#and yes almost no one likes shoes in this au I dunno why I keep doing this

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

sending in my first ask woot woot 🥳

okok so since rereading your aeon pregnancy au fic i can't help but think about the twins all grown up living their best lives with the coolest aeon parents until we get to their preteen/teenage years.

annnnnnnd i leave you with this ask: do you have any hcs about soft twin going through a little rebellious phase when she's older??? 👀

(yes yes this ask is for soft twin porque ella es preciosa, and we need more hcs for soft twin!!!)

idk why but i keep leaning towards soft twin acting out after her classmates made her feel a certain way for not being ‘cool enough’ like her sis. maybe soft twin isn't used to hearing those comments about her when she's so used to being praised as a good kid compared to her sis (not that she would ever listen to those praises or agree w/anyone who talks bad about her fam >:(

and now that she’s older, soft twin suddenly gets the complete opposite experience from fighty twin at school.

maybe the comments from her peers make soft twin have a mini identity crisis for being a 'goody two-shoes'? maybe she tries smth out of character partly to prove them wrong, partly to explore other sides of her personality she never really got to explore as a kid?

ANYWAYS what do you think would be soft twin's first 'rebellious act'? would fighty twin be involved somehow? how would soft twin feel after it happens? would she try smth like it again? how would Ada and Leon react to all of this???

dis for you hehe

ALSO I SWEAR YOU HAVE SENT ME ONE BEFORE but

yayayya

OMG A REREAD i should probably do that myself lol find more spelling and grammar errors i've left in there by accident sjkfbskjfksbf

YES YES I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS but since nothing is canon in my head, i just have THEORIES. AEON TWINS THEORIES.

YES THERE ISN'T ENOUGH LOVE FOR SOFT TWIN i also have wonder if people already know which is which lol

i like to think she has a small one, mostly in her early teens. probably earlier than fighty twin has a rebellious phase. but i haven't really thought about what she would fight about lol

AH YES YES i see what you mean. i do think they're both very smart. i mean they have leon and ada as their parents, you KNOW they're gonna be all types of smart. i do think that soft twin can be a lil clumsy sometimes. she's shy and quiet and just generally deemed the awkward one since she's not as open to being extroverted like fighty twin

I FEEL LIKE even if she were to rebel.. she would do it in the way that like. introverted kids do. either something extreme like a overt personality change... OR she just runs and hides.

i can see her finding herself just needing to escape. but ofc ada finds her. she doesn't make herself known right away but allows leon to talk to her. i do think that soft twin is a daddy's girl and although she loves ada. she just needs to softness of leon when she needs comfort. with ada, she does get some but sometimes she needs the lovely dovey kind. almost smothering lol

i don't see ada being overbearing or smothering her

SORRY MY THOUGHTS ARE EVERYWHERE AND IM NOT PROOFREADING THIS LOL

i can DEF SEE her chopping her hair short. i like to think that ada keeps the girls hair long since she sees it as a privilege that she never had. something something about safety but also just being allowed to be a girls girl lol. soft twin probably has a really big attachment to her long hair and ends up just chopping it all off at some point

she regrets it and spends a few years growing it back out lol

I DUNNO I HAVE ALOT OF THOUGHTS STILL

[diabounds-den]

Charlie (Change Of Heart)

Decided to update Charlie's design, they often get mistaken as a lost four year old. They usually don't mind because people usually offer to give them food while they wait for their parents, and there's always possession if someone peeves them off. 

They go by They/Them pronouns. 

Other then that they're usually silent and don't tend to hold grudges (except against one person in which case that individual can rot in a void for all of eternity). They can cry on cue. 

Charlie can switch between the form on their card and this one. They just prefer this one. Like the others Charlie’s wings are retractable, other then that they have horns and a floating heart in front of their chest.

[k-llama-llama]

Misread

Stray Kids AU: 9th member

Tori x Stray Kids

Tori needs Hyunjin’s help clearing up some misunderstandings.

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

Requests are OPEN and your feedback is still greatly appreciated!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“I can’t believe we’re finally here.” Minho grinned.

Tori limped along behind him. “I can’t believe they’re making me wear these heels.”

Minho looked down at her shoes. “I thought it was just for our entrance and exists.”

“They are, but they still hurt.” Tori grumbled. 

They had officially arrived for their first day of filming for Kingdom, and Tori was so excited. The fact that they were finally able to film meant the world after a year of having to postpone everything. Tori wasn’t even that upset about the heels that she’d been handed. But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to find something to complain about.

“Will you carry me?” She asked.

“What? No.” He shook his head.

“Just to the dressing room?” She pouted. “You don’t want my feet to be sore for our performance, do you?”

He gave her a very unimpressed look, but relented. He bent down in front of her, allowing her to hop onto his back. “Just to the dressing room.” He reminded her. “Not an inch further.”

“That’s fine, I’ll make Felix carry me back to the set.” She pinched his cheek.

The dressing rooms were very close by, and the door to theirs and the one next to theirs was wide open. 

“Who is next to us?” She whispered, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing any of the other groups.

“Ateez, I think.” Minho replied. “I think that’s what I heard Hyunjin say.”

Tori blanched. She’d been in pretty constant contact with Seonghwa since their not-date, but they hadn’t seen each other in person. She had no idea where they stood. They were definitely friends but…she felt like their might have been something more. Of course, Felix and Jeongin were the only ones who knew about the entire dilemma, since she didn’t want to risk anything for Kingdom or cause any drama within the group. And she had no idea if Seonghwa had any of the same conflicting feelings, or if the other members of his group were even aware that he’d been talking to her.

“Hey guys!”

Minho bowed, almost dropping Tori and shaking her out of her thoughts. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were leaning out of their door.

“Hey!” Tori said with far too much enthusiasm, hopping off of Minho’s back. “How are you guys?”

“We’re good, you guys ready to perform?” Hongjoong asked with a smile.

“Oh, yeah.” Minho nodded. “We’re psyched.”

Tori glanced at Seonghwa, who was staring at the floor with a serious look on his face. “Seonghwa, how are you?” She asked softly.

“Fine.” He gave her a tight smile. “We need to go get ready.” He ducked back into their dressing room.

“Oh, I guess…” Hongjoong looked confused. “See you guys later.”

Tori felt her heart drop as the door to their dressing room closed.

“What was that about?” Minho asked.

“I’m…not sure.” Tori frowned.

Her emotions must have been clear on her face, because as soon as she’d stepped into their own dressing room Felix went: “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She dropped into the chair next to him.

“Come on.” He nudged her leg with his own. “What’s wrong?”

“I just saw Seonghwa.”

“Really? That’s great.” He exclaimed. “So why do you look so depressed?”

Tori picked at her nails. “Because he didn’t even look at me, and then couldn’t wait to leave the conversation.”

“What the hell?” Felix sat up. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.” Tori bit her lip. “Maybe I was too much and now he’s annoyed with me.”

“Not a chance, Tor! He was just as excited to talk to you in all of your messages.” He squeezed her knee. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Tori recounted the short conversation as quickly as she could, wanting to forget about it. She had to have been an idiot to think that Seonghwa had actually liked her – he’d probably been making fun of her text messages and what a nerd she was to his group.

“Wait wait wait,” Felix shook his head. “You were on Minho’s back?”

“I don’t see why that’s an important detail, but yes.”

“Hm….Hyunjin!” Felix beckoned Hyunjin over.

“What’s going on?” Hyunjin perched himself on the arm of Tori’s chair. “Tor, you okay?”

“Hyunjin you need to keep a secret and then you need to do us a favour.” Felix began.

“Okay…” 

“What are you doing?” Tori hissed.

“Helping you, now shut up.” He smacked her leg. “Okay, Hyunjin. So, this is top secret, but Tori has been kind of sort of talking to Seonghwa.”

“From Ateez?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s cool.” Hyunjin nodded, clearly not getting it.

Felix rolled his eyes. “So we need you to go over to Ateez’s dressing room, and very casually mention that Tori is like a sister to all of us.”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why?” Tori tilted her head. 

“Because, Park Heechul.” Felix looked exasperated. “You don’t know him that well, so he saw you with Minho and probably misread the situation. So Hyunjin needs to establish that literally none of us are attracted to you.”

“Hyunjin was. So was Chan.” Tori protested.

Hyunjin poked her. “Stop it.”

“Yeah, stop it if you want a new boyfriend.” Felix shook his head at her. “Hyunjin go.”

“Okay.” 

Tori chewed on her pinky as he left the room. “Do you really think that’s all that’s wrong? He might just not like me.”

“He’d be crazy not to like you.” Felix reassured. “You’ll see, this will work.” 

Tori tried to distract herself by going over the choreography for the next hour, but Hyunjin still hadn’t come back. She was sure he’d gotten distracted talking to Ateez, but her anxiety couldn’t handle it.

“Hey, Noona, you have a text message.” Jeongin chucked her phone over to get from where she’d left it charging.

“Who is it?” She asked.

“I dunno.” He shrugged, going back to playing on his own phone.

Tori saw the notification and quickly unlocked her phone.

Seonghwa: Sorry I was weird earlier. I wasn’t feeling good. We still down to get smoothies after filming?

Tori grinned.

“So I was right?” Felix asked, noticing her smile.

She blushed. “Maybe.”

Tori:Totally. I can’t wait.

[takenbyheartstrings]

changing of the seasons | tom holland.

[ tom x fem!reader au || warnings. fluff, swearing, angst, implications of sex, the reader drinking || wc. 5.2k (this is a bit of a long one LMAO)  ] a/n. it’s currently 4:52 in the morning, so my apologies if this is so sloppy, but I’m writing it and heading straight to bed, praying there’s no major grammatical errors. Now, ik that uni doesn’t have frats or whatever, but it’s an au so idrc about accuracy ANYWAY, goodnight to all <3

W I N T E R

YOUR BREATH HITCHED AGAINST THE COLD AIR OF THE NIGHT, this cold of a day in London was not unusual, not welcomed, nor un-welcomed. You sort of loved the cold days, even if it rained so much that it was almost impossible to leave the house. It brings a sense of home to you and your roommate.

The same roommate who tried to join one of those sororities. But then chickened out last minute ‘Those girls are so fucking intimidating... I dunno how anyone does it!’ You laugh as you remember the day she came back to the dorm in shambles, only slightly tipsy. She really was the party type - but you had obligated to stay back at the dorm and watch Netflix or something, she found you coddled watching and reading. It wasn’t an unusual state for you at all, and you partied sometimes, Katie had mocked you previously, for acting as if you’re ‘Not like other girls.’ But you had to disagree, she was being ridiculous.

But that’s not where the story starts, ironically; the story starts at one of those terrible parties. Katie had dressed you in a nice pair of high waisted jeans and a tank top. You felt like you were wearing a little too less, which wasn’t a bad thing at all. You were just a little shy, so you slipped a jacket on top. In your defence: ‘Kate! It’s freezing outside!’

You were at a party where everyone knew you as the smartest kid in possibly the grade - you weren’t bullied or anything, but you weren’t popular either. Everyone knew you, and you knew them. You weren’t friends with them, but you weren’t not friends with them - you were the middle ground; the mediocre.

But in the whole time you were at this party, you managed to see the one person you didn’t like at all, and who didn’t like you.

Tom Holland was a stuck-up brat who didn’t know any better than to slack off in class, drink until so drunk he could barely speak properly, make comments about people that were anything but nice, and to make things even better, cheated on his girlfriend, and still, no matter how much he annoyed you, how much he despised you, how much the two of you tried to avoid each other... the two of you always managed to get in each other’s way.

You didn’t even knew how Tom Holland managed to slither his way into your life. But he did, and although the two of you disliked each other (although, it’s not a strong enough word), he always needed. your. help.

You saw it coming when he walked up to you at that stupid party, “What do you want, Thomas?” You questioned, your arms crossed over your jacket like they had been the whole night, a red solo cup sat in your hand.

“I need your help, passing another class.” He speaks and you can’t help but roll your eyes, you had a tutoring service, you knew what you were getting yourself into - but you didn’t think this one particular person would keep coming back for every test. There had to be something he was good at! How would he have gotten into uni if he weren’t?

You chuckled, “Is there seriously nothing you can do on your own?” You question him airing your thoughts.

You’re sat in a corner, and Tom is a charmer, so naturally, his hand leans onto the wall, keeping you in your place, he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt that suggests he’ll be sleeping in it tonight after he’s blacked out on his own bed, “Look, princess,” He almost spits, “Help me out, it’s the least you can do for me, after all, you’re the one making the money.”

and although, ALTHOUGH, you hate Thomas Stanley Holland with almost every single bone in your body...

you can’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach when he calls you princess.

You look him in the eye, almost slightly flustered, biting your lip, “Fine, I’ll teach you, just come by my dorm tomorrow at four and we can get started.”

“I have practi-” You cut Tom’s words off with the knife of your tongue.

“I don’t care what you have, if you won’t pass, there won’t be any practice at all. So I’d keep your mouth shut.” Tom takes note of your poisonous tone, nodding before he leaves you be in the exact same spot he found you in.

That night you went home with Katie, she was sloshed and drunk and could throw up all over you at any moment, but you were so tired. You wanted to hold her hair back, you so truely did, but you tied it up and let her be, despite her saying it was okay and to get some rest - you really did feel bad, and she should’ve taken her own advice.

The next day you didn’t have any classes, so you were determined to cram as much alone time in before Kate or Tom came to the dorm room. So you pretty much just sat on your ass all day, typing away at your computer and laughing at stupid YouTube videos in a pair of bike shorts and a baggy white t-shirt. You could see the black bralette you were wearing underneath it, but you weren’t expecting anyone so you depending on your memory to know when to change your clothes. But you didn’t think fast enough as there was a knock on your door. You walked over, expecting it to be Kate coming back from class or from getting Coffee with her girlfriend, but there’s almost so much luck for the world, and apparently, you didn’t get any at all.

“Thomas!” You shriek as you open the door wide, the dorm room was not far from a mess, but messy enough to say, “Sorry about the mess,” You invite him into the dorm room, hastily putting the blankets and pillows back into their places.

Tom walks into the familiar room, one he had been in many times and not for harmless fun. But to get his grades up. But there was a lot of things that you didn’t know about Tom Holland, a frat boy who’s life depends on the money he just so happens to have passed down to him. But Tom wasn’t the disgusting piece of crap you thought him out to be at all. The cheating? It was a rumour made by his piece of shit girlfriend, who just needed an excuse to dump him to get with her side-piece. But he was paraded for it by his friends, so he went a long with it - knowing that what was happening was so disgustingly gross and out of line. Tom to you was a bad guy, but in reality. He would be one of the nicest people you could ever know. Partially because of you.

To make it even clearer, Tom WAS that kind of guy, he’d been sleeping with everyone in sight before he got his girlfriend, to try and prove to you that he could hold a relationship, to prove to you that he was a good guy. He stopped the comments, convinced his friends to stop the comments as well. He was trying to be better because of you.

Tom tried not to look at how good you looked in your shorts and t-shirt, but his eyes couldn’t help following every inch of your body. He was trying his best, he really was. But he had to force his eyes away.

Finally after tiding up the place, slightly, you stood up properly and spoke, “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, we should.” Tom’s voice rang as you broke him out of whatever trance he was in before. He knew full well that he didn’t like you, but he didn’t know if that was him trying to convince himself, or if it was actually true - anymore at least.

You were sat down with Tom at the desk you had brought from IKEA not too long ago, you had a monitor and PC that sat in front of the two of you as you both worked on Tom’s History assignment. There was a sudden stop between the work-flow when you saw that Tom hadn’t been paying attention.

You looked at him as he looked at you, “Tom, pay fucking attention or there’s no way you’re going to pass and as much as I dislike you, I want you to do good.”

Guess being a nice person kills, huh? You can’t truely hate Tom, because there’s some mindset of yours unable to stop caring about Tom and how he does in school, because you feel bad for him.

Tom rolls his eyes, “Fine... what were you saying?” He tries to pay attention to you but you look way too good to be able to focus, so his eyes just stay on you and your voice drowns out.

You look at Tom who’s still looking at you rather than doing the work, “Tom,” Your voice shakes him out, as you shake him, your hand on his shoulder.

You yourself, didn’t realise how close the two of you were, but as your breath was on Tom’s face, and Tom’s breath was on yours. His hand moved up your thigh - and you let it. He moved closer and closer, his lips finally meeting yours as you kissed him back, the two of you stood up as you’re still kissing the air getting hotter and hotter.

Tom lifts your shirt over your head before pulling away for a minute, “Are you sure you wants this?” He questions you.

“Tom, if you keep talking, I’m going to change my mind.” You say before pressing your lips to his once more.

He unclips your bralette, his warm lips on yours, the winter’s air was nothing compared to what was happening in dorm 4B at this moment, his kisses moving down your neck to your chest, and your soft moans echo in your bedroom, nothing was stopping the two of you.

⏤

YOU AND TOM lay there, completely breathless.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ You asked yourself in shambles before standing up and getting yourself dressed.

“You need to leave,” You tell Tom as he sits up.

He chuckles, “Why?” He smiles coyly.

You roll your eyes at Tom, slipping your white shirt back over your head. You sigh heavily as you look back at him once more, “Tom, I can’t even fathom what happened here, right now.”

“We had sex, Y/N, there’s not much to unpack here.” He speaks softly, “Look, I get that you hate me or whatever,” He stands as he puts his sweatpants and jersey back on, “But I’ve never hated you.”

He grabs his shoes and slides them back on, before grabbing his backpack and leaving you to your own thoughts. That was the first time you’d ever heard him say something like that. That he never hated you. You had just assumed he did because of the way he acted towards you. You fell back onto your bed. 

You started to question your hatred for Tom, but you didn’t know how long it would take before your feelings would soon unpack, it was harder to do than expected. You thought it was black and white. But it’s a lot harder, way harder than you initially thought.

You heard the door open as Katie slammed the door behind her shut, checking in on you as her head popped into your room.

“Katie, I had sex with Tom Holland.” You spoke, almost afraid of the words that came out of your mouth.

S P R I N G

THE FLOWERS HAD STARTED TO BLOSSOM, you hadn’t talked to Tom since what happened in your room and you made every effort to ignore him or avoid him no matter how hard he tried.

What happened with him happened in January, it was now April. It had been four months, four months of just thinking. Debating with yourself and debating with your feelings. Tom didn’t make it easier to think about him either. He was trying to grab your attention so madly that it drove the two of you insane for each other.

Your phone didn’t stop pinging with text messages and emails and phone calls from the boy. It drove you mad. 

You store at your phone for longer than a minute while drinks were happening for a little girls night that Katie had planned, “Stop staring at your phone, Y/N,” Katie’s girlfriend spoke.

“Sorry,” You apologised softly, as Ciera laughed.

“Don’t apologise,” She sighed, “What’s happening for you right now is complicated, you had hate sex and you’re scared of commitment to the person you had hate sex with when he’s more than ready to commit to something you’re not.”

You whacked Ciera over their arm, “OW!” She shrieks.

“Sorry Ciera, but I’m not afraid of commitment.” You tell them, “I’m just afraid of committing to Tom himself,”

Katie walks into the kitchen, three glasses in her hand, “He’s a good person, y’know,” Katie sits down the glasses in front of you and Ciera.

“It’s true,” Ciera speaks, “He’s not as bad as you say he is,”

You end up rolling your eyes at both of their words, “I know, but I’ve just always seen him in the worst light there is, rude to teachers, to people, at parties he gets blackout drunk - always coming to me when he needs help, tries to form a friendship, forgets all about it the next day and comes running back to me again, so sorry if I’m a little on the fence.” You tell your best friends.

Ciera rubs your arm, looking at Katie, “We’re gonna leave you to cool off and think alright, we’ll be at the bar about five minutes away, we’ll see you soon.” Ciera and Katie sigh leaving you to your thoughts.

You walk over to the couch and turn on the TV, sitting down you look at the glass of drink in your hand, placing it down on the coffee table. Your dorms windows were open so you just looked at the night sky through them, it wasn’t cold nor hot. A little warm - you wished you could forget about all of the shit that was happening at the moment. But Tom wouldn’t leave you alone, he texted you asking you how you were doing, trying to grab your attention. You had to admit it, it was kind of sweet of him to text you once a day and ask. To call you to try to ask. He left a voicemail everyday too, and they were filled with nice messages for you to listen to. Just him talking about his day.

You thought of what you had said earlier, being scared to commit to Tom. You sighed as your head turned back to the TV, you felt something in you that you hadn’t felt before. A sense of urgency. You slipped on a pair of shoes and made your way to Tom’s Frat house.

It wasn’t late, so you just banged on the door. Out came Harrison Osterfield, Tom Hollands best friend - not to mention the fact that you also helped him pass a couple of his classes, he was Tom’s best friend and a good guy. He made an effort to say ‘Hey Y/N!’ in the Quad or if he sees you on your way to class.

Why couldn’t you like Harrison? you asked yourself as he met your eyes.

“Hey Haz,” You smile.

Haz chuckled, “Hello, Y/N, what can I do for you today?” 

“Do you by any chance know where Tom is?” You queried, “It’s kinda important? I dunno, but I have to talk to him.”

“Well, he’s upstairs in his room, third room on the right.” He said opening the large door a little more to let you inside.

You made your way into the large mansion (well, a really big house, but extra points for the spiral staircase in the middle of the house), the house looked different with nobody in it. There was lots of room to move around and you didn’t have to sit in one corner of the room. The floor was a pearled white marble, something you hadn’t actually seen before. You made your way up the large staircase and over to Tom’s room.

Before entering, you knocked on the door, when you walked in you saw something you didn’t want to see at all, “WHAT THE FUCK, TOM?” You almost screamed, as he looked up at you, fear in his eyes - he was obviously in bed with some blonde bitch.

“Y/N WAIT,” he hurries to put his pants on before running after you.

“NO TOM, I’M NOT WAITING FOR YOU, I CAME HERE TO BE MORE LIKE YOU’VE WANTED FOR THE PAST THREE MONTHS AND YOU’RE IN BED WITH SOMEONE ELSE, I WAS READY TO FACE MY FEARS AND JUMP INTO THE DEEP END.” You felt like you were on the verge of tears. He had done all this waiting for you, so you felt like you owe him some time, time to talk to explain himself, but it didn’t feel worth it.

Tom’s face goes red, “I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, Y/N, SO DESPERATELY AND THE ONE TIME I ASK YOU TO WAIT YOU SAY NO-”

“YOU WERE IN BED WITH SOMEONE ELSE, THOMAS,” You groan frustrated, calming yourself down, “I was afraid to commit to you, Tom. I always saw you as some shitty person, but after seeing you wait for me taking your time. I’m still not ready but I thought, ‘Hey! that’s the beauty of something scary, you never know!’” you quote your thoughts, “BUT I GUESS I WAS RIGHT.”

You made your way out the door as Tom grabbed your arm, “Y/N,” His eyes looked into yours, they were clearly sorry - but you couldn’t buy it anymore, “I’m sorry.”

You knew he was, you could hear it in the voice crack, the tears that were now running down his face. He sniffled as he held your arm, knowing that he fucked up. Although you wanted to wait, you knew you should’ve made a move sooner. You had so much time and even going into the frat house today, you didn’t even know but you knew you’d never be ready for something like this without going into it head on.

Tom fucked up by not waiting when he told you was.

Although the two of you weren’t dating, it still hurt like a knife to the chest.

“Fucking, bullshit Tom.” You said it. Immediately regretting it when it came out of your mouth.

You stormed out of the house, Tom’s hot hand leaving your skin.

S U M M E R

YOU, KATIE AND CIERA are on the beach, you’d actually flown to another country to do so, Greece was lovely this time of year.

You store into the clear blue waters as Katie and Ciera swam their lives away staying next to each other. To say the least, you were quite jealous of them. Not just because any chance at a relationship with Tom had flown out the window. You were shattered at the thought. The girls thought a nice getaway would do you good, better than Tom could ever. But they were wrong.

Now that you and Tom weren’t going to be together, you wanted him more than you could’ve wanted him before. You stood up, your toes in the sand as you called out to your friends.

“Guys! I’m gonna go for a little walk around, I’ll catch you guys back here in a little bit,” They both nodded, not giving a second thought before you walked away. This was more of an excuse to get away together and have you be the third wheel.

You walked through the streets looking around at boutiques and stores that line the streets. You walked into a few and ran your hand over the racks. You didn’t buy anything. But the thought was nice, as you walked however, you saw a familiar face standing in an Ice-Cream shop.

“Haz?” You asked as he turned to you with a smile.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, “Hey, Y/N!”

After you and Tom had the argument, you had been avoiding Tom at all costs, you hadn’t however been ignoring the other guys, and the other guys told Tom how you were doing. You would smile and talked to his friends and the second he should show up, you leave Tom in the dust and in the dark.

“So who are you here with?” You questioned Haz.

His smile falters but he catches it, “Just the boys, you know, Tuwaine, Harrison...” he trails off for a moment, “Tom.”

You sigh, “Well, I hope you guys are having a good time, I better get going, Katie and Ciera are waiting at the Hotel for me.”

Harrison groans playfully, “How about you text your friends and come hang out with us?” He smiles, charming.

“What about Tom?” You questioned.

Harrison sighs looking at you softly, “You and Tom need to talk, wether it’s under the influence, or wether it’s sober. You and him need to talk - he’s completely crushed. He has been for four months, you guys haven’t talked in four months, even before that you barely talked.”

“Look, Haz, Tom and I slept together and he pined for me and then I got him in bed with some blonde bitch and the rest is now.” You glared at Haz for even trying, but he was right - the two of you needed to talk. It wasn’t debatable anymore, you let out a heavy sigh, “But, I’ll go, you’re right.”

“Okay,” Harrison smiles, “If you want Ciera and Katie to come, they can.”

“Trust me, they’re probably very busy.” You laugh and wink as he leads you back to where the boys were partying for the night. It came quicker than it left, one minute you were on the beach, the next it was dark and you were at a bon fire, where there were only five partygoers, you and four boys.

“HARRY!!!” you hear three voices chime loudly, as you walk out Haz those cheers stop.

“H-Hey, Y/N,” Tom speaks nervously.

“Hey Tom.”

A few moments later, is what it feels like, after you’ve drunk a few drinks, you’re laughing with Tom, smiling with Tom, getting feely with. Tom. You were telling so many stories about your life during uni, during high-school and embarrassing ones at that. They traded theirs and you traded yours. It was turning out to be a fun time, and then Haz, Harrison and Tuwaine all turned in. You watched as the fire burnt in front of you and Tom, the yellow and orange flame.

You weren’t totally sloshed and neither was Tom, maybe just a little tipsy, a little more relaxed, “Tom, I’m sorry,” You spoke, “What happened between us all those nights ago - It just really hurt, Tom.”

“I can’t keep telling you how sorry I am, I fucked up,” He sighs.

You sigh, “We both fucked up, Tom. I should’ve told you how I was feeling and I shouldn’t have made you wait for me.”

“And I shouldn’t have fucked someone else,”

“You had every right to-”

“NO I DIDN’T.” He raises his voice, “I shouldn’t have slept with someone else, because I am so in love with you.”

You couldn’t believe what he had told you, “Tom I-”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, I just- I needed you to know,” He stands, walking away before you can say anything else.

A U T U M N

ALTHOUGH YOU KNEW HOW TOM FELT ABOUT YOU, you still decided to hangout with him, be friends. Figure out what you wanted to do about it. Do about your feelings for him. You felt like you were leading him on but every time you asked him about it, he assured you differently. He was okay with being friends, but you’ll always know he’ll want more.

You and Tom walked through campus, the leaves that blossomed now orange and yellow, falling from the sky - crunching under your feet, a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. You had a warm navy winter coat over your figure. Tom linked his arm with yours.

“I’ve got class,” He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket with a reminder telling him about his class.

You smile pulling him closer, “I’ll see you later then,” He hugs you and you tighten it, not wanting to let go of him, but reluctantly doing so. You watch as he walks away, Katie walking up behind you with her own cup of Coffee.

“Where’s he going?” Katie asks you and you look over at her.

“Class.” The word comes out of your mouth, almost as if you’re sad to watch him walk away. That’s because you were sad to watch him walk away.

Katie chuckles, “Let’s get back to the dorm, Ciera bought donuts!” She jumps, excited to go back.

“What kind?” You question your best friend.

She freezes, “Well she’s my girlfriend so,”

“That means that she was clearly thinking of you, so I take it they bought-”

“Jam!” Katie smiles, as the two of you walk, she skips.

This is what you wanted with Tom. You wanted him to buy you donuts and for you to get excited when he doesn’t even ask what type you want - you wanted him to just surprise you with the smallest things. Remember the smallest details. But you had missed it all, every morning, Tom brought you a coffee as the two of you headed to the only class the two of you had together, that he hadn’t asked you for your order at all, or your birthday earlier that month, he brought you your favourite soft drink, even though he hadn’t asked you what it was. Not to mention he wrapped your gift in your favourite colour. But you were so blindsided to all of that. You weren’t seeing it at all.

You got back to your dorm and left Katie and Ciera to watch TV on the couch when you headed into your room. You sat on your bed, as you looked at the shelf that sat across from it, Tom’s present sat perfectly on it. It wasn’t much, it was just a Viynl of your favourite TV Character, he had told you he wanted to get you something else - but they didn’t have it in stock anywhere. To which you assured him it was okay. You sighed at you just looked at it; store at it. Almost a minute had passed - what seemed like the longest minute of your life. So many thoughts had travelled through your head. So many questions.

All of them unanswered.

All, except for one. This question had been everything since the night you and Tom slept together for the first and only time, but looking at the present. Thinking about the late night studies or when the two of you recently developed the stupid habit of meeting in the library when the two of you couldn’t sleep, or just going on walks around the campus - laughing with each other. You were so afraid. But you were stupid for being so afriad. Tom had been a better friend than anyone could have ever been (except for Katie and Ciera of course), you and Tom had a connection that was irreplaceable. Somewhat unbreakable. It’s hard to think that you hated him. hard to think that you found him unbearable. But it was also hard to think that you could avoid him. Ignore him. Stop being friends with him.

But you just ended up together in the end anyway.

So what was the point? What was the point running from something that was always going to catch upto you anyway?

⏤

NIGHT FELL ON THE CAMPUS, you weren’t exactly sure what you were doing but it felt like the night you caught Tom in bed with that girl all over again. But this time you knew you wouldn’t. Because Tom assured you he wouldn’t. Not till you told him no. So you took his absolute word for it.

You looked at the large doors of the Frat House that sat in front of you, knocking violently, waiting for someone to open the door - It was Haz, and although you didn’t say anything. He knew what you were going to do. So he shut the door, and you took a step back composing yourself, readying yourself for what you were about to do and you could never be truely ready, but you had to trust your gut on this one.

You weren’t on the doorstep anymore, you were on the ground, in front of the stairs that lead to the House as Tom walked outside. You weren’t wearing anything special. You were wearing your bike shorts and a white shirt. You were wearing white runners and ankle-high socks. Your hair the same as it always was. You looked at the boy and his curls with a smile.

He knew what was coming - but he let you speak, “Tom, for a long time. I was scared. So fucking scared that I pushed you away. If I’m going to be completely one-hundred percent honest with you, I’ve had feelings for you from the start. But I let my thoughts get the better of me. I let myself think you were some douchebag, when in reality - you’re the exact opposite. You’re the kindest, sweetest, most caring person in the world. God, this is so cliché.” You chuckles as he laughs along with you, however, you start to tear up a little, overcome with emotions, “I always thought I was incapable of finding someone to love, someone who would love me the same way that Ciera and Katie love each other or the same way that Patrick Verona and Julia Stiles love each other.”

Tom smiles at the last reference - you had forced him to watch 10 Things I Hate About You on one of those lonely nights the two of you spent unable to sleep and you told him you cried so much at the movie - he assured you he wouldn’t. But he failed.

“Look Tom, what I’m trying to say is that-” You stop yourself for a moment. It takes everything in your body to finally spit it out. Say what you’ve been wanting to say and when you do. It feels so good.

“I... Love.. You.” You said it.

Tom bolts over to you, pressing his lips to yours it’s more desperate and hungry something that reminded you of the first night the two of you kissed. But it was just as magical, just like every single kiss to come, just like every single peck on the cheek. Every single laugh. Every single smile, hug, handhold. Every single night where the two of you will just lay next to each other. The movie nights, the dates.

All of it.

Because every single time it does. Every single time any of those happens.

You somehow manage to fall in love with him all over again.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE

@gemad08 (I hope it was you who requested this! I can’t remember!): Reader listens to another group’s music and her BTS boyfriends all have very different feelings about that. 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Request, Ask, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, OT7, boyfriend AU

Genre: Fluff

Title: Playlist

KIM SEOKJIN

“What are you listening to?” Questions Jungkook curiously, as he plops down on the sofa beside you, removing his inner ear piece and reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead. 

You pull out one of your own headphones and offer him a slight smile, readjusting the homework you had been working on on your lap. “Oh you know, this and that.” 

Jungkook nods, reaching across you to snag an unopened water bottle from the table, before he gulps down almost half of it in one swell swoop. “Yeah, my playlists tend to be a little bit of everything too.” 

The couch dips under Jin’s weight as your boyfriend arrives and settles down on your other side, his own hair damp with exertion, as he glances over at you with one eyebrow arched in a look of slight teasing, reaching for your dangling headphone, “It better be our stuff, jagi, or I’ll question your loyalty as a girlfriend.” 

You open your mouth, but before you can respond, he places the headphone in his ear, and you watch as his eyes widen and his lips purse into a comical pout that has you holding back laughter. 

“Yah, jagi!” Jin exclaims, ripping the headphones out of both of your ears, as he stares you down with a look akin to dramatic hurt and betrayal. “You’re listening to WinnerWinner?!” 

You offer him a sheepish smile, before sticking your tongue out and putting the headphones back in your ears, though you don’t miss the sound of Jungkook laughing over the beats of your music. 

“I like their stuff.” You protest, pointing to the homework in your lap. “It’s good study music. Helps me focus.” 

“And our stuff can’t??” Jin complains in an incredulous voice, mouth still drawn into a deeper pout than before if possible. “Our stuff is great for studying! Take Moon for example, or Epiphany!” 

“That’s your stuff.” You tease back gently, before leaning over to press a kiss to his full, plump, still pouting lips. “Besides, you don’t need to be jealous. You’re the only one I kiss after all.” 

You grin at him, as he harumphs and throws an arm grumpily across your shoulders, tugging your body against his own. “I better be.” He whines out, as both you and Jungkook laugh once more. 

MIN YOONGI

“Yoongi, how much longer?” You whine from your position on the futon in his studio, feet kicking loosely in the air, head dangling upside down from one of the arms, as you adjust your headphones in your ear. “I’m hungry.” 

“All right, all right.” Your boyfriend grumbles, shutting off the screen of his computer, and getting up to cross the room to you. He flicks the crown of your head, making you yelp and sit upright again, as he sinks into the cushions beside you. “What’re you listening to anyway?” 

