extremely hot) chili in my mouth, “but otherwise I’m good.”

Henry nodded and pointed his thumb at me, his eyes never leaving his bowl. “Mhmm.”

“That’s great! Your flights leave in only a matter of days!” Dad cheered, giving Mom a high five. It was such a weird but common thing to see parents do: act like teenagers.

“You sound excited about that?” Henry questioned. I looked over to see half his bowl already gone. 

Mom heaved a sigh.

“We’re excited for you both to finally experience the world. We can’t wait for your lives to truly start!” Mom said, a smile encompassing her features. Her kind, brown eyes flitted between Henry and me.

“You two have the world at your fingertips,” Dad added, glancing at Mom. They shared a fond look. 

At that moment, for the briefest second, I wished that I had a connection like that; a soulmate, someone who you could spill your heart out to. Someone who you could love and be loved by. Someone who’d want nothing more than to see you happy. 

Also at that moment, I decided that I would make it a small goal of mine to make this wish come true during my time at NYU.

*

*

My blankets were soft around my legs as I sat propped up against my pillows. Leila and I had been talking on the phone all night. I felt like I was in that moment in Mean Girls where Gretchen was switching between Cady, Karen, and Regina. Except...I wasn’t switching between anyone at the moment. 

Leila Maciel is my best friend. She’s someone with a sarcastic personality and a snarky remark to anything. She’s as smart as a whip and could, without a doubt, put you in your place if you stepped out of line with her intimidating strength. Though, she also has a soft and caring side that she only reveals to those who she deems trustworthy. A confident, kind, and bold girl indeed. 

We’ve been friends for our entire high school careers, but it feels like I’ve known her my entire life.

During our freshman year, Leila was in an extremely toxic relationship. Her ex-girlfriend, a “sweet” but a rather manipulative girl, was to blame for our friendship. This girl, Sadie, ticked all of Leila’s boxes; beautiful, smart, compassionate, sweet... 

Remember that Leila and I had only known each other for a month at this point.

Leila and Sadie’s relationship was adorable from the outside. Both bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen with hearts in their eyes. It was something you’d see in a more realistic version of High School Musical because let’s be real...those movies aren’t realistic. (I still love them, though!)

About a year into their relationship, though, Sadie transformed from sweet to sour. She used Leila to get what she wanted like she was her very own puppet. Her antics ranged from cheating on tests to almost stealing a designer handbag before I intervened. Then, like the cherry on top of this extremely nasty sundae, Sadie revealed that she cheated on Leila with a college girl for the majority of their relationship. Let’s just say that their relationship was terminated seconds after that bombshell blew up.

Leila was broken for months. She truly believed that she loved Sadie, but upon further examination, I found that Leila felt guilty whenever she had the opportunity to say no. It had never been any sort of love; it was an obligation. Also after that relationship, Leila decided that instead of focusing on liking girls, she’d be open and love anyone. She was sick of limits.

So, here we are today.

Now, as we talked on the phone, I thought about how she’d also be going to NYU, majoring in business. We were roommates! It was like a dream come true.

“Uh, Charlotte?” Leila asked with a laugh. “You alive?”

Reality snapped back into place as I blinked my eyes rapidly. “Oh, uh, yeah. What’d you say?”

“Did you buy a fan for our dorm?” Leila asked monotonously. This made me laugh for some odd reason. “Dear Lord, what’s so funny?”

Honestly, though. What was funny, Charlotte? One could say that I was losing my mind.

“I don’t know, spur of the moment? But otherwise, yes; I got the one you pointed out at Target.” I said, surprising myself with how even my voice sounded. A familiar hum came from the other end of the line in response.

“Cool. Then you’re all set to go for next week?” Leila asked, her voice making it sound like she was smiling. I laughed again and nodded to myself.

“Yes!” Was all I could say.

Leila’s sigh was so loud that I could swear that I felt her breath through the phone. “You’re not stressing out over this, are you?”

My eyes widened at her question. Was I stressing out about this? I’d been packing for days on end without breaks. I had folded, re-folded, and re-re-folded all of my clothes several times in my duffel bag. I had splurged on so many things, like that fan Leila mentioned, without a second thought. I don’t think I’ve had a proper shower in almost a week; I was too busy being a nervous wreck.

“Maybe a little bit, but not too much,” I responded, my tone a bit somber as I tried to conceal my lie. My fingers twirled the fringed fabric of my tie blanket around as I waited for Leila’s retort.

“Stressing out over this is like a circle, Charlotte. It’s pointless,” Leila said, her voice starting to reveal her exhaustion, “and you need to relax. We’ll be fine.”

Thoughts buzzed through my mind as I contemplated her words. Would we be fine? Is “fine” even the correct word to describe this situation? How about rephrasing the entire statement entirely by saying “there is a chance that we’ll survive, but it definitely ain’t high.”? That version was more accurate, in all honesty. Moving across the country for school didn’t sound like a situation that could only earn the word “fine”.

“Aren’t you worried, though? A big city, a new city, a scary city...we’re diving into the deep end here, Leila! We have no idea what the hell we’re doing!” I panicked, squeezing my eyes closed.

Now it was Leila’s turn to laugh uncontrollably. Though, hers was more of a witch’s cackle.

“Wow, okay. First of all, we’ll stick together. Second, not knowing what we’re doing is all apart of the college experience. We’ll seriously be okay if we stick together.” Leila assured, still laughing - she never was the sympathetic type in these types of situations.

“If you think so, then I guess I need to believe it.” I yawned, tucking myself further into my blankets. Leila broke out into a yawn as well, making me think that she was actually tired for once (the girl was the definition of a night owl).

“We should get some sleep. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.” Leila stated. I could imagine her rolling her brown eyes at her own words. A laugh escaped me instead of the hum I intended on.

“Jesus, why do you keep laughing? Why do you have so much energy?” Leila groaned, making my laughter subside.

“I honestly don’t know, I’m a complete and utter mess. We’ll text tomorrow?” I suspired, resting my arm over my eyes to completely block out this embarrassing reality.

“You bet. Love you lots.” Leila said. Her declarations of love truly became more meaningful after that whole spectacle with Sadie. She had a ginormous heart of gold beneath that rough exterior.

“Love you more! Good night!” I said, hanging up after she murmured a farewell. I tossed my phone onto the soft fabric of my blanket and stared up at the ceiling, a nostalgic feeling washing over me. All of the nights during elementary school where I’d do this exact thing, except I would be thinking about my Barbie dolls or my recess adventures. Now, I thought about the future and what waited for me.

College better live up to its well-known reputation.

*

*

Before I could comprehend what was even happening, I was standing in the middle of Portland’s airport with the arms of my family around me. 

Days legitimately whizzed past with nothing short of a greeting. I mean, it was already August 4th...somehow.

“You have all your bags, right?” Dad asked, his voice wavering the slightest bit. I looked down at my belongings for the fourth time; a large duffel bag of clothes, a chest full of dorm stuff and personal items (including that stupid fan, yes), and a very large and heavy carry-on stuffed with all of my technology. And, for the fourth time, I confirmed that I had everything.

“It’s all here, Dad. For the last time.” I giggled, shaking my head. He could only respond with his usual eye roll and grin.

“What about Leila? Are you completely positive that she’s on your flight?” Mom asked, her eyes inspecting mine. A sigh freed itself from my lungs as I nodded.

“She’s already waiting for me by the baggage area, Mom. You even saw her when we walked in, remember?” I stated, returning her inspecting gaze as she fondly smiled in remembrance.

My hands were reaching down to pick up my bags before Henry lightly punched my shoulder. “Wait, whoa, where’s the love, sis?”

“It’s hiding from you,” I teased, punching his shoulder before I pulled him close for a tight hug, “I’m gonna miss you bunches, you know.”

Henry’s grip tightened before he pulled back to show me the tears in his eyes. I gave him a sad smile, knowing that familiar look in his eye; he agreed but didn’t want to admit it.

“Don’t worry, Henry. I’ll only be a call away if you ever need to talk to me,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders, “and I’ll be a nine hours’ drive away if you ever need me in person.”

He cracked a smile that was identical to my own and let out a deep breath that turned into a shaky laugh.

“Shut up, midget. Go catch your flight.” Henry laughed, shaking his head to compose himself. His blonde hair was tucked away in a red hat with a big, fancy ‘O’ embroidered in gray and black on its face. My heart swelled with pride to see it, too.

“Ditto!” I laughed while reaching down to grab my bags. “Well, I ought to get going. Leila’s been waiting on me for a while”

“Travel safely and call us when you land, no matter the time!” Mom said, hugging Dad and pulling Henry close. My eyes burned with tears as I nodded.

“Can do,” I shakily breathed, “I love you guys.”

Mom blew kisses my way and Dad smiled. Even Henry gave me a rare, genuine grin. I waved, and with a final glance, turned around and headed to the gate that was just behind me without looking back.

The weight of the bags in my hands doubled with each step towards Leila. She was sitting in the waiting area, her bags all around her, scrolling through her phone. Her straight black shoulder length hair was accessorized with a jade green headband, matching her comfy outfit that consisted of a matching jade green tee and a pair of workout leggings.

“Took you long enough, you slowpoke!” Leila smiled, patting the blue seat next to her as she tucked her phone in her backpack. I dropped my bags in relief as I sat down next to her. “How emotional were your parents?”

“Enough to make me almost cry?” I laughed, wiping the wetness below my eyes. “Well, maybe I did cry a little.”

Leila laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It doesn’t take much to make you cry, Charlotte. But I am beyond glad to see that you held in most of your alligator tears.”

We both laughed, though our laughter faded after about a minute, turning into a stressed silence...

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” I said while taking a deep breath. After almost a year of building up the nerves, the day was finally here.  College...adulthood...life...

Leila turned to me, her eyes showing the most vulnerability that I’ve ever seen in them, and took a deep breath with me. “We may be crazy, but at least we’re crazy together.”

*

*

Bag security was a surprising breeze; little to no lines and no troubles. The security guys even smiled at me. Talk about weird.

Waiting for the flight time was tiring. I did, however, get a text from Henry saying that he’d successfully reached his gate and would be taking off for Ohio at dusk. So that was at least something to keep me occupied for a good two minutes.

Another distraction was to play matchmaker with Leila. It was our favorite pastime in high school, so why not continue the tradition?

“Ooh, that business guy over there wearing the red tie, and...” Leila trailed off, scanning the rows of seats until her eyes focused on a woman talking animatedly on the phone only a few feet away, “her.”

“Wait, the Adrian Raines-looking guy paired with that preppy woman?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Leila hummed with approval next to me, making me cringe immediately; why, and how, would that work? They were polar opposites!

“Leila, listen. He looks like the type of guy that’d bite your head off if you gave him the wrong coffee order and she looks like the type of girl to organize a charity event. It’s all in the eyes and the cheekbones, even the eyebrows.” I explained, shaking my head. Leila, however, disagreed like she always did.

“They’d balance each other out. He’d soften up and she’d harden up. It’s that simple! Plus, it helps that they’re both very attractive...” Leila smirked, her eyes examining them both with a wistful sigh.

“And they’re probably much older than us, so don’t even get ahead of yourself.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “But back on topic. Are you talking about the whole ‘opposites attract’ lore? Because that’s just not...plausible. Maybe it is in the movies--”

Leila let out an exasperated breath that hindered the rest of my thought. “It is plausible, though! Just think about how you would feel in this situation. Would you want a guy who has a prickly exterior and a mushy-gushy heart?”

My heart started to palpitate as my hands started to sweat. I have learned to loathe Leila’s ‘boy talk’ because it’d always turn into her setting me up with guys that were either way out of my league or guys that just didn’t meet my expectations.

Her question, though, did deserve some deep thought. I guess I can set my pride aside for a mere second and give her some sort of approbation...

So, the question on the table: did I really have a thing for those types of people? Snarky but also impossibly soft? I guess I’ve never really been invested in relationships of my own. The idea of romance, sure, but not for me. It just never really seemed as important as the ACT or my GPA. I’m starting to regret my valedictorian title; I focused so hard on my studies that I forgot about the fun aspect of high school like the average, rebellious boyfriend with a leather coat and a motorcycle.

“You know what, Leila?” I started, carefully testing this ground as to not lead her down the matchmaking rabbit hole, “I would like a guy like that. A sarcastic and snarky guy with a secret soft side? Yes, please. Oh, and glasses that he’d push up his nose when he was frustrated? Even better.”

An uncharacteristic snicker escaped Leila; she was never one to snicker like that, and now that I actually think about it, our boy talk always had that stereotypical effect on her. Man, this hobby was melting her brain. Is there any research out there on how the quietest whisper of romance can turn the human brain to goo? If so, I need to get my hands on it ASAP. 

“I knew that you had a thing for that! I’ve been scoping this out for years, Charlotte!”

Of course she has.

“Glad you’ve been looking out for me. That or stalking me, but that’s up to you.” I teased, bumping my shoulder with hers only to receive a tired groan in response.

“Oh, hush. You know exactly how damn predictable you can be sometimes. Don’t even try to contradict that, either.” Leila stated, giving me a side glare. I gave her a bright, innocent smile in response as I fiddled with my duffel bag’s handles.

My mouth opened to bring up another round of matchmaker, but I was overpowered by a loud speaker.

“Flight one-hundred two for New York boarding at gate fifty-six!” A voice said gently over the speakers. Leila and I instantly looked at each other with the same anxious looks that slightly weirded me out.

“Um, Leila--” I stammered, trailing off as Leila hopped up and started to grab her things. She wore the biggest and brightest smile when she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

“C’mon, slowpoke! We gotta go! Move those short legs of yours!” Leila beamed, grabbing my duffel bag with her open hand. Before I could retort, I was ushered into standing and walking towards the luggage area.

“Alright, eager one, slow down a bit?” I asked through a huff. Only two months off of the cheer team and away from drama and I’m already bent out of shape.

Leila threw my duffel bag and her own suitcase onto the conveyor belt and so I followed suit.

This...this entire experience was moving faster than I expected.

*

*

The plane ride wasn’t really all that exciting. Just Leila falling asleep on me, like I expected. Throw in a couple packs of peanuts, a dash of watching Dirty Dancing and Grease religiously, and a sprinkle of a baby’s obnoxious tantrum...and you end up with the definition of a typical plane ride.

Woo, college. Already kicking off with such an exciting start.

*

*

We were about thirty minutes out from The Big Apple when Leila finally woke up from her sleep. I felt my shoulder lighten and then felt the instant soreness from the five and a half hour flight.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked, busying myself by pausing Dirty Dancing on its second playthrough. Of course it was right as Baby started to awkwardly dance down the staircase and onto the bridge.

Leila’s response didn’t come when I thought it would, so I looked over to see if she fell back asleep on the plane’s wall. To my surprise, I saw that her eyes were glued to a figure a few seats over. 

The girl who sat there had this gorgeous auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her black headphones stood out against her pale complexion and revealed the slightest trace of taupe freckles scattered about her cheeks. Also from the girl’s side profile, you could just barely see the tint of matte black lipstick on her lips.

A gentle but teasing smile formed when I looked back over at a wide-eyed Leila, her cheeks now starting to redden with embarrassment.

“See someone you like over there?” I asked, softly nudging her arm with my own. She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly before turning her attention to me.

“I thought she was snoring?” Leila stammered, now rubbing her tired eyes. I looked back over at the girl - her head bobbing slightly to whatever she’d been playing on her laptop - and let out a laugh.

“Sorry to break it to you, Leila, but she’s completely awake.”

Leila whipped her head back around to see and then let another deep blush cover her cheeks. It was hard to notice against her olive skin, though it deepened enough to see from miles away.

“Okay, um, she was snoring a little bit ago. I swear on your life.” Leila said, pressing her hands to hide her bright red cheeks. 

I let out another laugh. She had never let herself get this flustered...ever. This was so rare that I’d only ever seen it once and that was back in high school. Leila locked eyes for a solid twenty seconds with a junior guy named Michael Harrison at lunch during our freshman year. She couldn’t stop blushing or stuttering for the rest of the day, and that’s not mentioning the dejected look she had when Michael walked out of the building with an unfamiliar girl on his arm after school.

As expected, Leila only responded to me with her notorious deadly side glare.

“Shut up right this instant, Charlotte Parker.” She hissed between her gritted teeth.

Did I listen? Of course not.

“Looks like Miss Maciel has been struck by Cupid’s arrow...” I teased, dramatically leaning into her lap with my hand against my forehead. She grumbled and leaned her head on her palm, looking out the window. After I sat up, I could see her brown eyes flit over in the girl’s direction every once in a while and couldn’t hold back my smile. Not teasing, but happy.

I knew that wistful look in her eye well enough to know that she’d been enamored.

*

*

The plane landed at about seven in the evening. Before getting off the plane, I looked over to the girl. She was frantically putting her computer away in it’s decorated case. I saw a patch with the familiar NYU bobcat...right next to another patch with the name “Skye” in this sort of horror-ish calligraphy.

Huh.

“I think her name is Skye,” I said, leaning in to whisper to Leila, “and I think she’s going to NYU.”

Leila glanced over as she stuffed her neck pillow (that she never used) in her bag.

“Cool. Um...Skye, you said?” Leila said, a blush blooming across her cheeks again. 

I’m seriously loving this.

“Yep, Skye. Maybe she’s a freshman like us?” I said. Leila bit her thin bottom lip.

“Maybe,” Leila said, a smirk crossing over her features, “just...maybe.”

*

*

Waiting for our luggage was so boring. I decided that it was even worse than waiting for our fight.

“Ah, it’s mine!” I heard a girl a few feet away from my tired figure cheer. She rushed forward to grab a gaudy pink suitcase bedazzled with fake gems. Leila pretended to gag next to me.

“Gross,” Leila sighed, though her eyes suddenly lit up, “hey, wait, those are our bags!”

She pointed toward a cluster of familiar bags on the conveyor.

“Ah! C’mon!” I stammered, rushing forward and grabbing them. We both started to laugh as we lugged them off.

“Jesus, this is heavier than I remember.” Leila huffed, lifting her bag onto her shoulder. I did the same, though almost toppled over because of the weight.

“Are we sure that these are ours?” I asked, unzipping the duffel bag to see my familiar coat. Relief flooded my features as I looked back at Leila.

Her face was a sickly greenish pale.

“Uh, Charlotte, this...this isn’t...” Leila stuttered, carefully shuffling through the bag. There were lots of black sweaters and lots of striped shirts. A couple pairs of ripped jeans, a few rock band tees along with an NYU sweatshirt...and a tag on the strap.

I reached out for the black tag on the strap and flipped it over. It read...

Skye...Crandall?

“Leila, remember that girl from the plane?” I asked, showing her the tag. Her face immediately fell, though I could see the flame of hope flickering in her deep brown irises.

“Oh. My. God.” Leila groaned, taking the tag into her hand. “You’re kidding. Charlotte, this seriously isn’t happening right now.”

Despite her panicked state, I laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

“I’m officially calling you Eliza Schuyler because you are helpless!” I giggled, doubling over. Leila loudly sighed.

“No, no no no...” Leila whispered, zipping the bag closed, “how are we going to find her now? I bet she left already with my bag.”

I sadly let my laughter subside as I wiped the humored tears from my eyes, being careful to not let my light layer of mascara run or smudge into a huge mess. That was the last thing I needed right now.

“Alright. Well, I think we should wait and see if your bag is still here. We don’t know for sure that she has it,” I stated, patting Leila’s shoulder, “but if it doesn’t show, we’ll track this Skye girl down and give her the right bag. Okay?”

Leila nodded, her face still contorted with a mixed emotion of annoyance and helplessness.

“Welcome to New York, where we lose your freaking bags and make you chase after freaking girls that you like,” Leila mumbled in a bad imitation of a New York accent, pinching the bridge of her slender nose.

“So you do admit it! Aww!” I cooed, booping her nose. She caught my wrist and gave me another glare, though this one was downright teasing.

“Shut it or I will mercilessly write on your face tonight with a Sharpie while you sleep,” Leila teased, “but let’s get going. We still gotta find our dorm and the sun’s already starting to set.”

I nodded and gathered up my stuff, taking another look back at the conveyor...

“Oh, everyone’s gone?” I questioned, my eyes scanning the now empty area around us. Leila rolled her eyes and started to drag me along towards the masses of people with her free hand.

“Yes, but now let’s go find this girl before I lose my mind. I need my bag and I can bet that she needs hers.”

[elfrootaddict]

HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 4/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 3

Lana bursts into her cabin, slamming the door shut behind her and drops to the floor. Releasing her belongings from her tense grip, she allows them to fall where they may. Her breathing is heavy as her heart thrashes wildly inside her chest. With so much adrenaline surging through her body, her hands begin to shake uncontrollably as she brings them to her face.

Lana is all too familiar with having a temper, but the pure rage she’s feeling from this outburst has never happened before. Not ever. Especially towards someone she barely knows. How is it that possible that only moments ago she was laughing and enjoying his company. But now? Now she feels like a wild, savage beast wanting to claw Solas’s face off.

How dare he say such things? How dare he have such hatred towards people he’s never even met before? People, who I love more than life itself!

And yet, how can she allow herself to get so provoked? He was only expressing his opinion. Is she to get this enraged every time somebody vexes her? Shouldn’t she be used to the notion that the Dalish are ostracised, perhaps even by her own kind?

Lana brings her knees in towards her chest as she scrapes her fingers through her hair. She closes her eyes and takes several minutes to try and calm herself down; taking in deep breaths through the nose and exhaling out the mouth, just like the Keeper always instructed her to do.

Except this time, it isn’t working.

Resting her arms on her knees, she drops her head and quietly begins to weep. Her chest pounding at a rapid rhythm until finally she takes in one deep breath and releases a much louder, desperate wail. She brings her head back, hitting the cabin door, and brings her trembling hands up towards her face to help quieten down the volume of her cries. 

And the tears keep falling. And falling. And falling.

Is she really that angry at Solas? No, not particularly. She is indeed offended towards his tackless accusations but when it comes down to it… 

Lana is terrified. Beyond belief.

“Blend-in as best as you can mir da’vhenan, and discover the nature of this meeting. Return to me and report what has happened. Nothing more and nothing less. Ar lath, ma da’len. May the gods guide your steps.” 

Lana realises that once word of the Conclave got to the Free Marches, and then to her clan, the Keeper would logically assume Lana had died with all the rest. In fact, Keeper Zatlen of clan Alassan has probably already sent word to the Keeper, and the clan has already planted a tree in Lana’s memory somewhere in the forest. Knowing the Keeper’s cautious behaviour, she would most likely move the clan to the safest location she knows because of the anticipated chaos between the mages and the templars. 

And Lana knows that once they move, there would be no possible way of finding them again on her own. She is no scout or hunter, and only just managed to get here by following the Keeper’s strict instructions. Sure, she could go back to Kirkwall’s harbour somehow and travel through the cravis in the Vinmark Mountains, but then where would she go? East? West? North?

I will never see them again. The Keeper. Lhoris. Tamara. My home. I won’t be there for Lhoris and Tamara’s bonding ceremony. I won’t be able to see them raise their little ones. I won’t even be there to help the Keeper as she ages.

Lana looks down at the papers scattered around her with the ink spilled across the floor, and quietly whimpers as she begins to clean up the mess.

Lana wipes the tears from her face and looks around the cabin. With the sun almost completely set, the cabin is nearly pitch dark, and she can hardly make out much, save for a single candle’s silhouette on the windowsill. With only a flick of the wrist, Lana murmurs a spell and lights the wick. The small flame fills the room with a warm, soft glow which is when she notices a large bowl laying on the table. 

Taking in a long, deep breath, and feeling somewhat calmer after that much needed cry, she forces herself up as she wipes her dripping nose with her sleeve, and slumps towards the bowl.

Lana murmurs a basic enchantment and fills the bowl with cold, fresh water. She then cups her hands in the liquid and splashes the water against her blotchy and tired face.

Lana leans against the table, hands placed on either side of the bowl and stares at her distorted reflection in the water’s rippling surface. As the water slowly begins to settle, Lana leans in closer and notices a large, dark line across her mouth. And with a quick gesture, she stills the water to get a better look. 

“Creators…”

Still struggling to see under the current light, Lana glares at the meek, little candle light and significantly enhances its flame size. 

Now satisfied by the more sufficient lighting, Lana uses one hand to hold her hair back as she leans in even closer to the water’s surface. And that’s when she gasps.

Using her free hand, Lana slowly glides her fingers across the massively brazen laceration starting from the left corner of her top lip and all the way down to her chin.

By the dread wolf, how long have I had this?

Lana turns her face from side to side and notices another laceration across her right cheek. This one is not as large, but it's deeper and also new. She’s grateful that at least her vallaslin is still intact. 

Suddenly, a knock at her cabin door startles her. Lana whips her head around, stabilises the candle’s flame, and pretends she isn’t there. She is in no mood for any company.

“Lana?”

Nope.

“It’s me... your friendly neighbourhood dwarf.”

Funny. But, still no.

And for a short while, neither one says anything until…

“I have food...”

Lana’s stomach instantly grumbles. Releasing a soft sigh, Lana realises that she needs a warm meal more than pretending to not exist at the moment.

Desperate to appear nonchalant, Lana quickly brushes her fingers through her hair and straightens out her clothes as she walks towards the door. Taking in a deep breath, Lana opens the door by only a few inches, and peers through the small gap, as she is still in shock and deeply insecure about the scar across her lip.

Standing in the cold on the cabin’s porch is Varric, with two steaming bowls of Fereldan’s typical, hearty stew; chunky vegetables in a broth, and if the hunters had been lucky, there would be a few pieces of animal meat, too.

Varric stretches his arm out with one and Lana takes it gratefully, “Thank you, Varric. That’s really nice of you. I could have helped myself, you know? You didn’t have to come all the way here.” 

Varric huffs with a playfully dismissive hand wave, “It was no trouble. And I figured with everything going on, you most likely haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”

Lana releases a gentle smile and sways her head from side to side.

“Thought so. Well, now that I’ve fulfilled my neighbourly duty for the day. I’ll see you ‘round, El.”

Lana smiles sheeply at Varric for calling her El, as it reminds her of Lhoris, and as much as she wants to wallow in self-pity, she could really talk to somebody who isn’t in the Inquisition's inner circle, a Chantry priestess or Creators-forbid… Solas. 

She could use a good evening with somebody who could potentially be called a friend.

“Varric...” calls Lana, and Varric turns around to regard her with a gentle smile, “You can come in if you like? If you want to, of course. I don’t want to intrude on your evening plans or anything.”

“If by ‘plans’ you mean waiting around for the world to end?” and shrugs his shoulders sarcastically. “I think I can push that back.”

Lana laughs and lets Varric in.

Once Lana closes the door behind them, she frantically looks about the room for a place to seat her guest, “You can sit... here.” and quickly puts her evening meal down on the table as she drags the only chair in the cabin out for Varric.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, I’m happy standing.”

Lana stops moving the chair towards him as she is unsure of what to do next. She isn’t used to entertaining “guests” and doesn’t know what the “rules” are. So instead, she settles for an awkward stare down.  

“Come on,” persists Varric as he moves himself to the corner of the table, placing his bowl down. “I insist.” and gestures for Lana to take the chair. 

Lana releases a sheepish grin, brings the chair in towards the table and sits down, “Thank you.” and brings her bowl in closer as they both dig into their meal.

“So,” begins Varric. “Now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than just one day.”

Taking a big gulp of her stew, “I have no idea what’s happening anymore.”

Varric chuckles, “That makes two of us. For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement,” Varric pauses and looks down into his steaming meal. “I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.” 

Lana brings a spoonful of hot broth up-to her mouth and then slowly sips at the edges of the spoon.

Varric stops stirring his vegetables around and sighs, “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this,” shaking his head and looking mournfully at Lana. “Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them! And now there’s a hole in the sky? Even I can't even walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, thank you for staying. The Breach needs to be sealed. The sooner the better.”

“If it can be sealed,” Varric leans against the cabin walls and looks at Lana for a moment as he contemplates something, and then moves in closer to whisper. “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognise where this is going,” and leans back to take a spoonful of stew. “Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Lana looks down at her bowl and begins to lose herself in the bobbing vegetable chunks in her stew, “I wish everybody else saw it that way. I’m just... me.”

Varric pushes away his empty bowl and sighs. “Look, I’m just going to say it…” and Lana looks up at Varric puzzled. “That stew was... terrible!”

Lana relaxes and laughs with a light and pleasant sound, “It’s not the best, is it?”

“Are you kidding?” Varric fans his fingers across his chest dramatically. “Even I could make a better stew than this nug-shit, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, I’m not a very good cook either. I suppose I never had to really learn. We always had at least two people dedicated to preparing the meals back home.”

Varric leans against the cabin wall again and crosses his arms over his chest, “You’re from the Marchers, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Pointing his thumb up towards himself, “Kirkwall.”

Lana smiles widens as she cries out, “I had no idea! What a small world! I’ve only been to Kirkwall once, although I’ve only been in the harbour mind you. Up until recently, I had never been anywhere else. Only Tamara would go to the towns or cities to trade with the shems.”

“Tamara?”

Lana shakes her head at her foolishness, “Oh right, sorry. Tamara is one of my clan’s merchants,” and pauses before murmuring. “But to me, she’s more like a sister.”

With kind and caring eyes, Varric attempts to console Lana. “You must miss her. Has Liliana managed to contact your clan yet?”

Digging and fumbling around in her almost empty bowl, Lana looks up at Varric with confusion. “No?”

“Maker’s breath!” cries Varric. “Okay, first thing tomorrow morning, find Liliana and tell her you need to contact your clan.”

“That’s sweet Varric but news of the Conclave would have reached them by now. They probably think I’m dead and moved on. I wouldn’t know how to find them.”

Varric leans across the table and looks at Lana with a confidant grin. “Trust me, Liliana can find them. Don’t you worry about that, kiddo.”

“Really?” 

Varric stands up straight, crosses his arms over his chest and simply nods.

Lana quietly judges Varric’s confidence, and realises that if Liliana really can find her clan, then that means she can allow herself to hope to be reunited with her family once everything is over.

“I would be truly grateful! Thank you, Varric.”

“No problem,” Varric drops his arms and scratches the back of his head, “Man, I’m glad to have a warm meal but Maker’s breath, that was just awful.”

Lana releases another carefree laugh but is instantly interrupted by another sudden and unexpected knock at the door.

Varric turns his head towards the door and looks back at Lana with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrow, “Expecting someone?”

Realising his carnal insinuation, Lana blushes and cries out, “Creators! No!” and Varric laughs wildly while she calls towards the door, “Who is it?”

And a quiet, soothing voice answers back, “Solas. Apologies for the intrusion, but I was hoping for only a moment of your time?”

Lana's pleasant mood visibly dissipates and she slumps into her chair, rolls her eyes and releases a loud groan. Which causes Varric to raise both eyebrows in surprise at her sudden, dramatic shift in mood. She then shoves the chair back, causing a loud screech on the wooden floor and marchers over to the door. 

With one swift motion, Lana opens the door wide enough to clearly indicate she isn’t alone and that Solas is indeed intruding on her very pleasant evening.

“Oh,” gasps Solas as he looks at Varric, who waves back at him awkwardly. “I didn’t realise you had company.” 

With one hand on the door and the other resting on her hip, Lana snaps. “Is there something you need, Solas?”

Solas looks back at Lana, “It’s no matter. I will find you-”

“You know what,” mutters Varric from inside the cabin as he grabs both bowls. “I was just about to leave anyway,” and walks towards the door, and past the two very clearly, upset elves. “So if you don’t mind me El, I think I’ll be heading off. It was good catching up.”

Varric staying is the only reasonable excuse Lana can use to dismiss Solas. But with her excuse literally walking out the door, Lana desperately cries out, “Varric, there’s really no need-”

“It’s no problem,” insists Varric. “I need a few mugs of ale to wash down this stew anyhow,” and begins walking questionably fast as he shouts without looking back, “See you kids in the morning!” and leaves Lana and Solas to watch him disappear into the darkness.

Eventually Lana murmurs, “Good night...”

Shit.

With his arms behind his back, Solas turns back around and looks down at Lana, who is still blocking the entrance to the cabin. 

Feeling his gaze on her, Lana ultimately looks back at him in return. Neither one says anything.

Well, this is just GREAT.

And as if they were in one of Varric’s cheesy romance novels, they both speak up at the same time. 

Lana releases a forced, awkward laugh and averts her gaze while Solas holds his own without managing to break eye contact. 

Clearly uncomfortable and wanting to get out of the cold, Lana attempts to speak first, “Do you... do you want to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Lana steps aside, allowing Solas in and closes the door behind him. Still lingering at the entrance, she turns around and watches him stride to the middle of the room and then turn back around to face her. His shoulders pulled back, standing perfectly poised and straight.

Lana isn’t sure what to do now, so she folds her arms across her chest and looks around the room awkwardly. 

Why is he just staring at me?

With a calm and controlled voice, Solas finally breaks the tension, “I wanted to apologise. Again. It seems I am constantly finding new ways to offend you,” Lana flicks her gaze back at him, visibly surprised. “I should not have allowed my previous experience with the Dalish to cloud my opinion of your clan. I regretfully admit that I have indeed ‘painted you with the same brush’ so to speak. And for that, I’m sorry.”

By his mannerism and delivery, it is clearly evident that Solas really means every word. He truly is regretful and Lana finds herself shamefully surprised.

After their confrontation, she had decided that he was an arrogant, selfish man who relishes in being superior in knowledge, intellect and rare experiences as a dreamer. 

But now?

Lana visibly relaxes her tense shoulders and feebly murmurs, “Thank you.”

Solas turns his gaze away from Lana and walks towards the window, the candle’s light subtly highlighting the edges of his silhouette, “You see, I have wondered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. I have offered to share my knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition. Most care very little about improving their lives. They already consider themselves perfect, the sole keepers of elven lore,”

Solas drops his head and closes his eyes, “Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say someone isn’t worth listening to,” and he turns his head around with his eyes giving away his pain. “Over time, it grinds away at you.”

Lana can’t stop herself from staring at him as she left completely lost for words. His misery and suffering tugging at her empathic heart.

Lana takes a small step forward, “Solas-”

“Until today,” interjects Solas as he turns around fully with a gentle smile. “You are the first of your people to ask me about my travels, my stories,” and awkwardly tugs at his sleeves. “It’s been... a long time since anyone has shown genuine interest in what I have to share. And if you’d like, I would be more than happy to answer any of your questions, to the best of my ability.” 

With a subtle nod, Lana smiles sincerely, “Thank you, I would like that very much.”

Solas smiles back and moves closer to Lana, his tall and broad physique blocking the candle’s light. 

“Before I take my leave, I have something of yours,” and removes a rolled piece of parchment from his belt, and hands it over to Lana. “I believe you might be missing this.”

Confused, Lana takes the parchment, looks at Solas for a moment, and proceeds to slowly unravel it before him as she gasps. It’s her unfinished sketch of the Keeper. 

“I had no idea I dropped it!” and looks up at Solas with a sincere smile, “Thank you.”

Solas nods with a gentle smile in return, “You’re welcome. And I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time.” 

Solas walks towards the door as Lana follows him. He opens the door, steps outside and looks down at Lana with a sincere smile, “I will see you in the morning.” and begins closing the door.

Impulsively, Lana leaps forward and grabs onto the side of the door and calls out, “Solas, wait...”

Solas lets go of the door handle, turns around and stares at Lana curiously. 

Lana opens the door a little further and looks down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Solas with remorse, “I would like to apologise for my behaviour, too. I said a lot of things to you which were unkind and hurtful, and I let my temper get the better of me... ir abelas, lethallin.”

Solas releases a heartfelt smile and nods, “Thank you.”

After hearing Solas’s tragic story about how the Dalish have treated him in the past, she cannot help but feel embarrassed and ashamed, and feels she needs to apologise on behalf of her people, too, “And I’m sorry for how the Dalish have treated you in the past. I truly had no idea,” and with her deep set frown and pale, lavender eyes peering up at him, she bravely declares, “It isn’t right and if I am ever in the position to change things, I know exactly where to start.” 

“You are a rarity amongst your people, da’len. And thank you for allowing me to speak with you this evening. I look forward to our many academic discussions moving forward.”

And with that, Solas turns around and walks away. Only once she can no longer see him, does Lana slowly close the door and look down at the unfinished picture of Keeper Deshanna. A bit crinkled, but no matter. She’s just happy to have the Keeper back with her.

Unbelievably exhausted, Lana decides to call it a day and puts the Keeper back with the others. She then takes the candlestick from the windowsill and places it in the middle of the room. 

She then proceeds to take apart her nicely made bed and apologises, in her mind, to whomever makes her bed for her as they will find everything on the floor. Again.

Using the thin cotton sheet, she lays it neatly on the cabin floor next to the bed. Then, taking her loose wolf fur, she lays it down on the sheet and immediately follows with laying out the softer, stuffed blanket on top of that. 

Once nicely centered, she visually divides the blanket into thirds, folding the right-third inwards and then the left-third over that. Then she tucks the bottom of her makeshift cocoon underneath itself and stands back to admire her work. 

Well, if this is the closest I’ll get to what I have back home, then that's fine with me.

Satisfied, Lana grabs the last crucial element of her creation - the pillow. 

Once changed into her sleepwear, Lana wiggles her way into her bed and turns around to face the candle, and stares into its dull, dim glow as it reaches the end of its wick.

First thing tomorrow I will find Liliana, so that she can try to contact the Keeper before Cassandra keeps me busy all day.

Then, I’ll find Solas in the evening to learn more about the ancient elvhen.

Lana closes her heavy, tired eyes and its not long until the flame of the candle runs out. 

Oh, and don’t forget to ask him about that strange shoe-thing across his neck.

Oh wait, it can’t be a shoe - doesn’t it have teeth?

Elvish to English Translation:

“Mir da’vhenan” = my little-heart

“Ar lath, ma da’len” = I love you, my child

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

READ ON AO3

Halla & Wolf Series

[c-rose2081]

Cookie Hearts

Day 5 of EOA Ship Appreciation Week. As I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, I wanted to focus less on romantic love, and more on familial love. So this story isn’t necessarily a ‘ship’, but more of what resulted from the ships XD

•••

“Vista! Hermana!”

Feeling small hands shake her awake from sleep, the half-Sirena’s eyes slowly peeled open. According to the clock on her bedside table and the darkness of the bedroom, it wasn’t even dawn yet. Groaning slightly as the hands continued to persist with some vigor, Aryanne had somehow managed to get up onto the bed and was straddling her with both knees.

“Pequiña...wa’sit? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Val-tine’s day.” The six year old insisted quickly though her lisp, still shaking Vista as though she weren’t yet already awake, “get up! You hav’t help me.”

“It’s too early, niña. Go away...”

“But Vista! Pleath! Pleath! Pleath!”

The girl bouncing up and down on Vista’s hip, the 22-year old heaved a deep, annoyed grunt. If only the toddler on her lap was a dream she could just wish away.

“Alright! Alright, I’ll help. Stop bouncing on me.”

The bouncing immediately halting, Vista felt bare feet scurry back off the edge of the bed. And as a small body tossed herself out the door and into the hall, the woman left behind ran a hand though loose hair. She didn’t know what exactly Aryanne had in mind, but apparently being up early was necessary.

Rolling from the comforts of sleep as she tossed a shear robe over her nightwear, Vista yawned as she passed into the hall. Aryanne was no where in sight, but Miguel was waiting at his post as usual.

“Officer Cortez.” Vista greeted him unhappily, “what is the meaning of letting an overactive toddler into my room before dawn?”

“She had a weapon against me.” The boy insisted, his face struggling to remain straight, “I can’t have the threat of her waking up the whole castle hanging over my head, your majesty.”

“Uh-huh. Where’d she go, anyway?”

“Down the hall to wake your cousin,” Miguel mused, hands folded gently behind him as Vista once again yawned.

“Any idea what she’s after this time?”

“Not a clue. Sorry, Vista.”

“Wonderful. Well...at least Javier is getting dragged into this too.”

As she spoke this, Aryanne came thundering back down the hall. She was covered head to toe in white powder, so much that a hazy cloud formed wherever she stepped. Behind her, Javier wobbled from his room, glasses missing from his nose as he scratched his dreads. Waving a quiet greeting to Vista and Miguel, they merely waved back as Aryanne sprinted circles around them.

“Alright, pequeña.” Vista mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, “You got us up, what do you want?”

“It’s in the kitchen. C’mon, c’mon!”

Running towards the staircase at breakneck speed, the three adults merely shrugged between one another as they followed after her. It wasn’t hard, as her feet left a clear trail of white footprints on the red carpets. Passing through the articulating doors, Vista’s draw dropped. The kitchen was a complete disaster. Every cupboard was open, bowls somehow pulled down from their high shelves.

Aryanne had somehow managed to hoist bags of ingredients onto the counter like eggs, butter and milk. But the barrel of flour had spilled across the entire floor, which explained why the 6-year-old was covered in it.

“Sweet sunbirds...” Vista breathed, “Sparky what have you done?”

“Cookies!” The girl insisted, her brown braid bouncing as she clambered up onto the footstool and grabbed one of the empty bowls, “for Val’tine’s day.”

“Aunt Elena is not going to be happy about this mess.” Javier spoke, rubbing the back of his neck as Aryanne attempted to put some of the ingredients she had collected into the bowl, “what do we do?”

“I...” Not sure what to say, Vista sighed heavily. The pure look of determination on Aryanne’s small face was enough to soften her slightly. Like their mother, once the girl set her mind on something she wouldn’t quit. “...I guess we’ll make cookies. Maybe try and clean up the mess while we’re at it. Miguel, go stoke the fires would you, it’s freezing in here.”

Moving forward through the chaos Aryanne had created, Vista grabbed a few aprons and tossed one to Javier, “you’re on egg duty. Get to it.”

Merely nodding, the boy began to tuck his dreads into a ponytail as Vista grabbed her little sister by the waist. “Hold on, Sparky. Did you wash your hands?”

Receiving only a twinkling brown stare in return, the elder girl dropped her sister on the counter by the wash basin, “hands first, then we’ll get the flour off your face.”

“Then cookies?”

“Yes, then cookies. But you have to let me help you. Only a few should...”

“No, hermana.” Aryanne insisted, “the whole castle.”

Waving her arms in a wide ark as Vista used a washcloth to clean her face, the woman frowned.

“You want to make cookies for the whole castle? But that’s so many.”

“Everyone gets a cookie.” Aryanne insisted again determinedly, that look once again scrunching up her nose and brows, “it’s val’tine day.”

“Well...alright, I guess. Then we better get to work.”

Setting Aryanne down as she rushed back to the counter excitedly, Miguel appeared from the back room as Vista washed her hands. “We’ll be here a while. Hope you didn’t have any other plans, Miguel.”

“It’s my duty to serve the Princesses of Avalor.” He insisted, “besides, who could resist the thought of an entire day with you?”

Wagging his brows, Vista flicked water in his face as Javier rolled his eyes from the egg bowl.

“Yeah, yeah, keep your bad pick-up lines to yourself. We’ve got a job to do.”

Patting his chest as she passed by him, Vista returned to where Aryanne was reaching for something. “Woah, hold on. We need to measure first.”

Using a memorized recipe for sugar cookies her mother always made for Navidad, Vista began to help her baby sister portion out the ingredients, starting with the flour, a bit of baking powder and salt. Aryanne was content to watch from between her arms, brown eyes glistening as Vista sifted the layers into a bowl.