You offer him the free headphone willingly, and he puts it to his ear, face immediately pulling into a look of distaste at the sounds of Zico’s smooth rap coming through the speakers. 

“Why are you listening to this shit?” Yoongi asks, pulling the headphone from his ear as quickly as he had placed it there, shooting you a sharp look of disapproval. 

“I like it.” You pull your own headphone loose and shoot him a glare in return, voice defensive as you begin to coil up the wire and shove it into your purse. “It’s catchy.” 

“Really?” Yoongi looks at you with a stare of disbelief, and you feel your cheeks heat up, as if he’s caught you red handed doing something you shouldn’t. “Who taught you what was good music?” 

“Myself.” You sniff, though you can’t stay mad at him, because the look of utter confusion and absolute pure surprise on his face at your music choices has you wanting to bust into giggles. 

“That stuff is crap.” Yoongi stands from the couch and waves a hand at your phone, motioning to your music taste as a whole. He cocks his head as he looks down at you, and the hint of a superior smirk begins to lift his lips, as he says firmly, “I guess I need to educate you on what’s good music, baby. I didn’t know you were so naive.” 

You scoff and stick your tongue out at him, as he whirls his desk chair around and motions for you to sit. 

“But what about food?” You complain, stomach still grumbling hungrily as you take a seat, Yoongi reaching around you to turn on the computer. 

“I’ll get delivery.” He says nonchalantly, clicking into a folder on the desktop. “This is much more important.” 

You sigh in defeat and lean back. “How many of these songs are gonna be your own, Min Yoongi?” You ask suspiciously, looking up at him standing over you, as he offers you the hint of a smile and presses a kiss to your upturned forehead. 

“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.” He teases, before hitting play. 

JUNG HOSEOK

“Everything I need is on the ground-” 

You sing along to the lyrics of the song that is blasting from the speakers underneath your breath, as you continue your sweeping circle of the kitchen, doing little skip hops to the beat of the music when it tickles your fancy. 

You’re feeling good. 

You’re done with work for the week, you’re pretty sure you’re getting delivery for dinner tonight instead of cooking, and your boyfriend should be home any minute from the studio. 

Not to mention, Rose’s new song is kicking. 

Speak of the devil. 

Just as you’re glancing at the clock, the sound of a lock is heard in the front door and Hobi bursts into the apartment, face bright and red from practice, hair slicked back with sweat that has long since dried, ankles ringed in old, but extremely comfortable tennis shoes. 

“Hey jagi!” He calls, loud voice sounding clear even over the loud music, as he dumps his duffle bag onto the couch and kicks his shoes to the side, before entering the kitchen where you’re just emptying the last dustpan of debris into the trash. 

He circles his arms around your waist and gives you a blinding sunshine smile, before peppering your face with kisses that make you laugh until you’re out of breath. 

“I missed you.” He says in your ear, and you giggle, as his lips find another place to plant a kiss beneath the juncture of your jaw. 

“You’d think you hadn’t just seen me this morning, Jung Hoseok.” You berate teasingly, covering his hands at your waist with your own, as you turn in his arms to face him. Reaching up to push loose strands of dark hair from his forehead, you ask with a tilt of your head, “Wanna order in tonight?” 

“Yes please!” Hobi’s eyes light up at the thought of delivery and cuddling and a night spent in with you, and then they widen slightly, as he tilts his head, as if listening, to the repeating song that is still blaring over the sound system for the first time. “Is this Rose’s new one?” He asks, and you can hear the excitement in his tone. 

You nod, and before you can say anything, he is sweeping you around in circles to the beat of the newly started song, making you laugh once more, before he calls out, “I love this song! It’s so damn catchy!” 

“I can tell.” You say through your laughter, as he releases you on a spin and begins to do a little impromptu solo dance around the clean kitchen. 

“Is it on repeat?” Hobi asks, cha cha-ing real smooth over to you, before he takes your hands once more. 

You nod. “Of course.” 

“Great.” He grins, and the sunshine between his teeth is blinding, as he pulls you into another goofy spin. “Keep it going all night.” 

KIM NAMJOON

Namjoon slides into the passenger seat, and you lean over to turn the music down-having turned it up to listen to it loudly with the windows down while you drove-and open your mouth to ask him about his day. 

He beats you to it though, catching you off guard, as he eyes the name of the song on the car display curiously. “You’re listening to Jackson’s stuff?” 

You blush, feeling embarrassed for some stupid reason, and turn the song almost off, as you reach to put the car into gear. “Yes? I really like his new album.” 

“That’s good.” Namjoon says softly, almost as if he’s thinking, as he stares out the car window as you pull out of the studio’s parking lot. “He’ll be happy to hear that.” 

You drive in silence for a bit, and you’re wondering if you’re imagining the sudden weird air between you and your boyfriend. Maybe it’s just you? It’s gotta be in your head, right? 

You glance at Namjoon out of the corner of your eye, and you note he looks tired. As you turn onto the main road, you ask gently, “Everything go okay today?” 

“Hmmm?” Namjoon questions beneath his breath, glancing over at you, as if you have pulled him from his thoughts. He offers you the hint of a smile. “Oh,  yeah! Everything was fine. Super busy. Like it always is.” 

You nod, tightening and loosening your fingers on the steering wheel, as silence once again prevails. 

Why is this weird. Was it because of the music? 

You glance at the display, and see another one of Jackson’s songs scrolling across the heading. 

Was it weird to listen to your boyfriend’s best friend’s music? Was that some sort of faux pas you weren’t aware of? 

Shit. 

“Namjoon-” You start to say, and when he looks at you, you force yourself to swallow and keep going. “Does it upset you if I listen to Jackson’s stuff? If so, I’ll stop-” 

“What?” Namjoon looks startled, catching you off guard, and his eyes widen as he stares at you. “Why would that upset me?” 

“I dunno.” You shrug, suddenly feeling sheepish that you had made this into a deal at all. “I just didn’t know-” 

“Baby.” Namjoon leans across the center console, his large, warm palm going to rest on your thigh, as his whole face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin. “You can listen to whoever you want. I don’t care.” He winks at you. “And I was being serious about Jackson being excited to hear you like his stuff. Hell, I like his stuff.” 

“Why were you so quiet then?” You ask, relieved, yet not being able to stop yourself now. 

“Oh.” Namjoon settles back into his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, as his fingers start to stroke lazy patterns across the jean covered skin of your thigh. He cracks an eye open and shoots you a mischievous grin. “I was just contemplating all of the shit I can show you now that I know you like Jackson’s music. There’s so much in his vault that hasn’t been released to the public that I have access to.” 

Your mouth dropped open. “Really?” 

Namjoon closed his eyes once more, but not before shooting you another wink. “Really. Buckle up, baby. If you want Jackson Wang, I’ll give you Jackson Wang.” 

PARK JIMIN

“Jimin, this is so stupid.” You huff out, as you try to jump two stairs at a time, keeping up with your boyfriend as he doggedly works his way upward. 

Damn. For a short guy, he’s really fast. 

“Is it?” Jimin asks over his shoulder sharply, not looking at you, as you finally reach the floor that houses the building’s gym and push through the door. He holds it open for you, even though he’s mad, and you’re glad he’s not angry enough to have forgotten the habit. That bodes well. 

“Yeah, it is.” You snap back, reaching up to wipe some sweat from the back of your neck,as you adjust your dangling headphones. Why did you agree to work out with him. You should have known better. The walk up the five flights of stairs had been enough. “It’s ridiculous.” 

“Hmmm okay.” Jimin hums out mockingly, already headed for the treadmill, as he raises the incline and stretches his ankles, shooting you a heated glare. “Fine. So you won’t mind if I start religiously listening to Girl’s Generation.” 

“No?” You pose it as a question, because the idea of that upsetting you just doesn’t compute into your head. 

“See, it doesn’t make sense to you, because you’re not an artist.” Jimin complains, sliding his own headphones into his ears as he turns on the treadmill and starts into a brisk jog. 

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and head to the elliptical, as far from your moody boyfriend as you can go. 

There is nothing but silence and the sound of breathing and the machines, until Jungkook comes into through the door minutes later, towel slung around his neck, curls already damp with sweat, and you just know he has already been doing some insane pre-workout before his actual workout. 

Crazy bastard. 

“Hey, (Y/N)!’ Jungkook calls out cheerfully, with a bunny grin and a wave of his hand in your direction. 

“She probably can’t hear you. She’s listening to her favorite band.” Jimin snarks in before you can answer his friend, face dark as he continues to sprint through the workout on the treadmill. 

Jungkook looks curiously between the two of you, and you stop what you’re doing, letting out an irritated sigh. 

“Jungkook, tell Jimin this is stupid.” You say, standing and stretching your arms above your head, as you stick your tongue out at your still grumpy boyfriend. “He’s upset because he found out I like listening to GOT7 more than your stuff, and now he’s throwing a jealousy tantrum.” 

“I am not!” Jimin yanks the headphones out of his ears and points in your direction, past the bewildered Jungkook who stands in the middle of you two. “You told me, and I quote ‘It’s weird to listen to your stuff, because you’re my boyfriend.’“ 

“Well it is!” You shout back, cheeks red, whether from the exercise or the heat of the stupid, teasing argument that had gotten well out of hand. 

“Okay, you guys are both being stupid.” Jungkook steps in, holding his hands out as a peace offering between your two heaving chests, as if worried you’re going to come to blows. He glances over at Jimin. “Jimin, your girlfriend can listen to anyone she wants. She’s not your property. You tend to get jealousy, but you don’t need to, because you should know how crazy in love with you she is.” 

He glances over to you next, face stern, and you already feel your heart calming in your chest at his words, and Jimin must feel the same, because he doesn’t look quite as riled as before. 

“And (Y/N), just because you’re dating an idol doesn’t mean that you have to listen to their music. But try to be a little more sympathetic yeah? We work hard on our shit, and you gotta take into account how Jimin feels.” 

You sigh, and glance across the wise younger boy to Jimin, who looks slightly remorseful now. “Fine.” You sigh out, reaching out to offer him a hand. He shakes it, twining his fingers with yours at the last minute. “I’ll try to broaden my perspective.” 

“And I’ll try to tone down the jealousy.” Jimin concedes, finally offering you the hint of a smile as his full lips curl upward. 

“However.” You shake a finger at the two boys. “I’m not listening to, or watching, or ever liking, Go Go. And you can’t make me.” 

They groan, and you laugh before pulling the two of them into a hug. 

KIM TAEHYUNG

“Hey jagi, have you seen my-” 

You glance up as your boyfriend comes into the room, his words stuttering to a stop as he pauses in the doorway to stare at you, lacing up your nikes by the front door. 

“What?” You ask, slightly self consciously, as you glance down at the running outfit you wear-athletic shorts and a sheer tank top covering a brightly colored sports bra, complete with dangling earphones and comfy running shoes-wondering what he’s staring at. 

“Nothing.” Taehyung shakes his head, a sly smile coming across his features, as he creeps across the room as if he’s stalking you, before grabbing you around the waist and crushing you to him, lips going to your ear and voice low. “You just look good enough to eat, that’s all.” 

You blush and bat at him, but he doesn’t release you. “Stop. You’re so gross.” 

“I can’t help it that my girlfriend is super hot.” He drags his lips up the curve of your neck in a line of sloppy kisses, making you laugh and try to pull away from him once more. “You know the only reason I go running with you is so I can watch your ass in those short shorts.” He slaps his hand across said ass, and you yelp. 

“Will you quit?” You swat him away again, more aggressively this time, as he finally releases his hold on your waist, but doesn’t pull away from you, as he grabs one of your headphones and holds it up to his ear. 

“What’s your running playlist?” Taehyung asks curiously, and you grin, pushing play on the first song. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, motioning to you. “Mmmm nope. Next.” 

You skip forward to the next song, and suddenly, his eyes are going wide and his mouth is forming an o and an overly manic excited look is entering his normal expression. 

You glance down at the song name and instantly see why. 

“Holy shit, I love this song.” Taehyung exclaims, wiggling his body to the sound of gangnam style and Psy’s upbeat vocals. 

“I know.” You laugh, before he shoves the headphones back into your hand, catching you by surprise, as he darts past you back the way he had came. “What are you doing??” 

“I gotta get my kazoo.” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, then stops in his tracks, glancing back at where you still stand in place. “Actually, on second thought.” He retreats on fast steps and grabs your hand, dragging you along with him toward the office, ignoring your weak protests. “You better come along. I’m about to blow your mind. I can play this song on both kazoo and keyboard.” 

JEON JUNGKOOK

Jungkook’s brow is furrowed, his normally caramel eyes dark, lips set into a thin line, and you know. You know that look. 

He’s getting competitive. 

They don’t call him the golden maknae for nothing, right? 

“Jungkook.” You say in a warning tone, already knowing where his mind is going. 

“There’s no way.” Jungkook huffs out, pulling the headset from off his ears as he shoots you a look of utter fire, eyes hard and set. “There’s no way they’re better than us.” 

You sigh, and the sound is slightly amused and slightly exasperated. “Kook, I didn’t say they were better than you-” 

“Then why listen to them?” He cuts you off, throwing the headset aside and rising to pace the room, before he comes back to stand behind the couch, fingers clenched around the back cushion as he stares into the distance. 

“I like their music?” You offer helplessly, as you watch him spiral into that competitive frame of mind that you find halfway hot as hell and halfway infuriating as all get out. 

“You really think they’re better than us?” Jungkook asks, interrupting you, as if he hadn’t just heard a word of the answer you had offered. He glances down at you, eyes dark beneath the fringe of his long hair, long hair that’s getting slightly out of control and is fringing on tangled mess of curls. “Why are they better? how are they better?” He mutters to himself, eyes focusing on something far away, as he continues on in disbelief. “Oneus? Really?” 

You roll you eyes and push yourself up from the couch, circling around to stand behind him, sliding your hands around his narrow waist, allowing yourself to feel the muscles of his abdomen beneath his sweatshirt before you finally speak. “Kookie, can you not. Just this once. Please.” 

“Not what?” He asks, suddenly curious, as he glances back at you, doe eyes wide, as if he’s not even aware of what he’s doing. 

“Not compete?” You ask with slight amusement, brows raised in pleading in your boyfriend’s tense direction. 

His shoulders relax slightly, and he turns to face you, returning your embrace, his chin resting comfortably on the crown of your head. “Sorry, jagi. Habit.” 

“You wanna be the best, I get it.” You hum back, leaning back to connect your lips with his, as the hint of smile starts across your face. “However.” You reach up to push the hair back from his forehead, admiring his handsome, flawless features as he stares down at you. “To me, no one will ever be better than you, Jeon Jungkook.” 

His features soften, and he offers you the bunny smile you love so much. “Really?” 

“Really.” You grin in return, and reach up to tap the end of his nose with your finger before leaning in to give him another quick kiss. “You’re the best there is.” 

[muggycuphead]

weird flex but ok i guess pt.4

3

War… Hold up, do we really need a warning for this one? Dunno, but however, watch out for slightly disturbing and kinda…disgusting imagery, trypophobic patterns, as well as ‘necrotic’ designs I made while having funky fever bc o h m y g o d do I get a little crazier every new quarantine day (and at this point it’s coming to be an usual thing for me, big sad). However, most are made no other than for the sole sake of satire, so y’know, no need to get your underwear in a twist

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [IV]

EDIT 25/10/2023: Updated the traditional drawing with a rescanned, more clean version

1.-BoyFriend’s in-game sprite concept (Hood clothing)

Beep bop beep beep bop, bap skidoo bep

I like this boy, his voice, his look, I stan must protecc

Reenacted the sprite without tracing it, edited it a little, and amazingly, managed not to make it look like trash

I’m proud of myself for that

Also, remember what I said in the first dump about the bite’s placing? Well, now it’s fixed here

Kinda sad about his shoes getting ruined though, F

2.-GirlFriend’s in-game sprite concept (Hood clothing)

You can guess I had fun making her by how (to put it somehow) ‘layer-loaded’ her clothing is

Anyhow, just so you know, her necklace is made out of gold

Not a really shiny kind of gold (cuz y’know, some of the undead –specially freakysteins- don’t like bright colors that resemble fire when they’re lacking on self-control), but it’s shiny enough to keep them settle

Though I should have though it better about w h e r e to place that golden accessory

I don’t think she would really care about it though (unlessitturnsintoastillstarethennosiridlikeyoutostoptyvm)

3.-Mendel’s in-game sprite concept

[Cutscene-styled scripts for storytell transition / character development sake –andbcwhynot-]

Scenario: BF’s hospital room, with GF, Mendel and his nurse in it. BF’s now recovered from his injury, and is about to be discharged.

Dr. Mendel

Well, it’s been almost a week now, and your condition has improved a lot.

Even if I’m aware this kind of injuries doesn’t take long to be assimilated, I’m quite amazed, to say the most.

GirlFriend

I think I know why he must have recovered so fast…

…Or should I say, we?

BF chuckles and nods to GF

Dr. Mendel

However ways it had to be, it’s aside the table now.

Point here is, your health is stable again, and therefore, you’re up to get discharged from here

BoyFriend

Excited. Beep? Boop!

(*Really? Cool!)

GirlFriend

Le happy face. Yay, finally~

Dr. Mendel

Woah there, you two

GirlFriend // BoyFriend

…?

Dr. Mendel

I understand you’re all for leaving this place. (unfinished)

oKAY Bois NOW we talking about stuff

FNF Static Memories guys where u at

Yes the smiling face is his losing icon

In fact, aside from Mendel, most of the undead show a glad expression when you beat them

I can’t blame them considering the circumstances he’s doing so –BF’s condition seeming to be better (Mendel) / slowly-but-surely fixing the power outage problem on the hood’s places he goes to-

And looky, I even made him a custom design for the ‘GO!’ title card

How cute (?)

…Actually, he’s also kinda cute

Don’t approve that much the fact he does the smoek though

(yeahesamaryjanestuntoowhaddyagonnadoaboutit-)

4.-Grawlbert’s in-game sprite concept

(…)

Similar case with Mendel, but this time it’s more zombie-related

…and funny enough, that custom card would appear every time BF faces an undead oops-

Even the mic is customized now lmao

No sprites extras this time tho, sad cri :^(

5.-Grave-nan in-game sprite concept

(…)

Everything cool till you take a peek at the icons, specially the one where he’s losing…

Get weird with it, my inner demon said

It’ll be fun, it said

I regret it

…a little

But I still kinda regret it

thoughconsideringbfiscanonicallygaythensobeitiguess-

6.-BF’s icon, but the sickness is getting to him a little harder

Okay now I’m worried

Like, you doing ok there pal? Ya need a drink or anything?

7.-BF’s modified mic

About to get serious, I see?

Again, this was made before I changed my mind about the crack in the mic and stuff, but it doesn’t take away the original intent for this

How does this work exactly? I’ll explain it short:

There’s no light in the hood, so BF has to keep his mic on somehow when he brings it with him outside his old house (or apartment, not really sure about it yet)

Boyfriend is basically the battery of it, since his own energy gets transferred to the mic and then turned into pure electricity (not exactly sure how that’s possible in concrete sense but eh-)

However, here’s what’s funny: Turns out the outage is actually due to a spell that made the electric zones malfunction, and the way to get them work fine again is through intense and well-timed frequencies…aka rapping

Yup, they ‘reload’ the same way his modified mic does, but only if they’re directly connected to it, and if he’s in a crucial zone near the power core, specifically where the bosses I’ve just thought out previously are at

…I basically resumed half the storyline here as a whole (or at least that’s mostly what it is supposed to be), nice move there Phids you magnificient rascal

Though, I needed to correct myself on the mechanics over there, cuz let’s be real, how do u get electroshocked when power is basically 0%??? It doesn’t make any sense

8.-Medicine

Can kill the zombie bacteria if you’re bitten by one…but can’t do anything when you’re in the Graveyard

thenwhatsthepointinusingitatall--

9.-Mendel’s microphone

ANOTHER CUSTOM MIC WOOOOOOOOO

Don’t judge me, I like making those, it’s really fun

5

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [1]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Word count: 4,863

↳  Chapters: Prelude | You Are Here! | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MONDAY - 1

Your heart was pounding a million miles a minute as you stepped into your photoshoot studio on campus two weeks later, ready to see a bunch of other students preparing for interviews for the same position. Surprisingly, you were the only one present besides your teacher. She smiled and approached. “Hey,” she greeted you with a short handshake. “I see you’re nervous?” “A little,” you admit, returning her friendly grin. “I’m surprised nobody else is here.” She hummed. “Well, there was a lot to choose from. Come on. This one, I believe, is a little special compared to the others.” “How so?” Your voice was laced with curiosity as she led you further in, past the background sheets that separate the room into two halves. Behind it were people you had only dreamed of seeing in person.

The three of them stood as soon as they lay eyes on you. Johnny, Mark, and Jaehyun. You were completely frozen, staring at them and nearly forgetting to breathe. The thought of the members interviewing you themselves had never even entered your brain.

Your teacher placed a hand on your shoulder, startling you. Without a word, she smiled at you, nodded at them and left the room. Once the door shut with a soft click, Mark approached you. “Hi, I’m Mark Lee,” he held out his hand. “You probably knew that, considering your expression.” He laughed sweetly. You barely held out your hand with a shy nod, “I’m (Y/N).” Instead of going through with the handshake, Mark immediately moves in to engulf you in a friendly hug. “It’s nice to meet you,” you mumbled into the hug, barely processing that you were actually hugging Mark Lee and were in the same five-foot radius as three members of NCT. Johnny and Jaehyun also hugged you tightly, insisting that you join them at the table your teacher had set up for them.

“I thought I would be more prepared,” you admitted softly, digging into your backpack and pulling out your portfolio of projects and random photos you’ve taken. Mark takes it first to open and look through. “I’ve been a fan since your debut.” 

Johnny smiled. “Then you’re just the person we’re looking for,” he said. He glances over at your portfolio, then back to you. “The truth is, we aren’t looking for a professional like a lot of others in this program. We bring our own from our company.” Your knit your eyebrows together in confusion. “Then why sign up? If, um, you don’t mind me asking.” 

Jaehyun looked up from browsing your portfolio with Mark. “We were looking to take one photo.” He held up his index finger. “We wanted to have a friend that’s from around here to help us find the perfect spot, and photographers always know the best places.” Your eyes widened. A friend? Did he really just say that? “Just one photo?” You decided to ask, the whole prospect of clarifying what Jaehyun meant by ‘friend’ was a little too overwhelming.

The three of them nodded. “We want just one photo for our dorm. This stop is important to us, and we want this to stay away from social media. It’s just going to be for us. And for you, for your project, of course,” Mark explained. “We don’t want someone that is too professional and we don’t want a fansite to take it. It seemed to us that a friend would be the best choice.” He smiled gently at you. “We’ll provide you with a ticket and backstage pass, as well as paying you based on the program’s price for the photo to be touched up and framed.” 

You tripped over your words. “Well, I… I don’t think I’m in a position to turn you down, but…” Johnny cocked his head to the side. “But..?” 

You gulped and sheepishly avoided eye contact. “I can’t speak Korean,” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers. Mark smiled sweetly at you. “That’s okay. We’ll translate for you. So, what do you think? Would you like to spend a day with us before our show?” 

You smiled, deciding to be a bit more daring. They did say, friend. “You’re asking that like there’s even a shred of a chance I’d say no.” 

All three of them grin. “Thank you, I was hoping you would say yes,” Mark says. “Your portfolio is stunning.”

Your face goes red and you're barely conscious enough to stand with them as they prepare to leave. Johnny and Jaehyun hug you again, praising your work before taking their leave, but Mark doesn't join them.

“Our manager has your teacher's contact information, but I want to involve the company as little as possible… if it's not too sudden, could I please have your number?” Mark smiles sheepishly, offering his unlocked phone to you, open to a new contact page. It's as if he has no idea of the impact he has on his fans. Sometimes you forget that NCT is made up of normal humans, and the one standing in front of you is a year younger than you are. 

“Of course,” you take it gently and add your contact info, taking a quick selfie to add as your little profile picture, all while Mark watches you searchingly. “Here you are,” you hand his phone back, hesitating on saying what you were thinking, “since you want to be friends, feel free to text me.” 

Mark takes his phone back with a smile, sending you a quick smiley face to make sure the number was correct. The room is silent for a moment, your face feels as if it's on fire and Mark returns the stare you gave him when you walked in.

“Come on, Mark!” you hear Johnny’s voice from outside the classroom and you both turn toward it. You smile sheepishly.

“I shouldn't keep you, should I?” you ask, voice soft and a little embarrassed.

“No, but I wish I had more time. I'll text you, I promise,” he says, hugging you once more before leaving you alone and speechless. 

You wondered if all fan interactions were like the one you just experienced. You were aware the members of NCT were known to be humble and kind, but they were much calmer and affectionate than you expected. The idea that you just saw Mark's smile in person made your own cheesy grin spread across your face as you packed up your portfolio. 

After class, you headed back to your dorm, a skip in your step. Once you opened the door and stepped inside, you felt like you could collapse. Fatigue washed over you like a tidal wave, and you knew it was time for an afternoon nap. Rhiannon was still in her lab, so you could grab at least 20 minutes of shut-eye before she would come back and beg for you to make dinner. You set your bag down by the door with your shoes and set a course for your bed. As soon as you were able to slide underneath the covers and nearly drift to sleep, your phone vibrated.

You reach into your pocket, confused. Rhiannon was the only friend that had your number, and if she even thought about her phone in a lab, she would be kicked out. Once you unlock your phone, you finally remembered who else you gave your number to.

Mark: Hey!

You licked your lips as your chest twinged and filled with butterflies. You screamed internally for a few seconds, the moment hitting you a little harder than before. Mark Lee had your cell phone number and he was texting you first. 

You: Hello, what’s up?

Mark replied almost immediately, which startled you a little bit. You turned over in your bed to get a little more comfortable.

Mark: We were just finishing up settling into our hotel rooms. I wanted to know how you're doing, are you in class? I hope I'm not interrupting anything

You: No, I got home a little while ago. I was gonna take a nap tbh

Mark: Oh! Sorry, I don't mean to take away sleep from a college student

You smiled a little bit. He was too sweet. As if your nap wasn't going to ruin your sleep schedule.

You: Its fine, if I had a nap I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight anyway

Mark: So you're free then?

Your eyebrows furrowed as you typed your response.

You: Uh yeah, why? Did you all want that picture now?

You put your phone down, a little overwhelmed. If they wanted it now, you wouldn't see them again until the concert, which wasn't until Friday. Perhaps you should have expected they wanted to do this as fast as possible, their Canadian and Chicago stops were planned with vacations in mind considering Johnny and Mark's heritage. When your phone buzzed again, you almost jumped to grab it.

Mark: Well no not yet. I was just wondering if you wanted to get coffee or something. Or tea if you prefer that 

Your eyes widened.

You: Really?

Mark: Yeah. I dunno, I want to take the friend thing more serious than the guys. They just wanted to use that word so it was like an unspoken contract that you wouldn't post this everywhere y'know? 

Your heart sank a little bit, but you could see how important privacy was. If you were in the same position, you would have done the same.

You: I understand… I'm still kind of a stranger though, are you sure?

Mark: That's why I'm asking. I don't want you to be. So, will you meet me?

You: There's a Tim Hortons on the first floor of M building near where you met me on campus, I can be there in 40 minutes 

Mark: See you in 40 minutes then :)

As soon as you read that text, you tossed your comforter to the side and raced into the bathroom. You fix your hair and could barely decide whether to change your outfit or not. He did see you earlier today, would he think you were trying too hard if you changed? 

“Keep it together, (Y/N),” you told yourself, patting your cheeks with your hands as you eyed your complexion in the mirror. “He just wants tea and coffee, nothing major.” 

Just then, the front door opened. “Are you talking to yourself again?” Rhiannon called from the foyer.

“No,” you called back, clearly lying as you took one more scan of yourself in the mirror before leaving to greet your friend. “You’re back early. How was the lab?”

“Tiring,” she answered. “My bitch lab partner came in even earlier than usual to make sure I didn't have the chance to set up our station again.” She rolled her eyes and dropped her backpack next to yours. 

“Yikes,” you reply, watching her wander into the kitchen. “Are you gonna tell your professor that she is trying to sabotage your grade?” 

Rhiannon sighed. “I don't know if the following shitstorm would be worth it,” she says, plugging in the electric kettle. “I'm gonna make some tea, you want any?”

You shook your head, even though she probably couldn't see you from the wall separating the kitchen and foyer. “No thanks, I'm going out to Tim's in M building.” 

Rhiannon took less than a second to appear in the archway to stare at you. “Why?” She questioned, squinting at you. 

“Mark asked me to meet him for coffee.” 

“Mark,” she repeated, crossing her arms. “I thought you hated Mark Davids.” 

“Not that asshole,” you shot back. “Mark Lee.” You began to look for a pair of cuter shoes as Rhiannon’s eyes widened.

“You got the job?!” She exclaimed, her voice nearly reaching a squeal. "YOU MET MARK LEE? WITHOUT ME?!"

“Yeah,” you smile sheepishly, taken aback by her shouting. you picked out your favourite pair of shoes, red converse high tops. “He just seems like he wants to hang out right now though.”

“Oh my God,” her voice nearly lowered to a whisper. “Mark Lee just asked you out.”

You rolled your eyes. “He didn't ask me out, he just wants to talk,” you explain, pulling on your shoes to tie them. 

“I dunno, he could be it,” she says, waltzing back into the kitchen. “You never know!”

You sigh. “See you later!” 

“Tell him to get Haechan's number!”

After a 15-minute subway ride and a lot of hurried walking, you hauled open the pristine doors of M building, the newest addition to your college campus. Right before you was a little Tim Hortons with a tiny student’s lounge to accompany it. There was a little bit of a line to the micro cafe since night classes were starting up around now, but the student’s lounge was close to empty. 

You took in a deep breath, fully stepping inside and beginning your search for Mark. It doesn’t take long to spot him, he’s sporting yellow hair and a white face mask, accompanied by two red Tim Hortons cups at a table in the corner of the lounge. It takes you a moment to fathom your position - about to meet someone you’ve been crushing on for months through a computer screen for coffee in a lounge at your college. On top of that- he’s already bought you something.

“Hi,” you meekly greet him, approaching the table. Mark looks up from his phone and his eyes immediately crease into the crescents of his beautiful smile.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” He pulls his mask off, “sit down, I, uh, got you some tea. You kind of struck me as that kind of person, so I hope I got it right.” 

“Thank you, Mark. You really didn’t have to buy me anything…” You smile nervously, your face feeling hot and your heart beating a mile a minute. Mark seemed a little nervous, just like you. It was a sobering moment, taking the cup he pushed toward you and opening it to take a sip. Your eyes widened. Your tea was exactly the way you always order it, nearly to the grain of sugar.

Mark watches your expression, happy that you seemed to like your tea, “I wanted to treat you. I know how weird this must all seem for you, but for some reason, I feel like I know you.” He runs his hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact for a moment. 

You look away from him as well. There's a moment of silence between you, the bustle of students slowly diminishing as the sun sets behind you. 

“I, uh, can't really relate to you in that way,” you whisper after you worked up the courage to break the silence. “A lot of your life is on display.” 

“You're right,” Mark agreed. “There are a few things I keep to myself, though,” he smiled cheerfully. “But what I mean is hard to explain.”

Curious, you nod toward him, “try me.”

“When I was standing in line, I was trying to figure out what to get you. I wanted to treat you since I asked you to come, and I kind of expected for you to say no since your professor said you had class today and-”

“Mark, it’s fine, stay focused.” you smile faintly at him and wait for him to continue, sipping your tea again.

He blushes and nods sheepishly. “When it was my turn, I got what I wanted and the second I thought about you, I recited medium steeped orange pekoe tea with two cream and one and a half sugar like I had been getting it for you for years.” He stops for a moment, presumably watching your stunned reaction.

Your breathing was feeling a little crooked, and you couldn't quite place what you were feeling. You tried to take in a deep breath, shaking your head when Mark began to look concerned. 

“Sorry,” you apologize quickly. “I, uh, kind of know what you're talking about. This is all just a little; I don't know…”

“Overwhelming?” Mark finished, nodding his head. “I can't stop thinking about it.” 

You tried to smile. “I guess you gave the bug to me,” you joke. “Want to get some air?”

“I'd like that.” 

The two of you walked down a path that led off-campus, talking. It was as if the two of you had forgotten your positions in life; Mark a celebrity with his life on a pedestal and you just a fan that forgot how much you really knew about him.

You were rediscovering his cheerful nature, his loud and hearty laughter that was a whole-body endeavour, learning that he plays the guitar, his love of ice cream and sweet things. His favourite colour was blue, and he loved Christmas so much he already had a growing list of things to buy for his friends as gifts.

The sun was nearly hidden behind the hills of the park you wandered into, admiring the newly blossomed cherry trees. You were showing him a small bed of flowers decorated to look like a Canadian flag when Mark asked the dreaded personal question you had been hoping you would never have to answer again.

“How did your parents find out?” His tone was soft, curious. He didn't sound as invasive as others have been in the past, but the question still made you bite your lip to keep from frowning.

“A gang fight,” you answer, bitterly. “My dad punched my mom in the face so hard that day, she needed to go to the ER. It actually took three months for her to figure out why the print of my dad's fist hadn't faded from her cheek.”

Mark didn't speak for a moment. “Was that too much to ask?”

You looked up at him from the flower bed, smiling faintly. He looked good in the final evening glow. “I don't mind that much, but...”

“I'm sorry,” he said, tentatively placing a hand on the small of your back. 

“It's okay,” you start, his sympathy nearly made you melt. The two of you begin walking again, Mark absently running his fingers over cherry petals as you both passed the trees. “I got out of it all pretty quickly. They fought when they were high, and that was almost all the time. Sometimes, I feel scared just thinking about how my life might end up. If any of it is all as real as everyone says it is.”

Mark stares at you, and there is sympathy radiating off of him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet.

You hold back a frown and decide to break the silence. “Anyway, how about your parents?” 

“A hug,” he answered, nodding, a smile returning to his face. “it's not the most common first touch in the world, but I hope I find mine the same way.” 

“That does sound nice,” you agree softly.

“I've heard it's all up to fate and magic,” Mark says, charm in his voice. “I've always wanted to believe in that.”

“I'd like to believe in that. Makes life seem a little more bearable. I’ve just always been so cynical through my childhood, so much so that all of my hope for a fairytale ending faded a long time ago. I never really thought that anything good would come out of it. If the universe really wants me to find someone, I guess I can’t really do anything about it.”

Mark smiles, although you can tell he is hiding a smidge of disappointment. “I suppose that's one way to think about it,” he replies. “I just want to know someone so well that I don't have to think twice about it. Like knowing the exact way to cheer them up when they're sad. Like the perfect cup of tea or their favourite stuffed animal. I guess that takes a little bit of magic.” 

You stop in your tracks, thinking about the perfect tea he had given you earlier.

“What's wrong?” Mark stops and turns around when he notices you're not keeping pace.

“Nothing,” you lie with a smile, watching Mark's scepticism through the darkness of night. 