Eventually though, the little girl got bored and padded over to where Javier was cracking eggs, watching him do that from beside his shoulder. Mindlessly setting to work, Miguel was busy cleaning up the mess the little girl had somehow created in the time before she had come to them for help.

“I respect her for trying.” He mused to Vista, returning the flour barrel to its upright position and picking anything from the floor out of its top layer, “any idea how she even managed to get this stuff down?”

“Her magic probably.” Vista assumed, kneading the batter in her arms with a spoon, “she can control it if she sets her mind to something.”

It had been quite a shock to the royal family when Aryanne exhibited natural magical abilities at an early age. It still was, as the girl continued to learn how to grip her wild six-year old emotions. She no doubt levitated the bowls and ingredients down from the cabinets herself, but had lost her focus when moving the heavy barrel. That’s when she decided to wake them up. “Alright, this looks ready to roll out.”

Holding the dough ball in a hand, Vista began to roll it out with the pin as Aryanne came to tug at her nightgown. In her hand was a cutter in a distinct heart shape.

“Hearts for Valentines Day, huh?”

“Yep! I wanna try.”

Rolling her eyes at the command, Vista merely picked the girl up by the waist and set her down on the foot stool. Together, they began to punch out the heart shapes, Aryanne giggling with each one. Soon enough they had a tray of perfectly shaped cookies.

“Javier, do you mind slipping these in the oven? I’m going to start on another batch.”

Nodding, the teenager took the metal pan away to fire as Vista began a new bowl. They worked like this for a few hours, chatting casually as they worked, Aryanne flitting between them like a moth to flame. Eventually though, Miguel set the girl on rolling paper roses from napkins.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Vista asked him, her arm and shoulder aching from stirring for so long.

“My Mami taught me,” the guard responded, watching as Aryanne gladly began to show Javier how to roll flowers like he, “mi hermanas and I made them for everything.”

“Do you miss them?”

Vista knew Miguel had come to Avalor from elsewhere, and that he had left his family behind to do so. But the boy just shrugged slightly, using a finger to tuck a loose, flour dusted curl behind his ear.

“Sometimes. But I know that they’re better off when I’m here. I can’t thank your family enough for what they’ve done for me.”

Nodding in agreement, Vista blinked when a small snore reached her ears. Aryanne had fallen asleep amongst her flowers, leaning against Javier who was still focused on his task. “Looks like she’s all worn out.”

“And the day’s barely started.” Miguel chuckled, “we best be delivering these. The castle is going to wake up soon.”

Holding up a heart shaped cookie with a paper rose attached to it, Vista nodded in agreement as they began to fill baskets.

•••

When the Queen of Avalor awoke, the smell of baking hit her first. The weight of Mateo still beside her in bed, Elena sat up slowly with a wide yawn. The sun was well into the sky already, meaning she had slept in. What she wasn’t expecting though was the thing which had been left on her bedside table. Blinking groggily as she reached for it, her fingers wrapped around the cookie.

It was still a bit warm, and had a napkin rose impaled through its center. Blinking at it bewilderedly, Elena turned and shook Mateo awake. He appeared to have one on his nightstand as well.

“Mi amore, wake up.”

“Mm, what’s wrong?”

“Did you make these?”

Holding up the cookie, Mateo squinted at it from his side of the bed, then shook his head.

“Nope.”

Dressing quickly, Elena felt the strong urge to solve the mystery of the cookies. Mateo was right there with her, eating his as he dressed for the day. Out in the hall, Isabel was the first to meet them. She too had a cookie in her hand.

“Buenos días, hermana.” She greeted, “I see you got on of these to?”

Holding up the pastry, Elena nodded.

“I did, so did Mateo.”

“The whole castle got them.” Isabel explained, “the women are wearing their flowers in their hair, and the men on their jackets.”

Accentuating the point by tucking her own flower behind an ear, Elena tipped her head in curiosity. Of course she knew it was Valentine’s Day, but neither she nor Isabel had plans until the evening.

“I think I may know who’s responsible for this.”

Glancing up, Gabe strode towards them. He looked well awake, smiling slightly as he displayed the white rose flower tucked under his buttons. “Follow me, your majesty. You’ll want to see this.”

A mix of curiosity and worry overtaking her for a moment, Elena, Mateo and Isabel all followed the Captain of the Guard to the lounge. Holding a finger to his lips for the group to remain quiet, he pushed the door open.

The kids were sleeping by the fireplace, completely disheveled and covered in flour. Javier had sprawled out in one of the single chairs, while Vista had found a spot in Miguel’s arms, her head tucked up under his chin. Aryanne was half under the sofa, laying on her belly with an open book under her arms as she snored the loudest of the bunch.

Feeling Mateo wrap his arms around her, Elena smiled softly as she leaned into his chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, amore.” He whispered with a smile, “guess the kids beat me to it.”

Chuckling, the group backed out of the lounge as Gabe quietly closed the door.

“Yeah.” Holding up the cookie still in her hand, Elena happily secured the napkin rose into her ponytail, “guess they did.”

[garbagecanfics]

Carisi x Reader: taking care of him when he’s sick (sfw)

A/N: kinda long, got a bit carried away but enjoy!

he was blowing his nose all night which kinda kept you up but who cares, “i feel bad he’s sick” you thought.

morning rolls around, you know he’s gonna fight you on going to work. you wake up to him getting dressed. which would be pretty sexy if he wasn’t also practically coughing up a lung.

“honey just stay home, you are way too sick to go in.”

“nah doll it’s ok, it’s probably just gonna be paperwork today which I can manage.”

“please just stay home, so I can take care of you.”

“no please don’t guilt me into staying home, i really need to get stuff done. I'm not even that sick.” famous last words.

“ok, but promise me if you get worse you come home, I know it’s just a cold, but you need to rest. make sure to drink lots of water.”

“alright, alright i gotta go. I should be home for dinner, if you want I can pick up some chinese on the way home from the place that you like?”

“you are too good to me, sonny carisi”

“I know doll, you deserve it. love ya bye!” right after he left you called your friend Barba.

“hey raf I was wondering if I could ask your mom for a favor?”

“weird way to start this call, but shoot.”

“sonny’s kinda sick and your mother's soup is incredible. the first time I had it, I was cured of things I didn't even know I had. I wanted to get some for sonny since he insisted on going to work today. is that alright?”

“yes of course. it just so happens I'm going to see her before I head into the office, I will ask her. anything else?”

“no that’s it, thank you so much raf. if you have time sometime later this week I would love to go out for drinks, we haven’t gone out in a while.”

“after this case, liv just called me. we’ll have to see.”

“ok thanks again i gotta go, love you raf. go solve that case and kick ass in court!”

“always Y/N. bye.”

You get dressed and go to the store. grabbing some cough syrup, cough drops, more tissues, herbal tea, honey, vaporub, bottled water, thermometer, tylenol and a toothbrush (to use when he’s not sick, so he can throw out the one he used while he was sick). you think “it’s insane we didn’t already have this stuff but it is what it is I guess. I hope he’s ok at work.” you laugh to yourself at the idea of him accidentally sneezing on his computer at work. you check out, get in the car and head home. as you’re driving you get a call from a number you don’t recognize. when you put everything you bought away you called it back. turns out it was Lucia, Rafael’s mom. turns out the soup was done. Raf gave her your number to call because he was too busy at work. You went over to her place and as soon as you stepped into the threshold you could smell the soup. it was going to take all of your self restraint to not eat it. you had to keep reminding yourself “its for sonny”. after you and lucia caught up you headed out, soup in hand. when you got back home you debated bringing the soup to the precinct for sonny since it’s almost lunch, but your train of thought got interuppted by sonny himself knocking and stumbling through the door.

“what happened, tough guy?” you asked mockingly. he smiled back sarcastically.

“i’m fine, lieu just sent me home. apparently I was bothering everyone with my nose blowing so she made me leave.” you tried so hard not to laugh, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “yeah, yeah laugh it up. so funny.” you stopped when you saw how actually hurt sonny was. cupping his face in your hand, you tried to get a smile out of him, but he was just too tired.

“I got you some stuff today that I think you’ll like.” he perked up really quick at that. he always loved surprises and presents no matter what they were.

“what did you get, doll?”

“just some stuff to help with your cold, including but not limited to: Lucia’s famous soup.” you could almost see his mouth start watering.

“you are too good to me doll.”

“i know.” luckily it was still pretty warm so you put some in a bowl for him and he almost inhaled it.

“relax sweetheart, no one’s gonna take it away. make sure to breathe.”

“i didn’t realize how hungry i was until I started. can I have some more? please?” he responded with food still in his mouth, almost begging.

“of course you can. how are you feeling?” he just shrugged off your question.

“dominick carisi jr. tell me how you’re feeling please, then you get your soup.” he looked almost dazed at the demand. he finally spilled and said he felt hot. it’s january. the apartment is pretty cold. you handed him the bowl of soup and he ate it almost as fast if not faster than the first. after he finished you helped him undress and into a shower. when he’s sick he’s not good at doing things so you got in the shower with him otherwise he’d just stand under the water until it went cold. not only that, you liked the closeness of him being sick brought you two. having to take care of him was nice and easy. you started by pulling him under the stream of water to wet his hair so you could wash it out. he was happily humming as you massaged his scalp with shampoo trying very carefully to not get it in his eyes as you also rinsed it out. after all the shampoo was out you put in conditioner to sit as you washed his body. surprisingly he didn’t get a boner the whole time. you had him rinse off his body as you did his hair. you dried him and yourself off when you got out. you picked out your favorite pajamas on him: one of his fordham law t-shirts (that you haven’t stolen) and flannel sweatpants.

“actually take off your t-shirt.” you expected him to ask why but he didn’t.

“ok, im still pretty warm.”

“i got you some vaporub today so i’ll put some of that on your chest, if you don’t protest?”

“no that sounds good actually.” you both walk to the living room, you go to the kitchen to start the kettle to make tea and grab the stuff you bought. after starting the kettle you brought the bag into the livingroom.

“what’s all this doll?”

“just some things I picked up from the store today to help you out.”

you handed him the water and tylenol since he had a headache. turns out he didn’t drink water all day (big surprise). after he took the tylenol you took his temperature: 99º not bad. you pulled out the vaporub and scooped some out and put it on his exposed chest. he winced at first at the cold feeling, but eased into it after a few circles.

“i think you might be going a bit overboard Y/N” he remarked as you pulled out cough syrup and tissues.

“please just let me take care of you, I love you.”

“ok fine, but please relax a little. I love you too but you’re stressin me out a bit.”

“alright I’ll relax, I just want you to get better. it sounds selfish, but I want you to get better so I can kiss you.” as you finish he attempts to kiss you, but you put your hand up. “no no no, I’m not getting sick too.”

“aw come on doll i just want one kiss”

“i’ll kiss your cheek. is that a deal?”

“fine.” somewhat sulking he accepts the deal as the kettle goes off. you get up to go finish making his tea and bring it back for him setting it on the coffee table.

“what do you wanna watch babe?”

“anything you want doll i’m pretty tired. maybe……..” he mumbles something that you don’t quite catch.

“maybe what honey? i can’t hear you when you mumble.”

“maybe one of your disney movies?”

“you wanna watch a disney movie? you, dominick carisi jr? ok I won’t argue, but who are you and what have you done with my sunshine?” he slightly chuckles.

“sunshine? you’ve never called me that before doll?”

“sunshine because your the light of my life and play on of your name sonny. s o n n s h i n e, sunshine.”

“ah clever doll, i like it. I love you so much.”

“love you too” you look around for a disney stumbling upon hercules and pop it into the dvd player. you crawl between sonnys legs and lay your head on his chest, careful to not hit his crotch while pulling up a blanket. he falls asleep after 20 minutes of the movie. probably the cough syrup. after the movie finished you just stayed, laying and admiring him. your sleeping beauty. you fell asleep after a bit.

“hey doll” he murmered drowsily. you woke up to the sound of his staten island drone.

“hey honey how did you sleep?”

“pretty good, what time is it? you checked your phone.

“almost 5pm. ready for dinner?”

“yeah i can’t wait for more soup.” you get up slowly to not hurt him and stumble into the kitchen to reheat the soup, pulling down two bowls for you and sonny.

*

“sit up honey it’s pretty warm and I don’t want you to dump it down your chest.”

“ok fine.” after he sat up you gave him his soup. he once again inhaled it. god could this man eat. you sit down next to him to eat your bowl. after he finished you forced him once again to take cough medicine, drink water, and take some tylenol. he said he felt a bit better than earlier. after you finished you got up to reheat him another bowl. he didn’t ask for one but he didn’t have to. his face filled with pure glee when you returned with more. after finishing once again you both laid back down and watched more tv. he somehow stayed awake to binge all of the new stranger things episodes. after it finished you had to practically drag him to bed. it was hard since he had the height advantage, but with some convincing he got into bed. after a few minutes of laying on his chest you heard his heartbeat slow, knowing he was asleep and comfortable you moved over to your side to give him some space. somehow he felt you move and pulled you back. in the morning you woke up in his arms, him spooning you, feeling happy and safe.

@sweetcannolicarisi

[artificialqueens]

Amoretto - Chapter 3 - (Branjie) - dreamyunicorngirl

A/N: I am back! Sorry for the extremely long delay. Uni is kicking my butt - mostly because I genuinely assumed they would go easy on us in the first two weeks. Well - that wasn’t the case. I hope you can somewhat enjoy this chapter! Big thank you again to Meggie for being an amazing beta!

“We should get outta here.”

The blonde only rolls her eyes, as she carefully stretches her wings, at Vanessa’s exaggerated lash fluttering and her suggestive smirk. Not even buying her act for a second. The cackle afterwards already ruining her flirty illusion.

“And where do you wanna go in the middle of the night, ‘Ness?” Brooke asks, desperately trying to sound uninterested as she eyes the crowd around them, still not forgotten why she had stayed in the first place. Yet there isn’t a single sign of the other immortal, hiding in the crowd, to be seen. With one last disappointing glance she sighs heavily and lets her act fall, finally facing the young woman by her side. Desperately wanting to leave this hormone driven place.

“Ohh we’ve got a nickname - cute, Mary - so you don’t hate me all that much?”, Vanessa giggles as she elbows the ethereal women, doe eyes searching for the slightly hidden exit. Long brown curls bouncing as her head snaps around, attempting to find a way out of the sultry club in her highly intoxicated state.

“Also it’s a secret - so I can’t tell you where we are going”, she finally remembers to answer the blonde’s question, placing her left index finger in front of her dry lips - attempting to highlight her wannabe mysterious aura. Within a second though a cheshire cat smile peeks out beneath her finger as Brooke shakes her had - amused by the brunette’s state -, before she lets it drop down and grabs the blonde’s cold wrist instead, banning her way through the crowd. Unknown shoulders bump into the swaying Latina’s small figure, elbows nearly landing in her face and even a beverage finds its way on her dress, as she drags Brooke out of the bar - Cupid obviously evading any harm. Bypassers moving aside, subscousinsly making room for the present goddess. 

Brooke is seemingly impressed by the fact that Vanessa actually manages to find her way outdoors without getting into a heated fight with the guy who managed to spill some soda on her - according to the brunette - very expensive dress. Her olive-toned hands were already neatly tightened into fists, but one pointed look by Cupid was enough for her to turn around and let it go. Stomping through the barely lit corridor towards the exit.

As the cold wind hits their flushed bodies, even Brooke begins to shiver. Goosebumps cover her limbs and leave the woman, normally so used to the cold, a bit shaken up, though she welcomes the change of temperature, having felt like she was being cooked in a big soup bowl for the past two hours. Her grande wings are finally able to stretch to their full capacity. Tense shoulders roll back as she cracks her neck, trying to get rid of all the accumulated tension.

The bright pink neon sign of the night club illuminates the two stranded figures, painting them in a soft heavenly glow, highlighting Brooke’s empty leather quiver - a successful night, if you asked Venus . Both women deeply inhaling the cold air, eyes closed, simply enjoying the silence after a long night.

The blonde beauty’s mind tries to process tonight’s events. Running in circles - overthinking one life changing encounter. But she tries to keep her cool. Exhale. Inhale. Just breath. 

The inner peace found within these two beings is destroyed within a second. A car speeds by as men in their late twenties shout obscene comments at Vanessa, honking and laughing at the brunette’s fury painted cheeks.

Brooke expects an explosion. She can see the fire igniting  right in front of her eyes, waiting for Vanessa to unleash her irreparable destruction. She had seen it during lonely nights she spent looking out for the young woman - had seen her explode with anger at her heartbreaks.

But all she does is calmly flick them off and intertwines her fingers with a stunned Brooke, tugging her along while they turn the corner. Two figures walk in silence, hand in hand, the brunette taking the lead, following the directions written in her heart. 

With each corner they turn, they start to leave the inner city circle and all of the dark alleys littered with drunk party-goers behind.

Brooke silently lets herself dragged into uncertainty for the second time this night, blindly trusting the woman she barely knows. Stormy eyes carefully take in every inch of all the lonely streets they pass. Darkness, filling the space around them. Only the hum of overly loud TV screens disturb the calm silence every once in a awhile.

Occasionally she can spy strangers making out at a corner - none of them searching for something lasting - homeless people crashing on park banks or sleeping in the streets, stray dogs howling in the night - catching the younger woman off guard. A hint of a smile can be found on Brooke’s lips as the brunette jumps at the sound.

“Are you sure you we are going the right way?” Brooke asks after half an hour of lost wandering through less crowded streets. Fewer houses started to frame the ground they walk on as patches of nature claim their place.

“Trust me, Mary! I know where we’re going - it’s real special,” Vanessa calmly answers softly.

Brooke does a double take at the woman beside her, not having expected a soft mutter by her counterpart. Both of them had spent the majority of the walk in utter silence, simply enjoying the night silence around them, appreciating nature’s beauty around them. Not even a quick ramble from the brunette to conceal the awkward moment as Brooke let go of Vanessa’s hand.

They continue their journey until they reach the outer brim of the city. Slowly making their way through the forest adjacent to the meadow behind the last houses of the most rural area. The blonde catches sight of fireflies lighting up the bushes around them and baby rabbits settling down for the night in a small cave. Brooke immediately feels the shift within her as the two women disappear between the trunks. Complete calmness flood her being, feeling at home, far away from most humans. No need to hide, no need to pretend - even though no one could ever see her, besides Vanessa. Yet she still felt the pressure to behave a certain way since she discovered someone could actually see her - suddenly feeling the need to change. Wanting to fit it. Concealing her large wings and blood red arrows with a practiced smile and a polite nod in whatever direction she feels the imaginary eyes come from.

The deeper they make their way through the forest, the darker and louder it gets. Terra is celebrating Cupid’s arrival, bees are humming and birds are chirping their welcome melody, having missed their goddess. 

Brooke isn’t the only one to notice. Vanessa stops in her tracks to pet a little fox and comments on the fireflies and cooling breeze circling the two women.

But once they cross the last line of trees and arrive at abandoned lake, nature’s creatures fall silent after reaching their crescendo. Outer calmness can be felt on the meadow. Brooke feels the mysterious aura surrounding the place deep in her core as a harsh shiver runs down her body.

Vanessa stalks up to the lake, slightly swaying - Brooke wasn’t sure if it’s her high heels or the alcohol - taking a seat on a large rock right next to the edge of the lake. The brunette pulls her long locks into a low ponytail and lets her feet sway above the ground, staring down the stretch of water in front of her. 

Cupid watches from afar, keeps track of the Latina’s every move but doesn’t dare to come closer. Her feet are bound to the floor while she contemplates her next move. 

She could just run. Stop giving a crap about the woman she barely knows. Just leave her behind and return to her safe space and comfort zone. Yet something was holding her back. An invisible string of yarn pulling her closer to the mysterious girl - the one and only who has every properly laid her eyes on her. 

As if the brunette could read her mind, she turns around and pets the space on the rock next to her with a “What’s taking you so long, Mary?”

Apparently Brooke has no choice, but to follow the brunette’s request. 

So she lets her wings carry her the last few meters and joins the other woman on her rocky seat, nervously waiting for an explanation. One that she doesn’t immediately receive.

“And what are we supposed to do here?” she finally asks out loud, suspiciously eyeing the dark water, watching the reflection of the moon dance on its surface.

“Go skinny dipping,” Vanessa replies matter of factly, a sly grin stretched across her face as she pulls off her high heels.

The blonde snaps her head around, confusion written all over her face.

“What?” Furrowed brows stare at a cackling Latina who can barely control the harsh tones escaping her throat. 

“You know we just get nakey-nakey, Mami, and then dip our toes into the water. Go for a swim and shit - have some deep-ass conversations,” Vanessa explains, giggling along as she points towards the lake and bumps the other one’s shoulder. 

Within the swift of a moment she stands up and asks Brooke to unzip her dress. The blonde silently complies, watching the brunette take her panties off and make her way into the water, dipping her toes into the cold. Small waves lap at her olive tanned skin, hugging the woman’s figure, drenching all of her. 

Brooke hesitates shortly, as she keeps an eye on the short woman, yet she still somehow feels the strong urge to just run away. Bees are buzzing in her bones, keeping her restless, prepared to flee the place. 

Yet she is still being held back, like a stone in her chest weighing her down. An indescribable force clinging to her feet, keeping her in place. 

So with a deep yet shaky breath she decides to join the other woman, instead of giving into her primal urge of flight. Shy fingertips carefully peel of her white sheer robe, letting it pool around her bare feet.

Her wings flutter nervously as she catches the brunette staring. Doe eyes scan over her naked soul, pupils dilated as she bites her lipstick stained lips. Shamelessly enjoying the view.

“Do you always take your friends here to stare at them naked?” Brooke teases the brunette, whose eyes immediately snap back to her eyes, trying to break the heavy tension.

Vanessa’s soft smile falls for a second, before she catches herself and answers flirtatiously with a wink: “Just the real special ones, Brookey.”

The blonde quietly steps into the water, toes already drenched in the ice cold wet. Simply enjoying the added coolness to her frame. She closes her eyes as the water sweeps over her breasts, letting her head fall back, wetting her delicate hair.

“It’s actually quite nice here,“ she whispers after opening her eyes again, slowly walking into the deeper parts of the lake until she can’t stand anymore, stretching out her frame for a little swim.

“Yes, haven’t been here in a while though, not since the first girl I took here broke my heart and shit,” Vanessa mumbles, looking up to the stars as if she was reading memories of the past carved into the night sky.

“I am sorry,” Brooke whispers. Genuine regret leaking out of her throat - knowing she is responsible for that heartbreak. Wishing she hadn’t brought anything up in the first place even though she couldn’t have known Vanessa’s story.

“Nah, it’s fine. Aquaria wasn’t even really my type. Sure she was pretty but we didn’t click. I wanted a big ass romance, just like in the movies. Didn’t get one though,” Vanessa rambles on, while avoiding immediate eye contact as she walks in circles at the edge of the lake. Arms crossed across her chest, a shivering figure attempting to keep the warmth, finally daring to completely immerse herself in the deep wet, taking Brooke’s lead for once.

“Why would you even want that?” Brooke carefully voices, facing the brunette, studying her expression, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Nervously chewing at her bottom lip at asking her deepest rotted questions finally out loud.

“Want what?” Brown doe eyes fixate on her counterpart again, not fully grasping the depth of her question just yet.

“Love. Why are you so hung up on it?”Cupid elaborates her question, her wings hung low, swinging softly beneath the surface, creating tiny waves around her.

“I - I don’t know. I mean sort of I do know - I am human - we all just wanna feel loved, I guess?” Vanessa tries to answer the other woman’s way too existential question for her intoxicated state, pausing for a second to gather her thoughts, wanting to properly elaborate her thoughts. “You know ever since I was a child I dreamed of finding ‘the one’  - my prince or princess charming. I saw those romantic movies as a kid and read those fairytales with my abuela. I just always wanted that dream to come true - and still do. Just want to have someone that sticks by your side, no matter what. Deep down I just wanna be someone’s number one I guess. Give them my all in return and shit.”

For once the coldness of the water is actually hitting the young woman. A shiver runs up her entire figure as she hugs her bare frame, arms above the surface, graced by cool wind gusts. Feeling vulnerable for the first time this evening as she slowly sobers up, goosebumps covering her chest and arms. She slowly crosses her arms, hugging her own figure as she attempts to somewhat hide her bare soul. 

Brooke hums and nods her head at Vanessa’s explanation before stating the thoughts running through her mind: “I wish I could understand you humans and your obsession with it. It just seems like such a strange concept to me. Even if the relationship isn’t doomed, like most are.” Cupid rolls her eyes at her own statement, as if it was common knowledge. “I still don’t understand how it formed in the first place. Sure I play a big role in that, but still - I dont think I could care about someone enough to stick around.”

“I guess you just know why once you’ve actually been in love. Sure it isn’t always fun and games, especially if you have such bad luck like me, but there is always hope for a brighter future one day - shit I don’t know Mary, but love is just beautiful when it all works out - the warm fuzzy feeling and all…” Vanessa’s voice grows soft as she moves to the edge of the lake, carefully lowering herself into the shallow water.

A soft “mhh” escapes the goddess’s lips as she joins the other woman, letting her wings stretch above the lake’s surface, illuminated by the soft moonlight  as it reflects on her porcelain skin and nearly white hair. Making her glow from inside, contrasting her self-proclaimed, dark interior.

“But there must be someone you love. Don’t you at least love your parents?” Vanessa carefully studies the immortal’s side profile as she quietly voices her question, craving to know more about her strange counterpart.

“I don’t know my parents,” Brooke softly replies, nervous fingertips playing with shorter strands of hair. Stormy eyes flutter shut for a second - a sting to the place where her heart is supposed to be. 

“Hold up, bitch. You don’t know your parents?” Vanessa screeches, hands thrown in the air and eyes opened up wide, unobservant of the blonde’s pained expression.

“No,” Brooke replies coldly. Not ready to unpack her dizzy memories of the past.

“Then who raised you?” Vanessa asks seemingly confused, head leaning on her hand. Shuffling even closer to the mesmerizing girl.

“My two older sisters,” Cupid cuts her answer short, not willingly wanting to dig her own grave by giving away too much too soon.

“Sisters?” the Latina screams one octave higher than her usual truck driver voice, mouth hanging agape at Brooke Lynn’s sudden revelation. Her shoulders slouch back, nearly falling back into the deep water at her sudden twitch.

The blonde simply nods, her chest constricting at the thought. She hadn’t seen her sisters in millenia. All alone ever since their last encounter - only left with a hole in her chest. Left with her self-deprecating thoughts and ever burning questions.

“Spill the tea, sis.”  The brunette shifts again and pulls her knees up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, now completely facing the blonde.

With each passing second the blonde’s face gains more resemblance with a ice statue. Hollow eyes stare down her own reflection on the lake, words caught in her throat.

Moments pass in silence. Two figures lost in their own worlds.

“Well there are three of us. Detox, Kameron, and me. Three sisters. Three goddesses. We grew up together, they taught me everything I needed to know. But that was a long time ago. I don’t remember much,” Brooke mumbles, avoiding bright doe eyes, simply staring down her feet immersed in the cold liquid.

“Two sisters? Are they also Cupid ?” The brunette’s big eyes seem to grow even bigger in size with each new piece of information she receives. Lapping up all the answers she gets but still craving more.

“I don’t really know. I don’t know much about our existence in general. The humans just nicknamed me Cupid, I guess - don’t know what they call them though,” Brooke trails of, not fully knowing how to put her experiences into words.

“Have you seen them since?”

Brooke’s stomach sinks at the innocently voiced question.

“I lost contact to them once I was old enough,” she tries to vaguely answer.

“And you never saw them again? Like ever?” Vanessa attempts to dig deeper, shaky legs beneath the surface painting a picture of her inner state. 

Shit.

“Well I might have,” Brooke admits. The water plants besides her figure suddenly more interesting than anything else.

“I knew it! Spill it!” the brunette demands. Her body shaking with excitement as her grin grows bigger in size. 

“Tonight I might have seen one of my sisters - actually, she was talking to you Blue crystals peek out beneath slightly damp lashes. She takes a deep breath as the blonde furiously tries to blink away the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. 

Deep green painted sorrow floods her lungs at the missed opportunity of the night. 

“Wait - no way - Kameron is your sister?” the brunette loudly whispers, slender hands clapped above her mouth. Eyes brightly lit at her revelation. 

"I don’t know if your friend was her, she just looked really familiar.” Brooke shrugs, not knowing why she even shared her suspicions. Attempting to casually wipe at her wet lash line, trying to erase any evidence of weakness. 

"But where are her wings though?” Vanessa furrows her brows, the underlying and unvoiced questions nearly burning a hole into the ground. 

“I have no idea.”

Flashes of memories and never dealt with emotions swirl through Cupid's head. Constricting her chest and never wanting to let go. 

"That’s why I stuck around, you know - tried to figure out who she actually is,” Brooke attempts to explain, not knowing any answer to Vanessa’s urgent questions - and neither to her own. 

“Damn mami, that’s a goddamn mystery. Should be on Buzzfeed Unsolved ”, Vanessa cackles as she shakes her hair like a wet dog just getting out of the rain. 

“Wait what?" 

"Never mind.” The brunette’s laugh just intesifes at the blonde’s visible confusion. 

Vanessa crawls down out of the shallow water they’ve been sitting in and silently battles putting on her dress again - before the ladylike creature offers her help. 

"So that’s all you have. Two sisters. No parents. You are Cupid , don’t get the concept of love and neither know much about your existence. Real cute - Mary. Nearly as much of a mess as I am. " 

Two equally as intoxicating laughs haul through the night air as the two figures take a seat on a still mildly warm rock. Heavy doe eyes flutter shut as the young woman falls asleep on her shoulder during sunrise. The first ray of sunlight illuminates the wings of cupid as she carries the woman home, lovingly tucking her into her bed. 

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes

Happy Friday! How are you all? Good I hope. 

Much thanks to @winterisakiller who has had to deal with my crushing self doubt while also keeping my angsty murder urges in check. I couldn’t do it without you. And to @tnystrk-exe who encourages the murder urges.

As some of you are probably aware of by now, I’m raising money for my birthday trip next month to NYC. I’ll be spending two nights in the city and seeing Betrayal on my Birthday. The trip’s a stretch for me and so I’m offering my Chainmaille jewelry and custom works at discounted prices, some as much as 25% off- check out @redfoxcrafts or donate to the cause by buying me a Ko-fi

Masterlist

Chapter warnings: Just some PTSD

Chapter 14- Movie Date?

Deanna insisted on helping load their spoils into the RV, much to Clint’s dismay. He insisted she should rest. For the two trips Dee hobbled into the RV, Clint had made four and managed to take everything else inside.

“So what now?” Dee asked as Clint locked the side door behind them.  

“Well, now we find somewhere to shelter us against the wind and buckle down. How’s the foot?”

“Hurts a bit but okay.”  

“Probably find a narrow street to park on. Stay in the town for a change. The buildings should give us some protection from the wind.”

“Or it could turn the street into a wind tunnel.” Dee offered with a smile as she made her way to the passenger seat, being ever mindful of her ankle.  

“Can’t win them all.” Clint joked but for a short moment, a shadow passed over his face. Dee didn’t say anything. He was right after all, you can’t win everything. He, more than anyone she knew would know that.  

The RV roared to life as the rain picked up again, falling in sheets. It took something around half an hour for Clint to settle on a place to park. It was a narrow street between two buildings. There was hardly enough room between the side of the RV slide outs and the walls of the buildings for the side door to open.

Though Deanna didn’t like the cramped feeling or the inability to see in the distance she had to admit with the current weather, she wouldn't have been able to see much in the open either.  There was an odd comfort to be had in knowing that there were only two ways someone could sneak up on them. There were only two very limited directions that their RV could even be seen by someone walking by.  

Clint made starting the generator look easy. With the rain, they’d had no choice but to use it. The constant ran had left a chill that meant they would also be burning propane to heat the RV. The idea of using such limited resources made Deanna nervous just the same.  

“You okay?” Clint asked, stepping inside of the RV while holding his umbrella outside, fighting to close it.  

“Fine. I just- It makes me nervous.” Clit nodded at my words. “It’s such a limited resource, such a limited supply.”

“You’ve done a great job making it last, that’s for sure.” While he spoke, he helped her to the couch before pulling out a bag of microwave popcorn. The whorl of the heater was soft in the background. “But I can get us more.” After a moment of hesitation, he rushed to add, “Or get you more if you want to ditch me at the farmhouse.”

“Well, unless we travel more, we won’t need much once we’re at the farmhouse.” Dee added, watching his face for reaction. “If you didn’t mind us staying together, that is.”  

“I think I’d really like that.” It felt like the words were so much more important than they sounded. It was as if there were some unknown meaning, unknown promise to them both but there still just the same.  

~~~~~<3

The smell of buttery popcorn filled the air within the RV. The air inside was warm as rain pelted the roof. Many of the lights except for what passed as a ‘hall’ light. It gave a warm glow to the space while providing enough light to see by.  

The microwave beeped as Clint carried the fluffy blanket from the bedroom. Dee made a mental note to find a throw blanket of some kind for the living space. That way they wouldn’t have to carry the heavy blanket back and forth. Unless, Clint had one he wanted to use.

It occurred to her that she shouldn’t be thinking of things in such a way. While it was clear at least for now, she wanted to stay with Clint and he with her, she was aware they were going to his home, a farmhouse. He mentioned it having access to power and water. Would they even still be living in the RV much longer?

“Need anything for the ankle?” Clint draped the blanket over her, breaking her spell of thought.  

“No, it’s not too bad now. The worst of it is over. At least, I think.”

“Still, take it easy on it.” His voice was firm but by no means demanding. “Let me do things for you.”

“You sound like an overbearing boyfriend.” Dee laughed. Clint put one of the romantic comedies she had wanted to watch yet hadn’t planned on requesting. “How did you know I wanted to watch that one?”  

“Guess I’m just boyfriend material.” Clint answered with a small smile rather than the wide grin she had expected.

As he settled on the couch next to her, she could feel the warmth from his side. The bowl of popcorn was perched in his lap. While the previews played, she thought back to that small smile and compared it to the wide grins she had often seen in the past. What did those small smiles mean? Were the large grins and carefree attitude a diversion, a mental or social suit of armor? Could those small smiles be Clint, the real man, shining through?

“Want a soda?” He held out a bottle of Pepsi for her and she took it with a mumbled thanks.  

When the movie started, she put her troubled thoughts away. Instead she focused on the love story playing out on the screen. She nibbled popcorn and sipped her soda. The taste was far better than she remembered and she had moaned when it first hit her tongue. All the while, she was aware of the warmth from Clint at her side.  

As they relaxed into the comfort and normalcy of watching a movie with popcorn, they seemed to melt into the couch. Before the movie was over, they were leaning against each other in a heap, soft snores passing from parted lips as the movie went on unwatched.  

~~~~~<3

Clint woke a few hours later to the title screen of the movie. His neck hurt, as did his back. The popcorn spilled on the ground at some point but most had disappeared, likely due to one large dog currently dozing by the door.  

Cuddled into his side was Dee. Slung over his thighs were her legs, bent at the knee and feet hanging down. Her fingers curled into his shirt. Her could feel every deep breath she took as he held her a little closer.  

Trust snorted and Clint’s eyes were drawn up to the dog, still asleep at the door. His eyes trailed around the room. Rain was pattering against the roof but it was much softer now. The buildings offered protection from the wind and he could hear it howling outside, though the RV did not rock with the force of it.  

On the arm of the couch sat the small stuffed fox atop the small folded blanket that she kept with her most of the time. Part of him wished he could do that, stomach the idea of keeping a trinket of Laura and the kids with him. Part of him was jealous of how Dee could clutch to the memory of her kids.  

Clint knew he could never forget them. He could never imagine a life where he couldn’t close his eyes and see their faces. It was clear as day to him that she thought herself weak for clinging to those reminders. In truth, he felt weak for not taking a part of his own family with him.

With a sigh, Clint worked his arm under her knees. While she seemed to comfortable enough, his neck ached and his back was screaming at him for having the gull to age. Wiggling his fingers, he gathered up the fluffy blanket that covered them.

He stood and shifted her, bringing her closer to his chest and adjusted his grip. It wouldn’t do to drop her on the way to the bed. That seamed like a sure fire way to end up sleeping on the couch or the dinette bed and really- his back liked the actual bed so much better.

The hall was so narrow that he had to shuffle through sideways to avoid hitting her on the walls. Still, he managed to smack his head rather hard on the door. Biting his lip and whimpering, he tired to ignore the urge to swear. It hurt like a mother fucker but she looked so peaceful.

There it was, as he set her on the bed. That weight of guilt that often seemed to settle in his gut made itself known as he looked down at her. Dee was so peaceful in her sleep. The lines of worry and stress were free from her face and he could just see the woman she had been before her life was ruined.

He blamed himself. It was just one more way he failed. He hadn’t known her at the time but he failed her. Just like he failed Laura and the kids. Just like he failed countless other people. But he had no say in it- it was their call to not bring him into the battle. He trusted them and that was where he failed.

Never again would he trust another to take care of those he cared about. Though it pained him to admit it, he cared about the woman on the bed. He cared about her far more than he should already. He cared about her far more than he had any right to, being a married man who’s wife was only dusted a handful of weeks ago.

But he did. And he failed her once, before knowing her. Clint decided he would not fail her again. No matter where she wanted to go, no matter what she wanted to do, he would follow and he would see to it she was safe. He owed her that much.

Clint wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching her sleep. It was late and he was tired but he couldn’t look away. Would she ever look this at peace when awake again? He would help her find a new peace, he decided. He didn’t know how he would do it, but somehow he would.

In the living space, Trust sneezed. The sound seemed to snap him out the trance he had fallen into. A sigh slipped out of him as he shook his head. It wasn’t going to do anyone any good for him to get wrapped up in his head. Casting his eyes to the ceiling, Clint very much wished he could see Laura again, talk to her. She was his best friend and he missed her. Was it strange that he wished to speak to her about Dee? To get her advice?

He needed to sleep, that much he was sure of. His mind was turning into a puddle of goo and sleep would be the only thing that would help it. Waking after only a few hours of rest hadn’t done him any good at all.

Without another thought, he pulled his shirt off before looking at her jean covered calf poking out from the blanket. While he thought about what he should do about that, he unbuckled his belt and let gravity take his pants down.

It was a slow process, untangling her from the blanket but eventually, he had it off her. He hoped she wouldn’t wake up while he worked. She needed her sleep just as much as he needed his. Plus, as he unbuttoned her jeans and inched them down her hips, it would look rather questionable if she woke right then.

He was lucky. Though at one point she rolled over onto her stomach, she hardly stirred otherwise. It took time to work her jeans down her legs but he was happy to take that time. Part of him felt guilty for it, but he allowed his eyes to travel her legs as he exposed them.

Once he had her out of the jeans, he rolled them up and tossed them in the hamper hidden behind one of the storage doors facing the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he grabbed his own discarded clothes and tossed them in as well.

With that cleaned up, he made his way into the living room again where he picked up the bowl and turned off the TV. After taking the time to check that the doors were locked and there was no sign of life outside, he returned to the bedroom where Dee had hardly so much as moved.

He spread the blanket out over the bed and crawled in next to her. For the first time since his wife and children had turned to dust, it felt like he was coming home. A sigh slipped out of him as his back and shoulders relaxed. In just a few short moments, Clint had joined Deanna in a state of sleep provided bliss.

~~~~~<3

Deanna was aware of warmth and the comfortable feeling of the mattress under her. There was that stale taste in her mouth that told her she hadn’t brushed her teeth before falling asleep.

It was dark outside and the rain was falling in sheets. She couldn’t see it but she could hear it, the way the drops pounded against the metal exterior of the RV. The sound was relaxing, even if she knew how tainted that rain was.

Reaching out, she blindly grabbed for the stuffed fox and soft blanket she normally slept with clutched to her heart however her fingers came up empty. Reaching farther still, her fingers found Clint’s bare arm and danced over his chest. They weren’t there.

Rolling over, she began to search the other side of the bed and found nothing. Panic ate at her and she tried to calm her breathing. She didn’t lose them. Nothing was taken. They just fell off the side of the bed. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Reaching down, she groped blindly some more and only found more of the floor. Without a single thought to the sleeping Avenger next to her, she turned on the light as her search got more frantic.

Clint woke with a start but she paid him no mind at all. She looked under pillows and pulled the blanket aside.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was like gravel and any other time she would have taken a moment to appreciate the sound but right now, it hardly registered.

“I can’t find them.” Her voice came tight and high, as if a wire was wound taught and so very close to snapping.

“Find what?” His hand rested on hers for a moment but she yanked it free to look under his pillow.

“My kids. Where are they. I can’t have lost them.”

“You’re kids?” Clint watched as she stood and ripped the blanket off the bed only to throw it back on in a heap.

“Sit down, you’re going to hurt your foot.” Clint stood, holding his hands out to her. “Don’t you remember, your kids- they...”

“I know.” Deanna reached up and pulled her fingers through her messy slept on hair. “I know. I know. But I’ve got to find them.”

“What are you looking for? Tell me exactly and I’ll find them, okay?”

The thing that had stood out to Clint from the moment he had first met Dee was how strong she was. Even with a sprained ankle and no choice but to rely on a stranger’s aid, she always had an air of strength to her. She was solid. Unshakable.

Now, woken in the middle of the night was proof that even she was haunted by the memories of what had happened. He couldn’t fault her for it, he himself had woken many times from a panicked search.

“Their- Aurora's- Oh god. I can’t have lost them.”

It hit Clint in that instant. There was only two things that she was never without. He had been proud of himself, getting her into the bed and out of her jeans without waking her. He had been sure he had thought of everything. But he had forgotten what had turned out to be the most important of things.

It wasn’t locking the doors. It wasn’t checking for people sneaking up on them. It wasn’t turning out lights or making sure Trust had food or water. It wasn’t picking up the popcorn bowl. It wasn’t even turning off the TV.

“Sit here, I think I know what you’re looking for.”

It took a firm hand to guide her to sit on the bed. It was clear as day she didn’t want to just sit but the panic was clouding her mind. Clint worried about her hurting her foot when it was already beginning to heal so well.

She just wanted to find them. She just wanted to hold them. She needed them.

Once he had her sitting, Clint rushed into the living room. In the process, he nearly tripped over Trust. The dog had slept through all the commotion and later, Clint would take it as a sign that the dog trusted him to care for the woman who had become his master.

Sitting neatly on the arm of the sofa was a stuffed fox, well loved and well cared for atop a soft folded baby blanket. She wasn’t looking for her kids, she was looking for all she had left of them.

With upmost care, he picked up the forgotten items and carried them into the bedroom. As soon as her eyes took them in, he watched as every bit of the tension left her. Wordlessly, she reached out and took them from him, holding them tight to her chest.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, looking up at him with watery eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sitting next to her on the bed, Clint rested one large hand on her back and began to slowly rub. “I should have remembered to grab them. You have them every night.”

“You couldn’t have-”

“You have them every night.” He again repeated as she leaned into his touch. Tears dripped from her cheeks as he held her to his side. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He whispered.

“I try so hard.” It felt like a sacred admission, a holy secret.

“You can be weak sometimes. You can cry. You can fall apart. You’re not alone anymore, Dee. I’m right here with you now. I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”

~~~~~<3

Want in on the tag list? I will gladly add you, just let me know. And as always, I ADORE hearing about what you think, what challenges you think these two will face and what their path in the next few years will look like. What do YOU think the world immediately post snap would look like?