“Okay,” he says softly, looking up at the sky. “I guess it's late, huh?” 

You join him in looking up. If the city wasn't always so lit up, this spot would be perfect for a shot of the starry night sky between the small canopy of cherry trees. “I guess it is.”

“How far away is your dorm? I can walk you,” he suggests, taking your hand. You're frozen, too stunned by the gesture to pull away.

“You don't have to,”

“But I want to,” Mark grins. “It's the one way I can make sure you get back safely.”

“You're too kind…” you pause for a moment. Mark is staring you down, waiting for you to say yes. “I'm not allowed to say no, am I?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Nope. Come on, let's go.” 

Scoffing lightly, you concede and begin walking again. “You can take me to my subway stop and I can tell you which train to take to go back,” you offer, assuming he would need to be back at his hotel before it got too late at night. 

“No,” he said quickly. Your eyes widened at his tone and once he noticed your reaction, he lowered his voice. “I just… have these gut feelings. I'd like to escort you right to your dorm,” he clears his throat, “um, if I'm not crossing any lines.” 

You feel sympathy for him. Just looking at Mark, you can tell he's worried about you, but you can't quite see the reason. “Okay,” you agree softly. 

It's silent for a while as you both walk through the well-lit city. It's not until you pass a food truck on the way to the subway station that either of you says something again.

“You know, you and I walked around that park for hours and we didn't even know how late it was until the last minute,” Mark comments, still holding your hand and pulling back gently to keep you from walking past him. 

“Yeah, you're right,” you blush, you had to admit to yourself that you hadn't lost yourself in conversation or such comfortable silence like that even on a date. "We forgot to eat. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Mark admits with a laugh, “and these hot dogs smell good.” 

You look up at him. “I'll buy.” You wriggle your hand out of his grasp and run toward the cart before Mark can catch you, readying your wallet. 

“Two hot dogs please, one with relish and one plain, please. Also, burn the plain one a little bit, thanks.” 

“You're slippery,” Mark says, watching you pay for the food.

“You bought me tea, it's only fair,” you stick your tongue out at him. He sighs and nods at you, only breaking his gaze when the man at the cart hands down the hot dogs a few moments later. “The one with relish is yours. You hate ketchup, right?” 

Mark takes his hot dog, eyes wide. “Uh, yeah,” he pauses. “I just haven't really told anyone outside the guys and my family.” 

You're halfway through a bite of your ‘dog and you nearly choke on it. 

“Hey, hey!” Mark reaches out for your shoulder, hoping that you wouldn't pass out. “Chew and swallow! Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out.” 

You swallow and cough, shaking your head. “Don't worry, I'm fine,” you say. “This is just a weird feeling.” 

He nods. “Yeah. But I don't really mind it. Come on, let's walk some more.” 

It was totally surreal to you, walking and eating with Mark. He was right, there was this strange feeling washing over you every time you looked at him, different than watching him on a Vlive broadcast or music video. Like you knew something about him that nobody else did, and it made you feel both good and scared out of your mind. It felt invasive.

One subway stop and a little bit of a walk later, you both arrive at your dorm building. “Here we are,” you announce. “My roommate is probably going to kill me for coming back so late.”

“Should I go in with you? To protect you?” Mark is smiling, but you can tell there is a hint of seriousness. 

“If you want. She will probably ask for something from you, though.” You open the main doors and enter in your code, leading Mark in with you.

“Like what?” Mark furrows his eyebrows. “She's not weird, right?”

You nearly laugh out loud. “She's weird all right, just not the kind you're thinking of. She wanted me to get Haechan's number from you, but I got so absorbed in talking with you that I forgot to ask.” 

“Oh,” Mark is following you close behind, letting out a tiny sigh of relief. “That doesn't sound too bad, but his reaction should be interesting.” 

You shrugged. “You don't have to do it. Anyway-” You're cut off as the door to your apartment opens, Rhiannon stepping out and pressing her hands to her hips. 

“Look who's finally back,” she states, and you can immediately tell she is angry. “It's almost 1 AM!” 

“Shh! I'm sorry, okay? I lost track of time! I was with-” 

“Mark,” she says, her voice less harsh when she notices Mark is standing behind you, sheepishly smiling and waving at her. “At least you had the initiative to walk her home.” 

You squint at your best friend. It's clear she is trying not to freak out in front of him. “Are you gonna let me inside?” 

“Not yet,” she states. “Mark, I love you,” she says quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you to her. You're smiling awkwardly at him, shrugging and mouthing ‘sorry’. 

Mark smiles awkwardly and nods at you. “Uh, thanks,”

“Thank you for bringing (Y/N) back. Has she asked you about Haechan?” 

“Yeah. I'll text you guys his number when I get back- which I probably should…”

You step forward. “Do you know how to get back?”

Mark shakes his head. “I think it's on Yorkville, I might have to use my GPS.” 

You shake your head. “It's easy to get there. Head to the station you and I were just on, take the southbound for 5 stops. Once you get above ground, you should be on that street.” 

Mark smiled at you. “Thank you.” He approached you to give you a hug, which felt warmer than the other two from earlier in the day. When he turned to leave, a pang hit your chest.

“Mark,” you called. Instantly he turned around, his expression curious. “Let me know when you get back safely.” 

He nodded, smiling warmly. “I will, I promise.” 

You watch him leave, a little shocked that spending the entire night with him didn't feel like it at all. You're only broken out of your thoughts when Rhiannon drags you inside your apartment and shuts the door.

“You scared me half to death, you bitch! At least text me when you're gonna stay out this late! I thought you were just having tea! I was this close to calling the cops!” She presses her index finger to her thumb and shoves her hand towards your face as you stand before her, a little humiliated.

“Your fingers are touching,” you say quietly, screwing your eyes shut.

“Exactly!” she exclaims. “I was one button away from speaking to 911! You're goddamn lucky I heard you and Mark coming down the hall!” You open your eyes when she gently touches your arm. “Don't scare me like that.”

“I'm sorry. I promise I'll keep in touch next time.” You smile awkwardly at her. “I was just so caught up in talking and trying to make sure it wasn't a dream.” 

Rhiannon nodded and returned your smile. “I know. You should go to bed, you have class in the morning.” 

“Yeah. Thanks for worrying about me.” 

Once you were in fresh pyjamas, you had some music on in the bathroom while you dry your hair with a towel. A quick shower before bed always was relaxing enough for you to fall asleep quickly. Snuggling up in bed after that long day was especially nice, gathering up your teddy bear to hug close. You're just about to drift off when your phone buzzes. 

Mark: Hey, I'm back safe. Thank you for the directions 

You: You're welcome

I had a really nice time tonight 

Mark: Me too

You have class tomorrow right 

You: Yeah, it's a short day though, just a small photoshop lab 

Mark: Do you want to hang out again when you're done? By the way, the number I promised - __________

You: I'd like that. Thanks, I'll forward it to her 

Haechan was cool with it right 

Mark: Me too :) yeah he was cool with it, he owed me a favour anyway 

Sleep well ok?

You: I will, you too? 

Mark: Yeah I promise 

Goodnight (Y/N)

You: Goodnight :)

After putting your phone down on your nightstand, you peacefully drifted off with a smile on your face.

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (6/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 33,876

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

On Friday night, Jamie showed up at the O'Mara's doorstep with a rucksack over her shoulder like some sort of vagabond from television.

"Hey," she said.

Dani smiled, holding the door open. "Hi. Is that everything? Or do you need help bringing stuff in?"

"Nope. This is it," Jamie said, shrugging at the bag’s weight and looking bored.

"Is that her?" Dani heard a voice behind her and suddenly Carson was at her elbow. He grabbed Jamie by the hand and hauled her bodily inside. "C'mon!" he said excitedly, not waiting for her to take off her shoes in the entryway. "You're going to be staying in my room! I've made up an inflatable mattress and everything!"

Jamie shot Dani a plaintive look over her shoulder, but there was little Dani could do except grin and shrug. She closed the front door and trailed after them, Carson leading Jamie towards the stairs.

"Hold up, mate. Hold up," Jamie muttered. She tugged her arm free and Carson's face fell until she said, "Your mum will flay me alive if I tread dirt all through the carpet."

"I would do no such thing," Judy said from the kitchen.

Jamie ducked her head and gave a sheepish wave into the kitchen. "Hello, Mrs. O'Mara. Thank you for having me."

"Not a problem, honey," Judy said, sounding absent-minded as she continued stirring a large pot on the stove. "Make yourself comfortable. But — yes. Shoes off, please."

Jamie gave Carson a nudge and muttered, "Told you."

"Sorry," Carson mumbled. He waited just long enough for Jamie to toe off her boots until he seized her arm again and began the process anew. "Okay! This way!"

Sighing, Jamie let herself be dragged off up the stairs. Dani trailed slowly behind, pausing in the entryway to the kitchen and peering inside. "Do you need any help?"

Judy did not even glance up. She only turned and began arranging various ingredients on the counter to be chopped for the upcoming dinner. "No, sweetie. I'm good here. Go make sure everyone gets unpacked for me, okay?"

"Okay."

Dani didn't need much encouragement. She raced after the others and was out of breath by the time she reached the top of the stairs.

"Woah!" Tommy raised his hands when they almost crashed into one another at the top of the landing. "Don't wheeze all over me, or Eddie will think it's my fault you're dying."

Rolling her eyes, Dani slipped past him with a mumbled, "Excuse me."

Tommy trotted down the stairs without another word, already calling out for David in the garage and receiving a yell from Mike to not shout in the house — a request which was promptly ignored as David called out in return. Dani ignored them and continued along the hall leading to Carson's room. She passed Eddie's on the way. His door was ajar, but there was a piece of paper painstakingly scrawled in some alien language which probably contained secret words to keep pesky siblings out. Elvish, he'd told her numerous times to no avail. It's an Elvish riddle.

At the very end of the hall, the door leading to Carson's room — the smallest in the house — was wide open. Dani poked her head in, knocking lightly at the open door despite her blanket invitation to enter whenever she so pleased. Inside, Carson was sitting on the corner of his bed, bouncing up and down on the mattress, wholly unable to contain his excitement, while Jamie stood in the middle of the room still clutching her rucksack and looking utterly lost. True to his word, there was an inflatable camp bed carefully laid out on the floor and sheathed in a fitted sheet, complete with a pillow and duvet.

"Sorry for how small it is," Carson said, and his every second word was punctuated by a squeak of complaint from his thin mattress. "But mom said you couldn't stay in the older boys' rooms."

"S'fine," Jamie said.

Her hand was gripping the straps of her rucksack so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Dani noticed. "Hey, Carson," she said brightly. "Can you go get a towel for Jamie to use? She'll need her own for a shower while she's staying over here."

"Yeah! Sure!" Immediately Carson leapt to his feet and scampered down the hallway, his footsteps stamping down the stairs to where Dani knew the linen closet was on the ground floor.

Aiming a soft smile at Jamie, Dani nudged the door slightly shut behind her. It wasn't much, but it was enough. It shielded them from the bulk of the noise that was ubiquitous in the O'Mara house. "How are you?" she asked.

Jamie shrugged. "M'Fine. Good," she said, but her grip was firm and her accent was thick even around the various monosyllables she managed through her tightly held jaw.

"When's Nan coming back?"

Drawing a deep breath, Jamie said, "Two weeks."

"Like no time at all," said Dani. "Soon you'll be complaining that she's back and that you wish she'd stayed away."

That earned a laugh, brief and strained though it was. Jamie's eyes were darting around the room, taking inventory of the exits available to her — door, window, another window down the hall in the bathroom.

“Did she tell you why she was going back?” Dani asked in an attempt to keep Jamie’s attention on her, on the conversation, on anything but the big house that wasn’t hers.

Jamie shook her head. “Just said she needed to -” she waved her hand in a sharp dismissive gesture “- take care of things. Family stuff. I dunno.”

The total sum of what Dani knew about Jamie’s family back in England could have filled a thimble. She took a step closer and Jamie shifted her weight between her feet as though preparing to run at the slightest provocation.

"Sorry it's so loud," Dani murmured, keeping her voice low. "I know it can take a while to get used to."

Jamie blinked owlishly at her. "I don't mind loud."

"Nan's not loud."

"Maybe not when you're around. But with me? She hollers like you wouldn't believe."

Another step, careful not to tread on the corner of the duvet sprawled across the floor. "You know," said Dani slowly. "I live just across the street. Not like clear across town from your house."

"Only good part about this plan," Jamie muttered under her breath.

Dani stopped when she was only a pace away, close enough that she could reach out and gently urge the pack from Jamie's tense shoulder. "Do you wish you'd gone to England with her?" she asked.

Somewhere downstairs there was a crash, a yell, Carson calling out his apologies and being thoroughly rebuked by David. Jamie winced, but tried to hide it with a twitch of her head. Swallowing thickly, looking anywhere but at her, Jamie allowed the rucksack to be pried from her death grip and lowered to the floor.

"Not really," Jamie said. "Wish I could've stayed at your house instead, maybe. Quieter."

Dani's smile faltered. "I did ask, but -"

"- Your mum's proper mental," Jamie finished for her with a weak smile. "Yeah. I know."

Of all the empty rooms in her house, Dani couldn't think of a single one Jamie would fit into without seeming out of place. Every time Jamie stepped foot inside, the house seemed to draw its breath in dreadful anticipation. Or perhaps that was the narrowing of Karen's eyes as she followed Jamie's every movement with furrowed suspicion.

“You wouldn’t have liked it,” Dani said. “Staying with me.”

Jamie looked at her with a curious expression. “Why not? You’re there.”

Dani opened her mouth to respond, but the words got trapped halfway to her tongue. She was saved by Carson’s enthusiastic return, the sound of his running footsteps preceding him until the door burst fully open once more.

“I got two!” he said, slightly out of breath, and he held out two matching towels to Jamie. “Here you go.”

Wooden, Jamie took the towels. “Thanks.”

“Mom said dinner will be ready in about an hour,” said Carson, completely oblivious to the way Jamie stood, back too straight, shoulders too rigid. “Do you want to go mess with Eddie?”

A smile twitched on Jamie’s face, but was gone in an instant. “Tempting.”

“Hey, let’s let Jamie unpack, okay?” Dani said. Draping an arm around Carson’s shoulders, she led him from the room.

“But she doesn’t even have that much stuff!” Carson complained even as he let himself be guided away.

“I know,” Dani said, lowering her voice. “But you need to give her some space, bud.”

Carson scrunched up his nose. “Fine,” he sighed, then pushed Dani’s arm off. “I’m going to go bug Eddie myself, then.”

As he rushed off down the hall and kicked open the door to Eddie’s room, Dani bit back a laugh, hearing Eddie’s voice rise in complaint.

“Get out of here, Carson!”

“Put down your book. Nobody cares about your dumb fantasy riddles.”

“Hey! Let go! Hey!”

Dani caught a glimpse of the tussle inside Eddie’s room as she passed. Carson had grown enough over the last year that he was just about Dani’s height. Large enough that he was giving Eddie a run for his money. Shaking her head, she continued towards the stairs but paused, hand on the railing.

Down the long hallway, Jamie was framed by the doorway to Carson’s room. She was standing stock-still and shell-shocked, holding the towels as though they were a shield. As if she could feel Dani's gaze upon her, Jamie looked over and met her eye. Dani gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile, but Jamie merely blinked at her and lifted one hand in a blank-faced wave. Stifling down the urge to rejoin her in Carson’s room — close the door, shut themselves away for a bit, do something — Dani descended down the steps.

In the kitchen, Judy was chopping carrots. “Hey, sweet pea,” she said in a distracted manner when Dani wandered into the room. “How’re they going up there?”

“Fine,” Dani lied. Then after a moment she added, “I don’t think Jamie’s used to being alone.”

“Think it’s quite the opposite, actually,” Judy said under her breath. When Dani gave her an odd look, she just smiled and set down the knife. “Here.” She pushed a bag of potatoes across the counter towards Dani. “Why don’t you peel some of these for me?”

Grateful for something to do other than anxiously wring her hands together, Dani grabbed a big metal bowl and fished around in a drawer for the peeler. She carefully watched Judy move around the kitchen, mentally noting what she did and how. Every once in a while, she would be brave enough to ask about the recipe, and Judy would answer without hesitation, as if cooking a fully fledged meal was something normal and not something that one only ever experienced when away from home.

At some point Mike came into the kitchen from the garage to wash his hands in the sink. He gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing a beer from the fridge and sitting at a barstool across the counter. Dani would instinctively check every time he sipped at his beer, even though she knew he never had more than one or two a night. He nursed his drinks in a way she never saw at home. When asked or addressed directly, he would give an occasional answer. Otherwise, he lingered there for nothing than the quiet presence of their company.

Dani was just finishing up with the bag of spuds, aiming their peels into the metal bowl, when she saw Jamie sidle into the kitchen. She was uncharacteristically furtive as she took the barstool furthest from Mike, sitting on her hands to minimise her usual fidgeting even as her leg bobbed up and down and up and down in an agitated rhythm.

“Are you thirsty?” asked Mike. “We have juice in the fridge.”

Jamie nodded brusquely. “Juice is good. Thanks.”

Without needing to be asked, Dani immediately pulled out the carton of juice from the refrigerator and poured a glass. Behind her, Judy took the peeled potatoes and gave them to Mike for cutting into quarters. He rose from his seat and took the knife handed to him without complaint.

With a smile Judy leaned forward and said, “So, I understand Ruth’s gone back to Scotland. I just love Scotland.”

Frowning and picking up her glass of juice for a sip, Jamie said, “She went to Burnley.”

Judy seemed not to have heard, for she sighed wistfully, “I remember when Mike and I went to Scotland back in ‘68. We have pictures! Mike, get the pictures.”

Dutiful to a fault, Mike set down the knife and wandered off to a bookshelf in the living room. Meanwhile, Jamie said, “Burnley, Mrs. O’Mara. As in Burnley, Lancashire. As in England.”

But Mike was walking back with a photo album in hand, and Judy was gesturing for it with grabby motions. Sitting on the barstool directly beside Jamie, she opened the album and scooted closer to Jamie. “And here we are at Ben Nevis,” Judy pointed. “Would you just look at that scenery? Gosh.”

Jamie made a wordless humming noise behind her teeth, and Dani could see her trying desperately to not fidget while Judy continued flipping through the album, pointing out various pictures and places that Jamie had probably never visited in her life. Dani rounded the counter so she could peer over the top of Jamie’s head at the pictures, resting a hand on Jamie’s shoulder as she did so. Jamie glanced back at her briefly and mouthed, ‘Save me.’ Dani grimaced and shrugged apologetically.

“The Scottish Highlands really are the most beautiful place in the world,” Judy said, running her hands along a photograph of vast hills of heath and stone beneath a cloudy sky. “I’m so amazed your grandmother used to live there. I would’ve loved to have lived there.”

“She was from the Lowlands,” Jamie pointed out dully.

“Does her family have their own tartan?” Judy asked, completely oblivious to the fact that Jamie had spoken at all.

“I don’t know, Mrs. O’Mara. She doesn’t talk about her time in Scotland much. And I’ve never been.”

“Does she still have family living there?” Then Judy gave a little gasp and warmly grasped Jamie’s wrist. “You could go visit one day!”

Beneath Dani’s hand, Jamie’s shoulder went tense. From this angle, Dani couldn’t see the expression on her face, but Jamie’s voice was tight when she said, “Excuse me. I need to use the loo.”

Scrape of the barstool against the floor — squeal of wood and tile — and Jamie stalked out of the kitchen, her shadow extending down the hallway behind her even as she had gone out of sight. Dani gazed after her, chewing at her lower lip.

“Oh, boy,” Mike said, shaking his head. He stirred a boiling pot on the stove with a long wooden spoon.

With a sigh, Judy shut the photo album. “I’ve never seen that girl so reserved.” She gave Dani a fond teasing nudge to her shoulder. “You must be rubbing off on her.”

Dani couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. She much preferred the Jamie full of carefree raucous energy in comparison to — whatever this version was. The Jamie she knew wasn’t scared and silent. The Jamie she knew picked fights with people twice her size. The Jamie she knew had a loud and easy laugh. The Jamie she knew was confident and comfortable in her own skin. The Jamie she knew was none of the things Dani would ever use to describe herself.

Clearing her throat, Dani made a motion towards the hallway even as she edged towards it. “I’ll just -” But neither of the adults in the room were listening much. Judy had wandered back to the stove and was engaged in murmuring conversation with her husband. Dani took the opportunity to slip away, unseen.

The hallway was dark and empty. The door leading to the garage at the far end of the corridor was shut, behind it the sounds of muted music and laughter. Overhead, Dani could hear the stamp of feet accompanied by Eddie and Carson’s bickering. She walked along the corridor, letting her hand trail against the painted wall. She paused at the door leading to the basement, but a quick check inside proved that the stairwell leading further down into the ground was pitch black. Just as she was shutting the door, Dani heard a faint choked sound.

Passing by the linen closet, Dani stopped before the door to the downstairs bathroom. She tested the handle only to find it locked. Tentatively, Dani lifted her fist and knocked on the door.

Silence followed. Then the sound of a toilet flushing. A few moments later, the door opened and Jamie stood there, scowling. “I was actually going to the bathroom, you know.”

Dani lifted an eyebrow. “No, you weren’t.”

“How the hell d’you know?” Jamie asked.

Gesturing over Jamie’s shoulder towards the sink, Dani said, “You didn’t wash your hands.”

“Maybe I’m just a dirty pig, then.”

Dani shot her an exasperated look. “You’re not. You always wash your hands.”

Jamie’s voice sounded sharp when she spoke. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re -” she cut herself off.

Dani's brow furrowed in confusion. “That I’m what?”

“Nosy,” Jamie snapped.

Taken aback, Dani blinked. She stared at Jamie, whose hands were curled into fists at her sides, lips pursed so that the scar stood out white against her skin, the muscles of her jaw bunched up and straining even while she refused to meet Dani’s gaze.

“Do you -” Dani started to say, hesitant. “- want me to leave you alone?”

Jamie glowered at a spot on the floor but did not answer. Her shoulders were tense beneath the oversized flannel she wore, the top few buttons undone to reveal the coin necklace Dani had given her at Christmas two years ago. Dani turned to leave, to walk back to the kitchen and let Jamie gather up the pieces of herself in peace, but Jamie’s hand darted out, grabbing Dani’s and holding tight. Jamie still wouldn’t look at her, but her fingers trembled. Her palms were cold and damp.

“Sorry,” Jamie mumbled. “Sorry. Being stupid. It’s - It’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” said Dani. “It’s just two weeks. She’ll be back.”

Jamie nodded, the movement small and jerky, but she appeared entirely unconvinced. “Yeah,” she rasped. “Yeah. Sure. Two weeks.”

“And I’ll be here.” Dani readjusted their hands so that their fingers laced together, and she stroked her thumb across the back of Jamie’s hand. “I’ll be right here.”

The hallway around the downstairs bathroom was dark and a soft shadow was cast over Jamie’s face. Her eyes were dark, searching Dani’s face with tiny flickers of movement, as if looking for any hint of deceit. “Promise?” she breathed.

Dani smiled softly and squeezed Jamie’s hand. “Promise.”

They stood close enough that Dani could see the fine downy hair at Jamie’s temples and without thinking she reached up to brush back a stray curl that had fallen into Jamie’s eyes. Jamie inhaled sharply. There was an odd expression on her face that Dani couldn’t place. Not blank like before in Carson’s room, but just as difficult to parse.

“David! Tommy! I need you to set the table, please!” Judy’s voice called from the kitchen.

In answer, the garage door just down the hall burst open, and the twins barrelled through. Jamie and Dani both jumped apart, Jamie snatching her hand back while Dani tucked a lock of hair behind her own ear. As he jogged by, Tommy reached out to ruffle Jamie’s hair in passing. Jamie scowled and smacked his hand away. He laughed it off and continued after his brother.

“Wanker,” Jamie muttered under her breath, but already her posture was more relaxed. She no longer clenched her jaw like she wanted to snap a steel rod between her back teeth.

“Come on,” Dani laughed. “Let’s go get dinner.”

--

Trailing behind her mother in the botanical gardens, while colorful and beautiful, was not how Dani pictured spending her Saturday afternoon. What was supposed to be a day lazing around with Jamie and the boys had turned into Dani playing dress up at her mother’s whims and being dragged along to some corporate family friendly function.

It was going marginally well for the most part, she thought with relief. She smiled at the right moments, shook hands with her mother’s colleagues with a firm grip the way Nan taught her, she kept fidgeting to a minimum, and above all, she was quiet. Unsure of what to say and when to speak, but eager to make a polite unassuming impression in the belief that afterwards she could go to the O’Mara household and be free of this. She merely lingered behind her mother, her shoulders stiff and her placid smile frozen, as though she were a marionette doll made of porcelain.

Part way through the event, as her mother grew more distracted, laughing with her colleagues, drink in hand, Dani began to wander off. The temptation to stroll the paths lined with greenery and flowers pulled her away until she was far enough to settle into herself, to relax, to take in the beauty of the place as the sun shone overhead and warmed her skin.

She should bring Jamie here, she thought idly to herself. And though Jamie would hotly deny it, Dani knew of her soft spot for plants, her hidden talent for it, having spent much of the summer helping Nan tend to the backyard garden. She’d enjoy the spectacle and quiet, while murmuring criticisms in the same breath.

Further along the path, passing by a plot of vibrant flowers she didn’t recognize, her eyes met Roger’s. He was standing beside his dad who was talking animatedly to a group of coworkers. She had noticed him earlier but kept away, even if he was the only other kid she vaguely knew in attendance. She’d barely spoken two words to him in years, not since that day in the alleyway at school. She couldn’t imagine what she’d say to him now. He was tall and lanky after an unexpected growth spurt last spring. He saw her and raised his hand in a fleeting wave. She offered a faint grin back and a short wave. At the sound of his dad laughing obnoxiously loud, they both grimaced at the same time and turned away.

Dani groaned quietly, wishing Jamie was here to keep her company with her commentary, and hidden knowledge of every single plant and flower that caught Dani’s eye, her tone dry as though she were just making it up and hadn’t spent the past month with her nose stuck in a well worn gardening book.

Eventually, Dani’s path led her straight back to her mom, laughing and seemingly having a good time, but when their eyes met, Dani almost jerked to a stop. Her mother’s expression was hard and her smile tight at the corners. Immediately, a cold sweat spread across Dani’s skin and her stomach clenched. Her mom jerked her head, beckoning Dani over. All but holding her breath, Dani made her way over. When Dani reached her, Karen slipped a hand around her arm, fingers pressing hard and pulling her in close before turning back to her coworker to laugh at a comment, as though nothing was amiss, as if Dani’s heart weren’t suddenly racing and her shoulders weren’t bunching up incrementally.

Dani spent the rest of the event there, racking her brain over what she had missed over the day, of what she could have done wrong to have received such a look, but there were no clues. No other hints that had been somehow misstepped. Just a carry over from a bad week, where Dani had spent as much time as possible away. Away from a house that was a digestive tract. Away from her mom doing the dishes or making drinks with rough, jerky movements, like the objects in hand had offended her. Away from the chain smoking and lingering side eyes as though Dani was one step from being on the receiving end of a sharp-tongued lecture if something was misplaced or misspoken.

By the time the event was over and they were back in the car, the cabin silent from radio or conversation, Dani could feel the tension seeping from her mother in waves. Her hands tight on the wheel and her mouth pursed, not a word uttered about the day. Clenching her teeth until they hurt, Dani rolled down the window just to feel the breeze against her face, soothing against her skin and loose hair, but not enough to relax her fists in her lap and the cramped coil in her stomach, twisting tight like a spring the closer they got to home.

The moment they arrived Dani wasted no time slipping out of the car and into the house with her own keys, hearing her mom following close behind. Pulling off her flats to neatly set aside and starting towards the staircase, Dani had only just managed to dart towards the stairs when her mother finally spoke.

“Danielle, I’d like a word with you, please,” Karen said, stepping into the kitchen without a backwards glance, adding a stern, “Now.”

Holding her fists tight to her sides, Dani swallowed heavily, slowly following her mom’s path into the kitchen to find her peering into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of already opened wine.

“Yes?” Dani said quietly.

Karen didn’t speak. Simply poured herself a glass of wine before pulling out a rumpled pack of cigarettes from her purse. She lit one up with slow, almost leisurely movements that seemed so wrong in contrast with the tightness around her eyes. Flick and snap of a silver lighter, rhythmic as clockwork. Taking her first drag, she looked at Dani, smoke billowing from pursed lips as she sighed and lifted the cigarette once more.

“What am I going to do with you?” Karen said finally, her voice accompanied by a plume of smoke that wreathed her face.

Dani clenched her teeth. Swallowing down words that would make whatever she had done worse, Dani instead said, “What - what did I do?”

“You really have no idea, don’t you?”

Dani's eyes darted away to the ground, going over the last few hours as though her socks might have the answer. “No,” she said, “I - Well, I thought we were having a nice day.”

Her mother scoffed. The sound was so derisive, Dani wanted to stumble barefoot out of the house and into the one across the street where she knew Jamie and the boys would be. Holed up and waiting for her to come back and greet her with bright smiles.

“A nice day?” Karen repeated, her tone incredulous. Dani’s eyes darted up, blinking in confusion. “Danielle, you barely spoke to anyone. You wandered off by yourself. You looked as miserable as ever -”

“I wasn’t,” Dani said, her breathing turning shallow, “I was - I was -”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

Dani’s mouth snapped shut. Her mother exhaled, taking another long drag of her cigarette. Dani held her breath from the suffocating smell and smoke until it dissipated. She pulled her arms tight around her chest, watching her mom rub her forehead.

“I just don’t understand you,” Karen said, strained at the edges, frustration filing the lines of her face, “Why can’t you do anything right? What's wrong with you?”

Dani felt her face flicker with a flinch, and she had to duck her head to hide it. Hide the tremble of her mouth and the burning in her eyes. She bit into her lip to quell the feeling and swallowed hard past the lump in her throat until she was finally able to speak in the unbearably quiet room.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn't -”

Karen didn’t respond. The room remained suffocatingly silent, though Dani could feel the sting of her eyes, a long, unyielding stare. And then, there was the sound of glass sliding against the marble countertop, her mother picking up her wine. She stepped closer to Dani, no sound from her stockinged feet, until she stood just before her. Dani hunched her shoulders, wanting to back away, but there wasn’t anything behind her to shrink and meld into.

“You aren’t to go anywhere for the rest of this weekend, do you understand?” Karen said. “You are to sit in this house, and do your chores, and think about your behavior.”

Dani stared hard down at the wine glass that dangled loosely in her mom’s grip, wine threatening to spill over the lip. The ashes that scattered to the linoleum floor from her cigarette near Dani’s foot. She clenched her teeth silently before eventually nodding.

Without another word, her mother strode past her. Dani listened carefully to her footsteps as she stood frozen in the kitchen, hearing the soft thud of feet on stairs, traveling through the floor across the ceiling, and eventually, the click of a bedroom door being shut. Dani stood, alone, listening to the sound of her rapid heartbeat. She swallowed down the spark of belligerence in her chest, drowned out by the trembling of her hands and the stutter of her breathing. All hope of escape to the home across the street slowly drained from her. With befuddled disbelief. With weary acceptance. As though this was the only inevitable outcome at the end of a bad week like all the other bad weeks.

Throat tight, heart a clenched fist in her lungs, like moving through a dream — one moment here, one moment there — Dani made her way upstairs. Time passed in snippets. Changing from her sundress into pajamas. Washing the misery from her face in the form of swollen red eyes and splotchy skin with water cold enough to hurt. Curling into bed and sinking into the comforters, her head aching and exhaustion seeping into her bones despite the afternoon sunlight and muted birdsong still slanting through the window.

Her eyes drifted towards her nightstand, towards the walkie talkie Eddie had given her after the novelty had worn off for Carson, but Dani immediately shot the idea down. The walkie talkie was too loud, too exposed, and the house was too silent and too still. She hadn’t heard a noise from her mother since the kitchen, not even when she had crept upstairs to her room.  

She sat up in bed, daring to cross her room and hover her hand over the door handle. Just as quietly as she’d been before, Dani opened her door and peered around the corner of the doorframe to see her mom’s bedroom door still firmly shut. Assured with the minor hope that her mom may have fallen into a midday nap, Dani eased out of her room and downstairs, careful to avoid creaking steps and floorboards.

The kitchen phone, which had once been a creamy off-white, was now a sickly yellow, stained by decades of cigarette smoke. The coiled cord was long enough to reach across the room, and further when Dani pulled the entire phone off the wall with its long translucent and stained cable. Phone in hand, she slipped inside the broom closet in the hallway just outside the kitchen. Leaving the door open a crack to let in just enough light to see, a long strip of golden light that outlined the dust floating in the darkened room, she sank against the back wall with her knees pulled up to her chest and dialed the number she had long since memorized.

It rang just twice before Mike picked up. “Hello, O’Mara residence.”

“Hi, Mr. O’Mara,” Dani said, her voice slightly hoarse. She held her hand against the mouthpiece and cleared her throat before speaking again. “It’s me.”

“Oh, hey bud,” Mike replied, “How was your day?”

“It was really nice,” she lied, “Is Jamie there?”

In the time it took for him to call for Jamie and the crackling sound indicating the handset switching between hands, Dani had sunk further into the wall, pressing her eyes shut.

“Took you bloody long enough,” came Jamie’s voice finally, “You free to come down from your tower yet? I’m going absolutely mad. Tommy and David won’t give it a fucking break, and you’re not gonna believe what Carson dared me to do.”

"Language please, Jamie," Dani could hear Mike sigh in the background, his voice fading as he walked away and left them to it.

"Sorry, Mr. O'Mara," said Jamie, not sounding sorry at all.

Dani chuckled breathlessly, a pressure easing somewhat in her chest. “Hey, um,” she started, her voice quiet, “I’m not sure actually.”

“What d’you mean?” Jamie said. There was a ruffling sound in the background, as though Jamie were settling into her spot and making herself comfortable.

“I mean — “ Dani’s voice cracked. She swallowed hard. “I think I’m - no, I’m - I’m actually grounded.”

Jamie groaned. “Christ, what’s she going on about now? Did you have a strand of hair out of place or something?”

“Something like that,” Dani murmured, the sound of her voice sounding off even to her own ears, a tremble under the words.

The line was quiet for a long moment. “Dani,” Jamie said, her voice taking on a quiet and serious quality. “What happened?”

Dani didn’t respond. Not when she was fighting back the thickness in her throat, feeling her skin pull tight around her knuckles from the grip she had on the handset and biting down hard at her lower lip. When Dani remained silent, there was sound again from the other line, crackling pops and the movement of fabric until there was the soft click of a door being shut.

“Poppins, talk to me,” Jamie said softly.

Once, the nickname had been a joke years ago in the expanse of snow as far as the eye could see, one that Jamie had gleefully revelled in when they returned to school with her endless teasing about Miss Blythe. But then it had stuck, slowly developing into an affectionate term that Dani privately savored underneath her good natured grumbling. Now, Dani had to swallow down a swell of tears at the sound of it.

“It’s just - um. You know. Mom.”

Jamie snorted. “Gathered as much,” she said, “What’d she do?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I’m just — “ Dani pressed the ball of her palm hard to an eye, rubbing away the burning there “ — I’m just really tired.”

“Aye, and I’m Queen Liz,” Jamie said, and her voice went soft again, “Tell me, really. You don’t get this worked up over nothing. I mean, unless you’re the one that’s actually gone mad.”

Dani chuckled again, but her grin slipped away just as easily. “I’m just tired,” she repeated, leaning her head back against the wall, “I’m tired of trying and not being good enough.”

“You are,” Jamie said with conviction Dani wished she could feel a fraction of, “You’re a better sight than any of us, that’s for bloody sure.”

“But, she’s — “ Dani swallowed hard against the ache threatening to burst from her chest, “This entire week, she’s just been — “

“A cunt?” Jamie offered.

“Mean,” Dani said, “She’s been mean, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. Like if I do it in the wrong way, she’ll — “ She cut herself off.

For all her absences and sharp words, her mother has never laid a hand on Dani. But the feeling of her mom’s hands pressing hard into her skin still burned into her memory with a lance of fear she was wholly unfamiliar with.

Jamie was quiet for a long moment before softly offering, “Do you need me to come over? I can have a go at her, if you’d like?”

“No. Please, don’t.”

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine, it’ll - it’ll blow over,” Dani said, “It’s fine. She’s just in a mood.”

The closet door swung open. Dani gasped, nearly jerking out of her skin as she jumped hard, her foot kicking over a broom. She scrambled to keep the phone in hand even as she tangled herself up in the chord to grab the broom and keep it upright. She blinked rapidly up at the sudden bright light cascading into the small room, only to see a shadowed form looming over her. Her eyes adjusted to the light until finally she could see her mom, standing in the doorway, glowering darkly down, the lines of her face deep and shadowed.

“Dani?” Jamie’s said, startled. “Dani, are you okay?”

She couldn’t respond, couldn't speak. Words trapped in her throat. Her hands began to tremble, and she had to look away from her mom’s unblinking gaze, eyes darting towards some spot just behind her, her vision going out of focus as her breath became shallow.

“Dani,” Jamie said again, slowly, knowing. “Is she there?”

Clenching her teeth painfully tight, Dani could only hum affirmatively in response, her head nodding faintly.

“Okay,” Jamie breathed, and then there was the sound of movement again. “Okay, give me ten minutes - fuck! Shit! Ed, move your shit off the floor! Useless fucking -!”

The dial tone cut off Jamie's steady stream of swearing. Heart hammering in her chest, Dani slowly lowered the receiver and replaced it back into the base, the sound of plastic clacking against plastic loud in her ears along with the shallow breaths she took through her nose.

Dani flinched when her mom finally spoke. “Why were you on the phone?" Karen asked, her voice calm.

Any other day, it’d be a simple question and answer. Any other day, Dani would’ve happily replied. Today, Dani couldn’t respond. There were no good options. No matter what she did, answer correctly or remain quiet, she was guilty either way.

“Was it Judy?” Karen said, folding her arms across her chest, leaning against the doorframe. Dani shrunk further against the wall, her hands clutching the phone in a white knuckle grip. “Or was it that Heron woman? Or that wild girl of hers? Jamie.”

Dani remained quiet, vision blurring as tears pooled into her eyes. The ensuing silence was agony until finally, Karen relented with a huff and held out her hand. Without missing a beat, Dani pushed the phone into her mother’s hands.

"Well?" Karen asked. She held open the door and gestured with the phone as if encouraging a dog to make up its mind at the threshold of the backyard. "Are you coming out of there or not?"

It felt like some sort of trap. As though the moment Dani tried to leave, a foot or wire would be waiting to trip her. She sank further back, shaking her head and clutching the base of the broom like a lifeline.

"Suit yourself," Karen sighed, and without another word she swung the door shut once more, leaving Dani trembling in the dark.

Dani jerked hard at the sound, feeling as though the walls could collapse atop her like a house of cards. For a terrifying moment, Dani struggled to breathe at the idea that her mother might bar the door and lock her inside, but all she heard was her own shallow panicked breaths and footsteps stomping away, until eventually there was the unmistakable sound of the front door opening and closing.

Dani curled onto herself, her hands trembling hard against the skin over her legs where she held on tight. Blood rushed through her ears as a slow ember grew in her chest, spreading through her lungs like strangling vines, like mistletoe around the roots of a tree. She pressed a hand hard to her sternum, her fingers digging into her skin through her shirt as though she could rip out the sensation, feeling her heart pounding through skin and bone. Unable to stand the dark anymore, the walls that pressed in closer and closer until she couldn’t suck in enough air to breathe, she stumbled to her feet and pushed her way out, tripping over her own legs to collapse against the opposite wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes pressed tightly shut, and sucked in the fresh open air, gasping for breath that hurt with every expansion of her lungs.

Dani didn’t know how long she sat there, desperately settling her breathing, swallowing down the panic. Slowly the world lengthened out again from the single point of struggling for air. She exhaled, the pain dissipating from her lungs. She rested her head back against the wall, eyes opening to the lines of early evening light streaking across the ceiling, lethargically wiping at her cheeks. She pushed to her feet, and moved towards the bathroom for the second time today to wash her face. Brisk sting of water against her heated skin, grounding even as it hurt. After drying her face, she stepped out towards the foyer of the house, the floor cold beneath her feet.

There was an eerie silence now that her mother was gone. It should’ve been a comfort, being away from the sting of aimless anger and disappointment. When she glanced around however, she was eight years old again, and left to fend for herself in an empty, expansive house that felt like a creature that could swallow her whole. Like she could step into a room and find a door leading her to another room. And another and another. The house expanding and collapsing like a cage of ribs with every step she took until she could no longer find the exit.

Upstairs — a muffled thump coming from the second floor. Dani jerked, blinking up at the ceiling. Another thump, louder this time. Swallowing hard, Dani reached towards a stand near the door, pulling out a long, thin black umbrella with a pointy end, and started towards the stairs.

She walked slowly, ears pricked. Flinching at another loud thump, evidently coming from her own room, her frown deepened as she edged towards it, holding up the umbrella in front of her, as though wielding a sword. But when she slowly pushed open her door with her fingertips, her head peeking around the door as it swung open, she lowered the umbrella when she found the room empty, just as she had left it.

Dani stepped further inside, her frown slipping away to a dim sense of concern.

Another loud thump. Dani jumped and spun towards the sound. Her eyes went wide when her gaze landed on her window.

“Jamie!” she hissed, dropping the umbrella to the carpet with a soft thud, and rushed towards the window.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Jamie grunted from where she hung, fingers white as they gripped the window ledge between the small gap where Dani had her window open. Half her body clung to the meager amount of roof just below Dani’s window, her rucksack dangling from her shoulder as her brows furrowed and jaws clenched in concentration, her face red from effort.

Dani ripped the window open with a thud and grabbed at Jamie’s arms to pull her in, grumbling and grunting the entire time. “Are you insane?” Dani said when Jamie was safe enough to pull herself the rest of the way inside Dani’s room.

“Not since I last checked,” Jamie said, breathing hard as she tumbled inside, gripping her rucksack with white knuckles and her eyes wide with a sort of frantic wildness, like she couldn’t believe she’d just scaled the sheer side of a house. Her hair was a tousled mess, frizzy strands dangling in front of her eyes. Dani tisked and reached forward to push them off Jamie’s face with a scowl. Grinning wildly, Jamie dropped her rucksack to the carpet and twisted around to lean towards the window, stretching and shaking out her hands as she craned her head to peer outside with a whistle, “Christ, that took some work.”

Dani pushed past her to lean outside the window, eyes darting around with increasing disbelief. “How did you even get up here?”

“Climbed?”

Dani spun around to give her a look.

Jamie shrugged, wearing an impish grin. “Started with the tree, hopped over to the roof, and shimmied over. Easy as you please,” Jamie said, peeling her shoes off and shoving them under Dani’s bed. “Would’ve tried for that branch right by the window, but the bloody thing was too far to reach.”

Turning again to glance out the window to trace the path Jamie took, Dani felt her stomach plummet and her face blanch at the terrifying distance Jamie would’ve had to cross between the tree and the meager roof. It might as well have been the Grand Canyon. “You could’ve broken your neck!”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Jamie said, “How else was I supposed to sneak in?”

Dani huffed, crossing her arms. “You could’ve used the front door like a normal person.”

The look Jamie gave her was both amused and dubious. “Oh, sure, and your mum would’ve just let me inside with you grounded and all,” Jamie said, and gestured towards Dani, “And what about you? You know how long I’ve been hanging on out there, banging on the window?”

“That’s what you call sneaking in? She would’ve heard you anyways if she was home.”

Jamie paused. “Wait, she isn’t home?”

“No, doofus,” Dani said, “She left a little while ago.”

Jamie rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that? I was busy dangling from your roof, thank you very much,” Jamie said, and then she was grinning again, her hands tucked into her back pockets, looking far too pleased with herself. “Hey, least I know I can do it now. Next stop: water tower, yeah?”

Dani glowered at her. “No.”

Huffing softly with laughter, Jamie arched an eyebrow and gave her a fond look. It hit Dani like a ton of bricks when the realization struck her, her face slowly falling.

“God,” she groaned, burying her face into her hands, panic settling in, “ Shit . I sound just like her.”

Laughing softly again, Jamie said, “Nah. I reckon you sound just like yourself.”

But Dani couldn’t respond, the image of mother’s glower and the painful grip of her hand pressed hard on her chest. The sound of the closet slamming shut and the ensuing darkness prickling at her skin until her fingers were shaking again as they dug hard into her face.

“Dani?” Jamie said softly.

Hearing her take a careful step closer, Dani curled into her shoulders. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, her throat thick.

Warm fingers grazed the skin of Dani’s wrists, so light that it almost tickled. “Dani,” Jamie said again, slightly firmer this time, more steady. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Dani sucked in a ragged breath and nodded blindly, feeling herself lean forwards. Jamie’s fingers wrapped around Dani’s wrists into a firm, grounding grip. “It’s okay, c’mere.”

There was a gentle tug on her arm, and Dani went easily, sinking into Jamie, burying her face into her shoulder and wrapping her arms around her waist. Jamie pulled her in close, murmuring, “I’ve got you.”

Tears sprung in Dani’s eyes again, sinking further into Jamie. If Jamie noticed her shoulders shaking from the soft hitching gasps Dani was desperately trying to keep quiet, she never said a word. Just held her tight enough until it hurt, the pressure grounding in such a way that slowly, Dani’s tears ebbed away, leaving her breathing heavy, but steadier as the seconds ticked by.

Jamie’s hand rubbed her back in a soothing motion, the pressure of her arms gradually easing. “Better now?” Jamie asked, quiet and gentle.

Swallowing hard, Dani inhaled deeply, breathing in the soft familiar scent of soap the O’Mara’s favored and the faint hint of earth on her worn shirt. Dani nodded, a short up and down jerk of her head, and pulled her face away just enough from Jamie’s shoulder to murmur, “You always give the best hugs.”

Jamie chuckled. “S’what I’m here for,” she said with another brief hard squeeze, and then gently offered, “You wanna talk about it?”

Dani shook her head.

“No problem.”

With Jamie seemingly happy to remain where she was, Dani held on for just a moment longer, savoring the comfort from her best friend, until Jamie said, “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Poppins, but you weren’t planning on knocking me out cold with an umbrella, right?”

Dani laughed, a pressure valve releasing from her chest, feeling like she could breathe properly again. Jamie chuckled, and murmured, “There we are.”

“I thought you were a burglar or something.”

“A burglar? In North Liberty? Jesus, that’s considered grounds for a life sentence here, inn’it?”

Dani giggled breathlessly. “Something like that,” she murmured. They fell silent again, Jamie’s arms warm and steady around her like an anchor, until finally, Dani broke and said, “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Jamie said, her voice firm. “Look, I know I’m a twat on the best of days, but you don’t ever have to apologize for something like that, all right?” When Dani didn’t respond, Jamie flicked her on the back of the head. “All right?”

Dani huffed and pinched her side in retaliation, pleased when Jamie twitched. “All right,” she said, finally easing away, her head ducked as she hastily rubbed her cheeks and under her eyes.

“Good,” Jamie said, and when Dani stepped away towards the umbrella, still not looking straight at Jamie, she added, “Sure you’re steady enough to handle that? Haven’t you heard umbrella’s are considered a deadly weapon?”

Dani picked up the aforementioned umbrella and brandished it towards Jamie as though to spear her through the stomach. “Don’t make me use this.”

Holding up her hands in a gesture of peace, Jamie chuckled and smirked, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Rolling her eyes, Dani left her in the room to stumble back downstairs and replace the umbrella in its stand. She stood there and exhaled heavily, pressing her hands again to her eyes to steady herself. When it finally felt like she wasn’t about to collapse into pieces, she made towards the kitchen and went about setting up the kettle on the stove to heat. Taking out the mugs that she and Jamie favored — one patterned with stars, the other with florals — she also reached further back in the cupboard to pull out a hidden old altoid tin that was packed with a ziplock of teabags. A treasure trove she had once scoured from Jamie’s house for times like these when she was over.

Leaning against the counter as she waited for the kettle to boil, her eyes landed on the kitchen phone that lay discarded haphazardly on the counter top. It laid on its side with the handset having fallen off the base, and the translucent cable unplugged and tossed to the floor. Her hand drifted towards her mouth, eyes unseeing as she bit her thumb hard enough to hurt.

The kettle whistled. She jumped, jerking her thumb away from her mouth at the shrill sound, and she rushed to pull the kettle off the stove and turn the burner off with a rough twist of her wrist. She exhaled heavily, steadying her racing heart, and began putting together their tea.

When she arrived back to her room, mugs of tea in hand, she smiled fondly at the sight that greeted her. Jamie had made herself at home, stretching out on her bed with one leg crossed over the other and an arm resting behind her head as she held up Eddie’s walkie talkie to her mouth, making grotesque noises.

“Edmund,” she drawled in a guttural voice, “I’m coming for you, Edmund. I’m gonna eat your eyeballs.”

Dani snorted. “Just because it worked once, doesn’t mean it will again.”

Rolling her eyes, Jamie rested the walkie talkie against her chest. “Worth a shot,” she sighed, and then her eyes brightened when she caught sight of the mugs in Dani’s hand. She sat up, discarding the walkie talkie beside her and made a grabbing motion towards the floral patterned cup, “Oh, you’re a star.”

Easing onto the bed next to Jamie, she handed the mug over and watched eagerly as Jamie’s mouth curled into a pleased grin, her hand fearlessly wrapping the burning hot mug with practised ease. But at the first sip, she froze, going stock still as her brow knitted together.

“Well?” Dani asked.

Lowering the mug from her mouth, Jamie frowned contemplatively down at the steaming beverage with pursed lips, faintly nodding. “It’s a talent you have,” she said, “Truly.”

Dani groaned, easing back against her pillows, raising her own mug — a smattering of silver stars against a dark blue backdrop — to her mouth, taking a careful sip of her own. “Tastes fine to me,” she muttered.

Laughing, Jamie nudged her leg with her knee. “Appreciate the effort though,” she said, “Didn’t even need to ask for any. And it’s the kind from home, too. Nan know you nicked some from her precious stash?”

“Maybe,” Dani mumbled into her mug, but her eyes darted to Jamie all the same at the mention of Nan, looking for any lingering tension of any kind in Jamie’s demeanor. All she found was a reserved quiet as Jamie sipped again at her tea without any complaint, though she wasn’t able to hide her mouth twisting in distaste as she rested her mug on the nightstand.

“I brought some stuff to keep us company,” Jamie said, grabbing her bag from off the floor and hauling it on her lap, digging her arm inside, “Unless you wanna go downstairs and watch something.”

“No,” Dani said immediately, shaking her head, “She could come home any second.”

“You sure? I’m sneakier than a cat,” Jamie said, “There’s plenty of places to hide, besides. She’d never know I’m here.”

Dani shook her head resolutely. “No, I want to stay up here with you.”

Smiling fondly, Jamie relented with a soft, “All right, then.”

She pulled out her transistor radio and switched it on, the sound of electric guitars and drums filing the room. Twisting a knob on top, the rough alternate music that Jamie loved cut off to a jumbled flickering of noise as Jamie sped through stations until landing on one they both enjoyed. It was only by staring at Jamie’s hands did Dani finally notice the inexplicable blue paint on her nails.

“There we are,” Jamie said to the sound of soft rock music, and set the radio on the nightstand next to her tea.

When Jamie settled back against the pillows, Dani grabbed her hand, inspecting the color. “Is this nailpolish?” she asked, incredulous.

Jamie sighed exasperatedly. “Told you. Carson’s fuckin’ fault,” Jamie grumbled, allowing Dani to inspect her nails with fascination, “Bet him he was too scared to paint his nails with Judy’s nailpolish and the cheeky bastard dared me to do it also if he followed through.”

“So —?”

“So, he’s rocking hot pink nails for the foreseeable future.”

Dani laughed, resting her head against Jamie’s shoulder. “I’d kill for a photo of that.”

“I’ll get it for you when I head back,” Jamie said, her mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk, “Blackmail has never sounded so good.”

Huffing with a soft laugh, Dani smacked Jamie’s arm. “You’re a menace.”

Humming softly, her smirk twisting into outright devilish territory, Jamie reached into her bag again and pulled out two books. “Also brought these with me,” she said in a suspiciously light tone. “Thought you might enjoy an evening of fancy entertainment.”

Narrowing her eyes, Dani reached with her free hand to inspect the books, and when she caught a peak of a familiar provocative cover, she yanked her hand back as if it had been scalded, jerking her head from Jamie’s shoulder. “Jamie!” she hissed, shuffling away and resting her mug on the nightstand on the other side of her bed as Jamie laughed loudly, “Why do you still have that?”

“‘Cause I haven’t finished it?” Jamie said, her voice turning up at the end as though she were answering a dumb question. The smile she wore and the glint in her eyes said she was taking great delight in the way Dani’s cheeks heated up. “You saying you aren’t interested? Brought it just for you.”

Dani scowled. “No, I am not interested,” she said, and warily eyed the way Jamie tossed the other, thicker tome on the bed to rapidly flip through the book, the yellowed pages fragile and flimsy in Jamie’s hands.

The book in question was one of those dirty dime paperbacks hidden at the top shelves of gas stations, the cover an artist's depiction of a blonde woman scantily clad in a dark dress on a bed. It was ancient and peeling in places along the edges, and above all, it belonged to David. Just a week before Nan had set off to England, Jamie had proudly and wickedly showed off her prize in her room to Dani, claiming to have found it peeking out from between the mattresses of David’s bed a few days prior. Dani had nearly ran from the room just from the sheer embarrassment of being in the mere presence of it, her face scalding red.

“How has David not killed you yet?”

“Still doesn’t know who nicked it,” Jamie said, and snickered, “Absolutely losing the plot, too. Keeps looking at Judy and Mike like they’ll strike him down any second.”

“Like I said: a menace.”

Jamie winked and smirked, “You love it.” And without warning, just as Dani was fondly shaking her head, Jamie opened the small paperback, muttered, “Now, where was I,” and began to read outloud.

“Jamie,” she groaned, feeling her face burn at the explicit content Jamie was gleefully reciting.

“Oh, hold on. This bit is good,” Jamie said in between breaths of laughter, “She was ready for him, her lips red and wet, her tongue a thing of raging desire —”

Dani smothered Jamie’s mouth with her hand. “Oh, my god, please stop.”

Laughing against her palm, Jamie pushed her hand away. “He almost died in the wonder of her kiss, of her surging body, and as he thru — shit, wait. Gross. Hold on, here’s a better part  —”

“Oh, my god.” Dani rose to her knees, grabbed the pillow from behind her, and pushed it into Jamie’s face. “Shut up .”

Jamie laughed wildly as Dani pushed her down on the bed, smothering her face just enough to make her stop. Dani held one hand down on the pillow as the other stretched for the book. At the graze of their hands, Dani dangerously close to ripping the book from Jamie’s grasp, Jamie yanked the book away from Dani’s reach. The bed shook as Jamie flailed her legs, squirming away, a foot threatening to push Dani off by her stomach. Laughing just as hard as Jamie, her sides twisting into a cramp, Dani pushed Jamie’s legs out of the way to straddle her hips and gain the advantage.

Jamie froze, her laughter cut off as she sucked in a muffled breath.

“Are you done?” Dani said between fits of giggling, her grip firm on the pillow over Jamie’s face.

Jamie was barely breathing, her ribs beneath her t-shirt expanding and shrinking with shallow movement. A spark of concern abruptly lit in Dani’s chest. She ripped the pillow from Jamie’s face, fearing that she’d maybe smothered her, but she was greeted with Jamie blinking up at her with wide eyes. Her face was flushed, her hair a tangled mess across the pillow beneath her, the coin necklace twisted around her neck.

“Did I almost just kill you?” Dani said, just short of panicking as she leaned closer to get a better look.

Her throat bobbing, Jamie’s eyes flashed across over her so fast, she could’ve imagined it. “I’m breathing, aren’t I?” Jamie said, chuckling breathlessly.

“Hardly,” Dani said dryly, sitting upright and folding her arms. “Now, are you done?”

Jamie smirked. “Maybe.”

Dani gave her a look and held out a hand. “Give me the book.”

Jamie rolled her eyes with a sigh so long-suffering that Dani snickered. “Yes ma’am,” Jamie drawled with another smirk, and moved as if to finally hand the book to her, but her hand froze midair with a considering frown that bordered on insolence. “But are you sure, though? Was just getting to my favorite part. Something about grabbing a pair of firm, creamy bre — “

“Ugh,” Dani groaned, ripping the book from Jamie’s grasp to toss across the room with a thud and pressed the pillow back to Jamie’s laughing face.

Pushing up and away from Jamie and the bed, Dani marched to her bookcase and pulled out a random book from a shelf. “Here,” she said, flinging it onto Jamie’s stomach without even looking to see what it was, her cheeks still burning, “An actual real book you can read.”

Jamie at this point had pulled the pillow from her face and sat up, dishevelled and fondly amused as she picked up the book to look it over. She snorted. “Mrs. Dalloway? Really?” she said, arching an eyebrow at Dani. When Dani gave her another biting look, Jamie aimed a wry grin at her as she tossed the book aside to grab the other paperback she had brought, waggling it in Dani’s direction, “I brought a backup, don’t you worry.”

Scowling, Dani dropped heavily back onto the bed without a glance in Jamie’s direction, swiped up Mrs Dalloway from the sheets and promptly buried her nose in its pages. “Your tea is probably cold now,” she muttered, ignoring Jamie’s soft snickers, her skin refusing to cool down.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Dani elbowed her hard in the ribs, smirking when Jamie grunted at the impact.

They finally settled after that, sinking into the bedding and pillows next to each other, lost in the world of their individual books. Music played softly to keep them company. Knees and feet occasionally knocking together, shoulders pressed up against each other. Her eyes became heavier as she read, the words blurring in and out of darkness as she sunk further into the mattress, easing her head on Jamie’s shoulder. While she couldn’t see her expression from this angle, she could picture Jamie’s eyebrows faintly furrowed in concentration, turning a page every so often, quietly engrossed in her book that Dani’s seen her cart around before: Valley of the Dolls.

“Is yours any good?” Dani asked.

Jamie’s shoulder shrugged under her head. “Suppose so. Unless you find reading about a couple of Hollywood actresses ruining their lives any kind of fun.”

Dani frowned. “Where did you even get it?”

“Came with the house. Found it in a box in the basement,” Jamie said, “It’s a bit barmy to be honest.”

Humming contemplatively, Dani glanced over the words on the page Jamie had open, finding what she saw nonsensical out of context. “Not the first time I’ve seen you read it though.” Jamie chuckled softly, but didn’t respond. “Can I read it when you're done?”

“Not really your kinda book I think,” Jamie said, a finger tapping on the edge of the pages.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me smother you again.”

“Fine. You can have it now if you’d like?”

“It’s okay. You can finish first.”

“As you wish,” Jamie said softly.

They fell quiet again. Dani found that she couldn’t concentrate on the words before her, not with Jamie breathing softly beside her, or her curtains ruffling as the warm summer breeze wafted through her open window, or the music that played like white noise in the background. Her head drooped heavier onto Jamie’s shoulder until she finally let her eyes slip shut.

The next time her eyes fluttered open, the room was darker than she last remembered, the evening sun casting sharp streaks of light across her room. She was curled up on her side, facing the wall but she could still feel the warm length of Jamie next to her. Her eyes landed on the jar on her desk labelled ‘Travel Fund’ , and blinked drowsily at the dollar bill she hadn’t seen earlier that day stuffed inside.

Slowly, her head feeling heavy and sluggish still, she turned around and gazed up at Jamie. Expression set with concentration that seemed more like a scowl than anything, Jamie held up the half dollar coin attached to her necklace, rubbing it between the pads of her fingers while the other hand now held open Mrs. Dalloway. She already seemed to be at least twenty pages in and visibly struggling with the prose, but determined to continue. Then Jamie’s eyes flitted down to Dani and her expression softened.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jamie said.

With a groan, Dani rubbed her dry eyes and turned on her back. “How long was I out?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“Bit over two hours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Jamie shrugged, resting the book against her legs. “Reckoned you needed the sleep. Had a long day, and all.”

The smile Dani gave her was warm and affectionate, even as her stomach clenched at the reminder of the day's whirlwind of events. Jamie’s throat bobbed, and returned her gaze to the book. “Mind if I borrow this?” At the shake of Dani’s head, Jamie grinned, marking her place with a bookmark before setting the book aside. She visibly hesitated, before she said, “Your mum came home a bit ago, by the way.”

Dani’s stomach sank. “Oh.”

“Hasn’t come to check on you. I blocked the door just in case,” Jamie said with a short gesture to Dani’s bedroom door where clothes hung on a door rack and a chair that normally held clean laundry was propped against the doorknob. “Heard the tv on since she got in, and not a peep since.”

When Dani didn’t respond, didn’t move besides the clenching of her fists and stomach, Jamie calmly continued. “Ed checked in too. Wanted to see how we were doing. You know how he is; always worried. Scared of your mum too. Bit mental how you slept through that though. Thought Carson was gonna blow out the speakers with how loud he was banging on for us to sneak back over.”

Dani huffed out a laugh, and Jamie smiled down at her. “We missed dinner too,” Jamie said, “Ed said that Judy made us plates, so I ran over to grab ‘em and let her know I’ll be here for the night.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Dani pushed herself up, eyes wide. “But - mom. She - “

“Didn’t see me,” Jamie said, and smiled reassuringly. “She was asleep.”

“Okay,” Dani breathed, nodding faintly, panic quickly receding. She exhaled slowly, grateful for Jamie’s comforting silence, their knees pressing together. “I should - um. I should check on her. See if she’s okay.”

Jamie nodded easily. “I’ll come help bring up dinner.”

Dani swallowed hard, but nodded.

They slipped their way out of Dani’s room, and padded softly downstairs. The lights in the living room were off from where Dani could see in the hall, but for the evening sun and the flickering light of the tv cascading the room. Jamie slipped away to the kitchen, while Dani continued onwards towards the smell of smoke and wine.

Her mother lay sideways on the couch facing the television, breathing deeply as she slept, still wearing her clothes from earlier today, rumbled and wrinkled. A glass with remnant drops of wine sat on the coffee table next to a bottle and an ashtray littered with crushed cigarette buds. Dani swallowed hard, an anxious pit forming in her stomach just at the sight of her, but as she edged closer, eyes searching for any lit or forgotten cigarettes, she slowed when her eyes landed on her mother’s face.

Exhaling softly, Dani moved with the muscle memory of having done this a hundred times before. Reaching for the patterned throw blanket draped across the back of the couch, unfolding it to drape it across her mom’s sleeping form, careful to tuck her in with as little contact as possible. Frowning down at her, Dani hesitantly reached her hand out and shifted a stray strand of blonde hair out of her mother’s face. Karen shifted and Dani pulled her hand away, tightening them into fists by her side, but her mother did not wake.

Doing one more scan across the floor and couch, pleased to find no cigarettes in sight, she turned the tv off and gathered the wine glass and bottle, starting towards the kitchen without a backwards glance. But as she turned, she jerked to a stop at the sight of Jamie standing frozen by the entrance, two plates of food already in hand, eyes unblinking on the sleeping form of her mom, wearing a deep frown that shadowed her features.

Swallowing down a swell shame, Dani stepped closer into Jamie’s eyeline. “Hey,” she murmured.

Jamie’s eyes caught Dani’s, blinking owlishly, her shoulders taut and the muscles of her jaw corded tight. “See you upstairs,” Jamie muttered, and disappeared up the staircase without another word.

Biting at her lip, her stomach clenching, Dani continued towards the kitchen. She washed the wine glass and set the empty wine bottle away under the sink, trying to settle the worrying pit in her stomach from Jamie’s tightened expression, having made its return since the day before at the O’Mara’s. When she was done, she gathered two glasses of orange juice and returned upstairs to her room with a deep fortifying breath.

Jamie was already wolfing down her dinner, shepherd’s pie from the looks of it, not glancing up as Dani entered and blocking the door again behind her. She set Jamie’s juice on the nightstand beside her before returning to her spot on the other side of her bed where her plate was waiting for her.

“Is it good?” Dani asked, more just to hear Jamie’s voice again rather than the quality of food that she already knew would be hearty and appetizing.

Her mouth full, Jamie nodded with a grunt, not looking at Dani.

Ducking her head, her plate in her lap, Dani pushed around the food with her fork. “Sorry,” she said, her voice trembling.

Jamie froze beside her, her knuckles white around her fork. She slowly turned her head to stare at Dani. “What for?” she asked, her voice low and flat.

“Just -” Dani made a weak gesture towards the door, towards downstairs, where her mother slept. “- That.”

“No,” Jamie choked out. “I’m -” She cut herself off, falling silent for a long moment before dropping her fork to the plate, metal clanging against ceramic, and pushed the plate away on the bed.

Dani looked up at her, seeing that same darkened expression, her teeth clenched and her brows furrowed, working her jaw as though she was desperately trying to think of something to say. Dani glanced away, back to her food.

“It’s okay - um. Let’s - let’s just finish dinner,” Dani mumbled.

She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her, piercing and unblinking. When Dani finally forked a mouthful of food into her mouth, she saw out of the corner of her eye Jamie reached forward to pull her plate back into her lap. It was painfully quiet, besides the radio still going and the scrapping of their plates. Dani found that she could barely taste anything at all as she ate. Jamie finished her meal before her — she always ate as though the food might disappear at any moment — setting her plate aside on the table before leaning back against the pillows, knees pulled up to her chest, her hands dangling over her knees, clenching and unclenching. When Dani finished, sipping at her juice before moving to stand, Jamie spoke again, her voice quiet.

“Sorry.”

Dani froze. “Why?”

Visibly swallowing hard, Jamie rolled her head against the headboard to meet Dani’s eyes. At Dani’s frown, Jamie pushed herself up, crossing her legs and taking Dani’s plate from her hands to discard on her own before shifting to fully face Dani, her expression taut but determined.

“I told you that you never had to apologize to me for things like that, for your mum, and I — “ Jamie’s voice cracked, and she scowled down at her lap in response. Slowly, Dani turned to face her, mirroring her crossed legs and patiently waited, her heart thumping steadily against her ribs. Jamie inhaled slowly and caught her gaze again, her eyes stormy and vivid.

“You don’t ever have to be ashamed of it. Of any of it. Not to me,” Jamie said, but there was an odd pinch to Jamie’s expression, a darkened hue of shame of her own as she was unable to hold Dani’s gaze any longer, eyes darting down to her lap. “I just - what I’m trying to say is that I understand. I know what it’s like, what it feels like. More than you think.”

Slowly, Dani reached out and grasped one of Jamie’s hands to pull in her lap, unfurling her clenched fist to lace their fingers together, her thumb running over Jamie’s knuckles, feeling the grooves on her skin. Jamie exhaled slowly, quietly. The muscles of her shoulders easing from their tight coils.

“Told you, you wouldn’t have liked staying here,” Dani murmured.

Jamie’s eyes flashed up to Dani’s, intense and sharp, pinning Dani to the spot. “I meant what I said,” she said, “S’long as you’re here, that’s all I need.”

Words trapped in her throat, not knowing what else to say, Dani just nodded. Her grip on Jamie’s hand tightened. She felt the ghost of the pressure return in her chest before she pulled her hand away and curled on her side upon the mattress. Jamie followed her, facing Dani with a look of faint concern.

“So, she overheard you today?” Jamie asked quietly.

After a moment, fiddling with a strand of untwined thread from her comforter, Dani shrugged. “I don’t know,” she murmured, “She didn’t really say anything. She — ” Dani’s voice caught, memories of trembling in the dark “ — she left kind of right after.”

Jamie watched her quietly, her eyes traveling over her face as if searching for something. “Y’know,” Jamie started slowly, “You’re over all the time already, but you’re always welcome to stay with us whenever you like. If you don’t want to be here or you’re sick of the lads across the street. Nan doesn’t act like it, but she likes you. She wouldn’t mind.”

“I couldn’t - I couldn’t ask you to —”

“Dani,” Jamie interrupted, her grin soft, “We wouldn’t mind. Really.”

Dani could only smile, a warmth spreading across her chest as she reached a hand forward to link their pinkies. “Okay,” she murmured.

“And,” Jamie continued, a glint forming in her eyes, “If your mum catches you on the phone again, you just tell her it’s me. I can handle it.”

“That doesn’t really seem like a good idea,” Dani said, uncertainly.

“Look,” Jamie started, “your mum and I have an understanding. We don’t like each other, and to be honest with you, I couldn’t give two shits about it.”

Dani chuckled, but quickly sobered. “Keep that up, and she’ll probably never let me see you again.”

Jamie scoffed derisively and gave Dani a significant look. “As if she could keep me away.”

Sinking further into her pillow to hide her grin, Dani recalled Jamie scaling her house just a few hours ago. Without a word, Dani slid closer, rolling Jamie on her back to press her cheek against her shoulder and slip an arm around her waist. Jamie stiffened for a moment, and then sank into the sheets, an arm slowly moving to wrap around Dani’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dani murmured into her flannel shirt, soft underneath her skin.

She felt Jamie’s thumb rub comforting motions against her shoulder, her other hand smoothing over the arm Dani had across her stomach, warm and grounding. “Anytime.”

--

The next morning, Dani woke to the slant of sunlight across her face. Jamie, no doubt having woken up with the sun, was next to her in bed when Dani blinked her eyes open, squinting in the morning light. She held a hot cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other, resting on an upright knee as she read. Dani would’ve thought that time had frozen from the day before if it weren’t for Jamie’s change of clothes and dishevelled hair from a night of sleep.

“Morning,” Dani murmured, her voice groggy, stretching her legs beneath the sheets. She eyed Jamie’s floral mug. “Did she see you?”