Tag List: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna. @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @winterisakiller, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @carissime72, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @myoxisbroken, @wegingerangelica

[docholligay]

The End of the Chuck-Line Rider

Hello! I wrote this for @rhiorhino, a McCree fic, as she is the only one who has ever commissioned me for McCree. I hope you like it, it gave me some trouble, but I think it turned out with some merit. It takes place after McCree rejoins my Overwatch, and you can find where it is in the fics here. About 2400 words. 

Jesse McCree had spent the whole of his life bouncing from job to job, group to group, and it was the same in the city. He rode the line out to Brixton and Whitechapel and Poplar, sure as he’d bounced from Deadlock to Blackwatch to Talon. 

But sometimes he got tired of the bouncing, and he went to Winston’s house. 

Winston’s house was more than just a house, was why. A large, expansive place that had once been a warehouse, it should be grey and gloomy still surrounded by other warehouses, but Tracer, long before she had any capacity as commander, before there even was a second Overwatch, had painted it in lovely cheerful colors, and planted a few rows of flowers around the front stairs. It was a strange sight in the middle of the industrial park, lacking a quality of covertness one might have expected from the place.

For you see, it housed more than just Winston’s couch. It housed his lab, Mercy’s exam rooms and medical center, it housed arms lockers and a garage for D.va to tinker with her mech. Pharah had made herself busy digging out the bottom of the place to make a training room.

And it was for this reason that McCree felt he could be there. It was a sort of satellite headquarters for Overwatch, even if the official office was above some sort of fry shop off Well Street. He was a member of Overwatch, and the dog tags that clinked at his chest were proof of that. So he was allowed to be here, and when he tired of his tiny room, and of wandering around the city, he came here.

Winston had not yet discovered a way to keep him out of the kitchen, as it happened to be the only kitchen in the place, wide and generously spaced as the rest of the house, built for Winston and tolerated for McCree.

He was rubbing his gun idly as he sat there, drinking the coffee that bubbled out of Mercy’s housewarming gift to Winston that had probably been more than a little self serving. Pharah couldn’t hardly get mad at him for firearm safety, he thought as he pushed the brush through the bore.

How many times had he cleaned his gun in the past few months? He’d barely had the opportunity to shoot it, on Overwatch’s side, but still he cleaned it, a good habit. A good habit that got him out of the house.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for his small place across the river and down the way. He’d had a hard enough time finding anything he could afford, not to mention a place that would let him have his cats. And he wasn’t giving up his boys, just so he could have a little bit more comfort, no sir. Whatever else he was, he wasn’t quite that kind of man, to give them up after all they’d taken him through.

Mercy had suggested that Tracer had an extra bed in her home, and McCree hadn’t been dumb enough to ask her if he could stay, not when he was shooting daggers at him with her eyes, on account of she wasn’t allowed to shoot actual bullets at him with her gun.

So he was grateful, after all, for the tiny place he’d found, but it was still a single room with a microwave and a tiny cube of a fridge, with a tile floor and barely enough space for the cat tree.

And so sometimes he cleaned his gun at Winston’s.

The thing about Winston’s is that people came in and out of it, looking at him with various levels of suspicion and regret. He tried not to notice. He noticed anyway. Ashe had often said he had too much of a conscience to be in the Deadlock Gang. Yael had retorted that Ashe was the only one without one, before adding the venomous “rich kid” to the end of the sentence.

McCree had always chuckled when she said that. Until he heard his name said with that same venom, flecked off everyone’s teeth, everywhere.

A high ding rang out over the kitchen.

Tracer walked into the room, bouncing as she walked and humming happily to herself, till she caught sight of McCree, slowing and focusing her as if she’d hit a brick wall. She did not take her eyes off of him as she removed a mug from the cabinet, her canister of tea from next to the kettle, and then, just as quickly, snapped her head back to the task at hand, pouring the boiling water into the bright cup.

“We’re together on the next go round, you know.” McCree looked down the barrel of his gun, the oil from cleaning it filling Winston’s kitchen with its perfume.

She continued making her tea, with no response, pouring a bit of cream as her sloth tea infuser smiled out at McCree, the only one happy to see him.

“Tracer.”

She did not look up. “‘Eard you.”

It had been months since he’d been captured, since he’d decided to defect, since Mercy had passionately argued, using a religion none of them believed in but all felt strangely compelled by on the back of Mercy’s belief, that he should be allowed, that he should have a change to be something different and new.

We wiped down the edge of the barrel. “Think we should, you know, run a drill, maybe? Might be a solid idea to get some sense of the other.”

Tracer reached for the sugar bowl. “Know ‘ow you fight.”

Mercy was the only one who thought of him as a member of the team, if he was being honest. Pharah regarded him with suspicion. Winston hated him passionately, and wasn’t afraid to say so. Dva didn’t seem to care either way, and would tell you that if you asked her, but she somehow forgot to invite him to her apartment for dinners and games with the others.  

Even Jack and Ana got invited to those.

He gave a weak grin and inclined his chin to her. “I mean, you’re the boss.”

She spun around quickly, somehow not spilling a drop of her tea, moving her hand with the motion of her body, practiced in all the ways she moved, and gave a smirk and a nod. “S’right, McCree, I am. See that you don’t forget it.”

But somehow it was Tracer who surprised him the most, a woman he would have said previously didn’t know how to hold grudge, who often joked she didn’t have the attention span for it but who had managed to gather it up to hate McCree. Tracer, who had mostly ignored the divide between Overwatch and Blackwatch, whatever Ana told her to do, who’d taken McCree out to his first gay club and laughed all the while. Tracer who now spoke to him only in snaps, for months.

There was a small part of him that was done with it, and it aimed forward.

“S’true, but,” He set down his gun and crossed his arms “Now Lena, we gotta--”

Tracer slammed her mug onto the countertop, tea spilling out the top of it, sloth tea infuser thrown off the edge of the mug and onto the stone, even his back to McCree, now.

“You SHOT me, Jesse!” Her eyes glowed with hot fire, willing and ready to answer the volley. “And you shot me to kill me! Near succeeded, too, you did, and wouldn’t that ‘ave been a lovely day for you, right? I don’t ‘gotta’ do nothing!”

McCree looked down into his coffee, watching the thin ribbon of cream he occasionally allowed himself circle around aimlessly in the dark.

He knew the feeling.

It would be impossible to explain to Tracer that it wouldn’t have been a lovely day for him, that he felt the full weight of regret like a fifty pound sack of flour the second he’d heard her cry out, the moment he saw the glitter off her blood in the moonlight. He’d thought it was the right thing, but it had been the wrong thing, and his gut had known that, same as Yael said it would. That he’d felt a wave of relief when Reaper had growled that she was still alive, that he had fucked it up, in the way this time at least.

But everything else she said was true, and Tracer had only spoken the truth into the light. That he’d shot her. That he’d shot to kill. And he would have to live with her hatred for the rest of his life, with Winston’s hatred, with everyone’s hatred. He’d made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it, and that was the god’s honest truth.

Tracer stared at him cold, daring him to defend himself, daring him to say anything at all, and he found himself unable to meet her gaze directly. She’d become a commander, in these ensuing years, and not just by title. Her back was straighter, her voice was clearer, and she did not look away.

“I--” He scrambled for a thing to say, trying to quiet the small voice inside of him that said he deserved another chance, that punishment enough had been meted out, that it was a commander’s duty to correct but either correct him and let it be done or send him on his way. The larger part of him, that part that knew what he’d done, fell upon that voice like a wave. “I’m, you know, I apologize.”

“Jesse.” She said very softly, wiping down the counter with a napkin.

“Yah?”

“I’m going to ‘it you in about, oh, one second, most like.”

“What the--”

He did not have time to finish the sentence before a mug came sailing at his face. He raised his arm, and barely blocked it, but the surprise of it caught him, and he stood up, tumbling backward into the wall. His gun was ripped from his hand and scattered across the kitchen floor, and McCree barely had time to worry that Tracer had knocked his gun out of timing before he felt the volley of her fists into his body.

He grabbed out for her, but there was only a small blue light where she had been and a fierce whack across the back of his head. Less than a second. The accelerator she wore every day gave her less than a second of movement.

It was enough, he reflected, as his nose cracked against a tiny fist, and she knew how to use it. The blood spewed out of his nose, and he reflexively grabbed for it, his other arm throwing out a wild punch in the hopes of finding her, but the most he felt was the graze of cotton that was the edge of her shirt. God, but she was fast. He wasn’t used to fighting someone like her, he was a barroom brawler and a one gun cowboy, and her heard her spring off the table ust in enough time to barely shield himself from the full force of her body on top of him, bring them both to the floor.

It seemed to last forever, but it could not have been half a minute before he heard Pharah’s voice, shouting above the sound of McCree’s head slamming to the floor, and the force of a knee falling into his chest.

“Ya rab! Hey!” He felt the knee lift from his chest, “Tracer!” and as he rolled over onto his belly and blinked around, he saw Tracer, her arms firmly held by Pharah, “You cannot do this! Not like this!”

“No, Fareeha!” She pulled away from her, “Tired of being bloody FUCKING told I’m not permitted to get the slightest bit angry over ‘im coming back into the fold, on account of your wife decided it was okay to the ‘ole lot of us!”

“Lena!”

“Let me ‘andle it!” She stomped her foot, as if she were an enraged toddler. “‘E TRIED TO KILL ME!”

“I know!” Pharah sighed, and took a breath. “I was there. It was horrible. I do not blame--”

“Makes no never mind to me.” McCree grumbled. “I had it coming, think we all know that.” He looked up at her through an already-swelling eye. ‘We square, or you not have your pound a flesh?”

It felt good, he would have said, if he had allowed himself to say such things. He wanted to handle it this way , too. That as different as he and Tracer could be, they both had a clear understanding of the fact that sometimes diplomacy didn’t work, and sometimes the only way to let bygones be was to pay it out in blood. That this was the most hopeful he’d felt since joining.

Pharah nodded. “I will get Angela. You will need care.”

She hurried away, Tracer still leaning against the edge of the countertop, arms crossed, the blue of her shirt peppered with blood that McCree was pretty sure was all his. He didn’t remember landing a hit.

He grinned up at her, still tasting the iron of it. “Good training, Commander.”

She gave a weak chuckle. “Fuck, Jesse.” She walked toward him, and extended a hand. “Come on then.”

He looked up. “You gonna hit me again?”

She smiled, and he felt his shoulders relax. “Not today. Most like.”

He took her hand, and as she pulled him up, she paused for a second by his hear. “Promise you this, you ever walk toward Talon again, it’s the last thing you ever do.”

He appreciated knowing what a man can do, and what a man can’t do, and Tracer was good at making that plain. She’d make good on the promise. She kept promises.

McCree straightened up. “Understood.” he went to tip his hat only to realize it wasn’t there, and awkwardly saluted, “Commander Oxton.”

Tracer looked around the kitchen, and put her hands on her hips. “All right then, clean this up,” She shrugged, “guess that’s the lot of it. Hm,” she looked at the floor, “broke me mug.”

McCree grabbed the broom and mop, and when he turned around, Tracer was offering him a handkerchief.

[thederailedtrain]

The Mark of Oblivion: City Hall Station [Three]

“Start at the beginning,” Cedric said. This was as much as he’d gotten from Toni when she burst into the shop not five minutes ago. “What happened?”

“Literally, exactly what I said,” Toni replied. “I was coming home from work when I caught Gus’s name over the typical Harbinger chatter.” Toni tapped her head twice. “Did a little digging, and it looks like Bryce was approached by Gus’s girlfriend, Phoebe-”

“Sophie,” Kira corrected.

“Sophie, whatever,” Toni waved her off. “Anyway, she apparently noticed something was up between the two of them and guessed Bryce was involved somehow. Since Gus hasn’t spilled the beans about this whole Otherworld business, she figured Bryce would. So he took her to the old 6 train station beneath City Hall, lured Gus there, and tricked him into revealing magic to her first.”

Cedric could see Kira’s breathing hitch. “You mean they’re fighting right now?” Her voice had risen several notes along with her nerves.

“Well, I would’ve gotten here sooner, but someone sealed off the basement from teleportation magics,” Toni sent a withering glare in Cedric’s direction. He was ready to argue back, but Toni just charged right ahead. “The second I figured out what was up, I made it down as fast as the 4 train would take me. Y’all owe me a subway fare, by the way.”

Ignoring Toni’s last comment entirely, Salazar spoke up. “If I’m remembering correctly, Gus’s girlfriend is mortal.” He received three nods of confirmation. “Then this is a lot bigger than just some battle against a Harbinger. The exposure risk-”

Cedric didn’t wait for him to finish. “I agree. We need to send someone immediately.”

“I’ll do it,” Kira’s response was so quick, she ran over the tail end of Cedric’s words. She jumped from the couch, already going for her jacket.

However, Cedric’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Perhaps you’re not ready for this yet,” he said, his voice low.

“What?!” Kira cried. “This is my best friend. I have to go-”

“As much as I hate to agree with him, Mr. Warden’s right,” Toni cut in, giving her what was probably supposed to be a consoling shrug. “You’re probably worse off than he is right now,” she added, throwing a nod in Salazar’s direction. Salazar gave an impressive eye roll for a man with only one eye. “Alright, Cedric, looks like it’s you and me.”

Realizing that he really was the only option they had at the moment, Cedric sighed. He let his hand linger on Kira’s shoulder for a moment, unspoken promise in his eyes. We’ll get him back safe, don’t worry. Just before he let the hand drop, Kira covered it with her own. Cedric was grateful she had to turn away to speak to Toni, because he was having trouble thinking past their points of contact.

“So why come up here in the first place?” The witch asked. “Why not grab Cedric and go? To put me in a situation where I’m utterly useless?” Even Kira seemed surprised by how loud she’d gotten by the end of her rant.

To her credit, Toni didn’t flinch. “Because you were right earlier,” she explained. “Gus is your best friend and you deserve to know what was going on.” She paused, shrugging. “I mean, I could’ve just texted you, but it’s not like I have your number.”

Every time Cedrd thought he had Toni figured out...Kira opened her mouth, but seemed to have trouble getting the ‘thank you’ out. Cedric could feel her stare on him as he shrugged on his coat. “Kick Bryce’s ass for me,” Kira said eventually. “And stay safe, alright?”

“We will,” Cedric assured her. Then he turned and headed out the door because if he didn’t look away now, he knew he would never be able to. It wasn’t until they were out on the street that he found the words again. “There’s an alley behind the shop that will provide enough cover for a transference spell.”

Toni nodded, a couple steps behind Cedric. He figured, given the situation, Toni would want to stay on point. Honestly, Cedric should’ve known better. “So judging by how that went down in there, I’m gonna go ahead and guess you still haven’t told Kira? Like, anything, I mean.” Her voice cut through the nighttime traffic like a well-honed knife. Cedric was glad he was turned away so she couldn’t see him wince.

“How about we discuss this some other time?” Cedric asked, once he’d managed to school his expression back to normal.

Years in court when he was a young man had been good practice for exactly this type of situation. But that training never taught him how to stop thinking about something, or remove the ache it caused from his chest. Cedric actually found himself looking forward to the battle, if only because it would give him a momentary respite.

Toni muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s not me you need to discuss this with.” He ignored it and held out an expectant hand, which Toni took with a shake of her head. “Alright, Mr. Warden, hold onto your scarf.”

Which was all the warning Cedric got to close his eyes before the world dropped out from under him. Over a thousand years living in the Otherworld and Cedric still had yet to get used to transference via chaos magic. Few other things provoked this kind of instinctual fear in him. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on Toni’s hand.

At least it was over quickly. The world wasn’t spinning the same way it did for most other transference spells. That Cedric knew how to handle. This was like coming back to consciousness after suddenly falling asleep. Cedric needed a moment to get his bearings back.

The moment he opened his eyes, nostalgia hit him like a tidal wave. Aside from rust and water damage, the old City Hall Station looked exactly like it did the last time he’d stood on this platform over seventy years ago. Cedric only noticed Gus seconds later when the werewolf nearly bowled him over.

Gus didn’t stand fully to his feet, remaining in a crouch. He shook himself off, growling under his breath while his jacket continued to smoke. The intimidating image was completely undercut by the tone of his voice. “Oh, hey, guys! I was kinda hoping you’d show up soon.”

“Thought I said this party was supposed to be invitation only,” someone else said, prompting Gus to switch from friendly to snarling once more.

Cedric followed his line of sight across the platform to where another man was standing. He was a Harbinger, that much was obvious from his appearance and the chaos-tinged smoke of black magic curling around his body. And while Cedric was only vaguely familiar with him, there was an intrinsic loathing tied to his face. It was Gus’s, Cedric knew, still lingering in his mind from when they’d been linked during their last battle against the Harbingers. That same hatred was pouring off of him right now.

“Oh, honey,” Toni simpered. A wide grin broke out across her features as she let her eyes turn black. “I know I’m not your boss anymore, but a little respect would be nice.”

When Bryce’s eyes widened, Cedric didn’t need his empathy to guess why. “Who...who are you?” The air of superiority in his tone did little to hide his stumble.

“Hmm, guess we must’ve just missed each other,” Toni sighed. She turned her head, staring wistfully into the distance. “Too bad. That would’ve been a much more effective threat if you’d been around for my reign of terror.”

While Toni’s gaze was diverted elsewhere, Bryce attempted to strike. It was a desperate maneuver - he must’ve noticed the difference in power between himself and Toni - and even Cedric could sense the spell before it left his hand. He watched in horror as the cloud of black smoke sailed right for Toni, only for her to deflect it casually back at him.

“Everyone’s always trying to use my own tricks against me,” She pouted, dropping the expression to return fire.

Taking that as a sign the battle was back on, Gus rushed back in. Cedric nearly followed suit, until a thread of emotions wandered into his consciousness. It had been there the whole time, overshadowed by everyone else’s because it wasn’t wrapped in a magical presence.

Once Cedric put it all together, he whirred around. The woman standing behind him was petite, with vibrantly red curls and blue eyes that were wide as she took in the scene before her. Cedric already knew that this had to be Sophie, Gus’s girlfriend. With one last glance at the battle raging on the other end of the platform, Cedric turned and ran towards her. Toni and Gus were more than a match for Bryce. Right now, Sophie needed him most.

“Are you alright?” Cedric asked, kneeling down once he got to her feet. Even like this, he was practically eye to eye with Sophie. She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, pulling back when her eyes landed on him. “Don’t worry, I’m Gus’s friend. I won’t hurt you.”

“I-I’m alright,” Sophie stammered automatically. She was more preoccupied with accessing Cedric’s threat level than telling the truth. The incubus sensed the moment she decided he was trustworthy and watched her begin to backtrack. “No, what am I saying? This sucks and I have no idea what the hell is going on right now.”

Cedric nodded slowly in understanding. “Can you tell me what you remember about how you got here?”

“Umm, I don’t remember much, actually,” Sophie replied. She sounded surprised by her own answer. “I got a message from Gus about him coming back to Henderson, so I decided to go in. But then I bumped into Bryce. I might’ve taken my frustration out on him and he said something about having Gus tell me himself...And then I wound up here. It was really dark for a while, but then Gus was here and they started fighting.” She stopped short, seeming to realize she had been rambling. Cedric was impressed she caught onto his influence so quickly. “Gus…” Sophie trailed off, gaze now on the battle. Cedric was prepared to give her reassurance that he was going to be fine, but Sophie’s next words surprised him. “What is he?”

Of course, Cedric sighed. Sophie was a mortal, she wasn’t used to Otherworld matters the same way his regular clients were. “Much as I hate to admit it, I think Bryce was right about one thing. This is a private discussion for the two of you,” he said.

It was a massive breach of protocol, but at this point, Cedric felt he owed it to Gus. He’d done the same thing when Kira had accidentally exposed Gus to the Otherworld. Of course, Cedric also knew there was a chance Gus would become an Otherworlder himself, so the situations weren’t exactly the same. With Sophie, he couldn’t feel a single glimmer of magic.

What he could feel from her was a confusing mass of emotions. Given the circumstances, that was to be expected. Sophie was putting on a strong face, but that didn’t stop Cedric from sensing the anger and frustration welling up within her. The betrayal. To her credit, Cedric knew she hadn’t shed a single tear.

She’s like Gus that way, Cedric couldn’t help but think. He could almost visualize the close bond between the two of them, stretching out from her to him like a thread. It had become frayed in the past few months, but her concern over him right now was keeping it from snapping.

“You know,” Cedric added after a moment of listening to Sophie’s emotions. “This is something you were never meant to see. If, after this is all over, you want to go back to not knowing...I can help you forget.”

There was a strange look in Sophie’s eyes when she finally turned back to him. The conflict of emotions reigning over her thoughts swirled more furiously. Before she could settle on an answer, a voice cut through the usual sounds of battle.

“Why?!”

Cedric recognized Gus’s accent immediately. Both he and Sophie turned to see the battle still raging behind them.

It was an interesting fight to behold, but it was clearly one-sided. Bryce was perpetually losing ground, trying to get out of range of Gus’s fists while simultaneously dodging the spells Toni threw his way. Cedric could feel his regret at his choice of opponents, even from here.

In response to Gus’s question, Bryce let out a laugh. The sound was quickly cut off by a burst of chaos magic that slammed into his back. While he was still stunned, Gus seized the opportunity. He grabbed a handful of Bryce’s turtleneck, using it to slam him against the nearest support beam. The impact rang throughout the platform.

“Why?” Gus repeated. Even though he was closer to Bryce now, and didn’t have to compete for volume, his voice was just as loud. “Why would you- Sophie did nothing to you! Why would you hurt her?!”

Again, Bryce let out a laugh. There was some fear and frustration in the sound, but it was masked by an overwhelming sense of victory. He certainly chuckled like he’d won. When Gus did nothing, only continue to glare him down, he appeared to roll his eyes - it was difficult to tell if that was the intention when he lacked scleras.