Jamie shook her head and flipped a page. “Waited ‘til she was gone,” she said, “Left a bit early too.”

“Oh."

It wasn’t often her mother left her behind for Sunday Church. It generally only occurred when she was upset with Dani more so than usual. The feeling left an acid discomfort in her stomach, and she curled further into herself to quell it. Seeing this, Jamie lowered her mug and her expression softened.

“Hey, more time for us to laze about, yeah?” Jamie said, her foot nudging Dani’s leg from above the comforter.

“I have to do chores,” Dani muttered into the sheets of her pillow.

Jamie’s mouth thinned. “Well, four hands are better than two as they say, or whatever.”

“I think the saying is two hands are better than —”

“Shut it. I haven’t finished my tea yet.”

Dani snorted, and was silent for a moment, before she said, “I really couldn’t ask —”

“Before you start banging on about it, I already did our dishes for you,” Jamie interrupted, her stare firm, “Let me help. Faster we finish, the faster we can get on with our day.”

In the end, it didn’t take much effort to convince her, not when Jamie was intent on being so sweet. It wasn’t often Jamie was so malleable and eager to help, and Dani found it to be remarkably charming and endearing, even as she awkwardly gave Jamie orders to get a head start on vacuuming during Dani’s hasty breakfast of cereal and tea. Jamie only fondly rolled her eyes as she trotted upstairs with the vacuum. They worked quickly and in tandem, Jamie’s radio blaring loudly as they cleaned that eventually Dani couldn’t help bobbing her head and singing along to the words. By midday, the house was clean and they were sweating in the humid summer heat. Before Jamie could even argue, Dani pressed a clean towel to her face and shoved her towards the bathroom to shower. Jamie laughed as she went, her smile brighter than it’d been in days.

Showered and dressed in clean clothes, the day was now theirs. The cinched feeling in her chest since waking up to her mother’s absence was loosened, but not entirely gone. It was the calm before the storm for when her mother returned. But until then, they spent the day much as they did the day before, holed up in Dani’s room with their books and music and endless conversation about everything and nothing.

“You need a bloody tv in here,” Jamie said at one point, tossing aside Mrs Dalloway in favor of returning to the dirty paperback Dani refused to look at, blessedly quiet this time.

When they overheard the unmistakable noise of the front door opening and slamming shut, Dani was all but shoving Jamie’s bag in her hand.

“What do you expect me to do? Jump out the fuckin’ window?” Jamie hissed.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Dani hissed back.

They held their breath as her mom’s footsteps passed by Dani’s room and disappeared into her own with the click of the door pressing shut. And true to her word, Jamie did give off the appearance of a sneaky cat as she slinked quietly through the house with Dani behind her.

“You gonna be all right?” Jamie whispered, shoving her feet into her canvas shoes.

Dani shrugged, quietly easing the door open. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Jamie frowned at that, but said nothing except for, “I’ll check in later. If you need me sooner, flash the porch light twice.”

Dani nodded.

“Chin up, Poppins.”

With a departing wink and grin, she was gone, jogging across the street. Dani grinned after her and silently shut the door. The house felt abruptly quiet with Jamie gone. A hollowed chamber where Dani could hear the echo of every sound and movement in the walls and floors. A drip of the tap. The groaning pipes. The whistle of wind through a window crease. Twenty-four hours alone with Jamie in her house, and it was like Dani had suddenly forgotten what the emptiness of it felt like.

A creak of a door opening sounded through the second floor. Dani stiffened at the noise and started towards the kitchen for anything resembling food. She was in the middle of preparing a simple sandwich when she heard the steps of her mother pad into the kitchen. Dani swallowed hard, knuckles white against a butter knife, her breath caught in throat, her ears pricked. She held herself still, as though she could camouflage into the walls, making herself as small as possible. Prey hiding from predator. Her mother moved behind her — the opening and closing of cupboards and fridge, the clink of glass, the opening of a bottle — and then, she was gone. Leaving a trail of smoke lingering in the air, never speaking a word. Dani started when the tv in the living room clicked on, the volume loud and oppressive. It was only when she was finally back in her room, the chair lodged under the doorknob, that could Dani breathe again.

She hid there for the remainder of the day with the company of her books, and the radio Jamie had inexplicably left behind. This she was used to. The silences of cold shoulders and the quiet of her room. But a few hours in the company of Jamie by her side, having grown comfortable with her presence in her room, it was achingly lonely and by the second hour, she was bored out of her mind. But then came the familiar voices over the walkie talkie to her rescue.

“Danielle?” came Eddie’s voice, “Danielle, you there?”

“Lower your voice, you knob,” hissed Jamie’s voice.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, “Danielle?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Dani replied, curling up on her side.

“Everything all good over there? Do I need to climb a tree again?” Jamie asked.

“You climbed a tree?” Eddie said, puzzled.

“Not important.”

Dani chuckled. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just bored, I guess.”

“Tomorrow’s Milkshake Monday, you should come over,” Eddie said, “When you’re not grounded anymore, I guess.”

“Please, Dani,” Jamie added, “Dunno how Mrs. O’Mara does it. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, you’d think this lot never showered with the way they smell.”

“Hey! Shut up, it’s hot outside, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Dani said, biting back a laugh.

“Oh! Is that Dani?” Carson’s voice appeared, “Dani, come over!”

“Christ, could you shu — “ Jamie’s voice cut off, as though she had taken her finger off the ‘push to speak’ button.

Dani quietly laughed, her heart warmed and aching with how much she already missed them, even if they were just across the street. They kept her company on and off throughout the rest of the evening. Jamie offered to sneak food over, until Dani had to reassure her she had enough to fill her for the night. Carson recited running commentary on the ongoings of everyone in the house, audibly disrupting them all until they brightened when they realized who was on the other end, saying their hellos. And near the end of the night, when Eddie had finally swiped back his walkie talkie, he murmured in soft tones.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Really, I’m fine,” Dani assured, refraining from sighing.

“Okay,” Eddie said, satisfied. “You should really try to come over tomorrow. We could have a sleepover too, and um — “ his voice trailed off for a moment “ — I miss you.”

Dani grinned softly. “Miss you too.”

By the next morning, Dani woke early, amping herself up with Jamie’s radio on low, set to a Top 100 Pop Hits station, praying for some semblance of bravery. But when she ventured from her room, she found her mother’s bedroom door already open, coffee already made, and her car keys gone. The house empty and eerily silent. She debated with herself for the next half hour. Eating cereal by herself in the kitchen, writing an absentminded note on a spare piece of paper to get milk for the next grocery run, until eventually she was reconnecting the kitchen phone and dialing a number that was written down on a note on the fridge.

It rang four agonizing times until the line clicked open and her mother said, “Hello, Karen Clayton speaking.”

“Mom? It’s me,” Dani murmured, and she swore she could hear a soft sigh from the other end of the line.

“What do you need, Danielle? I’m working.”

“I was - um. I was wondering if I could go over to the O’Mara’s today,” Dani said, her grip tight on the receiver, and hesitantly added, “To sleep over?”

Her mother was quiet for a long moment. “Is that what you called me for? You know how busy I am.”

“I know, I - I just wanted to ask, because — “

“Do whatever you want, Danielle,” Karen said sharply, and the line went dead.

Dani blinked in the quiet of the kitchen, listening to her heart thudding against her ribs and the dial tone until she slowly set the receiver back into the base. It took a minute for the unease to settle, unsure of what to do, unsure if this was some kind of trap. But the promise of finally escaping to the house across the street proved to be more enticing, and she was racing up to her room to pack. Another storm passed, as they were wont to do.

The smile Eddie greeted her with when he opened the door was bright and infectious. He hugged her tight and happily took her bag from her hand, already marching towards the staircase to haul it upstairs. Nearby, Jamie was leaning against the wall and smirking at her as she pulled off her shoes.

“Finally,” Jamie muttered, “He hasn’t shut up about it since last night. Like he hasn’t seen you in weeks and not a few days.”

“Please, like you didn’t miss me too.”

Jamie’s smirk widened. “Not a clue what you’re talking about.”

Carson came abruptly sliding out of the kitchen on his socks, a jar of peanut butter and a butter knife in hand. “Dani!” he said, holding up the jar and knife as though in victory, “It’s Milkshake Monday!”

Even Jamie smiled through the roll of her eyes. Somehow over the course of the summer, jaunts to Big Bill’s Diner for milkshakes and lunch had become custom every Monday. The twins would occasionally accompany them, as they were today, hauling out their bikes along with Jamie’s to ride across town to the ancient grease diner that half the time was populated by truckers passing through. As was usual, they all doubled up. Dani settled behind Jamie, standing on the rear pegs of her bike, resting her hands on Jamie’s steady shoulders while Eddie and Carson followed suit with the twins.

“Ready?” Jamie murmured.

“Good to go,” Dani replied, patting Jamie’s shoulder. “Giddyup.”

“Say that again and I’ll throw you off,” Jamie grumbled as Dani laughed, and took off behind the twins.

Like all Mondays before, they hunkered down in a booth with their milkshakes and lunches of burgers and fries. It all together felt like being able to breathe once more, sitting in between Eddie and Jamie, laughing at the twins’ teasing and Carson’s brain freeze. Jamie slouched low in her seat, quiet more so than usual, but always wearing a small grin every time Dani glanced her way. When she saw an open opportunity to steal a fry from Jamie’s plate, she reached out a hand just for a reaction, and laughed when Jamie slapped it away, grumbling good naturedly but her smile wider than before.

On the other side of her, Eddie slid his plate closer to her. “You can have some of mine,” he said with an eager grin, knocking their shoes together.

Jamie made a noise that sounded both like a scoff and snicker. “Knobhead.”

On the ride back home, Dani soaked up the afternoon sun and wind on her face, standing higher on the back pegs, pressing closer to Jamie’s back.

“You all right back there?” Jamie said as she peddled, mirth in her voice.

“Never better,” Dani replied, her grip tightening on Jamie’s shoulders.

--

Dani woke up squinting in the morning sun, almost expecting to see Jamie propped up on the pillows with a cup of tea in hand and a book in the other the way she had the other day. Instead, she rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty and cold, Jamie long gone for the morning. She was almost disappointed, but then she remembered: this wasn’t Dani’s house, nor was it Jamie’s. They were in Carson’s room where they had accommodated his bed for the night, seeing as it had more room to spare than a camp bed. They had both demurred at the idea, not wanting to take over Carson’s room, but Judy and Carson had insisted.

As quiet as possible, Dani rose from the bed and tiptoed around Carson sleeping soundly on the camp bed where he had sworn they’d stay up all night talking, but almost immediately fell asleep upon his head hitting the pillow. She opened the door to a quiet house. The boys rooms were still tightly shut, a gentle breeze blew through the open window on the landing, morning birds chirping outside, but there also were soft voices and movement down below. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Dani followed the sound downstairs towards the kitchen, and blinked at what greeted her.

Already dressed in her work clothes, Judy was manning the stove where a familiar kettle was heating up, and sitting hunched over at the counter barstool was Jamie, still in her pajamas, her hair disheveled. They both turned at the sound of Dani entering the room.

“Good morning, honey,” Judy said, smiling at her. “What are you doing up so early?”

Dani shrugged. “Just used to it.”

“An early riser like this one then, huh?” Judy said, nodding towards Jamie with an affectionate look. Jamie in response grinned thinly, her cheek resting against her fist. Judy waved Dani towards the barstools. “Go on, take a seat. Jamie’s teaching me how to make real English tea. I’ll get you a cup too.”

When Judy’s back was turned as she delved into the cupboards, Dani arched a brow at Jamie, grinning as she slid onto a stool next to her. Jamie rolled her eyes with a quiet sigh, but said nothing. Unlike last Friday, there was a relaxed slouch to Jamie’s shoulders as she sat at the counter, her legs still and her expression lethargic, but otherwise free of taut lines that so prevailed the previous week.

Dani grinned softly at the sight, and couldn’t help but reach up to smooth away wild flyaways from Jamie’s hair before leaning close to murmur in her ear, “Did you bring tea and your kettle from home?”

Jamie stiffened for a moment, before turning to scowl at her. “Sod off,” she murmured, poking Dani hard in the ribs, grinning when Dani jerked and swiped her hand away.

It was comforting, to quietly sit next to Jamie, still too tired to speak in full sentences as she listened to Jamie uttering soft, patient directions to Judy as she made the three of them tea. At the first sip, Jamie hummed appreciatively to Judy’s delight.

“S’not bad, Mrs. O’Mara. Definitely better than Dani’s,” Jamie said, failing to hide her smirk as Dani huffed.

Judy chuckled. “Thank you, sweetheart, I try my best,” Judy said, leaning on her elbows across the counter from them as she took a sip, “Not bad if I do say so myself. I’m going to have to get an actual kettle and real tea set, and then you’re going to have to show me how to make a real brew, as you Brits say.”

Jamie nodded and grinned. “If you like.”

Carson and Mike were the next to make an appearance in the kitchen as Jamie and Dani were in the midst of eating cereal and sharing a bowl of fruits. Mike gently guided a still half-awake Carson across the room before kissing Judy lightly on the cheek and helping himself to some fresh coffee. Carson was still bleary eyed as Judy handed him a bowl.

"Carson," Jamie said. When he glanced up she mimed throwing a grape at him until he opened his mouth and she chucked it across the kitchen in a clear arc. The grape smacked him on the cheek and went plonking down to the floor. Judy gave them both an admonishing look. Jamie grinned sheepishly in response as Dani snickered.

The day seemed to fly by after they’d had their breakfast and Judy and Mike set off to work. A whole house to themselves with nothing to do but to hang out and annoy each other. Dani was positive that Carson wasn’t as absentminded as he appeared as he shook his feet, lounging on the basement couch during a movie, a foot hitting Eddie in the head more than once where he sat on the ground, leaning against the couch. Dani was beside him, having found her spot first before Eddie plopped down next to her, refusing to move throughout Carson’s beatings.

Instead, Eddie leaned his shoulder against hers, his hands twitching as if restless with nerves. When she relaxed her hands on her stretched out legs, his arm inched closer, pressing against hers as he rested his hand oddly on the ground between them, his palm up and hands loose. It was like he was waiting for something. Or someone to grab hold of it. The realization made her roll her eyes, and she reached down to grasp his palm. Out of the corner of her eyes, his shoulders tensed slightly, but a small smile curled up his lips as he pushed his glasses up his nose. Dani fondly shook her head as their fingers linked together.

Jamie meanwhile sat in an armchair with Mrs Dalloway in hand, slouching low with a leg slung over an armrest, her foot bouncing lightly. Throughout the movie — some Monty Python picture from the year before — Dani couldn’t help occasionally sneaking glances at her. Her eyes drawn to the way Jamie fiddled with her coin necklace and glowering more so than usual down at the pages as she read, her jaw clenched. A strain had returned to her that Dani couldn’t place beyond the fact that her choleric disposition had made its triumphant return from Friday. But by the time the movie was over, her hand free from Eddie’s grasp as he moved to change the tape, Jamie caught her eyes, her expression relaxed to a faint smile. When Eddie asked Dani what she thought of the movie, she found that she couldn’t remember the plot much at all.

Later, during their fourth round of Uno around the coffee table in the living room that evening, waiting for dinner as Carson helped Judy in the kitchen, Jamie seemed more relaxed but no less ornery in the spirit of competition. When Dani was moments away from putting down another matching card, Jamie looked up from her massive sprawl of cards in one hand with her chin resting on her fist and said, “Skip me again, I dare you.”

Dani raised her eyebrows, and shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “If you say so,” she said, playing a Skip card.

Jamie flung her pile of cards on the table. “For fuck’s sake,” she grumbled as Dani laughed.

“You just ruined the pile!” Eddie groaned, with the fewest cards left in his hand, “We have to start over now.”

“Oh, shut your hole. You already won last round,” Jamie muttered, leaning back on her hands.

“Not my fault you’re just a sore loser,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes as he gathered the cards into a neat stack.

“Keep talking, and see what happens, Ed.”

Dani sighed exasperatedly. “Okay, I think we’re done with Uno.”

“Thank Christ,” Jamie breathed and rose to her feet, marching away towards the stairs. Dani watched her go with another sigh.

“Does she always have to be so grumpy like that?” Eddie asked.

“She’s had a rough couple of days,” she said, frowning at him.

Eddie snorted, and muttered under his breath, “Didn’t seem like it.”

Dani gave him a look that he shied away from. “Okay, okay,” he mumbled, “I’ll go easy on her.”

“I’d really appreciate that,” Dani said softly, and pushed his glasses up his nose.  

He grinned at her, his cheeks tinted pink, and then inhaled sharply, looking down at the cards in his hands. “So, I was thinking tomorrow we could go get some ice cream together or something.”

“Ice cream? Yeah, I’d love to,” Dani said, “I’ll ask Jamie later.”

Eddie’s grin fell slightly as he looked back up at her. “No, I meant - I meant just the two of us.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, and for a brief moment, Dani felt like she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “Yeah, like a da — “

A loud slam from upstairs shook the house. They both jumped at the sound, eyes wide.

“You fucking -!”

Thunderous footsteps ran across the top floor and down the stairs, stomping with every step. Dani and Eddie rose to their feet to follow the sound in the hallway.

“Get back here, you little shit!”

There was the distinct sound of Jamie’s laughter, wild with adrenaline and panic as she came crashing down the stairs, jumping across the last few steps and nearly collapsing over as she hit the ground.

“What on earth is going on?” Judy called out, appearing from the kitchen with Carson, eyes wide with her hands on her hips.

Jamie didn’t stop, rushing past them all towards the front door, ripping it open to bolt outside barefoot, her flannel and hair flying behind her. One of the twins — undoubtedly David — came thundering down the stairs after her, his face apoplectic and red, racing after her outside and down the street. Dani stepped towards the open door to watch them sprint around the corner and out of sight. Dani pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter as the others stood next to her in the doorway in bewilderment.

David may have been a whole foot taller than Jamie and then some, but Dani had every confidence that she could outrun him, especially with the dirty paperback she spied clutched in Jamie’s hand spurring her on.

“What in the Sam Hill was that all about?” Judy said, her arms crossed.

“No idea,” Dani replied.

Tommy came up behind them, laughing hard as he clutched his sides, and leaned over them to yell, “Told you it wasn’t me!”

--

“What,” said Dani, squinting down at the sheet in front of her, “is a cleric?”

They were sitting on the ground around the coffee table in the O’Mara’s living room. Eddie had claimed the couch as his throne and had surrounded himself with pages and notes, pencils and erasers, little cardboard tokens and a set of three big books, one of which was open and perched on his knees. On the table, he’d spread a large sheet of paper with grid lines drawn in pen.

It was the only vaguely quiet place in the house apart from the basement, which didn’t have a big enough table to fit them. Judy was baking in the kitchen and had shooed them out of the dining room. Meanwhile, Tommy and David were blasting music upstairs in their shared room. Whenever Mike would stand on the stairs and yell for them to turn it down, the twins would comply for exactly thirty seconds before ramping the volume back up again. Even now, Dani could hear a rhythmic thumping bassline through the ceiling.

Eddie pushed up his glasses. “It’s like a cross between a Fighting Man and a Magic User. You can wield non-edged magic weapons and heal people in your party.”

“Non-edged? Why non-edged?” Dani pointed to the couch. “And can you pass me a pillow?”

“Sure. Here.” Eddie tossed her one of the cushions, which she promptly sat upon and crossed her legs. “It’s just in the rules. I’ve also made you guys level three, so Carson can actually do some damage in a fight.”

“Do I get a sword?” Carson asked excitedly, brandishing his pencil as though it were a weapon.

“You’re a Magic User. You can only use a dagger and spells.”

“Nice! Spells!” Carson pointed the pencil at his brother. “I cast: slap you in the face.”

Eddie frowned. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I thought you said you were controlling the monsters, though.”

“You did say that,” Dani agreed.

Rubbing at his forehead, Eddie sighed. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I control the story and the monsters.”

“And I control the magic called: slap you in the face.” For good measure, Carson chucked his pencil at Eddie, who ducked so that the pencil bounced against the back of the couch.

“Watch it!”

Carson made a face at him. “Don’t be such a baby!”

“Yeah, that’s your job,” Dani said with a grin.

“Hey, Jamie,” said Eddie. “Come play with us. We need another person for the party.”

Like some sort of cat, Jamie was seated on the back of the other couch that was pushed up against the wall. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, one leg outstretched, the other knee balancing a battered paperback. Every now and then, Jamie would glance furtively over the top of the book towards the windows that showed the front lawn and the street beyond it.

“Don’t want to,” Jamie muttered, scowling back down at the book in her lap.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re not even reading. You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes now.”

In answer, Jamie turned a page.

“C’mon. You can be a Fighting Man.” Eddie held up a character sheet with a bunch of painstakingly pencilled in numbers that he had added earlier that day while Dani watched and chatted with him. “You like fighting.”

Aiming her glower at him, Jamie growled, “Fuck off.”

“Look at that: perfect for the role.”

“Do I get to be evil?” Carson interrupted. “I want to be evil.”

Eddie ignored him. “Danielle, convince her to play with us.”

“She doesn’t want to play, Eddie,” Dani replied.

“Yeah, but she always listens to you.”

“I can hear you,” Jamie snapped.

“If you’re not going to play, why are you even down here?” Eddie asked. “You can always just hang out in Carson’s room if you want to be alone.”

Jerking her thumb towards the ceiling, Jamie said, “You think I can get a moment’s peace with Tweedledee and Tweedledum bangin’ about up there?”

“The basement’s quiet, though,” Carson pointed out.

Dani could see Jamie’s lips purse together, her brows still furrowed and her shoulders tense. Outside, a vehicle trundled down the street and Jamie’s head jerked up to follow it only for her to slouch sullenly once more.

The basement was quiet, but it didn’t have a clear view of the road.

"Let's just -" Dani smiled as broadly as she knew how towards Eddie and Carson "- play. All right? And let’s leave Jamie alone."

Begrudgingly, Eddie picked up a few cardboard tokens and began setting them out on the paper grid map. "Fine. Do you have names for your characters?"

"Uh," Dani glanced down at the sheet again. She couldn't visualize what her character looked like in the slightest. A priest, perhaps. Black robes beneath a set of medieval armour with a patch of white collar showing through. Grimacing, she said, "Dani?"

"You can't have it be your own name."

"Why not?" Carson asked. "Carson the Wizard has a great ring to it."

"Oh, my god," Eddie groaned and rested his forehead on the open pages of his manual. "Can you please take this seriously? Just for two seconds?"

"You want me," said Carson, "to pretend to use magic, and also be serious about it? Are you stupid?"

"Okay. Fine. Fine!" Eddie lifted his head and spread his hands in a sharp gesture. "Your characters are you. Just you with your own names but with powers. Now, can we please play?" When both Dani and Carson nodded, he sighed, "Finally. All right. The two of you are descending into the bowels of a long-forgotten ruin -"

They played. Dani kept forgetting the names of her abilities and how to perform them, but she did her best. She spent most of the time being distracted by the too quiet way Jamie was sitting behind her. More than once Eddie had to call her name to get Dani to stop looking over her shoulder at where Jamie was fiddling with the pages of a book or staring out the window.

"Danielle."

Dani started and turned back around. "Sorry," she said again. "Sorry. I - uh -" Turning over the character sheet, she re-read her list of actions. "I use Turn Undead?"

Eddie mimed an explosion emanating from the little token that denominated her character, pushing aside various other tokens that surrounded it. “With the strength of your conviction and the name of your god’s name upon your lips, you show your holy symbol and the skeletons around you crumble into dust in a blaze of light! All except -” he lowered his voice dramatically, pushing forward one of the tokens, “- for one.”

“Oh, shit,” Carson whispered, eyes wide, utterly rapt.

Without warning, Jamie scrambled from the back of the couch, half falling to the floor and racing to yank open the front door. All three of them — Eddie, Carson, and Dani — jumped in surprise, turning to stare as she ran from the house.

"What's gotten into her?" Eddie muttered.

Craning her neck, Dani pushed herself upright and peered out the window. A familiar truck had pulled up to the curb out front. She couldn't hear what was happening, not over the noise of Tommy and David's music, but she could see Nan pushing open the driver seat door and laboriously stepping out onto the pavement. Jamie was lingering at the other door, its window rolled down so she could lean on her elbows and exchange words with her grandmother.

"Oh! Mrs. Heron's back!" Carson said, abandoning the game of dungeons and dragons in favor of trotting off to the kitchen and hollering, "Mom! Mrs. Heron's back!"

Whatever Judy replied was lost as Dani wandered over to the open front door. She hesitated at the threshold, watching as Jamie's posture rapidly shifted from tense to relieved to tense all over again. Nan glanced up, saw Dani standing there, and gave her a tired looking wave. Dani returned the gesture, but Nan had already turned her attention back to Jamie, murmuring something that made Jamie's head jerk back as though she'd been physically struck.

Behind her, Dani could hear Eddie muttering to himself. She turned to find him cleaning up the coffee table. With a grimace, she returned to the living room to help him. "Sorry," she said as she shuffled together all of the various pieces of paper into a neat stack. "I was having fun. I swear."

"Mmm," said Eddie, sounding unconvinced.

"Do you want to finish the story tomorrow?" Dani asked and she handed over the pages.

Before he could answer, Nan limped through the front door. In one hand she leaned her weight heavily upon the polished wooden cane, but in the other she cradled in the crook of her elbow what appeared to be a bundle of blankets.

"Jesus Christ," Nan winced when she first stepped inside, aiming a sour glance up at the ceiling. "And I thought Louise's house was a racket."

"Hi, Mrs. Heron," said Eddie, packing up the last of the game along with his books. "Did you have a nice trip?"

"Loaded question, that one," Nan replied dryly. "Best answered over a cup of tea, I think."

"I heard the word 'tea.'" Judy emerged from the kitchen. She wore a flour-splattered apron and a smile as broad as it was warm. "Welcome back, Ruth. Long flight?"

With a grunt, Nan corrected her, "Flights. Plural. And I would kill for a half decent cuppa."

"I make no promises about decent, but Jamie’s been teaching me, so it will be tea."

"Ta."

Nan smiled wearily at Judy before she crossed the living room and lowered herself onto the same couch Jamie had been waiting on all day now. She groaned lightly, her movements stiff, treating the bundle of blankets in her arm as though it were a swaddling of gemstones. Outside, the car door slammed shut. Jamie stomped up the walkway towards the house. When she came inside, she paused to wipe her bare feet on the mat.

In puzzlement, Dani glanced between her and Nan. Ever since last night, Jamie had been a cluster of nerves. All short syllables and tense jaw. If anything, she seemed more ill at ease than before.

Carson came back into the living room, greeting Nan cheerfully before he got roped into helping Eddie carry everything back upstairs. Rolling his eyes, Carson nevertheless let his arms be piled up with books. As the two of them went up the stairs, Carson yelled for Tommy and Eddie to turn off the music since they had company. At the noise, Jamie's fists clenched at her sides and Dani could see the way her throat worked when she swallowed.

"You're awfully quiet," Nan said with a nod towards Dani.

"Sorry," said Dani.

Nan rolled her eyes. "I see that good for nothing mother of yours removed some of your spine in my absence. After all my hard work, too." She tutted, shaking her head.

Dani blinked. She opened her mouth to reply, but then the bundle in Nan's arms squirmed. When Nan set aside her cane and began to bounce the bundle up and down in a gentle rocking motion, Dani blurted out, “You have a baby?”

Nan looked at her as though she’d grown an extra head. “Don’t be daft. He’s not mine. Well -” she frowned off into the middle distance. “- As much as she’s mine, I suppose.”

Jamie’s stiff scowl deepened when Nan gestured towards her. When Jamie muttered something acidic under her breath, Nan said waspishly, “Speak up. If you’re going to say something unfortunate, you might as well be loud about it.”

Jaw clenched, Jamie lifted her voice enough to be heard. “I said: I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me that’s why you were going.”

“Wasn’t aware I needed your permission,” Nan drawled. A tiny hand worked its way free of the blanket and grabbed at her chin. Nan leaned her head away with a sigh. “Enough of that, you fussy fannybaws.”

Dani rose up on her toes as surreptitiously as she could in an attempt to get a better look at the baby, but she immediately sank back down to her heels again when Jamie snapped, "What about Denny?"

Nan's expression was hard as flint. "He's eighteen and long gone. Don't waste your breath on the likes of him. Too much like your father, he is."

"And whose fault is that, then?"

Nan glowered and it were as though any vestigial warmth in the room was sucked out of the house. Eyes wide, Dani held her breath, wishing she could sink into the floor. Anything to not be privy to this conversation.

"Now, I've had a long few weeks," Nan said coldly, "And I'm in no mood to tussle with you today. If you're that keen for a smack, we can talk tomorrow after I've had a sleep."

There followed a moment of agonizing silence, in which Dani tried to appear as unassuming and insignificant as possible. She looked at a spot on the floor and remained very still until — without another word — Jamie stormed off down the hallway. Just as she stalked out, she nearly ran into Judy, who was emerging from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand.

"Woah!" Judy swerved to narrowly avoid barrelling straight into seventy pounds of distilled ire. She stared after Jamie and shook her head when there came the crash of a door being slammed. Turning to Dani, she asked, "What on earth did I miss?"

Dani shook her head. Meanwhile from the couch Nan made a noise halfway between disgruntled and exhausted. Judy crossed the room to sit beside her on the couch, and as she handed over one of the mugs her eyes widened. "Oh," she said with dawning realization. Her mouth retained a round drawn out moue, and her eyes moved from Nan, to the baby, to the hallway where Jamie had just stormed off, and back again. "I see." Then she added, "Do you want me to add some whiskey to this?"

With a snort of laughter, Nan took the mug, careful to manoeuvre her hands so she wouldn't spill a drop on the all important parcel in her lap. "Normally I'd say yes, but I need to drive us home later."

"Well, the offer stands. I can drive you and Jamie home," Judy murmured around the lip of her own mug, "And it seems like you need it."

"It's not all that bad."

Judy gave Nan a look.

Nan sighed and took a sip of her tea. "Maybe that bad."

"Your daughter -?" Judy asked, trailing off without finishing the question.

In answer, Nan hummed and though the sound was wordless it carried all the bitterness she could muster. "The one and only."

"Louise, right? And what about -?" Judy made a covert motion with her free hand that Dani did not quite understand.

Nan seemed to get the message however, for she shook her head. "No. Someone else."

"And he's -?"

"Around?" Nan finished for her and then let out a bark of laughter. "No, I daren't say he is.”

Dani fidgeted, and suddenly two sets of adult eyes were upon her. Judy seemed a bit uneasy, clearing her throat and crossing her legs at the ankle.

“Dani,” said Nan. Her voice had softened somewhat, but her expression was unreadable. “Go get Jamie, love.”

With a nod, Dani turned heel and left, grateful for an excuse to depart the room. Behind her Judy and Nan struck up their conversation once more, but their voices were lowered to covert murmurs and Dani did her best not to listen. The music from upstairs had been turned down, and as she passed by she could hear Mike descending the steps and the O'Mara boys bickering in the backdrop. Dani ducked her head and hurried further along.

The hall leading to the garage was empty. Fumbling for the light switch, Dani flicked them on. Dim light flooded the narrow corridor. As she approached the garage, she could hear the sounds of banging, metallic and intermittent and not wholly loud. As though someone were carelessly casting aside tools in search of something else. Slowly, she opened the garage door and poked her head inside.

Jamie was crouched before her partially dismantled bicycle — the one she had scavenged years ago. Her back was to the door and she rummaged through a battered red toolbox that collapsed outward with trays when opened. Jamie tossed down a socket wrench, then picked up another, holding it up to her bike to see if it would match whatever fitting she was hoping to loosen.

Dani shut the door behind her as quietly as she could, but the click seemed to echo through the garage regardless. Items were scattered about on the cut concrete between them. A grease-streaked towel here. Remnants of a woodworking project here. Jamie seemed to take no notice in Dani's presence, though she must have known she was there. Dani's hand lingered on the painted texture of the door, hand bunched up at her back before she pushed herself forward. Jamie's head remained bowed over her work, shoulders hunched, movements sharp. When Dani stood close enough that she could reach out and touch her — could but didn't — she stopped.

"It's nice to have Nan back," Dani ventured.

Jamie hummed in answer but said nothing.

"I missed her," said Dani.

For a moment Jamie's movements stilled. When they started back up again it was with a vengeance, as though Jamie could take out all her frustrations on the old bike frame. "Wish she'd stayed back there," Jamie growled.

"That's not true," Dani said softly.

She could see the way Jamie's ribs expanded against the fabric of her t-shirt with a deeply indrawn breath. Her hand seemed to be trying to throttle the life out of the socket wrench, white-knuckled and tense. Then she began loosening the bolt that held the bike's back wheel in place. "Don't know why she had to go around sticking her nose into other people's business," Jamie said. "Again."

"Is that what you want?" Dani asked. "For her to have left you alone in the first place?"

"Maybe. No. I don't know," Jamie snapped.

She still hadn't looked up from her work, still hadn't so much as glanced in Dani's direction. The bike hardly needed the attention. Over the years she and Mike had spent so much time tinkering over the thing that it might as well have been entirely new but for the base frame. And even that had been given reinforcing and several new coats of paint. It was, Dani understood, never about Jamie really wanting to fix something — a bike, a car, turning a new handle for an old chef's knife. It was just something for Jamie to do with her hands.

Dani slowly placed her hand on the arch of Jamie’s back, feeling the muscles bunch up beneath her palm. “Then what do you want?”

She let her hand slip away, falling back to her side when Jamie answered, “For things to go back to the way they were. No excitement. No yelling. No new baby. Things are going to change because she -” Jamie grunted as she twisted at the socket wrench “- had to go and ruin it.”

“Not all new things are bad,” Dani pointed out, but Jamie wasn’t having any of it.

"I don't want -" Jamie said stubbornly "- another brother. This one's probably only half related to me anyway."

Dani crossed her arms. “Hey, that’s not fair.”

“True though,” Jamie replied with one of those bitter grins of hers.

“He’s just a baby. It’s not like it’s his fault.”

That logic seemed to bounce right off, for Jamie just shrugged and lifted the tire away, setting it down on the ground. "Doesn't matter. Still has consequences, doesn't it? People talk. People always fuckin' talk."

"Nobody cares," Dani said firmly. "Who is going to find out, anyway? He's too young to go to school. We'll have graduated by the time he even learns to use full sentences."

Jamie laughed and it was a breathless, incredulous kind of sound. She shook her head, looking over her shoulder at Dani with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Think Nan's going to be the one taking care of him? 'Cause she's not." Jamie pushed at her knees and rose to her feet. She tapped the socket wrench against her own chest, her hands smudged with streaks of dark grease. "That'll be on my head, soon. Just you wait."

Frowning, Dani held her ground. "She isn't going to just up and leave you alone with a baby, Jamie."

"Yeah. Sure. Right."

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Is it?" Jamie took a step closer to Dani, but she was pointing towards the garage door with the wrench. "Last time, I was the kid, and mum up and left, and Denny was off doing fuckall, and dad was too busy in the mines to remember he still had kids! And then she -!" Jamie stabbed the wrench towards the door again as if brandishing a weapon, "- comes 'round like she's saving the fuckin' day! And I’ll be the one left holding the can! Again!”

It took a moment for Dani to find her voice, to put together the pieces of what Jamie had revealed — glimpses of a past that she normally held so close to her chest like a fan of cards now tilted just slightly, just enough to peek — to say, “You won’t.”

If anything Jamie seemed puzzled by this response. Her brows furrowed and she blinked. “What -?”

“You won’t,” Dani repeated. “Because you’re not there anymore. You’re here.”  

Jamie opened her mouth to reply, but no noise came out. Her hands were fists but the lines of her face softened somewhat. As much with bewilderment as anything else. As though Dani had tripped her along the war path. As though the wind had been directed right out of her sails.

"You're here," Dani repeated, voice softer now. She reached out to touch Jamie's wrist, curling her fingers around a notch of bone leading to her hand. "And Nan isn't going anywhere. And neither are you."

"You don't know that," Jamie breathed.

Dani's hand drifted down until her finger grazed the handle of the socket wrench. She gently urged Jamie's grip to slacken until she could take the wrench and set it down. "Maybe not," Dani said. "But you have today. Focus on today. Not tomorrow. One day at a time."

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded. Dani waited, but Jamie simply stood there, silent and uncertain. Two weeks ago, Dani might have asked if Jamie wanted her to leave, if Jamie wanted to be alone, but now she took Jamie by the hand and tugged her softly towards the door leading back into the main house. Jamie's fingers still held a slight tremor; she allowed herself to be led along. When Dani took the first left as they entered the hallway, Jamie's brow furrowed.

"Where are we -?" she asked as Dani pushed open the door leading to the downstairs bathroom.

Dani switched on the sink tap, setting the water to warm. "Need to wash your hands."

For some reason, Jamie must have thought that was funny for she laughed, a short, breathy sound.

She could have easily washed her hands herself, but she let Dani urge her hands beneath the warm steady stream, let Dani lather a bar of soap between their sets of hands. Streaks of grime were swept down the drain. Dani hardly noticed how close they were standing — their sides jammed together, their knees knocking together — focusing instead on letting the water stream over their wrists and knuckles, focusing instead on twisting the tap shut and drying Jamie's hands with a towel. She half expected Jamie to pull away, to laugh and say she could do this herself, but Jamie didn't. And when Dani glanced up, hanging the towel back on its hook, Jamie was watching her with that blank expression of two weeks ago. As though Dani had happened upon her in a dream.

"You okay?" Dani asked. She wiped any residual water from her own hands upon the front of her shirt.

Jamie nodded, but her smile appeared forced. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Dani searched her gaze, but Jamie’s eyes were steady and unblinking. She was about to ask again, insist even — ‘Tell me. Don’t hide from me’ — but then Jamie was straightening her shoulders and walking back into the hallway. For a moment Dani hesitated, gripping the front of her own shirt, before she trailed after her down the corridor and back into the living room.

Nan and Judy were sitting on the far couch pushed up against the wall, while Mike had taken one of the armchairs nearest his wife. Empty cups of tea were littered across coasters on the coffee table. The adult’s conversation paused when she and Jamie walked into the room, but resumed once again when it was apparent that Jamie was only moving to sit on the other empty couch. Jamie dropped down onto the cushions, feet splaying out and arms crossing, but she was here.

Dani shot Nan a questioning look, and Nan gave her a slight nod as thanks. The pleasure at having done something right buzzed straight down Dani’s spine — a heady mix of elation and relief — and she took a seat beside Jamie.

“Go on, then,” Nan held out the baby to Jamie. “Take him.”

Looking horrified, Jamie leaned away. “I don’t want -”

“Jamie Katherine Taylor, if you think I won’t scalp your arse in front of all these people, you’re dead wrong. Now, take him.”

At the sound of her full name being used, Jamie’s face went an ugly shade of red and splotchy all over. It was only the second time Dani had ever heard Nan use Jamie’s full name before, and the first time had similar effects. Jamie’s throat worked and slowly her face lost its flush of anger, and finally she rose from her seat, reached out and let Nan place the baby in her arms. Then, she slouched back against the couch beside Dani, keeping her eyes sullenly on the squirming bundle in her lap. Dani’s hand crept over as surreptitiously as she could manage and she simply rested it against Jamie’s leg, hoping that it might be a comforting weight. And gradually the tension in Jamie’s shoulders eased.

After a moment of awkward silence, Judy remarked, “Katherine’s a lovely name.”

Jamie shot her a look that should have left Judy maimed on the floor, but she said nothing.

“Not my first choice,” said Nan, settling herself back against the opposite couch and rubbing at the dark circles beneath her eyes. “But Louise was insistent.”

“And is Jamie short for anything?” Judy asked.

Jamie shook her head at the same time Nan said, “No. Just Jamie. After my brother.”

Leaning over to get a better look at the baby in Jamie’s arms, Judy said, “Well, we’re going to have to think of a nickname for this one, anyway. ‘Mike’ is already taken.”

On the sidelines, Mike smiled apologetically and shrugged.

Under her breath Jamie muttered, “Can just call him ‘Bawbag’ and be done with it.”

Nan smacked Jamie’s ankles with her cane.

“Ow!” Jamie hissed, jerking her foot away and glowering at her grandmother.

“Be nice to your brother.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. Her knee bounced up and down — as it always did when she sat still for too long — and the baby grabbed at her hair with greedy hands. With a wince, Jamie stopped jiggling her knee and bowed her head down. “Fuck’s sake. You too?” she muttered under her breath, low enough that Dani was the only one who could hear. “Let go.”

Reaching over, Dani helped pry apart surprisingly strong little fingers from around Jamie’s hair. Every time it seemed they managed to get him to let go, his other hand would grab at her again. Eventually Dani let him grasp at her individual fingers instead, and Jamie was finally free.

“What about ‘Mac’?” Judy said. “That’s a Scottish thing, isn’t it?”

Nan made a face like she’d bitten into a lemon. “That’s even worse than just ‘Michael.’”

“Well, what’s wrong with plain old ‘Michael’?”

“Everything,” said both Nan and Jamie in unison.

“Hey, now,” said Mike, wounded.

As they lobbed nickname ideas back and forth, Dani leaned her shoulder against Jamie’s to look down into her arms, where the baby was squirming against the restraints of his blanket. He had a red and scrunched up face and a shock of dark hair cowlicked to his head. Dani tried to tuck his arms back into the blanket, but he wormed his way free despite her best efforts. When his eyes weren’t closed, he blinked as though against a bright light, turning his face in an attempt to hide from it, but the moment Dani covered his face with the blanket he pushed at the fabric in a fit of fledgling pique.

“You really are fussy,” Dani murmured, but she smiled and tugged the blanket down over his face again, biting back a snort of laughter when he pushed against her hand with a wordless whine of complaint. Without glancing up Dani said, “What about ‘Mikey’?”

The conversation died down and everyone turned to look at her. Dani blinked up at them, still half bowed over Jamie’s lap so that their shoulders were pressed up together. The baby had grabbed hold of her hand between both of his now and was see-sawing her fingers back and forth. She kept her wrist loose and gave him free rein.

Her suggestion lingered in the air as they all mulled over the name. Judy tilted her head slowly back and forth as if weighing between options. Jamie’s frown had vanished. And Nan was contemplatively stroking the polished head of her cane, lips pursed in thought.

“The least worst option I’ve heard,” Nan said finally.

“Better than ‘Mac’ anyway,” said Jamie. “Or Michael.”

“Oh, aye.” With a sigh, Nan sat back and waved towards Dani. “Mikey it is, then.”

--

With the arrival of Mikey, summer began to wane at what felt like an increasingly steady state. Dani spent the time jumping from house to house to house, carrying her polaroid camera everywhere she went, not wanting to miss a thing. Not when it felt like they were all on the precipice of jumping into the unknown, the gilded halls of high school hot on their heels.

Those last few weeks were spent glued to Jamie and the boy’s sides, avoiding home as much as possible. Days were spent finally learning how to drive with the help of Mike, white knuckled around the steering wheel of his car while being egged on and teased with Jamie and Eddie sitting in the backseat, and doing much of the same when one of the others were in the driver’s seat. Dinners were spent around the O’Mara’s dining table and evenings huddled around the coffee table playing Eddie’s dungeons and dragons game — Jamie had finally been roped into playing as a Fighting Man with an uneasy amount of bloodlust and mischief in her eyes. There were also the occasional sleepover nights spent in the O’Mara’s backyard under the dark sky telling scary stories with Jamie terrifying them into sleepless nights over ghost stories from England.

And then there were days spent at the railway cottage. When Jamie insisted on spending as much time as possible away from the house, sprinting the days until the porchlight flickered twice as Nan called them home. They spent their time walking along the railway tracks, biking past endless corn fields in the evening sun, and chasing after summer storms, watching darkened swirling clouds that almost seemed to glow as they passed over corn fields.

The one day they got caught up in the edges of a storm, getting soaked to the bone by the flash of rain, Jamie had laughed and said, “Is this really what storm chasers do?”

“What do you think, idiot?” Dani had said over the crash of distant thunder and wind.

“Think I’ve got a knack for it,” Jamie replied, hands on her hips as she stared at the vortex of clouds, “Reckon we’ll finally see a tornado this year?”

Dani rolled her eyes so hard it nearly hurt before she dragged Jamie back home to the cottage where they spent the next few days shivering fiercely to the sound of Nan’s scolding.

For the times when Nan put her cane down so to speak, they were at home helping watch Mikey. Jamie still hadn’t truly taken to him, her mouth twisting with distaste for every lesson learned on feeding him to bathing him to changing his diapers, but she never spoke another word of disdain. At least, not in front of Nan. Her grumbling of sleepless nights due to Mikey’s growing teeth pains were reserved for Dani only. Though there were days where Dani would find the pair of siblings in the midst of a staring contest as Jamie fed him, as though they were having a silent conversation. Dani was sure to capture the moment the second she could with her polaroid.

Dani on the other hand was enamored. Helpless to big brown eyes that stared unblinkingly up at her, his wordless baby babble and bright laughter when she tickled his sides, his hands grasping at anything to hold as they wriggled around determinedly. Dani and Jamie learned very early on to keep their hair tied back whenever he was in a grabbing mood. The first time Dani managed to rock him to sleep, she was so surprised that she nearly didn’t want to hand him off to Nan to put him down in the crib she had gotten secondhand from Judy.

The boys meanwhile were in the state between being terrified of even sneezing near Mikey and utterly fascinated to be in the presence of a baby for the first time since Carson had been born. Carson himself nearly vibrated out of his seams of having a baby to introduce so many new things to, and specifically with the relief of not being the youngest anymore. Eddie in particular was near bugeyed the first time he held him, frozen solid to the couch in fear of being flayed alive by Nan as though with one sudden movement Mikey would go flying from his arms.

It was a summer Dani would be hard pressed to forget, but eventually it eased to a close and by mid-August, high school came calling. None of them were eager or thrilled for the start of the new school year, especially one in an unfamiliar environment, particularly Carson who would be the only one left in middle school. His mood became morose the closer the day came, quiet and ill tempered that even Dani wasn’t sure what to say beyond the fact that nothing outside of school was going to change. Not even Eddie knew what to say or even felt the need to say anything at all, but to reassure Dani with a roll of his eyes that Carson would be all right eventually.

The only thing that seemed to ease the tension from Carson’s shoulders was the day before school was to start when Jamie took him aside by the shoulders at the river, walking him a few feet away and talking in soft tones that Dani couldn’t hear. She watched them with a fond soft smile until they eventually returned, Carson sitting heavily next to Dani with a sigh and swiping away Jamie’s hand with a faint scowl when she ruffled his hair with a smirk.

Later, when Dani asked her what she’d said to him, Jamie only smiled faintly and shrugged, murmuring, “What I wished someone told me, I guess.”

Jamie didn’t elaborate, and Dani didn’t feel the need to ask, grasping Jamie’s hand with a grin.

The first day of high school felt like walking into a strange new land. Unfamiliar hallways and unfamiliar faces of upperclassmen. Tommy and David left them in the dust the moment they stepped foot on campus with mocking grins and calls of good luck.

“Some help they were,” Eddie muttered with a scowl, his knuckles white against the strap of his satchel as his eyes darted around nervously.

Jamie snorted. “Did you really think they weren’t gonna be dickheads about it?”

“Well - I -”

While Eddie floundered for a response, Jamie rolled her eyes and led them inside.

By the end of the day, Dani could proudly say that she’d only gotten lost twice, and hadn’t verged on some sort of internal meltdown when she ended up only sharing homeroom class with Eddie. For years, eight hours a day, five times a week, she’d had both Eddie and Jamie by her side during school. Being a freshman alone was already nerve wracking with the way upperclassmen would sneer at them in hallways, but this all together felt sacrilegious to Dani’s routine. Jamie had only huffed and shrugged helplessly before darting to her own class as Eddie led her away by the hand.

It was easier as the week went on. Learning all her teachers' names, discovering she shared most if not all classes with Jamie and Eddie in some form or another. By Friday, she had memorized hallways and the locations of the nearest bathrooms, and learned that North Liberty High took its extracurriculars seriously, for being as few as they were. During lunch after her lone AP English class she had by herself, the main hall leading towards the lunch room was lined with small booths displaying various sports and extracurriculars to sign up for. Dani lingered near a few, biting her lip in consideration as she held her books close to her chest.

There weren't many she was particularly interested in, though she knew her mom expected her to thoroughly fill her schedule and future resume for university. Volunteering for some kind of charity or community work had been one thing she’d been considering, along with tutoring and student council. When she neared the booth for cheerleading, her shoulders tensed and her stomach tightened, her eyes landing on a group of girls hovering around the booth already in their uniforms in the school’s colors of blue and white. Swallowing hard, Dani ducked her head to avoid eye contact and sped past them, hearing their ring of soft laughter and conversation as she went.

In the end, Dani ended up picking up pamphlets for the clubs she was vaguely interested in, along with a Young Democrats of America and Model UN pamphlets for Eddie, and after much deliberation, cross country and track and field pamphlets for Jamie. Just as she was about to pull open a door dividing the different wings of the school, it was opened for her and she looked up to see Roger smiling thinly at her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled and walked past him. She only made a few steps down the hall when she realized he was following close by. It wasn’t really anything untoward. They shared the same AP English class much to her surprise, and there was only one way from class towards her locker and the lunchroom and it was down the same hallway they walked now.

“Um, hey,” he said, stepping next to her, his thin frame slouched and swallowed up in his oversized flannel, his hands buried in his jean pockets.

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. “Hi,” she replied with the rising awareness that this was already the most they’ve spoken in years.

“Never realized how ambitious you were,” he said, offering her a faint grin.

“Sorry?”

He gestured towards the pile of pamphlets in her hand. “You just - you have a lot you seem interested in.”

“Oh - um. No, some of them are for my friends,” she murmured, pulling her books and papers closer to her chest, not looking at him.

“Right. Eddie and Jamie.”

“Yeah.”

He was silent for an awkward moment as they walked. “What clubs are they interested in?”

“Um, Eddie’s been getting really into foreign affairs recently, and Jamie’s really good at running so I got them some politics and track stuff."

“Cool. And - uh - what about you?”

This was by far the strangest conversation Dani’d had in forever. “Volunteering. Student council. You know, the boring stuff no one really cares about.”

“Right,” he said, chuckling.

She floundered for a moment before asking, “And you?”

“Track, maybe,” he muttered with a shrug. Dani gave him a puzzled frown, knowing very well he was nearly as bad as Dani was at running. Before she could question it further, he scratched the back of his shaggy brown hair with a sheepish expression, “My dad wants me to join a bunch of stuff like yours, but I...I kinda hate it.”

“My mom too, actually,” she said, and they both shared a commiserating look.

They were silent again for another painful second when, without warning, Roger asked, “Are you going to Homecoming?”

Dani froze, jerking to a stop to blink up at him. “What?”

He seemed abruptly and unusually shy as he stopped next to her, his cheeks pink as he slouched further into the bunch of his shoulders. “I mean - I’m not - ” he started, and exhaled sharply, “I just mean it’s our first for high school, right? I just wanted to know if you were planning on going.”

Dani blinked up at him, lost for words. She was nowhere even in the realm of thinking about Homecoming, much less planning on attending it, not when it was still over a month away, but the way Roger was shuffling his weight from foot to foot sent a shock of anxiety down her spine to her heart, jumpstarting it into a pounding rhythm.

“Are you -? I mean - Is this -?” Dani gestured between the two of them.

His eyes widened. “Oh — no, I’ve been thinking about going, and thought — I guess I thought it’d be cool if I knew someone nice was going, too,” he said, shrugging helplessly, “No one really talks to me besides Sterling and Jackie, and well - you know how they are.”

“Oh,” she murmured, and swallowed hard, shrugging. “Yeah, um - I might go. I don’t know.”

Roger nodded as they continued walking, scratching again at the back of his head, his cheeks turning near scarlet as he asked, “Do you think Jamie would go?”

“Um,” Dani murmured, and tried to picture Jamie in a dress under cheap dance lights, looking absolutely miserable, and had to refrain from laughing incredulously at the image. “I’m not sure.”

His shoulders slumped, looking oddly dejected as he sighed. “Right,” he murmured, and then slowly paused, frowning as his eyes zeroed on something down the hall.

Dani followed his line of sight to see Jamie’s familiar form hunched over in front of Dani’s locker, the lines of her back coiled tight and unmoving. Sterling and Jackie hovered next to her, both wearing wry smirks. Huffing loudly, Dani marched over with a scowl until she was close enough to hear the tailend of Sterling’s remark.

“ — don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just a couple of bucks.”

“Aren’t you forgetting that she can barely afford new clothes in the first place?” Jackie said with a cruel smirk, somehow already wearing a cheerleaders uniform, her hair pulled into a bouncy ponytail.

Clenching her teeth, Dani pushed her way in front of Jamie to face Jackie and Sterling, forcing her mouth into a thin smile. “Hi,” she said, an air of faux civility and sweetness to her voice, “Is there something you two needed?”

Neither of them seemed truly surprised to see her. Jackie rolled her eyes and said, “This act is getting a little old now, don’t you think?”

“I could say the same thing,” Dani said, nodding agreeably, her eyes sharp on them both. “Now, are you done? Or can we help you with something?”

Sterling shrugged. “Was just asking Taylor to borrow some cash for lunch,” he said, as though his family wasn’t one of the wealthiest in town, “Promised to pay her back, but she had to start kicking up a fuss about it — ”

“Ever stop to think about how she might have a good reason why?” Dani interrupted with a pointed glare, acutely aware that Jamie hadn’t so much as moved an inch and breathed a word behind her.

Expression darkening, Sterling took a step forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Jackie snorted. “Look at you, Clayton. Knight in shining armor,” she drawled, smirking as she crossed her arms and tilted her head at a mocking angle, “Your mom know you’re still playing babysitter to this loser? Or has she finally started regretting you being born yet?”

Dani’s knuckles went white around her books, her teeth clenched painfully tight as she felt her face and ears go red hot. A growl and metal clanging on metal sounded behind her. Before Dani could react to stop whatever violent reaction that was brewing from Jamie behind her, Roger’s tall frame stepped beside her.

“Hey, what are you guys still doing here?” Roger said, frowning at Sterling and Jackie, “We’re gonna be late for the lunch line.”

Dani blinked up at him, her jaw still wired tight, her breath shallow.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Sterling leaned heavily against the lockers and gestured towards Dani and Jamie. “I’m just trying to get some cash for extra, man.”

“By stealing it from us?” Dani grumbled.

“To borrow,” Jackie amended in an acerbic bite.

Dani raised her eyebrows and gave her a caustic smile. “I’m sure,” Dani said dryly, “Just like all the other times you borrowed our lunch money, right?”

Arching an eyebrow, Jackie looked to Roger. “Roger? Are you going to help us or what?”

Roger seemed to freeze in place, blinking down at Jackie and Sterling with a frown. Dani swallowed hard, any inkling of irate feeling sinking down the drain to be replaced with unease. Roger’s gaze darted towards Dani’s, holding it for a moment before flickering over her shoulder to Jamie, and to her surprise, she found a pool of shame dimming his eyes, his cheeks pink. He ducked his head briefly before pulling up straight to his full height, his shoulders pressed back and his expression hardened, looking very much like the same angry, violent boy he used to be. But instead of aiming it towards Dani and Jamie, he was looking directly at Sterling and Jackie.

“No,” Roger said, “I’m not.”

Jackie scoffed, wearing an incredulous smile. “Excuse me?”

“They’re not giving you any money. You’re wasting your time,” Roger replied, and crossing his arms, he added, “And mine.”

“Don’t be like that, man,” Sterling said, “I just need an extra five bucks or whatever.”

“If you want to clean out the schools stash of snacks that bad to resell later, then I’ll fucking buy it for you,” Roger said impatiently, “Now, can we go?”

Jackie rolled her eyes again. “Fine.”

Pushing off the lockers, Sterling grumbled something under his breath that only Jackie and Roger seemed to hear. Jackie snickered as Roger huffed, grabbing Sterling by the shoulders to frog march him firmly away. The trio left without another word, leaving Dani and Jamie to stare off after them as though the last five minutes never happened. Just as Dani was about to turn to check on Jamie, Roger glanced over his shoulder and gave Dani a faint apologetic grimace before disappearing around the corner. She blinked after him, blindsided once again.

Dani shook her head and spun around to face Jamie, eyes darting over her with a concerned frown, but Jamie wasn’t even paying her attention. She was hunched over the padlock that kept Dani’s locker securely shut, spinning the dial with jerky, agitated movements, her shoulders coiled taut, the muscles of her jaw sharp, and her brow darkly furrowed.

“Are you okay?” Dani asked, her hands twitching to reach out and grasp Jamie’s arm.

“What’s your bloody combination again?” Jamie muttered, pulling roughly on the lock, growling when it didn’t open, “Keep fuckin’ forgetting.”

Dani slowly wrapped a hand around Jamie’s wrist, and immediately Jamie’s hands went still and her shoulders slumped. With a sigh, Jamie eased aside and let Dani handle the combination.

“I’ll write it down for you later,” Dani murmured, pulling open the lock and swinging the locker open to shuffle around her various textbooks.

“Sure,” Jamie muttered, leaning her shoulder against the lockers. Dani caught her gaze and they exchanged small grins, but a faint hint of worry clouded Jamie’s eyes, “You all right? What Jackie said — Christ, I know she’s a cunt, but that was — ”

Dani huffed out a soft laugh. “Nothing I haven’t really heard from her before,” Dani said, shrugging when Jamie gave her a look. “Roger was unexpected though.”

Jamie snorted. “Sure.”

“Honestly kind of surprised you didn’t blow up at them this time.”

“Wanted to,” Jamie said darkly, glowering at the floor, “If you hadn’t shown up - or even bloody Roger - it wouldn’t have been pretty, believe me.”

Dani smiled softly at her. Ever since the brawl from two years ago, Jamie had been on a lengthy streak of good behavior at school, intent on keeping her promise of no more fighting to Nan this time. A surge of pride rushed through Dani, even as she watched Jamie shove her own books into Dani’s locker.

“You realize you have your own locker, right?”

“Yours is closest to the side entrance.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you had a super special entrance to sneak in and out of it.”

“Excuse you, I have done nothing of the sort.”

“Yet.”

Grinning cheekily, Jamie winked. At Dani’s laugh, she chuckled with a pleased smile. “Hey, you want to come over after school? Got something to show you at home.”

“Oh? Is it a surprise?”

Jamie shrugged. “Something like that.”

Grinning, Dani gestured to the bag she had shoved earlier this morning into her locker. “Good thing I packed, then.”

Peeking inside, Jamie nodded with an impressed grin. “Thought ahead, have you? Girl after my own heart.”

Dani snorted. “Shut up.”

At that moment, Eddie marched up beside them. “Hey, there you guys are. We’re late for lunch.”

Jamie sighed. “Why’s everyone banging on about lunch today. Jesus.”

Eddie shot her a puzzled frown. “Because I’m hungry?”

With a conceding hum, Jamie nodded. “Fair point,” she said, and dug into her jean pockets for change, “I’m making a run to the corner store, you lot want anything?”

“Beef Jerky,” Eddie immediately answered.

“Can I come?” Dani asked in lieu of an answer.

Jamie shot her a teasing grin. “You going deaf now, too? I said ‘run’ to the store.” Rolling her eyes, Dani shoved her lightly into the lockers. Jamie laughed goodnaturedly. “All right, crisps and Toastettes it is.”

--

At the end of the day, while waiting for Jamie to unlock the chains securing her bike, Eddie gestured to the bag Dani had slung over her shoulder. “Are you going to Jamie’s again?”

At Dani’s nod, Eddie failed to conceal the disappointed slump of his shoulders and his frown. Guilt swirled in Dani’s stomach, knowing she hadn’t spent as much time as usual with Eddie since Mikey arrived, too enamoured and eager to help Nan and Jamie.

When Eddie didn’t say anything more, Dani dug in her bag and pulled out the two flyers she had gotten for him. “I got these for you though,” she said, holding them out to him, “I know you already had your sights on baseball and tennis, but I wasn’t sure if you saw these.”

Eddie’s expression softened as he took them and looked them over. “You remembered,” he murmured, looking up at her, his smile bordering between fond and awed.

Beside them, Jamie snorted. “Hard not too with the way you’ve been going on about the election and this Carter fellow.”

Pressing his mouth together, Eddie gave Jamie a look that she smirked at. He shook his head and turned back to Dani. “Thanks, Danielle,” he murmured, and then paused, his eyes darting between her own, frowning in the same way he usually did when trying to solve a complicated math equation. And then, without warning, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

With the way her cheeks burned, Dani was sure she was just as red as Eddie as he quickly recoiled away, his eyes slightly wide. He roughly cleared his throat and began to stumble backwards, somewhat dazed.

“Talk to you guys later,” he said with a weak wave of his hand, and without waiting for a response, he spun around and speed walked away off campus down the block.

Dani was still blinking wide eyed after him when Jamie whistled low beside her. “Dunno about you, but that was like watching a car wreck in slow motion.” Huffing, Dani elbowed her hard in the ribs. Jamie grunted, jerking away into her bike, grumbling, “All right, you can just walk home, then.”

“Don’t,” Dani said, biting back an embarrassed laugh, “He was just being sweet.”

“Oh, he’s sweet on you, all right,” Jamie muttered as she hopped on her bike, and before Dani could even begin to process that, Jamie gestured behind her, “Hop on, we don’t have all day.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dani did as she was told. Patting Jamie’s shoulder when she was settled, Jamie promptly took off down the street in the direction towards the railway bungalow. On the way, they stopped to pick up takeout from Big Bill’s and about twenty minutes later of biking through suburbs and past fields of grass and corn, they reached Jamie’s home. She peddled them directly towards the back of the house where they hopped off, leaving the bike resting against the side of the house.

“Okay, where’s my surprise?” Dani asked, eyes darting around.

Chuckling, Jamie waved her over. “This way.”

Leaving her bag resting on the grass, Dani followed Jamie as she led her towards the trellis’ that bordered along the length of the house beneath the porch. It was a beloved spot of Nan’s to grow flowers, but this year she had bestowed Jamie the gift of trying her hand of growing her own from seed to colorful blossom. Despite the years Jamie spent helping Nan in the garden, working as her assistant for the more strenuous work of digging soil and ripping out weeds, Jamie had never gone without Nan’s guiding hand. For the longest time, Jamie had operated under the belief that Nan didn’t trust her to not kill her prized vegetable plots or flowerbeds, but this year had been a surprising change.

Every day since spring, Jamie had tended to her patch of flowers with more care and patience than what Dani was used to seeing, and when Dani neared the trellis, she knew the effort had been worth it. She gasped softly at what once had just been creeping vines and vibrant, heart-shaped green leaves was now bursting with an abundance of bright blue flowers in the shape of trumpets.

“Jamie,” she breathed, stepping closer, eyes wide in awe, “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Jamie murmured, hands deep in her pockets, appearing unusually shy, “Took their sweet time to bloom, but here they are: morning glories.”

Dani slowly reached out a hand to gently run her thumb across a blue petal, the texture smooth to the touch. “Jamie, this is amazing,” Dani said, smiling wide at her, “I’m so proud of you.”

A pink tint creeped across Jamie’s cheeks, and she ducked her head to hide it. “Thanks, Poppins,” she murmured with a shrug, “Just a bit of flowers.”

“Your first,” Dani said, her smile fond. “You should be proud.”

“Guess so,” Jamie said, finally looking up, grinning shyly at Dani.  

And just then, the back door swung open to reveal Nan with Mikey in her arms. “There you two are,” she said, and tisked when Mikey began to wiggle at the sight of them, “You daft numpty, d’you want to break your skull?”

With an exasperated sigh that only Dani could hear, Jamie bounded up the porch steps to take Mikey from Nan’s arms. “All right, quit your fussing about,” she said over his wordless whines until he settled comfortably against her shoulder, grasping at her necklace.

Nan harrumphed. “Made for each other, the both of you,” Nan said, shaking her head, “Been giving me trouble all day.”

As Jamie visibly struggled to refrain from scowling, a tight pinch at the corners of her mouth, Dani grabbed her bag and started towards them, smiling warmly at Mikey. “That doesn’t sound right, he’s an angel,” Dani said, lightly grasping his free hand for him to hold and swing around.

Jamie snorted. “Only when you’re around,” she said, gently pulling the chain from his hands just as he was about to pull it into his mouth, “Think he likes you more than he likes us.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Dani said, giving her a look, but when Mikey began to lean out of Jamie’s arms to reach toward Dani, Jamie arched an eyebrow at her. She breathed out a small embarrassed laugh and let Jamie take her bag for Mikey to reach his way over into her arms. She smiled warmly at him and kissed his cheek, “Hey, sweet thing.”

His response was to stare blankly at her, raising an inquisitive hand towards her face, his fingers poking at her jaw and cheek. She pulled his hand away where he then rested his head against her shoulder to gnaw at her shirt.

Jamie chuckled, and said to Nan, “See what I mean? Think we just leave him with her and call it a day?”

Nan glared witheringly at her. “You best watch yourself. I’ve had enough of your cheek to last me a bleeding lifetime,” she said, and turned to enter the house.

“Doesn’t bloody know how to take a joke,” Jamie grumbled under her breath, watching Nan go.

“She just needs some food,” Dani said with a teasing grin, “Isn’t that the way to a Taylor’s heart? Food and a nap?”

“She’s a Heron,” Jamie muttered, “Don’t think they have hearts.”

Dani gave Jamie an admonishing look and kicked at her shoe before following Nan inside. Slightly abashed, Jamie huffed behind her as they chucked off their shoes.

“We brought you food from Big Bill’s,” Dani said to Nan in the kitchen where she was at the sink cleaning a feeding bottle.

“Still trying to butter me up, I see,” Nan said without glancing her way, faint amusement in her tone.

“It was Jamie’s idea.”

Nan paused at that, silently arching an eyebrow at her. “That right?”

Jamie muttered something under her breath behind her, but nonetheless pulled the brown takeout bag from Dani’s bag where it was keeping warm and dropped it on the kitchen table that wobbled under the sudden shift of weight. Without looking at either of them, she pulled out a container from the takeout bag and left it on the table.

“Steak and potatoes,” Jamie murmured, and without another word, she marched back outside with both bags in hand.

At the sink, Nan pressed a hand to her hip and shook her head. “That bloody girl,” she said, voice free of her normal cross disposition, sounding more nonplussed than Dani’s ever heard her.

Dani offered her a faint smile, shifting Mikey more comfortably in her arms. Nan sighed and waved her off. Dani left her with one last smile and returned to the backyard to find that Jamie had spread out a blanket in the grass for an impromptu picnic, already in the midst of wolfing down her burger and fries. Dani plopped down next to her and let Mikey roam free on the blanket as she unwrapped her own burger. They ate silently together, listening to the soft breeze blowing through the trees and tall grass in the fields surrounding the property. Jamie finished before her, as she usually did, balling up her empty wrapper and used napkins back in the bag before lying down with her head perpendicular to Dani's crossed legs.

“That’s not good for you, you know?” Dani said in between bites, “Lying down after eating.”

Jamie waved her off, her eyes closed. “I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it later.”

Dani smiled fondly down at her, making sure to keep an eye on Mikey as he wobbled and rolled on his stomach and sides. When she finished eating and cleaned up, she reached inside her overnight bag and pulled out Jamie’s pamphlets.

“I got these for you,” Dani said, resting them on Jamie’s chest.

Jamie peaked her eyes open, picking up the flyers to look them over, and grinned wryly. “Thought you’d forgotten about me with these.”

Though there was no bite to the words, Dani still frowned at her. “I wouldn’t forget you.”

Jamie chuckled softly. “I know,” she said, and waggled the flyers in Dani’s direction, “But you’re forgetting track starts in spring.”

“But there’s cross country in the fall,” Dani said, pulling down the track and field flyer to reveal the cross country one beneath.

“Cross country is a whole other animal.”

Absentmindedly grasping at strands of Jamie’s hair and starting to braid it, Dani said, “Mr. Roberts did say you were the best runner he’s seen in years. Don’t you remember him saying something weird once about you having fast feet to make up for your height?”

Jamie swatted at Dani’s leg. “Shut it,” Jamie grumbled as Dani laughed, “Besides, Roberts also once said I was the bane to his existence, so y’know, pinch of salt.”

“At least think about it? I just - I know you’d be really good at it,” Dani said.

Catching her eyes, a lingering tension around Jamie’s eyes softened and she slowly smiled, “Fine,” she said, “I’ll think about it.”

With a pleased, wide smile, Dani affectionately and gently tugged on the braid she’d been working on. Jamie’s head followed the movement and she sighed goodnaturedly, swiping away Dani’s hand.

“What about you, Miss Overachiever?” Jamie asked, “Still thinking of joining those mad amounts of clubs you mentioned.”

“Probably,” Dani shrugged noncommittally with a small frown, tearing her eyes from Jamie briefly to watch Mikey who had somehow managed to crawl near the edge of the blanket, trying not to think about the one club she didn’t stop to contemplate, “Not all of them, though.”

They were silent for a moment, until Jamie nudged her in the leg. “Hey,” she murmured, drawing Dani’s eyes back to her, “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“Your ‘thinking too hard’ face.”

Dani didn’t respond for a long moment, until she softly said, “Mom wants me to join the cheerleading squad.”

Blinking up at her, eyes wide, Jamie said, “She does remember you’ve got lungs like a dried grape, right?”

“Who do you think buys my inhaler prescriptions?” Dani laughed, then sobered, “I just - she was one when she was in high school. I guess she just - she wants the tradition to pass on.”

Jamie went quiet again, wearing a considering frown. “Well, she’s shit out of luck,” she said finally, “As intriguing as the sight of you in a cheerleader uniform is, I don’t need you dropping dead on me from an unfortunate and avoidable asthma attack.”