“First of all, I didn’t hurt her. She came to me for help, and that’s exactly what I provided,” Byce answered. “But this really isn’t about her. No offense to you, Sophie. Hope there aren’t any hard feelings after this,” he spoke the last bit to Sophie directly, nodding to her from across the platform.

“Go to hell,” Sophie spat back.

“Actually, I’m trying to bring hell to us, but that’s a little besides the point right now,” Bryce grinned. Turning back to Gus, he added, “But I’m man enough to admit it; you won our fight on Saturday. I had to find some other way to settle the score.”

“You sound pretty confident for someone currently pinned to a wall,” Gus fired back.

The smile that spread across Bryce’s face was directed across the platform. “Yeah, I probably do,” he sighed and the sound was almost wistful. “But the Warden over there looks about ready to bust me for magical exposure, so I think it’s time I ghosted.”

Suddenly, shadows enveloped Bryce’s form, which quickly dissolved in smoke. Toni, who was in the middle of a binding spell, cut herself off with a loud swear.

“No!” Gus cried, claws slashing through the air in a vain attempt to grab anything. They passed harmlessly through the smoke that was left behind, gouging lines out of the paint covering the support beam. The frustrated shout he let out sounded close to a howl.

In the following silence, Toni surprised Cedric by beating him to a comforting statement. “Hey, chill out, alright?” Well, perhaps not comforting, but there was an undercurrent of concern in her voice. She placed a hesitant hand on Gus’s arm, which Cedric could see shaking even from so far away. When she did, the shaking stopped. “There’s someone over there who needs you right now and that’s more important.”

At that, Gus’s head snapped up. His glowing gaze flew right to where Sophie and Cedric were huddled by the stairwell. By the time he’d jogged over, his eyes were back to their natural shade of hazel.

“Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Gus asked. The words tumbled from his mouth so fast, all Sophie could do was nod or shake her head to keep up.

Sophie took a second before pulling Gus in for a hug, which Gus returned with gusto. He picked Sophie up, spinning her away from the stairs. “Gus…” she trailed off, staring up at him. “What just happened?”

[harryseyebrows]

Gryles, Harry’s just found out he’s preggo, they’re together but it’s not planned, harry is happy but nervous nick won’t be. How does he tell him?

okay. so i finally got around to doing this/finishing it. here’s 2.3k of a rough edit, lightly proofread by yours truly. i hope you like it!

Harry uses his key to Nick’s flat to let himself in.

The groceries he picked up on the way over are still in the bags, sitting on the kitchen counter. He can’t even bring himself to put the milk away.

There’s a heavy weight sitting in his chest, making his ribs feel like they’re all going to crack and spill out his guts for everyone to see.

After over a week of near-constant nausea, he finally made an appointment to see the doctor. So just a couple of hours ago, Harry was sitting on crinkly paper and asking why he’s gained almost half a stone since his last visit four months prior. A simple blood test gave him his answer.

He forced himself to hold it together in the office, politely declining the doctor’s offer of a cup of water when she told Harry he’d gone pale.

“I’m fine,” he said, and started to laugh, a nervous habit.

Dr. Clarke had put a gentle had on his shoulder. “Is this news surprising?”

“Very,” Harry blurted. He took a deep breath and clarified. “Not… bad news. Just wasn’t expecting it. At all.”

“It happens more than you think. You have a partner, correct?”

Harry’s palms went clammy at the mention of Nick. “Yes.”

Dr. Clarke’s mouth had twisted, her tone careful. “Will he be supportive of your decisions? When you tell him?” The unspoken, You are going to tell him, right? hung in the air.

Nick loves kids and babies. And he loves Harry. But Harry let himself fall into a pit of doubt, wondering whether or not Nick would love those things in tandem. A baby with Harry. Their baby. They just-- they haven’t planned for this. Haven’t discussed it, ever.

Harry can’t part with this little life they’ve created, only nine or so weeks along and the size of a cherry, according to a Google search he did in his car after leaving the office. Nick is entitled to feel however he wants, but Harry just has to tell him first, which feels like such a Herculean task and all Harry really wants to do is crawl into Nick’s bed and nap for a week.

His baseline lately has been feeling slightly nauseous, but there’s a new layer to it now, perched on the edge of Nick’s sitting room couch with his leg bouncing without his permission, picking at his cuticles even though he’s tried to break the habit. For the past year, this has felt like his home more than his own apartment, but he currently feels like a stranger, like there’s a fist around his stomach, squeezing and making him feel ready to vomit.

A baby. He’s going to have a baby.

Beside being ill -- morning sickness, he realizes now, though it seems to be more all-day-sickness -- he doesn’t feel that different. Prodding at his lower belly reveals, well, nothing. It feels exactly the same, despite his weight gain. When he was getting ready earlier, he didn’t think he looked any different either, no obvious signs in his face. His skin has been a bit trickier, though, more oily and breaking out more often. Perhaps “the glow” comes later, or Harry is destined to be a slug for this entire pregnancy.

He can’t quite wrap his mind around it yet, that he’s really pregnant. He wonders when it will start to feel real. For now it’s just a concept, something that seems so far away.

Two months in already, though, his brain helpfully supplies. That’s-- only seven months left, then. So many days of passed without him realizing what’s been at stake here. Weeks of ignorance and carelessness. 

His panic increases, thinking back to the things he might have done in the past two months that could have hurt the baby. Alcohol seems like the obvious one -- he’s not a huge drinker, but surely he’s had a glass of wine or two lately.

He starts going down the list of things that he knows are bad for pregnant people, things he’s learned from friends and family. Secondhand smoke. When is the last time he had sushi? Caffeine; he just had a large iced coffee this morning.

The next thing he knows, Nick is squatting in front of him. His mouth is moving but Harry can’t hear what he’s saying. How long has he been here? How did Harry not notice?

Harry is distantly aware that he’s hyperventilating. Time feels like it’s moving excruciatingly slow and too fast at the same time. This probably isn’t good for the baby, either.

The baby. Harry has to tell Nick about the baby. Their baby. Half Nick’s, because they fuck without condoms all the time and Harry has never been the best about taking his pill.

Nick looks really worried now, big hands on Harry’s shoulders, still talking. Harry thinks he can make out, “What’s wrong?” from the way Nick’s mouth is moving.

“I’m gonna puke,” Harry says, surprisingly coherent.

The fog lifts a bit and Harry can hear again, blood still pumping loudly in his ears. His stomach is doing flips in his abdomen, though.

“Bathroom,” Nick says, pulling Harry up and guiding him quickly down the hall.

As soon as Harry’s knees hit the tile floor, he’s retching into the bowl. Unlike his morning/all-day sickness, nothing comes up, but his body doesn’t quite get the memo, because it’s nearly five minutes of gagging and spitting -- the decidedly unsexy kind -- before he gets a moment of reprieve.

Nick has been rubbing his back the entire time, offering assurances and being characteristically kind, soft words filling up the room over the noises of a person being violently ill.

After another round of fruitless heaves, Harry feels safely in the clear when his organs stop trying to evacuate themselves.

While Harry flushes nothing but saliva and toilet water, Nick asks, “Did you eat something bad?”

Harry shakes his head, slumping back against the wall.

Nick looks weary. “It’s not a bug, is it? Because I love you dearly but I don’t fancy getting a virus.”

“Not a bug,” Harry says, voice rough and scratchy. He can’t look Nick in the eyes, afraid that he’ll know right away, know that Harry’s hiding something.

“What’s the matter, darling? I walked in and you were already upset. You scared me.”

Harry’s eyes start to sting, lower lip wobbling precariously. He’s always up for a good cry after vomiting, but this takes a new precedent.

“You’re gonna be mad at me,” Harry manages to say in between useless sniffles. His cheeks are already wet, nose on its way to being clogged and snotty.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because you are.” Harry chokes on a sob. It makes Nick wince.

Harry can tell that Nick’s caught between genuine concern and annoyance. Which is fair, Harry thinks, considering that he’s not cooperating very well.

He’s just so nervous, can feel his stomach getting upset again, because he knows he has to tell Nick, and even though it’s not a now or never type of situation, it’s the right thing to do, to tell Nick why he’s crying and almost-puking and basically a basket case right now.

“Harry…”

Once Harry starts talking, he can’t stop. “You’re gonna hate me and break up with me and I’m gonna let you, even though I don’t want you to do that, because I don’t like doing things by myself. I just understand why you’d be upset about it, because we haven’t talked about it before but now it’s happening and I don’t know what to do. I feel sick all the time and Google told me that it can get better but sometimes it doesn’t and so many other things can go wrong, and I think I’ve already fucked it up somehow because I had a martini at dinner the other night -- from that nice Italian place we went to? And none of my clothes are gonna fit and--”

“Harry. Harry. Slow down, Jesus.”

“But--”

“Shh. You just said a lot of things. At a rather brisk pace, might I add. Just tell me what all of this is about.”

Harry would rather pay to have a giant billboard put up than force the words out of his mouth. He wants to shake nick and say, Don’t you understand? Do you really want me to spell it out?

A fresh wave of tears start.

“Oh, hell. Don’t cry.”

“Sorry,” Harry hiccups. “I-- I can’t help it.”

Nick sighs. “And stop bloody apologizing. Just talk to me. I promise I won’t be angry.”

Harry eyes him skeptically, trying and failing to suppress his spasming diaphragm.. “Promise?”

“Pinky.” Nick offers his finger and Harry links it with his own, his hand shaking.

All of the adrenaline in his body seems to ease the passage of the words as he makes himself say, “I’m pregnant.” He feels comfortably numb. Perhaps his body is trying to protect itself. Protect the teeny tiny little baby it’s housing.

The world doesn’t cave in on itself. A bolt of lightning doesn’t strike either of them. Nick barely even reacts, his face giving nothing away. He just stares at Harry like he’s trying to see behind his eyes, look into his brain and figure out if it’s a joke or not.

Harry wants to crumble under the intensity of it, but he stands his ground. Well, his slump, rather. He’s still quite tired from all of the day’s stresses. And now he’s probably all blotchy and gross because he’s still crying.  

It feels like days before Nick responds.

“Pregnant, eh?”

“...Yes.”

“Like, how pregnant? On a scale from one to ten.”

A puff of air passes through Harry’s lips in an approximation of a laugh. “A ten? I think.”

“Hm. That sounds fairly pregnant to me.”

“I’d say,” Harry says tentatively.

“Reckon I know who the other father is?” Nick asks, the smirk on his face a dead giveaway that he has absolutely no doubt that it’s him.

Harry isn’t sure if he should be offended or not, that Nick is so certain but still feels the need to joke. “It’s you, arsehole.” Harry is smiling anyway, the drying tears on his face making his cheeks feel tight.

He feels sort of silly now, for freaking out as much as he did. While he’s certainly not in the clear yet, Nick isn’t acting like he’s ready to run for the hills or kick Harry out and demand that they never speak to each other again. If anything, he looks… happy.

The crinkles around his eyes that he desperately tries to cream and serum away are out in full force, a grin taking over his entire face.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Nothing. I mean, it’s exciting, innit?”

Harry has to clarify. “So you’re really not mad?”

Nick looks cross for a moment. “Of course not. Don��t know why you thought I’d be.”

“But-- we never discussed it. I thought-- like, this definitely wasn’t planned, and I don’t know about you but I’m scared out of my head right now.”

“Just because it wasn’t planned doesn’t mean it can’t be a good thing. Though I suppose I’m gonna have to make an honest man out of you yet. Do you want to wear the dress or shall I?”

Harry scoffs. “Thanks. Real romantic, Grim. Marrying me out of obligation.”

“That’s peak romance.”

“No, peak romance was me getting knocked up and not even realizing it at the time.”

“Which reminds me, how far along are we?”

Harry unconsciously brings a hand to his belly. “Nine weeks.”

Nick taps his chin thoughtfully. “Nine weeks… After Alexa’s party, you think?”

“Could’ve been. Doesn’t really matter, though. Baby’s in there now.” Hopefully to stay, Harry doesn’t add. He can’t think about that possibility right now. 

“Well, at least this explains why you’ve felt so shitty lately. Right?”

“Right.” Harry agrees. His butt has started to go numb from being on the floor so long. He moves to stand up but Nick interrupts him.

“Hey, whoa. Easy there.”

They both seem to have more limbs than they know what to do with on a good day, so there’s a lot of bumping into each other and stepping on toes while Nick tries to help Harry up.

“You don’t have to be weird about it, Nick. It’s not like I’m immobile.”

Nick holds his hands up. “Okay. Just trying to make myself useful.”

“You’re plenty useful. Too useful, I think. You’re dick is going on lockdown, by the way.”

“What?” Nick squacks.

“You heard me.”

“Why? It’s not like you can get more pregnant.”

“Not taking any chances.”

“Fine. You’ll only be punishing yourself.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He still feels a bit shaky from everything, like he needs a tall glass of water and a lie down. He says as much to Nick.

“All right. Two things on the docket, then. Get you good and hydrated and then have a cuddle. I think I can manage that. I’m knackered meself. D’ya want tea? Can you even have tea? Because I was gonna suggest some tea and biscuits, which I’m sure the biscuits are fine but I feel like caffeine might not be the best thing for a developing baby.”

Harry can’t help but laugh. “Decaf. Which we’ll have to get-- shit. Groceries. I bought groceries earlier and I never put them away.”

“Three things on the docket. For me at least. Let’s get you a drink and you can get started on Love Island. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Harry considers arguing, but knows it won’t get him anywhere. So he accepts the cup Nick offers him, peels back the duvet on Nick’s bed, changes into comfy clothes and gets settled.

It’s nice listening to Nick mess about in the kitchen, unpacking the things Harry bought for them. The occasional loud noise and the subsequent “Shit” that Harry can just barely make out.

Things are likely to get harder in the coming months, but for right now, Harry is pretty okay with how things are, all things considered. Today could have gone better, but it’s done and over. Nick is happy and so is Harry.

[rickstexaschick]

Rick’s Texas Chick: Chapter 19

Originally published on AO3 at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183545/chapters/35527206#workskin

After she and Harley left the pub together, Rick portalled back, directly into her house.  Even though it was his idea, it had taken more effort than he’d expected to let her leave with Harley.  Watching them disappear into the night gave him a hollow feeling.  Somehow going back to her empty house was better than being alone in his room.

He poured himself a large tumbler full of whiskey, then taking the bottle he went and sat on the couch in the dark and turned on the tv. Her black cat, her favorite, jumped up next to him, purring and rubbing itself against Rick’s hand where it rested on his leg holding the whiskey.  This one seemed to like him more than the other cats, had kind of adopted him pretty much from the beginning.  It always showed up when he was over.

He moved the glass to his other hand, then absentmindedly began stroking the cat lightly.  Purring loudly, it curled up next to him and went to sleep.  Rick changed the channel to some stupid crap and muted the tv, then sat there and slowly got drunk, petting the cat.  Tried not to think about her in Harley’s arms and failing.  He didn’t think he could stand this, wondered why he had even thought this was a good plan.  

If she wasn’t going to talk to him about the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband, then why the hell would she tell a total stranger?

Because Harley wasn’t, really.  That was the whole point.

Sighing, he drained his whiskey and put the empty glass down on the coffee table with a clunk, making the cat jump off the couch with a startled hiss.  He grabbed the whiskey bottle by the neck and climbed the stairs to her room.  He peeled off his clothes in the bathroom then took the bottle with him into the shower and drank deeply while hot water cascaded down his shoulders and back.  He set the bottle on the shelf and reached for her bar of soap, then slowly began to lather himself.  The rich citrus scent filled the air, filling his brain with images of her, memories of making love to her, fucking her.  

He wrapped his fingers around his huge cock and stroked himself slowly.  He played through his memories like a film.  He watched each one while running his hand up and down, pulling his palm across his sensitive head over and over.  Rubbing along the sensitive frenulum with his thumb, he reached down with his other hand and cupped his balls, fondling them.  His mind took him to tonight, watching her with Harley, and he began to stroke faster, more urgently.  His moans filled the shower, echoing off the tiles and he braced himself against the wall with one hand.  His head hung down in concentration as his other hand pumped faster, almost painfully so.  He imagined the two of them together, could hear her cries as she came.  His hips jerked and he came hard with a hoarse, angry shout.

“FUCK!”  His cum shot out in long, ropey spurts, hitting the tile wall.  He continued to stroke, pumping himself dry.  Shaking, head down, he held himself up against the wall with both hands and watched bleary eyed as his cum slowly slid down the tile.  The water grew cold as it continued striking his back and ass and he turned around and slapped it off.  Drunk and still dripping, he collapsed naked in her bed and pulled her pillow up against his face.  He took a deep breath, inhaling her familiar scent, then fell asleep, snoring deeply.  

Her black cat jumped up onto the bed and curled up next to him silently, a sentry in the night.

******

Before sun-up the next morning she awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of dogs barking, and her eyes popped open.  Suddenly she remembered where she was, and with whom, and she stiffened, half expecting her Rick to come bursting angrily into the room.  Strong arms tightened protectively around her as Harley held her against his chest.

Sleepily, he murmured into her ear, “S’just the paper, honey...Not Rick…”  His warm breath tickled and she shivered, snuggling closer to him for warmth.

He reached for the down comforter and retrieved it from where it had slithered half off her side of the bed, pulling it back up over them.  Trailing his hand under the covers, he caressed her breasts, feeling her nipples tightening, before holding her comfortably across her stomach.  He slid one long leg up between both of hers until his muscular thigh pressed against her pussy, still wet with his cum and her juices, then gently bumped her with it a few times.

“Go back t’sleep or I’ll fuck you s’more,” he whispered gruffly in her ear.

She giggled, then she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep in his arms.

*******

Several hours later, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and frying bacon drifted into his subconsciousness.  Stirring, he rolled over and opened his eyes.  The bedroom was fully lit with sunshine.  It was well past the time he normally woke up.  Sighing, he sat up and dropped his legs over the side of the bed and sat with his feet resting on the floor.  The day would’ve probably been a wash as far as him getting any work done, anyway.  Yawning loudly, he rubbed his eyes then stood up, pulling on his jeans.  He went and took a leak and brushed his teeth.  He felt pleasantly tired from a night of lots of fucking and little sleep.  Barefoot and shirtless, with his jeans zipped but unbuttoned, he wandered out into the kitchen to see what she was up to.  Apart from making breakfast.

She was standing in front of the cabinet by the stove, reaching high above her head and trying unsuccessfully to get to a large bowl on an upper shelf.  Her back was to him and she was wearing his shirt from the night before, her black lace panties exposed by the raised hem of the shirt.

Walking silently up behind her, he slapped her lightly on the ass then gently squeezed it, simultaneously reaching over her head to get the bowl and hand it down to her.  She yelled in surprise, nearly dropping the bowl.

“Sucks being short, don’t it?”  He grinned down at her.  He helped himself to a piece of fried bacon from a plateful on the back of the stove and munched into it before leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.

“Hmmm.  Mornin’.”  He went to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.

“I tried to find the sugar---” she began.

“Don’t need it.”

“---or some milk----”

“Don’t want any.”

“---so, then I found some arsenic and used that instead,” she finished, sounding pleased with herself.

He choked mid-sip, looking sharply at her and coughing.  She winked at him.  “Next time let me finish my sentence.”

“Damn, woman,” he said, still coughing.  “Y-Y-You like to start the day off hard on a man, don’t you?  Come on, I-I’m old.  Don’t do me like that.”  He went and collapsed into a kitchen chair, still coughing and laughing.  “Come over here, doll,” he finally managed.

“Hey, I’m the one who just got snuck up on and hit on the ass, and you’re talking about me giving you a hard start to your day?”  She walked over and he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her soundly on the lips.  “How do you like your eggs?” she asked him.

“However you want to make them, doll,” he answered promptly, grinning at her.

-----

They’d finished breakfast and were lying on opposite ends of the couch, sharing the light blanket across their legs.  He was reading the paper and she was dozing with one arm bent across her face covering eyes, her lips parted.  With one foot on the ground, the other leg he had stretched out on the couch under the blanket and was absentmindedly rubbing his foot lightly against her side, gently squeezing her with his toes.  She mumbled in her sleep and shifted slightly, her muscles tensing as echoes of a disturbing dream mirrored on her face.  Quietly, he set the paper down and reached under the blanket and began lightly rubbing her foot, watching her while she slept.  She relaxed, sighing.

Last night was not as spontaneous as she thought.  It had culminated after several weeks of discussion, if no real planning on his own part.  Her Rick had approached him, met him several times at the pub, like they usually did.  They were old friends, to be sure, had fucked around together, including Polo and with some other Ricks, but they’d never really shared a woman.  This is the first time Rick had ever actually proposed something like this to him.

Well, it was the first time Rick, any of them, had seen her in their lives.  When she’d told Rick that her parents had chosen to have her instead of following the doctor’s advice and getting an abortion, and that she’d unexpectedly been born without any medical or mental problems… Well, like Rick had told Harley, it explained so much.  Because, otherwise, she just didn’t seem to exist anywhere else, not in this condition, at least.

However, Rick still hadn’t told her that yet; didn’t want her to know yet.  He had only recently introduced her to portalling.  And this was her first time to be around other Ricks.  She wasn’t aware that there were other dimensions where she did, or as the case usually was, didn’t exist.  No, better to not let her know about any of that, yet.

Instead, Rick was still trying to get her to face what had happened to her during her marriage with the other Rick.  Ricardo.  He wanted her to get it out, talk about it, instead of carrying it around locked inside forever.  He could see how it was tearing her apart inside.  She had nightmares, tossing and turning in her sleep, mumbling, crying out, saying her ex’s name, sweating the sheets up with fear.  Rick would hold her, soothing her with soft kisses until the dream passed and she relaxed in his arms.  She never mentioned the dreams, apparently didn’t even realize she was having them.  