With a roll of her eyes, Dani flicked her in the head. Jamie laughed and swiped her hand away again.

“You know, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Jamie said.

“I know.”

“I’ll have a go at your mum if I have to.”

Dani laughed. “I know.”

“Good,” Jamie said, grinning impishly, “Just s’long as you know.”

They fell silent again, enjoying the quiet and Mikey’s murmured babbling. At the sound, Dani looked up at him and slowly cringed.

“Jamie?”

“Mm?”

“I think Mikey’s eating grass again.”

Jamie shot up to her feet from the blanket like a compressed spring let loose. “For fuck’s sakes,” she grumbled and pulled Mikey up to reveal that indeed, there were strands of grass stuck to his mouth and clutched in his tiny fist.

Dani laughed quietly as Jamie strode past her to delve back inside the house without a backwards glance, fussing over Mikey and brushing away grass from his mouth and hands, grumbling the entire time.

“You keep this shit up, and I’m not bringing you with me to the garden again, d’you hear me?” Mikey babbled in response. “Oh, yeah? Try me, see what happens. No bullshit, I will feed you to the vultures.”

Even as they disappeared inside the house, Dani could still hear Jamie’s muffled voice through the open windows and screen door, scolding Mikey the entire time. She smiled wide to herself, a surge of fond warmth spreading through her as she laid down on her back and listened. While waiting for their return, Dani pulled out Valley of the Dolls from her bag and read a few passages in the interim. After making it three pages further in, she heard the screen door swing open once more and dropped the book to her stomach to crane her neck to see Jamie quietly murmuring to Mikey as she showed him her morning glories.

Dani smiled softly at them, curiously watching as Jamie snipped a single bloom from the vines with a pair of shears, tucking the bloom in Mikey’s collar and tossing the shears onto the porch with a thud. Jamie didn’t meet her eyes as she returned with Mikey to the blanket, sitting cross legged and placing Mikey next to her. In addition to the morning glory tucked in his shirt, he now adorned a pale blue striped sun hat with a ribbon tied under his chin to keep it in place.

“The kid has something for you,” Jamie murmured with a faint smile.

Chuckling, Dani plucked the blue flower from Mikey’s shirt and brought it to her nose, grinning wide as she inhaled its sweet scent. “Thank you, Mikey,” she said, looking directly at Jamie as she smoothed a hand over Mikey’s back as he began to squirm away again. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Jamie ducked her head and shrugged. “Wanted to.”

Smiling to herself, Dani took one last smell of the blossom and inserted the stem into the pages of her book next to her bookmark. She folded the book shut, careful not to press on the petals. Setting the book aside, she tilted her head up to Jamie, watching her absently pull at grass as she looked off into the distance.

“You know what’s super funny?” Dani asked. Jamie grunted to indicate she was listening. “You sounded exactly like Nan just now.”

Jamie shot her a dirty look and Dani burst out laughing.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Jamie groused, flinging tufts of grass over Dani, “I snip off one of my hard earned flowers for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“I said it with love?”

“Uh huh. You’re just as bad as him,” Jamie said, jerking her head towards Mikey with a scowl.

“He’s just a baby, he’s not that bad,” Dani said, “He’ll get better once he grows a little more.”

“Oh, sure, and the bigger he gets the more we run out of room,” Jamie said, gesturing broadly towards the house, and groaned, lying down on her back to rest her head on Dani’s stomach and mumbled, “Barely had enough room as it is.”

Dani chuckled, reaching up to pat Jamie’s head, and ending up running her fingers through tangled curly hair.

“I see what you’re doing and it’s not working,” Jamie said, her voice already languid as Dani gently ran her nails over her scalp.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They fell silent again, watching the clouds and a plane pass overhead, leaving a long trail of water vapor behind.

“If you could have any kind of house you wanted, what would it be?” Dani asked.

Jamie huffed. “Silly question, inn’it.”

“Simple one, really.”

Jamie was quiet for a long moment, the silence filled with Mikey wandering back towards Jamie to rest against her chest. Peering down, Dani watched fondy as Jamie seemed to absentmindedly bring her hand up to run it over his back as he cooed and babbled. Finally, Jamie murmured, “Hard to see myself anywhere but here to be honest.”

“Really?” Jamie hummed affirmatively. “Not even just to make something up?”

Jamie shook her head and grinned faintly up at her. “What would be the point? S’never gonna happen anyways.” Dani opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words, not really knowing what to say. Seeing this, Jamie gave her a reassuring smile. “What about you? Any dream houses on your mind?”

“Nothing special, I guess,” she said, shrugging and mulling it over. “Two floors, maybe. White exterior. Blue shutters. A corner to read in with a big comfy chair and shelves for my books. A garden in the backyard like this one. An office space to work in. Room to have friends and family over.” She paused, worrying at her lower lip, her fingers twisting gently in Jamie’s hair. “I’d want it to be warm and welcoming. To smell clean like flowers and fresh laundry, and be a safe space for anyone who needs it.”

“Christ, you’ve really thought about it, huh?”

“No. Not really.”

“Must’ve come from somewhere.”

“Maybe.”

The screen door swung open with a creak along with the tap of a cane against wood, and they both craned their heads to see Nan on the porch watching them with an expression Dani couldn’t read, blank save for the faint furrow of her brows and tilt of her head. “I’ve got a pot brewing, loves,” she said, her voice abnormally soft, “Pop him in his crib and come get a cuppa when you’re ready.”

And without another word, she returned inside the house, the screen door banging behind her. Peering back down, Dani saw that Mikey had fallen asleep on Jamie’s chest and that Jamie was watching him with a faint look of panicked wonder. As though feeling Dani’s stare, Jamie’s eyes darted up to her and the expression promptly vanished.

“Not a word,” Jamie grumbled, carefully gathering Mikey in her arms and sitting up.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dani replied with a grin, already reaching inside her bag for her polaroid.

--

It was a rare day when Judy came over to Dani's house. Yet when Dani put on her shoes and called out her goodbyes on the way out, Judy had said she would walk her across the street.

Dani blinked up at her in confusion. "It's okay, Mrs. O'Mara. It's not far. I walk alone all the time. And Jamie walks to school by herself."

"Now, don't get me started on that," Judy warned, leaning over to pull on a pair of flats. "Anyway, I need to give back your mother's salad bowl."

Wondering why Judy didn't just give it to her for transportation across the street, Dani shrugged and waited. The boys had gone off to their various extracurricular activities, leaving her with little to do in their absence unless she wanted to trudge halfway across town to Jamie's house. Tempting an idea though that was, her mother had given strict instructions for Dani to be back home by five and it would take forty minutes to make it all the way to the railway cottage on foot. Another time, maybe. Another night.

Judy disappeared into the kitchen briefly — bang of cupboards and sauce pans — until she reemerged with the aforementioned salad bowl and a tupperware container full of leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Dani eyed the tupperware with puzzlement until Judy pressed it into her hands and made shooing motions towards the front door.

Bemused, Dani shuffled out of the house and across the street with Judy at her side. She tested the handle of her own front door, determined she did not need her key, and ushered Judy inside with a murmured, "Come in."

"You're late," her mother's voice called out from the distant kitchen.

Shoulders hunching, Dani winced. She started when she felt Judy's hand on her back and glanced up in surprise when Judy lifted her voice, "Sorry, Karen! My fault! She was helping me clean up!"

There was the squeal of a chair being pushed back followed by footsteps, and Karen walked into the living room still wearing her work clothes. The blouse was untucked slightly from her skirt and her hair had slipped somewhat free of its usual bun, giving her a rumpled relaxed appearance. Her pale eyes moved between Judy and Dani before she smiled thinly and gestured them forward.

"You didn't need to walk her over, Judy."

"It's fine," Judy insisted as she continued further into the house. "Really. I wanted to give this back to you."

Karen took the glass-etched bowl that Judy held out to her. "Well, thank you. That's very kind. Would you like to stay for a drink?"

"Oh," said Judy. "Yes. Sure. Just a small glass."

Dani watched this interaction in silence. She still stood by the entryway, hand holding the door open. When her mother gave her a look, Dani ducked her head and shut it, careful to not make too loud a noise. Quiet hitch of the latch. By the time she removed her shoes and arranged them neatly by the door, her mom and Judy had already disappeared into the kitchen. They didn't even glance in her direction when she came in after them. Making a beeline for the fridge, Dani stored the container of food in the back for later, hiding it behind a shuffle of condiment jars.

Her mother was reaching into a cabinet for another glass and a fresh bottle of red. An empty bottle already stood beside the sink. From Dani's position by the refrigerator, she could see several more clustered on the floor, hidden behind cabinetry and in front of the door leading to the garage. Conquests from earlier in the week.

Shutting the fridge door, Dani mumbled, "I'm going to go read in my room."

"Okay, sweetie," Judy replied brightly, though she was idly tilting her head to read the front page of the newspaper sprawled across the square dining table.

On her way past, Dani paused. "Um -?" she hesitated, glancing at her mom, who was twisting the cork free from the neck, and then at Judy. "Can I come over again tomorrow?"

The cork came free with an expert pop. Her mother's mouth opened to speak, but before she could do so Judy smiled and said, "Of course, you can."

Dani's eyes darted to her mother, but Karen was merely pouring healthy glugs of burgundy wine into the two glasses. Not waiting to be denied this opportunity, Dani quickly slipped away. She retreated up the stairs, only to stop at the very top. There, she turned back around and crept back down a few more steps, avoiding all the boards that creaked and groaned, until she sat atop her favored step, where the sounds of the kitchen and living room could be heard best.

"I'm sorry she's such a bother," she heard her mother saying. "I keep telling her that she can't spend too much time over at your house. That you have other things to do."

"Nonsense. She's always welcome," said Judy, sounding like she actually meant it. "The boys love her. And besides, I appreciate having a little more estrogen around the place."

"If you say so," Karen murmured. There was a pause, a chair being moved, followed by, "I don't know how you do it, honestly. Four boys? Most days I don't know what to do with one girl."

Judy laughed. "Well, Mike's a godsend, let me tell you."

"Mmm," Karen hummed around a sip of wine, a sound that was all too familiar. "Definitely would be easier with someone else to lighten the load. Sam wasn't the best candidate for the job — not by a long shot — but at least he kept her occupied."

There followed a pause, then Judy asking almost too softly to overhear, "Does she talk about him much?"

At that Karen snorted. "No. Thank God. Though for the first year after he died it was 'Dad this' and 'Dad that.' Like he was still around to give her permission or excuses."

"Kids," said Judy, "can bounce back pretty quick, but they still need time to adjust. And she's adjusted just fine, by the looks of things."

"Better than I have, if I'm being honest," Karen said. Clink of glass against the table. "Sometimes I still come across his things around the house. Right when I least expect it. When I’ve thought I’ve finally forgotten all about him. Then suddenly there’s little pieces of him scattered around like — I don’t know. And then it’s like he never left.”

Judy's answer was gentle. "You're doing great. And, you know, Danielle isn't the only one welcome to come over when she wants company."

Dani couldn't remember the last time she'd heard her mother laugh — really laugh — even if it was wobbly, weak, even if her words were already starting to slur slightly. Karen cleared her throat, then Dani could hear the familiar sound of another glass of wine being drained and poured.

Shuffle of the newspaper beneath a set of hands. "Is this today's?" Judy asked.

Karen hummed, the noise rounded as it echoed in a glass.

"Is it baseball season yet? I can never keep track." Judy turned a few pages of the paper. "The boys have been driving me mad at the house this summer, and Mike promised to take them to a game."

"Never was one for sports," said Karen. "Did you read about the latest news from the Courts?"

"No?"

"Well, I have a friend who's a clerk there. You know Graham?"

Crinkle of the page and a noise from Judy indicating that she did indeed know a man by that name.

"At the gardens a few weeks ago," Karen continued and Dani's stomach swooped at the memory of the corporate function at the botanical gardens, "we got to talking about this Pilcher case."

"The sodomy one?"

"Yes, that one."

"I thought it'd already passed? Reynoldson was pretty clear about it."

"Well, Graham says that they're already slammed with appeals. Says that it's just a matter of time until they repeal more than that."

For a moment there was silence. Dani had very little idea what they were talking about — she made a mental note to look up the word ‘sodomy’ later, or perhaps ask Nan — but she listened for any clues.

“I don’t see how that has much to do with us,” Judy said.

“Soon they’ll be teaching queer nonsense in schools, and then it will have something to do with us.”

“They’re teenagers, Karen. The twins are turning seventeen this year — God help me. You remember what that was like. You think they don’t already have some idea of that kind of thing?”

“If they do,” her mother said in those cool clipped tones, “then it’s because of bad influences. And if it’s been taught, then it can be untaught.”

Judy sighed. “I suppose. Thank you for the wine. I should probably get back. I left Mike to finish prepping dinner, but I’ll need to make sure the kitchen isn’t on fire.”

Karen’s answering laugh had returned to the usual stiff and reedy variety that lacked any real joy. There was the scrape of chairs and the rustle of the newspaper pages against the wooden tabletop.

“Oh, no. You don’t have to,” said Judy. “I can show myself out.”

“You sure?”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you on Sunday!”

Footsteps down the hall. Judy came into view at the bottom of the stairs as she walked towards the front door. Dani was frozen in place like a deer in the headlights. She held her breath and remained still, as if moving would draw the attentions of a shark parting the waters. Judy paused at the base of the steps to glance over her shoulder back towards the kitchen, patting at the rear pocket of her jeans to check for keys, but she stopped when she caught sight of Dani further up the stairs, crouched and wide-eyed.

Dani’s heart pounded in her chest. It had been years since she’d been caught eavesdropping. Scampering up the stairs at the last second always ended badly. Flight was as good as proof of guilt.

Judy lifted her hand in a brief wave and offered Dani an anemic smile. When Dani did not return them, Judy continued on her way and she was gone.

--

Dani heard a tap at her window. She ignored it. Just that old tree branch that had grown too close and brushed up against the side of the house when there was a breeze. She wished her mother would hire an arborist to come trim it, but knew she would probably be the one to go over to the O'Mara household and ask to use some tools to do it herself. Most likely Eddie and Jamie would leap at the opportunity to help. And maybe Carson, though chances were he would just stand by Dani's side while they craned their necks and watched the other two risk life and limb to do this menial task.

Another tap. Louder this time. Heavier. Dani frowned and rolled over in bed. The air was utterly still and the tree branch was unmoving. She blinked, startled, when the tap came again and she saw something plink against the window and fall back towards the ground. Throwing off the sheets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and crossed the room to open the window and poke her head out into the night air.

"Took you long enough. Bloody hell."

Dani gripped the windowsill and hissed, "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Jamie gestured to the ground around her. "Hurry up and come down."

"What?" Dani said, incredulous, and froze when she thought she heard the floorboards creak outside her room. She held her breath, looking over her shoulder and listening to her mother stumble past. Karen was murmuring to herself the way she did when she’d indulged in one glass too many.

Dani should have checked on her. She should have checked for the smoking butts of cigarettes between the couch cushions. She should have cleaned up the mess of a kitchen. Wine-dark rings on the table. The residue of a glass and stem.

Instead, she turned back to the window and said in a low voice, "Give me a sec."

Gripping the hem of her nightgown, Dani pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the bed as she crossed the room. She opened a chest of drawers and tugged on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater. She was pulling her hair back with a hair tie when she cautiously opened her bedroom door and, as quietly as she could, shut it behind her and sneaked down the stairs. She held her breath the whole way down and carried her shoes in her hands out the front door.

Jamie had moved around the house and was sitting on the stoop. She twisted round when Dani sat beside her. "Don't know why you're so nervous," she said. "Your mum sleeps like the dead after she's had a few."

Sighing, Dani pulled on her shoes. "Wish Nan slept that soundly. If she finds out you're out tonight -"

"She won't," Jamie said.

Dani paused in the act of lacing up her shoes to give Jamie a significant look.

Jamie rolled her eyes. "She had a glass of sherry. Plus, Mikey’s been driving her mad the last few evenings. She’ll be out like a light tonight."

"Hmm." Dani finished the final lace and leaned her elbows on her knees. "So, what are we doing?"

With a devilish grin, Jamie held up a set of keys and shook them. "Care for a drive?"

Dani's eyes widened. "You didn't."

"I did."

"She's going to be so angry."

"Only if she finds out."

Dani arched an eyebrow. In retaliation, Jamie knocked their ankles together. "C'mon. I bought us tickets and everything."

"Tickets? To what?" Dani asked, but Jamie was already standing and offering her hand, and Dani was taking it, allowing herself to be hauled to her feet and dragged along to the street.

"One of those outdoor picture theatres," Jamie said. She let go of Dani's hand when they reached the run down old truck that Nan had bought off of a local farmer when they'd first moved to town. Rounding the truck to yank open the driver's seat door — nobody ever locked their car doors in North Liberty; most people hardly locked their front doors in North Liberty — Jamie said, "Said you wanted to go to one of those, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," said Dani, pulling open the passenger's side and sliding up into the high seat. "But I didn't think anyone was listening at the time."

"Well, I was." Jamie slammed her door shut and stuck the key into the ignition before buckling up. She glanced over at Dani to check she had her own seat belt on, then stamped on the clutch and turned the key. The engine sputtered to life. Jamie flicked on the headlights, put the truck into gear, and pulled away from the curb as though she'd done this a thousand times and not only twenty.

"Have you and Mike been practising without me?" Dani asked, watching the smooth ease with which Jamie shifted gears.

"Nah," said Jamie, not taking her eyes off the empty road. "Nan's been having me drive her places. Says her leg's been acting up."

"Ah, yes. The old war wound," Dani said dryly.

Jamie snorted derisively. "What rubbish. Probably just got trod on by a horse, the daft cow."

"You're very brave when she's not within earshot."

"So're you, you fuckin' hypocrite."

Dani grinned, letting herself settle into the worn seats, the old leather cracked with age and overexposure to sunlight. Whereas her mother's car was always a warren of old wrapping papers and receipts, loose pages and empty water bottles that smelled of vodka, Nan's truck was incredibly tidy. There was nothing to tangle up around Dani's feet when she stretched out her legs. An air freshener in the shape of a pine tree dangled from the rear view mirror, and there were tell tale signs of a rag that had been used to dust the dashboard. Jamie's handiwork at Nan's insistence, no doubt.

"Where is this place anyway?" Dani asked as Jamie shifted into fifth and sped up on the motorway. The ground was eaten up by the tires. The glow of the stars was faint compared to the glare of the truck's headlights parting the gloom.

“Grandview.”

“Grandview?” Dani repeated. “That’s, like, an hour away!”

“I promise to get you home before dawn,” Jamie drawled.

"You'd better. I don't want to turn into a pumpkin."

Jamie snickered. "Awfully cute pumpkin, though."

Dani pushed Jamie's hand off the gear stick. "Shut up."

Jamie let her hand be shoved aside, using the momentum to reach for the radio and flick it on. "Find us something, won't you?"

Dutifully, Dani leaned forward and began fiddling with the dial, sliding through frequencies until she landed on a station. "This one all right?"

Jamie shrugged and rested her hand back on the gear stick. "Your choice, inn’it?"

"Yeah, but I want to make sure you like it, too."

Turning her head quickly, Jamie flashed her an indulgent smile before staring out at the dark stretch of straight road before them. "Long as you're enjoying yourself, I don't mind much. Any music's fine."

For a moment, Dani said nothing. She let the grind of guitars play out for a few seconds, then reached out for the radio again, turning the dial until she found a pop station she actually liked. She furtively checked for a reaction, but all Jamie did was tap along to the rhythm against the steering wheel.

The inside of the truck was boiling, but neither of them bothered with the air conditioning. Dani cracked the passenger side window and leaned her head against the frame to let the warm August air pull across her face. Jamie already had her window rolled down, one elbow leaning against the open gap while she steered with one hand. Dani did not realize she was staring at the way Jamie's messy brown curls were tousled by the fast-moving air, until Jamie stole a glance over at her and grinned.

"See something you like?"

Dani smiled and looked back down the stretch of road before them. "You wish."

Jamie did not answer. Instead, she leaned forward and turned up the volume until the music drowned out the rush of the night air. Dani tucked a stray curl of blonde hair behind her ear and studied the roil of clouds in the sky. The night was humid and tense, as though the heavens were holding their breath in anticipation.

"Should be a big storm," Dani said idly over the music.

Jamie hummed, then replied, "Paper reckons it'll break on the weekend."

"You sure this isn't one of your hare-brained schemes to chase storms again?"

Jamie rolled her eyes. "If it were, I'd've dragged you out tomorrow instead."

To this Dani conceded with a shrug and nod. Outside there called a roll of distant thunder across the plains, but no matter how much Dani craned her neck she couldn't see any lightning.

By the time Jamie pulled off highway 61 and turned down a few back roads, they had switched radio stations three times in search of songs to sing along to. Music blared from the open windows as they drove along, dust and laughter and mismatched singing curling in the wake of the truck's tires. Dani turned down the volume when she saw a big screen looming over a field, its surface already flickering with light.

"Are we late?" Dani asked.

Jamie turned over her wrist to check her battered old watch. "Nah. Two minutes. Tops. Right on time, really."

A bored-looking man at a farm gate checked the tickets Jamie handed over with a flashlight. He shone the light in their faces, and Dani flinched away from the sudden brightness.

"This is an R rated movie, Miss," he said.

"Yup," said Jamie. "Knew that when I bought the tickets."

For a moment Dani was afraid he was going to ask them for some form of identification, but then he just shrugged and pulled open the gate. Jamie gave him a lazy wave as they passed, which he returned, shutting the gate behind them.

Dani was still blinking purple spots from her vision when she leaned forward in her seat. "Jamie."

"Hmm?"

"What movie are we seeing?"

"The only movie that was playing," said Jamie. "Carrie."

Dani's brows furrowed in thought as she tried to recall the premise of the movie. She vaguely remembered seeing an ad in the paper with the title, but she hadn't seen a trailer.

A horror film, she knew. The last time she had seen a horror film, Tommy and David had made them watch The Exorcist in the basement. Carson had spent practically the whole time with his eyes covered by a pillow. Eddie had pretended to be unaffected, but every now and then he would grip Dani's hand and his jaw would clench as he swallowed. For her part, Dani kept waiting to be scared, waiting to feel the same thrill of fear that so clearly gripped the others, only to be vaguely disappointed when the anticipation was greater than the punchline. Or the pea soup, as it were.

"You all right with scary movies?" Jamie asked as she backed into a space beside a row of other already parked vehicles and killed the engine.

"They're okay. I haven't seen many," Dani answered honestly. "I think a better question is: why are we parked backwards?”

With a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows Jamie reached over the back of the seat into the cramped storage compartment between them and the base of the truck's bed. After a bit of rummaging around, she pulled out a pillow and a blanket. "Let's go," Jamie said, jerking her head towards the bed behind them. "I think it's about to start."

Grinning, Dani opened the passenger door and followed Jamie around the back of the truck. Jamie had already hopped out and opened the tray so that they could clamber up inside. It had been swept clean, not a speck of dirt to be found by Nan's critical eye. Jamie tossed down the pillow against the back and sat, peeling back the blanket to leave a clear space beside her. Dani took it without a hint of hesitation, pulling half of the blanket over herself and wriggling closer to Jamie so they could share.

The film had already been running for a few seconds. They’d missed the opening producer’s logo. On screen a group of girls was playing volleyball at school, and all of them were blaming the titular character for being bad at sports and making them lose.

Jamie nudged her side gently. “Didn’t know they made this movie about you, Poppins.”

Dani nudged her back not as gently. “Shut up.”

Jamie just snickered. As the title sequence began to roll across the visual of a locker room, Jamie pointed up at the screen. “Think I saw a tit,” she said.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Is that all you think about?”

Unabashed, Jamie just shrugged. “Usually. Yeah.”

Water and blood was running down a girl’s naked thigh on screen, but Dani hardly noticed. She was too preoccupied by the way Jamie's legs tangled up in her own, both of them wearing shorts. Skin against warm skin. When Dani rearranged her ankles to a more comfortable position, Jamie didn't even glance over at her, simply shifted so that Dani's calves were between both of her own, the two settling against one another. One of their shoulders overlapped. Dani could feel part of Jamie's chest rise against the base of her shoulder blade with every inhalation.

"Is this comfortable?" Dani murmured.

Jamie shot her a quick grin. “Yeah. ‘Course. You?”

Dani nodded. On screen Carrie was in the principal’s office, clutching folders and papers to her chest. “Wish I got a week off of gym class,” Dani said under her breath.

Jamie laughed and Dani could feel every movement. “At least your mum’s not as nutty as this one.”

Dani hummed in agreement but said nothing and the film rolled on. Most of what Dani knew of horror films involved chainsaws and sharks and priests chanting Latin at possessed girls. To her, chainsaws were useful tools. Sharks were all but nonexistent apart from a concept that involved distant oceans. And she had yet to come across a possession no matter how many times Jamie claimed Jackie Pullman was the Antichrist.

This was different. This was a quiet suburban district. This was familiar hairstyles. Familiar midwestern accents and familiar clothes. A school that might as well have been filmed on their own campus, and the kind of crude bullying classmates that made her wince. A mother dragging a daughter through the kitchen and locking her into a closet until she screamed, pounded at the door with fists and wails, voice raw, begging to be let out until she broke. Tremor and prayer and—

“Hey.”

Jamie’s voice jerked Dani from the screen. She was tense all over and squeezing Jamie’s hand tight enough that her own bones creaked.

“Sorry,” Dani mumbled. She tried to pull her hand away, but Jamie held her fast and warm.

“We can go,” said Jamie. “If you want. We can just go.”

Dani’s eyes darted back up to the screen, but the scene had passed. Mrs. White was accepting a kiss on the cheek from her daughter before bed and Carrie was crying into her own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

They could leave. It didn’t matter that Dani had been wanting to go to an outdoor picture theatre for the pure novelty of it. It wasn’t about watching a movie. Jamie would laugh it off and drive them back without even making Dani feel bad about it. They could take the long way home. They could wend their way back, lazy as you please, letting the August wind guide them. She could watch the way Jamie's hair caught the breeze, the way her face was lit up by the rare passing car. She didn't need an excuse to drive with Jamie for hours with no destination in mind, nowhere to be tomorrow, nothing but road ahead and road behind, long and straight as far as the eye could see.

Still, Dani shook her head. “It’s fine,” she insisted. “This is fine.”

In the night, in the soft light of the large screen stretching over a field, Jamie’s eyes were dark. The faintest glint of the screen reflected when she blinked, studying Dani’s face, her own expression inscrutable. Then Jamie smiled. "Right, then."

She shifted and for a brief moment Dani thought she was going to pack them up to leave regardless, but Jamie only moved around enough so that she could slip her arm around Dani's back, her hand lingering at Dani's waist. "Offer still stands," Jamie said. "Whenever you like."

There was a snarky remark on the tip of Dani's tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Not when Jamie was being sweet. She relaxed against Jamie’s arm with a sigh, letting her head lean against Jamie’s shoulder as they settled in for the rest of the movie. The premise only got more ridiculous. Somehow it was better with the supernatural elements. Less real. Carrie moving things with her mind. Carrie being less of a girl and more of a spectre. Dani actually had to bite her lip to hold back a snort when the bucket of blood dropped on her prom date and knocked him clean out on the floor.

“Bit silly,” Jamie said with a huff of laughter. She was a line of warmth against Dani’s flank. Her hand hadn’t moved from its spot at Dani’s waist in what must have been an hour.

“It’s the hose that gets me,” Dani said, miming it with her hand in Jamie’s face. When Dani dared to tap at Jamie’s nose, Jamie stuck out her tongue and Dani jerked her hand back with an amused squeak. Flames leapt up the twenty foot tall screen, shrouding Carrie in gruesome reds, but Dani was too busy wriggling away from Jamie's treacherous prodding at just the right place on her side that always made her squirm.

The first drop of rain splattered against the blanket and at first Dani thought it was a moth attracted by the soft light. The next drop of rain however landed on the back of her arm. She jerked, looking up at the sky. At first the sound of rain falling was drowned out by the shrill shriek of violins, but a flash of lightning and the roll of thunder was impossible to miss.

“Weekend my flat arse,” Jamie swore, sounding more like Nan than ever as she and Dani both scrambled from the bed of the truck.

“Pillow!” Dani pointed even as she carried the blanket in her own arms.

Swearing again — the rain was coming thick and fast now — Jamie stood on the tire so she could reach into the truck bed and snatch up the pillow. They clambered back into the truck, drenched and laughing. Jamie’s hair was plastered to her face and neck like trails of black ink, and Dani raked a hand through her own hair to get it away from her face.

“This is better than the end of the movie anyway,” Jamie said with a broad grin. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her white shirt might as well have been invisible from the way it clung to her frame.

Dani reached out and plucked at the sleeve of her t-shirt, laughing, “You look like you just jumped into a lake.”

“Think you’re any better off?” Jamie asked. She winked, brushing Dani’s hand off so she could start the engine. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

Rain pummeled the roof of the truck in a steady downpour broken only by the occasional flash and crack of the sky overhead. Jamie nursed the truck along, leaning forward in her seat and craning her neck for a glimpse of lightning forking across the sky in favor of speeding down the road, while Dani rubbed the wet from her hair with whatever dry parts of the blanket she could find.

“Do I really look that bad?” Dani asked.

“You saying I look bad?”

Glancing over, Dani let her eyes wander across the stretch of wet fabric across Jamie’s shoulders. “No,” she said, clearing her throat. Then she added, “The jeans are uncomfortable though.”

With a grimace, Jamie shifted in her seat and tugged at the line of her too short jeans with her spare hand. “True that. Should’ve worn a skirt.”

“You don’t own a skirt.”

“Just because you haven’t seen me wear a skirt,” said Jamie. “Doesn’t mean I don’t own a skirt.”

“I want to see it when we get back.”

“Tomorrow,” Jamie said. “And you’ll make me cups of tea for a week as payment for when you lose.”

Dani stuck out her hand. “Shake on it.”

Gamely — and careful not to take her eyes off the road — Jamie reached out and shook Dani’s hand. As Dani was about to retract it however, Jamie tightened her hold with a grin. “And what do you want if you win?”

“Is this your way of saying you don’t actually own a skirt?” Dani asked, and she teased at the soft underside of Jamie’s wrist with the tips of her fingers.

Jamie tangled their fingers together to get her to stop. “No. It’s my way of asking what you want to do next time.”

Smiling, Dani said, “See another movie?”

“Done.”

Jamie shook her hand firmly once more, then let her go.

--

here take some memes

[crocodilenialledfics]

You’re all I need (the air I breathe)

One - in which Niall and Stella make a great team 

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The love-at-first-sight, falling-too-fast, uni au that will make your heart ache (in a good way)

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Stella followed Veda up the steps of Zayn’s flat, a bag of takeaway in her arms. Was Stella nervous for game night? Maybe. There was a rumor that Niall would come along. 

When Veda opened the door, Stella’s breath caught in her throat. Veda gave her a look as they walked in as if to tell her to chill. Stella laughed, shaking her head. 

“Stella Bella,” Louis declared, taking the bag from her. “And Veda.”

“Fuck off,��� Veda muttered, handing him the bag she had. “We’ve been friends just as long and you still love Stella more than me.”

“Stella is actually nice,” Louis shot back. “And I was hoping she’d be on my team tonight because we’re playing Trivia Pursuit.” 

“Right,” Stella laughed, shaking her head as she took her shoes off. “That makes more sense.” 

“I was hoping Stella would be on my team,” Zayn announced, emerging from the living room. “I bought that wine you like.”

“Wow,” Stella grinned, eyebrows raising. “Keep the offers coming.”

“I’ll do you laundry for a month!” Veda exclaimed. 

“Tempting,” Stella agreed. “I think you can do better than that.”

“Are we picking teams already?” A voice asked from behind her. Stella turned around, surprised that she hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“We are,” Louis nodded. “Trying to make Stella decide who she wants. She’s an absolute genius.”

“Z offered her wine, I offered her laundry for a month,” Veda explained. “You have anything to offer?” 

“Unfortunately, no,” Niall shook his head, eyes meeting Stella’s. “I am a history major, though.”

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed. “I forgot about that. Stella don’t do it. Please. Niall’s also a genius. Niall pick me, yeah?”

“I want Niall,” Stella decided, her lips spreading into a smile. 

“That’s completely unfair,” Veda argued in a petulant way that made Stella shake her head. 

It’s possible that it was unfair but as they all settled in various spots around the coffee table, Stella didn’t have it in her to care. Niall was beside her, dangerously close for someone that had a lover in London. 

It wasn’t a surprise when Niall and Stella cleaned up. Question after question, until the rest of the lot called it quits on account of being unfair. 

The Xbox was pulled out and then Stella had drifted away, sipping wine coolers on the balcony with Veda. It was a wonder they never got sick of each other. 

“I texted Heather,” Veda told her, eyes on her phone. “She’s gonna bring Liam and Danielle over. Liven the place up.”

“Great,” Stella muttered. 

“Again with this heather stuff?” Veda asked with a laugh. 

“She doesn’t like me,” Stella laughed. “And it’s so obvious. Pretty sure she’s in love with you too.”

“It comes from a place of jealously,” Veda explained, sitting up. “Heather’s told me how jealous of you she is.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t know,” Veda shrugged, looking over to Stella. “You’re funny, beautiful and incredibly smart and kind. It makes sense if you really think about it.”

“So is Heather,” Stella argued. “And like I’m not jealous of her. I’ve tried to be friendly but she just gives me the cold shoulder. Ignores me.”

“I know,” Veda chuckled, nodding. “I can’t offer any advice. She just needs to get over herself.”

“Did you find out if Niall has a girlfriend?” Stella asked, effectively changing the subject. 

Veda sighed, shaking her head, “I have no idea. His Instagram is practically ancient. Hasn’t posted anything in over a year. Louis didn’t know.”

“Fine,” Stella sighed. “I’ll just ask him.”

“The only logical way to solve this problem,” Veda agreed. She finished the last of her drink. “Want another?”

“Sure,” Stella nodded, watching her stand up. “Thanks.” 

“Anything for you, Stella Bella,” Veda grinned, ruffling her hair. 

Stella laughed, pushing her prodding fingers away. Veda went back in, sliding door slamming behind her. Stella couldn’t bring herself to move from her spot. The sun was setting but it was so warm for the beginning of September. Fall was coming soon, she could tell. 

The door opened again a few minutes later and Stella was surprised to see Niall handing her a drink. He had his own beer in his hand when he sat down in the patio chair beside her. 

“Thanks,” Stella smiled, looking over at him. 

“We make a great team, you know,” Niall told her, holding her gaze. 

“I agree,” Stella nodded, pulling her eyes from him and back to the setting sun. She wouldn’t think too much into that. 

“Veda’s smoking,” he told her after a second. 

“Figures,” Stella chuckled. She looked at Niall for a moment and asked, “can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” he nodded, meeting her eyes. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” 

Niall chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he looked away, “that’s quite literally the million dollar question.”