But he could never get her to tell him the things Ricardo had done to her that still haunted her.  Even after that evening when she lay beneath him on the couch and spilled most of her guts, this other part of her history she still stubbornly kept to herself.  He’d wondered if it was an unconscious part of the psychological trauma or was she too afraid, or ashamed, to talk about it?  The few times Rick had asked her about the scars on her back and elsewhere she’d stiffened up, literally, saying, “He did that,” but refused to elaborate.

And to top it off, Rick himself had screwed up.  He’d leave, take off and do his own thing without telling anyone, like always.  But she didn’t know him well enough, didn’t know that this was how he was, who he was, that he always came back, would come back to her.  She had no idea, of course, that he’d gone looking for her in other dimensions.  Wondering why he hadn’t heard of her with any other Ricks.

After she told him about her ex he left to go looking for the asshole. Tracked him down, then sent him portalling back to his own dimension with no way to leave it, get back to her.  He could see that after each “disappearance” she’d withdrawn from him a little bit more.  Still happy for his company at her place, having incrediblly hot sex.  But he didn’t know if he could ever regain her full trust again to talk to him, like she had before.

Then, when she mentioned the idea of multiple partners, literally saying she wanted multiple Ricks without even realizing at the time that it was possible…  It presented a solution for him.  For them both.

Rick knew her, understood her better than she did herself.  He could read her like a book, from the moment they met.  He knew that she would be attracted to Harley's easy-going nature.  Rick was confident that she would accept him, maybe even trust him enough to talk about what happened.  Thus, he’d reached out to Harley with a proposal.  Meet for drinks, a few rounds of pool.  If she was interested in him, then Harley was welcome to take her out and show her a good time.  If it led to anything more, then he had Rick’s blessing, such as it was, as difficult as that was to do.  So, Harley had agreed to meet her, sight unseen, a blind date as it were.

Most Ricks were notorious lotharios, and if that weren’t bad enough, since most of them were assholes, they would screw each other’s sister out of spite if they only had one, or better yet their mother, if she were still alive.  Rick reaching out to Harley over this had shown uncharacteristic trust for a Rick, and faith in their friendship and in each other’s character.  One never knew where something like this might lead, even with the best of intentions.

But Rick had forgotten about all the hearts involved.  Forgot that he still had one himself.

Now, here Harley was, stretched out on the couch with Rick’s woman after an incredible night of fucking.  And it still wasn’t over yet, unless she decided it was.

tbc

[agoddamnsupernova]

Chapter two is finally up my friends!

Beca is startled awake by the sound of her door being kicked in. She bolts up, eyes wide while Lincoln growls beside her. She makes a hand gesture at the dog to silence him, watching her commanding officer, Master Sergeant Posen, stomp up to her bed. “Yes, Aubrey?”

“That’s Master Sergeant to you, Mitchell,” Aubrey says, arms crossed over her chest. “Until you decide to clean up your act and take part of the pen pal program, you no longer have the privilege of calling me by my first name.”

“This is stupid, Bree,” Beca yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Beca, I’m supposed to be intimidating, why are you like this?” Aubrey pouts, relaxing her arms a bit.

“We’ve known each other too long, I know your bark is worse than your bite,” Beca snorts, scratching Lincoln’s ears.

“Whatever, you still have to do the program, everyone in the platoon does,” Aubrey sighs, moving to pet Lincoln, smiling when he licks her.

“I don’t understand why. What’s the point of talking to some civilian?” Beca huffs, flopping down against her pillow.

“It’s been proven to help relieve stress to have an outsider to vent to,” the older girl replies, shaking her head a bit. “And since today is a light day for you, you have no excuse.”

Beca opens her mouth to argue but gets smacked in the face with a notebook and then the pen follows. “Asshole!”

“Get writing, Mitchell!”

Beca is running through courses with the bomb dogs when the mail gets delivered, surprised when the private hands her a letter. “Thanks,” she says, motioning with one hand for Bowser to sit while she tucks the letter away.

She looks at the dog with a quirked brow and he just snorts at her, his tail beating the sand. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s almost lunchtime for you guys,” she says, smiling at the way Bowser huffs at her. “Search.”

The dog immediately goes from playful to serious as he starts sniffing around the course, sitting next to a desk in the corner. She opens the drawer and smiles wide, patting his head. “Good boy,” she hums, tucking the package laced with volatiles into her bag. “Search.”

She runs through this with three more dogs before she’s taking their small pack back to their partners. Most training was done with their partners but once week Beca would run courses privately. She’d been their best handler in years and somehow earned the respect of all the others.

By the time they had dropped off all the dogs, Lincoln was happily wagging his tail beside her, ready for food, water, and a nice nap. “Come on buddy, let’s go get you some lunch,” she smiles, patting his head when he yips.

Beca grabs herself a tray of food and settles down at a table, setting Lincoln’s bowls on the ground, nodding when he tilts his head at her. He yips again before digging into his food happily. Beca picks at her food as she pulls her letter out of the pocket she had stashed it in. “Emily Junk.”

She snorts a little and tears into the envelope, cursing when it tears down the back, a few photos spilling onto the table. She scrambles to pick them up, not wanting them to blow away. A strangled whine comes from her lips as a hand snatches a photo off the table. “Hey!”

“Damn, Mitchell, your girl is smokin’ hot,” her fellow Sergeant, Cynthia Rose, comments, smirking at the picture. “How’d you manage to hook someone like this?”

“She’s not-I’m not, give it back!” Beca stumbles over her words, standing to try and snatch the photo back, only to have the taller woman hold it high in the air. “Don’t be such a cock!”

“Did I hear that right, Beca has a girlfriend?” Aubrey asks, a slight smile on her face as she watches Beca try to jump for the photo.

“I don’t!” Beca shouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s just my fuckin pen pal.”

“Look at her, Bree,” CR chuckles, handing the photo over to the blonde who grins.

“Looks like you hit the jackpot, Bec,” Aubrey teases, handing the photo back. “Don’t screw it up.”

“Screw you, dude,” Beca huffs, tucking the photo along with the rest of the letter back into her pocket. “Come on, Lincoln, let’s go take a nap.”

Beca is curled up in bed when she finally gets a chance to read Emily’s letter and she spends the whole of it grinning at the slightly wrinkled piece of paper. “You’re something else, Junk,” she hums to herself, looking at the photos she included.

There’s one of a rather large tuxedo cat she assumes is Bun, the next is that of a sunset across a lake and the third is of Emily. She’s smiling at the camera, her dark hair falling around her face in waves. “Fuck, look at those eyes,” Beca says to Lincoln, who quirks his head at her. “She's got big brown eyes, man.”

Beca sighs softly, pulling a tin lunch box from under her bed, placing the letter and photos into it. There’s a few other letters inside, mostly from her mom, but there’s a few from her best friend Jesse, the man always knew how to make her smile.

She spends a few moments just soaking it in before she's rooting around for her notebook and pen.

Emily,

Lincoln is currently laid with his head on my legs, I assure you I will give him lots of love from you. It’ll spoil him I’m sure, but it should be worth it. When I opened your letter earlier the photos fell out and some of my friends teased me about you. They think you’re hot. I can’t say I disagree, but I would have phrased it better than “damn she’s smokin’ hot” but I mean, I’m not going to argue that fact. Cynthia Rose can be a bit crass, but when she’s right...she’s right.

The picture of the lake, that’s the lake at Bardon, right? My dad is a teacher there, you might know him. If you do, ask him why he doesn’t send his daughter letters anymore. I’m just kidding, you don’t have to do that, but he really is a pretty cool guy, even if he picked a monster to marry after he and my mom split. I hope you had a fun weekend with your friends, make sure to send me lots of pictures and the stories behind them. I’d kill for a lake right now.

Lincoln and I get shipped out tomorrow to clear some big areas, wish me luck. I don’t want to get blasted feet in the air again if I can help it. Lincoln is good, but shit happens sometimes, ya know? I’m honestly more worried for him than myself, I bounce back pretty quick but he’s still a pup, three years old and this is what he’s doing with his life. One day though, he’ll have a plush lawn and all the treats he can eat and a family to keep him safe. I just gotta keep him in one piece until then.

It’ll probably be a little while before I can write back, so just don’t worry too much. I signed up for this after all. Few more years and I’ll rotate out and be able to have a semi-normal life again, maybe. Who knows, my mom always told me there was no such thing as normal, but then again she was in the army too, so I could just have a skewed perspective of the world.

If you’re serious about the cheetos...can you get the jalapeno cheddar kind? I would fuckin kiss you if you did. Like the spicy salty combo is my favorite thing ever. I will get on my knees and worship you. ....That...that sounded dirty and I didn’t mean it like that. Well, I mean, unless you’re into that...I’m going to stop writing now.

-Beca

She shakes her head a bit, looking at Lincoln who is watching her. “I’m an idiot,” she chuckles and he just grunts as he gets comfortable. She pokes his side as she gets up, rummaging through her duffle to find the Polaroid camera her best friend had sent her ages ago.

She brushes her fingers through her hair a few times before she moves to pull Lincoln close to her, making sure he’s looking at the camera. “Say cheese, buddy,” she says, smiling at the lens. She clicks it after a moment, trying not to blink when the flash blinds her.

She shakes the picture while she settles down in bed again, smiling to herself. Lincoln’s tongue is lolling out and she’s grinning at the camera, her hair falling in loose waves around her face. She takes a pen and writes along the bottom. Beca and Lincoln smiling just for you.

She tucks everything into an envelope before bed, her thoughts full of the smiling brunette and her bubbly personality. Maybe she would dream a little dream of a girl across the ocean.

The sun is hot and the ground even hotter, they’ve been slowly clearing a path through the sand toward an empty building for hours now. So far they’ve found forty explosives buried in the dirt, ranging from just barely covered to a few feet down. Beca’s tired of sticking up flags but stays ever vigilant. She’s about to call a break, she knows they both need water, but right as she waves her arm up, hell breaks loose.

Shots are fired from the abandoned building and Beca and Lincoln take off through their carefully plotted path as quickly as they can. “Into the truck!” She hears Aubrey shout and she urges Lincoln ahead of her. She could take a bullet better than he could.

“Go, go, start moving!” Beca shouts as soon as Lincoln is in the truck, she’s got a few years to cover but she wouldn’t be slowing them down. They start moving ahead of her and just when she thinks she’s caught up, a bullet clips her calf. Fire spreads up to her knee and she stumbles hard enough to fall.

“Lincoln, no!” She hears Aubrey yell over the noise and sure enough, his wet nose is pressing against her dirt covered cheek.

“Stupid dog,” she murmurs, but she forces herself up, she wasn’t going to get her partner killed because of a flesh wound.

They’re running again, Beca’s pant leg warm and damp from the blood. Everything seems to happen in slow motion then. The truck swerves a bit to the left and Beca is too focused on getting Lincoln way from the shots to see the thick rope of wire that’s barely peeking out of the sand.

Good eye Aubrey Beca thinks as she skids to a stop, not quite making it before her weight triggers the bomb. A wave of heat and dirt washes over her as she and Lincoln are thrown a good thirty feet back. The air is knocked from her lungs and she can hear Lincoln’s whine when he hits the ground. If they died, this would be on her.

[bazzledazzled]

Chai Tea

Description: Alyce fic written for @insomnialexwriter​ for Christmas. Coffee Shop/Supernatural AU

Pairing: Alyce

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 3k

The tray wobbled in my grip, the tea cups clattering. My apron was already stained with hot chocolate, tea, coffee, and somehow cupcake frosting. To say my first day of work was not going well would be an understatement. It was a disaster. 

I tripped over my own two feet at least twenty times, causing my tray to topple onto the hardwood floors of the cafe. I broke at least ten cups and saucers and I’m pretty sure my manager is thinking about firing me on the spot. My hands shake as I pour a cup of coffee, spilling some on my hands. I intake sharply, quickly putting the coffee pot down and running my hand under cold water, wiping the counter. The door dings, signaling that someone else has walked into the door.

“Be there in a sec,” I say, drying off my hand. I finish pouring the coffee and call out the name for it, not bothering to serve it to the stupid table. I’m alone out here and I feel overwhelmed.

I go to the cash register, setting it up for another order.

“Hello welcome to 12:42 may I take your order?” I look up and my eyes connect with beautiful brown ones and my breath catches. They push their hair out of their eyes, looking up at the menu and I wonder what the little flip my heart’s doing is.

“I’ll have the… chai latte with honey,” they say with a smile. A blush spreads across my face and I gulp.

“Is that for here or for to go?” They think for a moment before saying, “For here.” I fumble to grab the cup and I set it up to make it. I punch in the numbers and say in a shaky voice, “That’ll be three dollars and ten cents.” They fish money out of their pocket, their purple hair falling over their face again. I can’t look away from them.

“Keep the change,” they say, holding out a five dollar bill. I gulp and take the money, squeaking slightly when my hand brushes theirs. They walk off and head to a table, pulling out a laptop and typing rapidly and looking like they’re doing some pretty intense stuff. I then remember that I have a tea to make and I scramble for the ingredients, bumping my head on the counter when I get a gallon of milk from the fridge. I huff, sitting on the floor and questioning my existence.

I finally manage to get the tea perfect and I set the cup on my tray, walking towards the customer from earlier. They look up and smile, causing me to stumble.

Everything after that seemed to go in slow motion. I tripped over the untied laces of my converse decorated with a bunch of fandom junk and the tray flies forward, dumping the tea on the mysterious person. I fall into them, both of us sprawled out on the booth. I gasp, scrambling up, willing myself not to break down in tears.

“Oh my gods I’m so sorry I’m super clumsy I didn’t mean to—“ They laugh.

“Don’t worry. It’s okay… Candyce,” they say, checking my name tag. I blush. They look around.

“Are you here alone?” I nod slowly. They huff.

“Of course you are. Look it’s okay, it’s okay.” I rub my eyes.

“It’s just my first day and I don’t know what to do—“ I hiccup and they put their hand on my shoulder.

“Hey it’s okay. I’ll help you clean up the mess.”

“No-no you don’t need to—“

“But I want to. The names Alex,” they say with a smile. My heart flutters the tiniest bit.

After a long moment of extremely flustered behavior, we pick up the broken cup and saucer and clean up the tea. Alex talks to me, calming my nerves, saying how they like my Hamilton t-shirt and my converse. I blush and slowly start to talk to them about my many fandoms. As it turns out, they have many of the same ones and I grin widely, going off and talking about fan theories and how I write fanfiction. They say they do to, but it’s on hold for their novel. I sneakily ask to have a spoiler, but they refuse to give it.

“It has to be a surprise,” Alex says. I sigh.

“Mmkay.” I finish out my shift and they stay, surprising me slightly. I figured they’d leave after they finished their tea that took twice as long to get to their table as it did to make. Before I knew it, I was starting to close up shop, yet they still sat there.

“Hey uh you kinda should get going…” I say to Alex, who’s the only person in the cafe. They look up.

“Hmm?”

“It’s getting late…” Alex looks outside.

“Shoot my parents are going to be mad.” They gather their stuff, shoving it in their bag and I turn a rag in my hands, nervous. They smile at me.

“Are you working here tomorrow?” I hesitate and nod. They grin.

“Well then I’ll catch you tomorrow?” I gulp and nod.

“Awesome.” They give me one last smile, then rush out the door, shrugging on their backpack. I may be swooning but I’m not entirely sure.

I start to wipe off the tables, putting the chairs up. I’m almost finished cleaning up when a chair falls off the table, causing me to jump. I take a deep breath, walking over to it and putting it back on. As I do another chair falls. I furrow my brow and put that one up as well.

Then they all fall, causing me to yelp. My eyes go wide and I turn to the doors. They slam and a jar of sugar crashes on the floor, shattering. I run to the doors, adrenaline rushing through my body. I push at them and they don’t open. I gasp and the bookshelves start to shake, books falling on the floor. My breathing starts to get heavier and I bang on the doors.

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” I keep yelling until my voice is hoarse, but nobody seems to hear me. I turn around seeing a glowing figure. I don’t know why but he vaguely looks like Simon Snow. I furrow my brow.

But I don’t get a chance to solve the mystery because a book flies forward and hits me straight in the face. The doors behind me open as I fall against them and into someone’s arms. I look up.

“Al...ex?” Then, I pass out.

When I wake up I hear beeping and I bolt up. I’m met with Alex again and I gasp. They push me back down, telling me to calm down. I rub my head.

“What… What happened?”

“You hit your head. I heard you screaming and I thought someone tried to attack you. But when I got there nobody was there.” I scratch my head, trying to remember. I groan. Today has been awful.

Alex sits on my bed, taking my hand. It’s completely strange, having this stranger hold my hand, but it’s oddly comforting.

“Are you okay.” I take a deep breath.

“I think so? I mean I have an awful headache but yeah.” They smile a little and I smile back.

“What happened?” I rub my eyes, wondering if that’s what I actually saw.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.” They smirk.

“Try me.” Taking a deep breath, I explain what happened, my hand instantly tightening on theirs as my heart pounds with the thought of it.

“Is it just me or did you just become the introduction of a Supernatural book?” I gasp, a grin spreading across my face.

“You’ve watched Supernatural?” Alex nods, grinning widely. It takes me a moment to process the fact that we like the same book series, and even longer to process what she just said.

“You don’t think—“ I don’t even have to finish. She knows what I’m going to say.

“Definitely.” I run my hands through my hair, gasping.

“Holy freaking schnitzel.” My head hurts. Does this mean that angels and demons and spirits are all real?

There’s a knock at the hospital door and me and Alex jump. The doctor walks in.

“Everything seems to be good here. The FBI are here to ask you a few questions.” I turn to Alex and Alex turns to me.

“Agents Jones and Winchester,” a voice says, walking through the door. I slap Alex’s arm excitedly, just to make sure she is seeing what I’m seeing.

“Would you care to explain the scene to us, Miss. Rayburn?” I gulp, then explain what happened. They nod along, exchanging looks every so often. Alex perks up when I describe how the ghost looks.

“Wait Simon Snow? As in, from Carry On?” My jaw seems to drop even further.

“Okay we need to have a full on conversation about fandoms ASAP.” Alex laughs in an adorable way and I blush. Sam coughs and then we seem to remember that they’re still there. Then we seem to remember that they’re freaking Sam and Dean Winchester.

“Oh my gods you guys are real,” I burst out. They furrow their brow. Then a look of understanding passes across Dean’s face.

“Supernatural.” We both nod, looking at them with admiration and amazement. Then, before we can stop ourselves, questions and questions pour from our lips, all about ships and theories. They look like they feel awkward.

“Uh we have to go….” And then they go.

A few weeks later I was out of the hospital like nothing happened. My parents were a little more protective over me, but for the most part things stayed the same. I had a few weeks off of work, for recovery and stuff, and I found myself grow closer and closer to Alex. We seemed to hang out almost constantly, laughing and giggling about fandoms and ships and weird things going on in school. We liked to bake cookies and scones with each other, our elbows accidentally knocking together a few times on the tight counter space.

Our first sleepover was spent pointing out everything wrong with every movie adaptation of a book ever. To start, of course, we had Percy Jackson.

“Even Percy now doesn’t have a shot at defeating Annabeth in a duel,” I say, shoving kettle corn in my mouth. I reach my hand into the bowl the same time as Alex does and our hands brush, causing me and them to blush. We quickly turn away from each other.

“Exactly,” they say, focusing their eyes intently on the screen. Meanwhile I’m looking into their face.

“Like you can’t just learn how to wield a freaking sword that fast Percy. I don’t care if your the son of Poseidon.” That causes me to giggle and Alex to turn to me, smiling shyly.

“They messed up these movies really badly.” I nod, grinning toothily. “That’s the way of the fandom.”

Halfway through the extreme movie marathon my eyes start to flutter. I don’t know when, but somehow me and Alex started to move closer together, arms wrapped around each other and cuddling. I feel safe and warm there, like nothing can hurt me, no monster or ghost or anything. Sure, the danger seems to have passed, Sam and Dean are gone, but that doesn’t mean that the dreams stopped. I keep remembering being trapped in that room, trying to run away but having nowhere to go.

Alex’s hands softly run through my hair and my breath catches. “You tired?” They ask. I gulp, trying to calm my racing heart and nod. They start to move away and I clutch onto their arm.

“Where are you going?” I ask. They smile a little.

“I know you’re the host, but I’m taking the couch.” I gulp and the words escape my lips before I can stop them.

“Stay.” Something I can't put my finger on passes over their face, and a small part of me hopes it’s the same adrenaline of this weird feeling going through me, but the tiny voice in the back of my mind whispers, “No homo.” I sigh.

They lay back down inches from me, our faces so close that I can feel their warm breath on my face. I blush even more. They’re eyes scan mine.

“Candy… you okay?” Everyone calls me that, but it seems extra special when she does.

“What do you mean?”

“Since the attack.” I take a deep, rattling breath.

“As good as I can be.” They run their hands through their hair.

“Chuck I should’ve stayed.”

“And done what? Fight the air?” They huff.

“I don’t know.” Their eyes flick away from mine and I grab their hands just because it feels right.

“It’s not your fault. Plus the ghost is gone and we’ll never have to worry about it again.” They sigh and nod, smiling at me. That’s when three words slip out of their mouth. They ring in my ears all night.

My eyes flutter open slowly, feeling heavy. My eyes go to the clock, wondering what time it is. It’s three am. I rub my eyes.

Everything is silent and still, the wind outside being the only thing making any noise. I sit up, debating on going back to sleep.

That’s when the TV turns on. The weird thing is, this time it’s on Netflix, playing Voltron. I scramble for the remote, trying to turn it off, but it doesn’t turn off. I get up and try to manually turn it off, but it doesn’t work.

Then, like some horror movie I’ve never seen, a figure starts to emerge from the TV and I yelp, waking Alex up.

“What’s going on?” They say, their eyes locking with mine before they even move. I’m pale and I can’t move and they rush towards me, pulling me into a hug. “What’s wrong?” I point to the figure. It now seems to have taken the form of Lance.

“Lance?” Alex seems confused. Then the ghost or whatever it is turns towards us.

“Why did you kill me, Candyce?” he says. I whimper, confused. From my notebook, sitting on the floor, another one of them springs up, this one taking the form of Damon from Beyond the Pages, a book I abandoned years ago.

“Why did you kill us?” Alex pushes me behind themselves, brandishing a book. Everything is so confusing.

“Why do they think you killed them? They’re fictional characters.” I whimper, not knowing what is going on. We move back and I trip over the table. From the book Alex holds, Simon appears again.

“You killed us. Now we’re going to kill you.”

“WHAT THE CHUCK ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT?” Alex screams, pulling me close. I think and I think long and hard. My eyes fall on my notebook. I gasp.

“What?” I grab Alex’s arm.

“They’re book characters I wrote fanfiction about. Fanfictions where I killed them.”

“Curse you and your insanely good angst fics,” Alex growls. I blush.

“They’re not that good…” They turn to me, their face completely serious.

“Yes. They are.” A lamp flies up and hurtles towards us before I even have a chance to protest. I only dodge it because Alex pulls me to the ground, blushing slightly.

“Sorry I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Now I’m blushing.

“They have to be coming from somewhere,” I say as a new one starts to take form. They look an awful lot like Castiel, yet another character that I’ve killed through heart throbbing fanfiction.

“The journal!” Alex shouts.

“What?”

“That’s where you write all the stories.” My eyes light up.

“You go get the salt. I’ll get the journal.”

“But—“ I don’t listen to their protests. I creep behind the couch, snatching up my notebook. A ghost races towards me and I yelp as it knocks me to the ground. I look around for something to hit it with and my hand flies to my iron necklace. I quickly take it off and hit the ghost with it. It vanishes and I scramble to my feet. I race up the steps where Alex is in the kitchen with the salt and a lighter. We race outside, the cold biting our faces. I throw the notebook on the ground and Alex salts it.

The ghosts come out into the backyard and I hear my dog barking.  Alex takes my hand.

“Ready?” I nod and they light the match.

But before they can burn the book, a ghost attacks Alex from behind, their hand hitting a rock.

“Alex!” I shreik. I see blood of and tears well in my eyes. A ghost lunges for me and I close my eyes, wondering if this is how I die.

Then I hear gunshots and they back away. I open my eyes to find Sam and Dean.

“Wha—“

“BURN THE DAMN NOTEBOOK!” I scramble for the lighter and set the notebook aflame. One the ghosts disappear I scramble to Alex.

“Alex!” I scream, my voice hoarse. I don’t know how to find their pulse and I don’t know if they’re breathing. I start to fear the worst as I bury my face in they’re shoulder, holding them tightly. They gasp and relief floods over me.

“Candy—“ they say. I pull them closer, my body shaking with a sob.

“Gods Alex you scared me.” I nuzzle them and they smirk slightly.

“It takes more than that to kill me, Candy.”  

A few months later I was still working at 12:42. Alex seemed to visit everyday I was working, making sure I was okay and tipping me a generous amount. I begged them to stop, but they never did.

It was Christmas. Snow was falling outside, painting the scene in a beautiful shade of white. We were busier than ever and I hardly had time to talk to anyone, but today was one of our slow days and I was hanging up Christmas decorations when Alex walks through the door, looking like a goddess as she shakes the snow from her hair and beanie. They look up at me on the ladder.

“Christmas decorations. Sweet.” I smile.

“‘Tis that time of year.” They smile back and go over to the decoration box, rummaging through it.

“Can I help?”

“Sure.” Soon all the decorations are up and I turn to Alex, a cheesy grin on my face that only comes when I’m around them. Quickly, before they can change their mind, they hold up something.

“Mistletoe,” they say quickly before kissing my cheek. I go as red as the berries on the mistletoe.

“You missed,” I murmur

“Huh?” Then I pull them into a kiss.

[starlit-scifi]

Chapter 6

First•Previous•Next

It’s the last round of exams for this term, and it’s taking a toll on everyone. You feel like you’re drifting from class to class like so much space junk, on an aimless collision course with failure.

Or at least with Lori; she manages to keep her footing while you topple over like a baby animal, bits of technology and snack wrappers spilling out of your bag. You look up at her, mortified, and she cracks up.

“Sorry, sorry...” She pulls herself together, and helps you pick up the last of your stuff. “I really need to not read while I walk.”

“You do,” you say firmly. She helps you up, and you wince as you put weight on the knee that you fell on.

“You okay?” she asks, concern in her grey eyes, and holds onto you a little longer. It takes you a moment to remember how to breathe, then another to remember what she just asked you.

“I think so, I’ll just walk it off,” you say quickly, and she nods and lets go, still staring at you. “So… where are you off to?”

She blinks, then shakes her head, a tired smile on her face. “Sorry I’m so spacey, I barely slept. I have Ethics of—Well, it’s a mil class. Last week they decided the final would be a written exam. I have it tomorrow and it’s going to be a disaster.”

“Okay, you should probably be reading for that.” You raise an eyebrow. “In a more stationary manner though.”

She chuckles at that. “Will do. What are you doing later?”

You sigh. “Studying. Unconventional Bio, and Empires of the Fourth Sector. Both finals are in two days.”

She winces. “Good luck. Those sound awful.”

“Eh…” you really can’t defend either class at this point. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“If you want to take a break, let me know. I need to get caught up on Missing Frequency.”

You laugh. “The only thing you need to do is study for that exam!” She shrugs innocently, and you can’t help but smile. “...But sure. After last week—”

“I know! Kara makes me so mad, can’t she just…" she glances off to the side and you notice one of your instructors walking by. She clears her throat. “Anyway. I should get back to studying. And you, too,” she adds sternly.

You smile. “Will do.”

---

The rest of finals week goes by in an over-caffeinated blur, but you’re pretty sure you pass everything. With exams finally over, there’s a few weeks of downtime before the next term starts. Unity is too far away from most of the colonies for the majority of students to bother travelling back, and since room and board for short breaks is paid for while travel home is not, almost everyone but the richest of the rich decides to stay. In your social stratum, the name of the game is “networking”, which your generation understands as “party hard”.

Of course, there are rules. The mils can’t have anything on their side of the ship, and are expected to wake up and train as usual, as well as participate in “teambuilding activities,” which Manda says with a scary grin on her face that you’re not sure you want to understand. On your side, things are a bit more relaxed, especially in your hall since your hall director tends to be at the center of most of the rowdier parties. Since you’d rather be sober enough to walk the next morning, you tend to keep to your own room and hold quiet get-togethers whenever friends do come by.

It’s getting into what passes for evening when you and your typical bunch of year-mates are sitting in your room playing a virtual board game as you munch on hoarded cheesy snacks. Keegan makes a particularly risky move and somehow manages to win the entire game. Everyone groans, Hayleen throws a cheese puff at his head.

“Aurie, you need to restart your airscreen,” she whines, “It’s glitching up again.”

“Don’t pick on it, it’s sensitive,” you say faux-angrily, tossing a cheese puff at her. She bounces it off her nose and catches it in her mouth. Your polite gathering devolves into a snack-throwing contest, until you’re alerted that someone’s at the door. You dodge several flying cheesebombs as you go to answer it. No sooner does the door open than you are shoved out of the way.

“Delenz, your room is a mess! Demerits! Demerits for all of you!” You recognize the voice as Lori’s and grab a stray cheese puff and throw it at her. It hits her right in the forehead. She laughs and says, “You know, if I weren’t so impressed by your perfect aim I might actually give you a demerit for that.”

“Lori, you know we’re off duty,” Manda says with a chuckle, closing the door behind her.

“And thank the stars,” Lori groans.“You wouldn’t believe how much paperwork we’ve had to do tonight!”

“It’s all virtual, mostly pre-filled, even,” Manda points out, scooting her way into your circle of cheese dust and depravity.

“That doesn’t make it any less irritating,” Lori grumbles lightheartedly, and shoves herself in beside Manda. You dig out another bag of snacks and a couple bottles of water and hand them to the pair.

“How do you even get your hands on this much food?” Manda asks between bites of chips.

“My parents got me this ridiculous care package subscription service. Plus I take food to my room most of the time, and then I don’t eat a lot, so I just save the non-perishable sides for later…”

“Deeeeemerits,” Lori hisses evilly.

You giggle and elbow her. “You wouldn’t,” you tease.

“I could,” she returns. “Posters on the walls—”

“Approved sticky tapes,” you cut in.

“Unnecessary electronic devices.”

“That’s not a rule.”

“Unmade bed and messy desk area.”

You stick your tongue out at her. “Also definitely not rules.”

“Do you really have zero rules on this side?”

You shrug. “No excessive noise after school hours, no sleeping over on school nights, no fire hazards, all the common sense ‘living in space’ kind of rules.”

“Aaaand no illicit drugs,” Manda singsongs. Lori freezes. Her eyes widen and she turns around slowly.

“You didn’t.” Her voice is low and almost threatening.

Manda shrugs. “I might have…”

Her cheerful attitude does absolutely nothing to calm Lori down. “You know it’s—”

Manda turns and puts both hands on Lori’s shoulders. You’re the only one close enough to hear her say softly, “Lori. Poor kid wouldn’t have a home to go back to. And it’s tame stuff.”

Lori’s face turns red, and you can practically see the moral dilemma working up to a thunderstorm in her brain. Eventually she closes her eyes and lets out a long, tired sigh, sticks out a hand, and says, “Give it.”

Manda obliges, pulling a small opaque cloth bag from her pocket. Lori takes it from her, then grabs her by the fingers and delivers a swift and audible smack to the back of her hand. Manda hisses in pain and pulls herself free.

“That’s for stealing,” Lori growls.

“Fair,” Manda concedes. “Good shot, too. Three points.”

Lori lets out a victory screech and pulls up her airscreen to add another tally mark to a spreadsheet that shifts around before your eyes—you can tell by the few editors’ names you recognize that it’s some sort of mil thing, and you can infer that it’s probably a stupid one, and definitely unauthorized. You roll your eyes and get Manda a juice from your cold storage compartment. She nurses her hand as Lori makes the two other cadets in the room promise not to tell anyone. You look around at your handful of suppie yearmates. You’re not all totally close, but everyone in the room is someone you can trust with at least the little things. Hayleen shrugs at you, you shrug back.

So the little black bag sits in the middle of the circle. Manda takes it, pulls it open, and pours the contents into an empty bowl. There’s a dozen little colorful pearlescent spheres; you’d think they were candy if you didn’t know better.

Manda looks around at the people in your room. “Nobody’s had anything in the past twelve hours, right? Not even headache medicine?” A chorus of soft “no”s and shaken heads. “Then we’re all doing this, each and every one. So if anyone lets it slip, we all go down.”

“Fair,” Lori murmurs.

“It’s just a pill,” Manda says, rolling a tiny sphere between her fingers. “Drink enough water that it goes down.” She demonstrates, then passes the bowl to the guy to her left. You watch it go around, and obediently take your turn. You swallow it easily, and you finish your bottle of water just to make sure. As Lori picks one up, she says to Manda, “You know, I really hate you sometimes.” Then she pops it in her mouth and takes a swig of water.

Manda shrugs, grinning, and ruffles Lori’s hair as she gets up to dispose of the two remaining pills. You hand out more snacks, then bring up your video library on your airscreen and start scrolling. After much complaining and teasing, the majority of your little gathering agrees on Two Brides, A Sweektar, And Jon.

Lori groans as you press play. “I’ve seen that one way too many times.”

“So have I, but it’s the comedy classic of our generation!” You say, giving your best announcer’s voice.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s inane, vapid nonsense and the character development isn’t even good.”

You’re a bit confused, and you’re pretty sure the pills haven’t started working yet. Maybe. “It’s supposed to be a comedy, not…” Coming to a realization, you grin, nudging her with your elbow. “You’re actually really into those cheesy overdramatic romantic dramas, aren’t you?”

She looks away. “I refuse to respond to that question.”

You smile. “That’s cute,” you tease.

“You’re cute,” she fires back. “Like… really… cute,” she mumbles, and her cheeks get more red with every word.

It takes a couple moments for you to process what she said, but when you get there, you freeze, staring at her, and she meets your gaze steadily. She opens her mouth, then closes it. Swallows. Then opens it again and says, slowly and deliberately, “I am now aware that I am not totally sober anymore and I am not going to talk anymore because if I do I’m just going to keep saying stupid things all night that…” She pauses her rambling to take a breath. “That you shouldn’t listen to.” Her lip wobbles and it, very unreasonably, worries you.

“I… I’m getting you another water.” She nods stiffly and plops down on the floor, watching the opening credits with a very determined look on her face.

With your arms full of goodies, you can barely get a finger free to answer the door when the bell rings. You recognize the face on the screen and manage to press the unlock button. Manda enters, grinning widely, and very gallantly offers to help you with your burden. When you’re done distributing yet another round of snacks, you rejoin the circle and she slides in between you and the person to your right.

“Suppie boys are pretty,” she confides, leaning heavily against your shoulder. “Aaaand, I got contact info... and he says his room is just across the hall if I’d like to ‘hang out later’, he said.”

“This is a girls’ hallway,” you point out. Manda considers it for a moment, then shrugs.

“Well suppie girls are pretty then, and I still got a date,” she concludes.

You happen to glance at the other side of the room just as someone from your bio lab tosses a cheesy puff at you. You shriek and duck, and as you fling one back, you ask her teasingly, “Can’t you get demerits for sleeping over in another hall?”

She shrugs. “Eh. It’s only a problem if you’re loud.” She grabs another cheesy puff and nails Keegan right on the cheek, then turns back to you. “This whole hallway is being loud, if you haven’t noticed.”

It is a little loud, you decide as Manda abandons you to join the cheesy puff melee. Almost uncomfortably so. You pull the blanket off your bed, sit in the corner against your desk, and wrap yourself in it, soft fabric by your ears muffling everything. You close your eyes; it’s not like anyone’s really paying attention to the movie anyway, comedy classic or not.

A soft “I’m cold,” reaches your ears. And then a quieter, almost glum: “I’m also still not talking to you.” You peek out from under your blanket to see Lori sitting on the floor a foot away from you. She’s let her hair down, and glances at you through the loose strands before looking away again.

“Then I’m definitely not sharing,” you say as you scoot over and redistribute the blanket so Lori can wrap it around herself, too. She slides up against you, seeking warmth. You oblige, draping your arm across her shoulder so she can put her cheek against your chest. It’s awkward since she’s bigger than you, but somehow in her quest for a cozy spot you make it work.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You know you’re easily overstimulated on this stuff; the noise of the party and the touch of your own clothing against your skin is nearly all you can take and feeling Lori against you is…

Actually, oddly, comforting. You feel warm, and it’s lulling you to sleep…

---

You wake up. The movie had to have ended hours ago and everyone who decided to spend the night is still asleep.

Including Lorina, you realize. At some point you must have both laid down on the floor, face to face, curled up under your blanket. She sighs softly in her sleep and draws closer to you.

And you’re warm, so warm, but it’s different from last night, somehow. Like you want to… you don’t know, you…

You wiggle yourself free and get up, making sure she’s still covered. You grab a pillow and attempt to nudge it under her head, but she grumbles something and wraps herself around it instead. That makes you smile, but you don’t have any idea where the lonely feeling in your chest comes from.

You make your way across the dimly lit room of sleeping people to secure the necessary supplies for taking a shower, cringing as you step on something crunchy. You’ll definitely need to clean up your room once everyone leaves, since at this point it’s probably messy enough for you to actually get a demerit or three from your incredibly lazy hall director… provided that she’s not too hungover to get out of bed.

As you make your way down the hall to the communal bathroom, you run into Manda. She’s wearing last night’s t-shirt and some sweatpants that don’t quite fit her, and carrying two covered bowls of whatever’s being served for breakfast today along with two bottles of juice. She smiles sunnily at you.

“Morning!” she sings out. “What’s got you up this early?”

“I dunno. I just woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

She nods knowingly. “I can’t sleep with cuddlers either.” When you flinch, she grins and teases, “Don’t lie; I saw you two curled up together. It’s cute.”

“I didn’t— she didn’t— she said she was cold, so I just—”

She shakes her head and smiles, though there’s a little sadness in it. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me… And I don’t think you’ll need to explain yourself to Lori, either. She likes you, you know.”

“Of course she does, we’re partners.”

She shakes her head again. “That’s sweet. You’re a sweet person.” She stares at you for a moment, and you feel frozen in her sudden seriousness. “Take care of her, Delenz,” she says softly, a strange fierceness in her eyes. “You’re both going to need each other more than you think.”

And she puts on that sunny smile again, wishes you a good day, and flounces away.

You take a quick shower, and for some reason you don’t stop feeling naked even after you’re fully dressed.

Back in your room, people are starting to wake up. Keegan—bless him—has already recruited a couple people into cleaning up. You give him a thumbs-up of gratitude and he smiles back. Lori’s still sleeping, and when you shake her gently and ask if she needs to leave she mumbles “no” and wriggles away, so you just shrug it off and help clean in between giving people directions to the bathroom or back to their own halls. Eventually everyone is gone but the softly snoring blanket-covered lump on your floor. You go get (late) breakfast, and the sound of your return wakes her up. She sits up groggily and you plop down beside her.

“Good morning,” you say, and she yawns.

“Mmm… morning,” she mumbles as she sits up, still draped in your blanket. “How long was I asleep? What time—” She looks down at her wristscreen and curses. “I’m so getting in trouble for this.” She throws off the blanket and starts to hunt for her shoes.

Just then you get a (startlingly loud) message on your airscreen. You wince and quickly turn the volume down from movie-theatre-level before opening your inbox. The header shows a new message from Manda that’s tagged as important business, so you open it and load the attachment. It’s a screenshot of a forward of a forward of a badly-formatted schedule with a dozen names on it you don’t recognize, except for Manda Yu and Lorina Estevna, which are highlighted with bright pink glitter stickers. The message under the attachment is You’re welcome! accompanied by cheesy hearts and flowers, and signed Manda Yu. Lori slumps down on your bed.

“That girl,” she groans into her hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, she saved our butts, undoubtedly.” She shakes her head. “Who even knows what kind of strings she had to pull to get the schedule rewritten so last-minute, but we’re both off the hook for another… three hours? I owe her big time,” she mutters as she runs her hands through her hair. “…I also need a shower.” She turns guiltily to you. “Can I use your shampoo and stuff? I really shouldn’t be seen on the mil side right now.”

“Sure, no problem. You can borrow some clean PJs too if you’d like; I have plenty.”

She accepts graciously and you send her off to the bathrooms. The door closes and you return to your oatmeal, lukewarm and pasty with the gross-tasting kind of artificial fruit on it. It tastes like nothing in your mouth, but you’re determined to get through it because you know you just need something in your system at this point. After a few minutes you give up and just stare into the half-empty bowl, your mind whirling.

She thinks I’m cute.

She’s my partner.

We totally cuddled last night.

But she’s my partner.

I definitely really like her.

But she’s…

She comes back in; you hear her footsteps pause and then speed up. She kneels beside you and rests a hand on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

You struggle to open your eyes, and for a moment all you see is blurriness and a tangle of eyelashes.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Are you sure?”

You shake your head, desperately trying not to cry. “I’ll be fine, this just… happens with this stuff,” you try to say it firmly, but it comes out more strained than you meant it to. “I’m just…” You feel your nails digging into your skin through your pajama pants. “Sleep-deprived, that’s all.”

“...Okay.” There’s concern in her voice, and that hurts more than anything else.

You hesitate, then lean against her shoulder. She’s warm, and her hair’s still wet, and she smells like your body wash and that makes you feel a hundred things you can’t begin to name. “I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“For what?” She slides her arm around you, and though you’re grateful for the bit of comfort, you can’t help but feel you’ve betrayed her.

“Being a mess, and you getting stuck here all night, and—the pills…”

She sighs. “It’s not a big deal.” You look up at her and she gives a tired half-smile. “Really. This all could have gone a lot worse. I’m not mad at you; if anything I’m mad at Manda… but even then I can’t be anything but grateful for her.” She laughs. “Stars know I don’t need any more punishment duty.” She gets a call and pulls away with a sigh to answer it. “Speak of the devil—ah, crap, it’s a video call.”

“It’s a video call to you too, sweetie,” Manda’s cheery voice comes from Lori’s airscreen. “How are you two doing?”

“Fine, thanks,” she grumbles, then exclaims, bewildered, “Wait, how did you know—”

Manda rolls her eyes, grinning. “You had to crash sometime. You haven’t slept more than five hours a night for the past week and a half. You barely slept at all during finals.”

“That’s—!” Her head hangs in defeat, though you don’t miss her sideways smile. “That’s actually true. You win.”

“I know I do, hence my very high score, which you need to catch up to.” She grins mischievously. “Delenz, keep that one away from the caffeine, you hear? Or I will give you demerits.”

You giggle. “Yes, ma’am.”

She blows a kiss. “Stay warm, lovebirds!” Manda hangs up before Lori can get another word out, so she settles for tossing the device onto the pile of blankets beside her. Lori’s face is thoroughly pink as she tells you, “Don’t take her seriously, please.” She’s almost begging, and it makes your stomach feel all funny—actually, that’s probably the oatmeal.

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Good.”

Silence. It’s awkward. It seems to be growing as quickly and boundlessly as the known universe itself. To counteract the endless pull of strange and unmeasurable forces propelling you towards saying or doing something exceedingly stupid, you opt for shovelling cold, congealed oatmeal into your face as Lorina’s fingers whirl across her airscreen.

When your sad excuse for breakfast has become totally inedible, you flit around your room cleaning aimlessly as Lori dozes off again until her time is up. She wakes up with a jerk when you put a hand on her shoulder, but quickly collects herself and gets ready to leave, promising to return your stuff as soon as she possibly can.

As soon as she’s gone, you flop down on your bed and cry out in frustration into your pillow.

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