“Sorry,” Stella murmured, watching the smile fade from his face. “I was just curious. You don’t have to tell me.”

After a long moment, he answered, “yes and no. It’s a bit complicated, t’be honest.” 

“Gotcha,” Stella nodded, feeling a twinge in her stomach at that. 

“We’re like on a break, I guess,” Niall shrugged. “Dunno. It was my idea. Just...” he trailed off looking over to Stella. “I haven’t really talked to anyone about it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stella asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged again, looking away. “Maybe.”

“My longest relationship was on again off again for a year so I don’t know if I’d be of much help in regards to advice,” Stella told him with a chuckle. “But I’m all ears if you want to.”

“We’ve been together for three years,” he told her and that surprised Stella. Her eyes widened almost comically. Niall chuckled, “I know. A long time.”

“I can’t even imagine...” Stella trailed off, not willing to finish her thought. “Wow.”

“That’s exactly it,” Niall nodded. “I’m a completely different person than who I was when we started dating. And we’ve been though a lot but it feels like I’m at a different spot. Like-like I’ve grown faster than her.”

“That’s understandable,” Stella nodded. 

“And it’s comfortable, I guess,” Niall shrugged. “Long distance isn’t ideal but I’m willing to do it.”

“What do you mean by comfortable?” Stella asked, eyebrows furrowing as she looked at him. “And you guess?” 

Niall chuckled, shaking his head, “I don’t know. It’s- I don’t know if I can put it into words. The firsts are over and it feels like the spark isn’t there. Like there are things that I feel obligated to do or feel.”

“Like you’re obligated to love her?” Stella asked. 

“Kind of,” he nodded. 

“That sounds tough,” Stella murmured. 

“I feel really guilty,” he admitted quietly. “I just find myself thinking about someone else instead of her.”

“Oh,” Stella mumbled, eyes darting over his face. “Maybe you should tell her. Your girlfriend not the... the other girl.”

“Just a tough conversation, yanno,” Niall shook his head. “We agree to talk over the holidays.”

“That’s a long time away,” Stella said, before she could help herself. “A lot could change.” 

“A lot could change,” he agreed, looking up at her. “A lot’s already changed, though.”

“What does a break even mean?” Stella asked. “I’m sure you’d hate for a Ross and Rachel fiasco to happen.”

Niall laughed, nodding, “yeah I don’t really know what it means. We just don’t text all day, I guess. Don’t call each other. Some time away. At least, that’s what I take it as.”

“Shouldn’t you have clarified what a break means before you go on a break?” Stella asked, eyebrows raising. 

“Shit, Stella, I don’t know,” Niall laughed, rubbing his forehead. “This isn’t exactly a situation I’ve been in before.”

“Well I haven’t been in it either,” Stella shrugged with a laugh. “I’m trying to be helpful.”

“You are being helpful,” he nodded. “More than you know.”

Stella felt her eyes drift back over to him. And she hated to be this person. The one adoring every feature on his face while he talks about his girl at home. It was devastating in one of the worst ways. And to know that someone else was on his mind. Doubly devastating. 

Before Stella could tear her eyes away, the sliding glass door opened and Louis poked his head out, “Liam’s here. We’re gonna play FIFA. You in?”

“Yeah,” Niall nodded, looking over his shoulder at Louis. “I’ll be in.”

The door closed and Stella let out a breath, turning away from him. Niall cleared his throat, sitting up, “I’m gonna...”

“Yeah,” Stella nodded, giving him a smile. 

“Thanks for your help,” Niall told her. “It means a lot, you know. I don’t know many people besides Louis, and you know he’s not too great in the advice department.”

“I know,” Stella chuckled, nodding. 

“If you need any advice...” he stood up. “I’m your guy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stella nodded with a smile. 

Stella watched Niall leave, wondering where she went wrong. She took a gulp of her drink, shaking her head. The door opened once more and she didn’t have to look over to know that it was Veda. 

“What the fuck,” Veda laughed, almost breathless. “What happened.”

“He’s got a girlfriend,” Stella told her, head lulling to look at her. “Of three fucking years, V.”

“Shit,” she breathed out. “I’m sorry.”

“He asked me for advice,” Stella continued. “He doesn’t know if he really loves her. He’s apparently been thinking of someone else. Thinks he needs to tell her.”

“That’s just...” Veda trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

“Is there something tattooed on my forehead that says ‘I’m one of the guys’?” Stella asked, incredulously. “First Conner and now Niall. Honestly. This friendzone shit is too much.” 

“Conner is not all guys,” Veda argued. “He was objectively an asshole douchebag idiot. Niall is no Conner. I can tell that much.”

“It’s the same thing!” Stella cried, beginning to feel the anger already. She wanted to punch something. She shook her head, “I think I’m gonna go back to the room.”

“Stel,” Veda murmured. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but why do you think you’re not the person he’s thinking about?” 

“Because,” she sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know.”

“It could be you,” Veda urged. “Who does Niall hang out with? Louis? And you?” 

Niall said it himself, he didn’t know very many people in Manchester. The thought was ridiculous, though. That Niall couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was absurd. 

“Veda don’t get my hopes up,” Stella snapped, looking away from her. “I think I’m gonna go back.”

“Let’s talk about this,” Veda groaned, leaning forward. “If you’re the person he can’t stop thinking about, hanging out with him will make it that much easier for him to break up with his girlfriend.”

“Easier!” Stella echoed with a dry laugh. “You don’t just end a three year long relationship because of the first uni girl you meet.”

“Stay,” Veda urged softly, a hand on her arm. “Have another drink. Kick Louis’s ass in FIFA and see how you feel then.”

The idea was tempting. Stella thought it over as she met Vedas eyes. She could convince her to do anything. Stella swore Veda had magic powers that could change her mind in an instant. 

Stella gave in. She found herself on the sofa between Louis and Zayn, controller in hand. Louis was already defeated. Stella thought she psyched Louis out more than anything. 

By the time she beat Louis, Heather, Danielle and Liam arrived. She was relieved and dreadful at the same time. Danielle was nice enough, and so was Liam. Heather didn’t even have to say anything and she was on edge. 

Stella went to the kitchen, grabbing her third wine cooler of the night when Louis leaned on the counter beside her. “Ya alright?” 

“I’m alright,” Stella nodded, meeting his eyes only for a second. She knew she’d give herself away. 

“What is it?” Louis urged, straightening up. “Come on,” he nudged her. “Spill.”

“Nothing,” Stella shook her head. “Really.” 

“Veda asked me if Niall had a girlfriend and I knew that she wasn’t interested in him which could only mean that you are,” Louis decided, voice quiet. 

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Please.”

“I just want to tell you that the other day when you left, he wouldn’t stop talking about you,” Louis told her. “Asked me a million and one questions.”

“Louis,” she warned, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to get my hopes up.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m just saying, though. I’ve heard him talk about Nadia and it was nothing even remotely close to the way he talks about you.”

“Leaving now,” Stella decided, walking toward the living room. 

Stella sat down on the floor beside Veda, hoping she didn’t look as grumpy as she felt. Veda gave her a reassuring pat on the knee and a bright smile. 

Only when her eyes met Niall’s from across the room did her grumpiness begin to fade. That smile on his face was what she never wanted to get tired of seeing. The softness. It was too much. Stella had to look away. 

But then Heather was on the couch beside him and they started talking and Stella felt like she couldn’t look anywhere else. Just eyes on Niall, watching his face. Watching the way he shifted away from her. The way she just didn’t get it. 

“You’re staring,” Veda whispered, leaning toward Stella. “And he has a girlfriend, remember?” 

“I’m not,” Stella whispered back but she was and she didn’t care that she was. She really wanted to be sitting where heather was. Stella felt the jealousy burn in her belly. 

Despite the millions of conversations going on around her, Stella simply didn’t care. It took a while but finally, Niall caught her glance. He rolled his eyes at her and Stella had to smile. And then Niall smiled and she felt the jealously fade. 

“What’s so funny?” Heather asked, eyes locked on Stella. 

“Nothing,” Stella answered. “Just an inside joke.”

“Care to share?” She asked, a bite to her tone that made Stella’s eyebrows raise. 

“Not particularly,” Stella answered, an equally as harsh bite. “Not with you, anyways.”

“Stel,” Veda mumbled quietly. 

“She literally made it so awkward,” Stella expressed, exasperated. “Why do you constantly take her side?” 

“I’m not taking anyone’s side I’m just...” Veda trailed off, eyes flicking between the two of them. “I don’t want it to be like this where you guys don’t get along.”

Stella shook her head, standing up, “I’m just gonna go.”

“Stella,” Veda sighed.

“I’m just beyond the point in my life where I need to put up with the Heathers of the world,” Stella said, setting her half drank bottle on the table. 

“It’s not even that serious,” Heather laughed, looking around the room as if everyone would agree with her. 

Stella had one shoe on and was working on the second one when Louis beat her to the door. “You’re not leaving by yourself,” he said. 

“I am leaving by myself,” Stella retorted, slipping her other shoe on. She stood up, looking more defeated than she should have. “Let me go, please.”

“I’m going with you,” Veda said from behind her. 

“I don’t want you to come with me,” Stella shook her head. 

“I don’t care,” Veda shot back. “I’m coming anyways.”

Stella didn’t have it in her argue. She pushed the door open, stepping out into the hallway. Veda was two steps behind her, closing the door. 

“Stella, why do you always think I won’t choose you?” Veda asked, voice soft as they got out onto to street. 

Goosebumps rose on Stella’s skin as the cool air hit her. She shook her head, eyes glued to the cracks of the concrete, “I don’t know.”

“It’s been 8 years, of course I’m always going to be on your side,” Veda told her, arm slung over her shoulders. 

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #16: The Transfer Student

Words: ca. 2,000 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: Bullying, arranged marriage, mild angst, talk of suicide

Elsa was a new student on Arendelli High in Tokyo, Japan. Despite her constant reminders to her parents that she didn’t need their help picking school, they had persisted, Elsa had had to give in eventually. The school was what Elsa expected it would be, full of very antagonistic, rich, spoiled brat students. She quickly rose to popularity which she kind of expected. Not only was she the heir of a well-known, rich CEO and granddaughter of a corporate empire, she was also conventionally seen as attractive, which had both perks and cons. One of the cons was being constantly bombarded by the popular kids as they tried to get her into one of their ‘exclusive clubs’, which she had to persistently decline.

Which earned her the title of ‘Snow Queen’ in no time at all. “As usual,” she sighed. “It’s like some sort of a tradition.”

  This time she wasn’t going to just give up. She didn’t hate them, per se. She just couldn’t stand them. They were wildly immature, highly superficial if her overhearing their very loud gossip in the stall was any indication, back when she happened to be in one after helping to clean the bathroom. They also bullied the only person she actually wanted to get close to.

See, Elsa had a secret, just like everybody else, but this secret she cannot let anyone know. Not her parents nor her friends. Not if she can help it.

  She’s into the same sex,

swings the other way,

flower napper,

gay for girls,

  You get the idea.

  The girl named Anna was from her class too, she was really smart and got a scholarship to the school, so she wasn’t from money, as Elsa heard from one of the gossips. That was why a lot of the superficial ones bullied her. Elsa fancied that the real reason they were so harsh on Anna was that she was more beautiful than them and they felt threatened by her beauty, it might actually be true. Elsa once bumped into her ‘accidentally’ at lunch and was about to talk to her and maybe invite her to coffee but the redhead only apologized profusely and excused herself.

  Elsa felt guilty after that. She felt like she should be doing something to change this situation, she feared that the bullying might get to her one day. She wanted to do something for the girl so despite her hesitance she contacted someone she can even remotely consider her ‘friend.’

  “Yellow?” Elsa sneered as soon as she heard his voice.

“Oh, Elsa I can hear your sneer from here, if you need something from me then you would have to be a bit nicer.”

Elsa conceded and breathed in. “Fine. I need your help with something… and yes I can hear your grin reaching from ear to ear here too.”

“Oh, dear Elsa. What might this help be? Is it something your Mommy and Daddy cannot solve for you?” Hans replied.

Elsa snapped at that comment. “You bring up my parents and I hang up,” she threatened.

Hans knew that she meant it. “Alright Snow Queen, tell me what has got your ire this time.”

“It’s not a what, it’s a who.”

“Already? You just moved in the school.” “It’s not that!” Elsa said, flabbergasted the situation that she was in. “I…I want to court someone.”

“Oh, so it’s that,” Hans replied, seemingly reminiscent.

  Elsa doesn’t blame him. Sometime they forget that they’re more similar than they think, since Hans is gay too.

  See here: Hans and Elsa were to be betrothed, and so both of them had hired investigators to follow each other and find a reason to cancel the marriage. This was how they had discovered each other’s secret which, oddly enough, is what got them to keep the arrangement, since if it came to it, they’d let each have more leeway or even a chance to pick who they really love. They decided they are both fine with that kind of arrangement since eventually they’ll give in to their parents’ request and they would rather end up with someone they can negotiate with.

  “Can’t you just…I don’t know. Charm her or something, like talk about how you’re the daughter of great CEO and have a corporate empire or something?”

“Hans,” Elsa said, as she held the bridge of her nose, she’s just basically done. “I’m not like you, and it doesn’t work like that.”

“Hey, just throwing around ideas out here.” Hans defended himself. “Also it worked for me.”

“Well, I’m not like you. Prince Charming!” Elsa pointed out.

“Yeah, I wonder why? Miss Snow Queen!” Hans retorted. “Have you tried the ‘Accidental bump method?’”

“Yeah, and it didn’t work.” Elsa sighed, remembering how much it hadn’t worked. “It even kinda backfired.”

“Oof, a tough one huh. When did you get so picky?” Hans quipped.

Elsa sneered again. “I thought we’re here to, I dunno, help me court someone? Not judge my choices?”

“I know, I know. Sheesh…” Hans attempted to diffuse the situation. “Have you tried giving her a flower?”

“Ha Ha, that’s really stereotypical,” Elsa said.

Hans continued. “Look, Elsa. The goal here is to court someone, you kinda do need it to be stereotypical in a way or, if you prefer, predictable.”

“But it’s too obvious,” Elsa argued.

“That’s kind of the point.” Hans laughed. Then he was quiet for a while.

  Elsa thought about what Hans said. He did, kinda, have a really good point, Elsa had to admit. If only he used that brain of his to do good things instead of just goofing around and causing mischief then she might actually like him, not too much though, Elsa still for sure preferred girls.

  “Elsa, I gotta go,” Hans said a minute later. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, and thank you,” Elsa replied. It was at these times that Elsa was happy that she let him stick around.

  Elsa followed Hans’ advice and went to buy flowers. She would have to be careful about this, else she might just be at the bullying end and she couldn’t help Anna that way. Though she does think there can be sort of a camaraderie in that, she prefers if it didn’t happen. Not if she can help it.

  What she decided to go with was yellow crocus flowers, as they were apparently a great symbol of hope and joyfulness. Which was definitely the message she was looking to send. Winter will indeed end, spring will come again and life will go on.

  She arranged them in a vase with water to keep it fresh and left it at Anna’s desk as they were going to class next morning.

  However, Elsa didn’t get quite the expected reaction. Yes, students were talking about it when they saw it but they had sort of a look of dread in their face instead of curiosity and intrigue which worried Elsa. That can’t be good but it’s not as if she can undo it now. She needs to know what’s wrong, then it came to her. It was sort of a slow realization.

“What if the culture around flowers here in Japan is vastly different compared to where I’m from?” she thought and the gears on her head started to turn. She leaned in a bit to the other table and calmed herself enough to listen in to their conversation.

  “Do you think the Gyaru girls did it?”

“No even they wouldn’t stoop this low.”

“What kind of asshole would tell someone to kill theirself?”

  That was the last straw for Elsa, she is still confused as to how this all worked it but if it was bad enough that even the gyaru girls won’t do it then she’s royally fucked. She was going to remove it now no matter what, reputation be damned. Then Anna walked in and headed directly to her table, on when she reached the table did Anna notice the flowers. It was like scalding hot water being poured on her when Elsa watched Anna’s expression shift from bad to worse.

  Anna went running out of the room. Elsa followed quickly after, determined to comfort her properly this time. Anna was fast walking and then running and Elsa almost couldn’t keep up with her. This was a very unfortunate day to wear heals. Elsa followed her to the rooftop expecting to see her sulking there, but what she saw was something else.

  Anna was on the edge of the school rooftop, she had her shoes off and she looked like she was about to… no… nooo… please don’t do it, please don’t jump.

  “Hey, don’t do it, please.” It just came out of Elsa’s mouth without her permission, but she was glad that it did.

“Let me be,” Anna replied, her voice full of resolution.

“It was me, I was the one who put the flower with the vase there. Whatever it meant, it was not my intention.” Anna looked at her like she had grown two heads but Elsa kept going, she had Anna’s attention now and that’s good. She’s also slowly getting closer to her as she spoke. To pull her away if needed.

  “I didn’t… I just wanted it to be your hope in this trying times. I wanted to be…”

  “You’re not just making this up to make me feel better?” Anna asked, still guarded.

  “If you want to, I can show you exactly where I purchased the flowers and the vase but I can’t really do that unless you get down from there first.” Anna seemed to realized she was still outside the protective fence of the rooftop, she seemed to blush at the realization. Must be from the height, Elsa thought. Anna finally moved to get to a safer location and Elsa helped her. After she was safe and sound, Anna grabbed at Elsa’s hand. For the first time since Elsa got to the roof, Anna finally met her gaze.

  “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

Elsa looked into Anna’s eyes, she didn’t find any blame or sarcasm there, it was just genuine curiosity.

  “I tried and I failed the first time, I guess…I should have just tried again.” The situation of the earlier encounter was finally getting to Elsa, crashing down on her like huge waves on an unassuming shore, she holds on tighter to Anna’s hand “I’m just, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Anna traces soothing circles on Elsa’s hand.

“But I almost killed you,” Elsa says to Anna. Anna reaches for her to remove the tear that fell from Elsa’s eyes.

“I’m also being stupid, to be fair, I wasn’t in a great place but still it’s a stupid move. I’m not saying you’re off the hook, just saying it wasn’t just you.” Anna patted Elsa’s back and it worked wonders. She breathed as she hears that and despite herself, she felt a bit of relief.

  “What did it mean anyway? The flowers and the vase on the table?” Elsa asked after she had retrieved her handkerchief to clear her nose with. Her back turned to Anna as a polite gesture.

  “It means the whole class wants you to be dead. It’s like sending someone a coffin while they are still alive.” Anna replied.

  “Oh…that’s,” Elsa started to say, “kind of morbid.” she thought outloud and Anna nodded to her in agreement.

  “I think I should be more careful about this, culture difference and knowing the norms in this place.” Elsa concluded, still a bit guilt-ridden over what happened.

  “It’s fine, you were new so you didn’t know. Now you know what not to do next time.” Anna replied to Elsa, and then she flashed a smile to her direction, “Like I said, still not off the hook though,” she reminded her. “You still need to make it up to me.” Elsa didn’t get it at first but when she did, she blushed profusely. She didn’t want to misunderstand more things but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t take this opportunity “So uhh…coffee?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t pass on that, but I prefer hot chocolate.”

“Me too.”

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson

Chapter Seven The Will of Albus Dumbledore

Harry promised his parents that he would be fine. He was seventeen, after all, and if the Minister for Magic needed to speak with him, then he did not need his parents with him. He wanted their support, certainly, and wouldn’t mind reliving that Christmas when he and his parents had teamed up against the Minister, but he wanted to — needed to — do this on his own.

And anyway, he wasn’t entirely alone. His friends were crammed onto the sofa in the Weasley’s sitting room with him. Harry glanced at Ron, who was trying and failing to stabilise the stack of blankets that had occupied his seat, since the sofa had been George’s temporary bed for the last week. Hermione stared directly at Scrimgeour, as fiercely as Lily might have, and Neville struggled to extricate a pillow that had been wedged between his back and the sofa’s. It was not successful and he gave up, deciding instead to stare curiously at the Minister’s shoes.

Rufus Scrimgeour sank into the armchair that Mr Weasley usually sat in. He leaned heavily on his cane, and his face was gaunt and tired, far more worn than it had been at Christmas. The past six months had not been kind to the Minister for Magic.

“I have some questions for the four of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually,” Scrimgeour said. “If the rest of you would wait upstairs, I’ll begin with Mr. Weasley.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Harry said quickly. Not only would he not leave his friends, they were wedged rather tightly into the sofa. He did not want to wriggle his way out of it.

“You may speak to us together,” Hermione said, “or not at all.”

Scrimgeour surveyed the four of them. He was a man who chose his battles carefully. Peace, however, won out for the moment, and Scrimgeour shrugged.

“Very well, then,” he said and reached into his coat. “As I said, I am here to read Albus Dumbledore’s will.”

Neville frowned and looked up from the Minister’s shoes. “Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why did you wait so long?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione said in a voice much cooler than she usually used when explaining things to Neville. “They wanted to examine whatever he’s left us.”

“Wait,” Neville frowned, “you mean Dumbledore’s left us things? But —”

“You had no right to do that,” Harry interrupted and glared at Scrimgeour. “Whatever he’s left us —”

“I had every right,” said Scrimgeour, and removed a large mokeskin pouch from his robes. “The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will —”

“That law,” Hermione said, “was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts, and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased’s possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?”

Scrimgeour answered Hermione’s question with another question. “Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?”

Hermione snorted. “No, I’m hoping to do some good in the world.”

Ron did his best to disguise his sudden laughter in a cough. When he had control again, he asked, “Well, Minister, have you decided to let us have our things now?”

Though Scrimgeour himself seemed to have grown thin and weary, his sharp gaze had not dulled. His lion-like eyes turned on Ron, but not to answer Ron’s question. “Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?”

Ron blinked. “Me? Not — not really. It was always Harry who…”

Too late, he realised Hermione and Harry were glaring daggers at him. Scrimgeour pounced.

“If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions — his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects — were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?”

“I dunno.” Ron scratched behind his ear, and his elbow knocked into Harry’s shoulder. “I… when I say we weren’t close… I mean, I think he liked me…”

“You’re being modest, Ron,” Hermione said. “Dumbledore was very fond of you.”

“Er —”

Scrimgeour was no longer listening, however, as he opened the drawstring pouch and withdrew a scroll. He cleared his throat and read, “‘The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’... Yes, here we are… ‘To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.’”

Scrimgeour reached into the drawstring pouch once more and pulled out a small silver cylinder that fit in the palm of his hand.

Harry was not sure he had ever seen anything like the device as Scrimgeour passed it to Ron. Ron turned it over in his hands and stared at it. He risked a glance at Harry, but Harry did not have any answers for Ron.

“It’s a very valuable object,” Scrimgeour said, his critical gaze focused entirely on Ron’s reaction. “It may even be unique. It has the ability to remove and restore light. Certainly it is of Dumbledore’s own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?”

When Ron shook his head in disbelief, Scrimgeour pressed on.

“Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students, yet the only ones that he remembered in his will are you four. Why should —”

“Just us four?” Harry asked. “No one else?”

Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry. “Only you four. Is there someone else you think he should have remembered?”

Hastily, Harry shook his head. “No — no one comes to mind. I just thought… er — perhaps he would have left my parents something.”

But Harry was not thinking of his parents; he was thinking of Cedric. Dumbledore had known that Harry had shared the prophecy and the quest with Cedric Diggory, just as he had shared it with Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Why had Dumbledore decided to leave Cedric out?

Scrimgeour returned to the will and read, “‘To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.’”

From the pouch, Scrimgeour withdrew a small book with a worn cover and dog-eared pages. Hermione ran her fingers over the faded cloth stretched across the front. It was fraying in the corner and under her thumb. Two tears fell onto the book and she hastily wiped them away.

“Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?” Scrimgeour asked.

Hermione dried her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. “He… he knew I liked books.”

“But why that particular book?”

Harry had the same question. Hermione loved to read, but a book of children’s fairytales hardly seemed the sort of thing she would be interested in, and Dumbledore must have known that.

“I don’t know. He must have thought I would enjoy them.”

“Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages with Dumbledore?”

“No,” she sniffed. “And if the Ministry hasn’t found any hidden codes in this book, then I doubt that I will.”

Neville patted Hermione’s arm, then froze as Scrimgeour read his name.

“‘To Neville Franciscus Longbottom, I leave a phoenix tail feather, as a reminder of his exceptional loyalty to his friends, and that we will always grow from our failures.’” Scrimgeour retrieved a red and gold feather from the pouch that shimmered, even in the dim light of the sitting room.

Neville stared at it in awe, frozen until Hermione gently nudged him, and he reached for it.

“It’s warm,” he said in surprise.

“It’s an incredibly valuable gift,” Scrimgeour said. “It has many uses, most commonly in wand cores.” He looked at Harry as he said this.

Harry did his best to keep his face neutral, and his emotions calm as he had been taught in his Occlumency lessons, but his mind buzzed with this information.

It was most likely a feather from Fawkes, whose feathers had also been given to make Harry and Voldemort’s wands. To give this feather to Neville, who had so nearly been marked the way Harry had been…

“Are you fond of phoenixes, Mr Longbottom?” Scrimgeour asked, but he kept his gaze on Harry.

“Er, no — I mean, not exactly.” Neville continued staring at the feather, entranced. “I fail a lot though.”

Scrimgeour examined Neville, but decided there was nothing more to be gained there. He reached into the pouch almost eagerly this time, as he read the next line.

“‘To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.’”

He pulled out a velvet cloth and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a golden Snitch, silver wings fluttering in his grasp.

Harry stared at it, not entirely comprehending. He had hoped it would be something that could destroy a Horcrux, or perhaps even a Horcrux, though he did not think something like that would have been able to slip past the Ministry.

“Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?” Scrimgeour asked.

Harry shrugged. “For the reasons you just read out, I suppose. To remind me what you can get if you persevere and whatever it was.”

“You think this is a mere symbolic keepsake, then?”

Harry looked Scrimgeour in the eyes. “What else could it be?”

“I’m the one asking the questions,” Scrimgeour snapped. “I noticed that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch.”

Harry looked down at his jumper, where Mrs Weasley had knitted in a Snitch. “Yeah, bit weird, isn’t it? Dunno why people keep giving me Snitch-related things. My Dad’s even called me Snitch since I was about four. Can’t imagine why.”

“Perhaps it’s all been a secret encoded message from Dumbledore,” Hermione scoffed. “If we cut open your cake, we’ll find secret instructions inside.”

“I don’t believe there is anything hidden in your cake,” Scrimgeour said, “but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object.”

Harry understood, and it was why he had not reached for the Snitch yet. Snitches had flesh memories, and it would remember and react to Harry’s hand. Perhaps Dumbledore had charmed it to react in a particular way, perhaps there was a clue inside…

“Take it,” Scrimgeour said.

Harry swallowed, wishing he had a way to take the Snitch with the sleeve of his jumper, or some way to disguise it to Scrimgeour, but he came up with nothing. He reached for the Snitch, and as his fingers brushed the golden ball, the silver wings stilled and the Snitch fell limp in his hand.

Harry watched Scrimgeour’s eager expression fade into disappointment.

“That was dramatic,” Harry said.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville laughed. Scrimgeour scowled.

“That’s all then, is it?” Hermione asked, and tried to unstick herself from her very tight position between Harry and Neville.

“Not quite,” Scrimgeour said. “Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter.”

Harry’s hand tightened around the Snitch and his heart raced. “What is it?”

“The Sword of Godric Gryffindor.”

“Do you have it?” he asked, and tried not to sound eager.

“The Sword is not Dumbledore’s to give away,” Scrimgeour said. “The Sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artefact, and as such, belongs to the Wizarding World as a whole, and, in any case, the Sword is currently missing. It has not been recovered since the Death Eaters’ attack on Hogwarts. Now why do you think, Mr. Potter, that Dumbledore would leave you the Sword of Godric Gryffindor?”

Harry knew exactly why Dumbledore had left it to him. He wished the Ministry had at least brought him the Sorting Hat. Maybe he could try to summon the Sword as he had in the Chamber of Secrets and destroy the diadem with it.

“I dunno,” Harry said, “maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall.”

“This is not a joke, Potter!”

“No, it isn’t.” Harry very carefully kept his voice cool, and refused to meet Scrimgeour’s temper. “It wasn’t a joke when I told the world that Voldemort came back. It wasn’t a joke when my parents came to the Ministry and told them how Umbridge was torturing her students. It wasn’t a joke when I told you that Yaxley was there the night that Dumbledore died, helping the Death Eaters, but it didn’t seem to damage his position in the Ministry, did it? And it wasn’t a joke when your Hit Wizards wanted to look into the disappearance of Hogwarts’ Muggle Studies professor but were shut down. People are dying because the Ministry is busy stripping down Deluminators and children’s books, rather than investigating the real problems and helping people. If you want to know why Voldemort’s back and how to stop him, start with your own office.”

Scrimgeour’s upper lip curled into a very thin snarl. “You go too far!” he shouted, and drew his wand. Harry stood too, and his chest met the end of Scrimgeour’s wand, where it singed a hole right into Mrs Weasley’s lovingly crafted Snitch.

“Oi!” Ron said, and he and Neville stood, fumbling for their wands, but Harry held his hands out.

“Don’t — do you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?”

Scrimgeour huffed something between a growl and a laugh. “Remembered you’re not at school, have you? Remembered that I am not Dumbledore who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!”

“It’s time you earned it.” Harry had hardly finished his sentence when the door to the sitting room opened suddenly, and several people fought to get through the door, starting with Remus, wand drawn. Sirius, Lily, James, Tonks, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Mr and Mrs Longbottom were all right behind him.

“We heard shouts,” Mrs Longbottom said, glancing between Neville and the Minister.

“Raised voices,” Mr Weasley echoed.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Remus asked, though his eyes were on Scrimgeour, not Harry.

“It — it was nothing,” Scrimgeour said, and stepped away from Harry. He looked at the hole he had made in Harry’s jumper and swallowed down his temper. With his anger gone, he simply looked weary, and Harry almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“You seem to think,” Scrimgeour said slowly, “that the Ministry does not desire what you — what Dumbledore — desired. We ought to be working together.”

“I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I desire and what the Ministry desires,” said Harry. His hand clutched the Snitch hard enough that it dug into his hand, and the scars on the back of his hand stretched.

Scrimgeour took a long, measured look at Harry, then surveyed the cluster of grown ups who crowded the doorway.

Finally, he said, “Nymphadora Tonks — er, Lupin, is it?”

“Just Tonks is fine,” she said, voice unusually faint.

“A word, before I go.”

It was not a request. Tonks bit down on her lip and jerked her head in agreement. As Scrimgeour pushed past the Longbottoms and the Weasleys, Remus moved to follow, but Tonks shook her head and went alone with Scrimgeour.

Suddenly, Harry was swarmed by his parents. Lily and James searched him for injuries; they asked what had happened and if he was hurt, talking over each other and all at once. Sirius was no better, examining the hole that had been burned into his jumper and asking questions without waiting for the answers.

Harry was just fine, though. Scrimgeour’s temper had not hurt him; it had only ruined a perfectly good jumper.

There was not much Harry and his friends could do to keep their gifts from Dumbledore a secret, so they each shared what they had been given. None of them, however, mentioned the sword.

Mrs Longbottom ran her finger along the edge of the phoenix feather, much like Neville had done when he had received it.

“It is beautiful,” Mr Longbottom murmured. “And a powerful magical conduit, if nothing else.”

Remus thumbed through Hermione’s book, but he kept looking up from the pages to the door Tonks had disappeared through. “It’s an unusual choice,” he finally said, and returned it to her. “I didn’t know Dumbledore had an interest in children’s stories.”

“It’s certainly a practical gift,” Mrs Weasley said of the Deluminator.

“He probably really wanted you to remember him,” Mr Weasley offered, “giving you such a unique and personal item.”

Ron did not look particularly thrilled about this, and eyed the feather Neville’s parents were still examining.

Lily turned the Snitch over in her hands, squinting to find some sort of catch or mechanism to open it. It fluttered in her hand, and stilled when Harry took it from her.

“You said it was from your first game?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. “That’s what Dumbledore said.”

James raised an eyebrow. “And? Did you try it?”

“Er —” Harry had not wanted to open the Snitch in front of Scrimgeour, certainly, and he was equally afraid to open it in front of his parents. But he supposed there was no way of hiding it. His father, of course, would remember exactly how Harry had caught his first Snitch.

“What do you mean?” Lily asked, glancing between James and Harry.

“My very first Quidditch match,” Harry said, “I didn’t catch the Snitch with my hands.”

Lily blinked. “You mean that this is the Snitch that you nearly swallowed?”

Everyone in the room paused their conversation and turned to watch. Harry hesitated, and finally decided that the Snitch was not going to suddenly reveal the Horcrux quest in one fell swoop — hopefully. He lifted the Snitch and pressed it to his lips.

But the Snitch did not open. Harry was both relieved and frustrated. What had Dumbledore wanted him to gain from this Snitch?

“Hold on — Harry,” Sirius gestured to the Snitch. “There’s writing on it.”

Harry squinted and turned the small object over in his hands. Sirius was right. There, engraved in the Snitch, in Dumbledore’s own handwriting, he read, “‘I open at the close.’”

“What does that mean?” Lily frowned.

Harry looked to Hermione for help, but she shrugged her shoulders.

Dumbledore had left each of them not with help or answers, but with a new puzzle, as if the quest they had been given was not enough. Harry resisted the urge to toss the Snitch out the window. He was so tired of more riddles and no answers. The Snitch would have served him better as a reminder of perseverance and whatever else Scrimgeour had said.

“I think they’re all quite special,” Mrs Weasley finally said. “It was kind of Dumbledore to leave each of you something.” She returned the Deluminator to Ron and took Harry’s singed jumper. She folded it up in her arms. “Harry, I can mend this for you after the wedding. Why don’t we head back into the garden for —”

She stopped as Tonks returned to the sitting room, and Harry was startled to see that her pink hair had returned to brown, like her mother’s. Her eyes had shifted to grey, too, instead of the hazel they had been when she arrived.

“What’s happened?” Remus asked.

Tonks smiled thinly. “I’ve been sacked. It’s fine — really, it’s about what I expected.”

“Hippogriff shit,” Sirius snarled. “They can’t —”

“They can,” Mrs Longbottom said quietly. “Though I wouldn’t expect Scrimgeour to do something like that. Some others in the office, perhaps, but not Scrimgeour.”

“He didn’t seem very happy to do it.” Tonks shrugged. “Though I guess that doesn’t make it better.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily apologised. “I shouldn’t have asked you and Remus to stay.”

“I’m sure it would have happened eventually. Or something would have happened.” Tonks fidgeted with the wand at her side. “Er — should we get back to the party?”

But no one seemed in the mood for much celebration. Dinner was quiet, and dessert a muted affair. The Longbottoms did not stay long, and the Delacours retired early.

Harry had hoped that he, Ron, Hermione, and Neville would all get a chance to discuss their gifts, but as the Longbottoms disappeared through the Weasley’s gate, and Mrs Weasley asked Ron to help her clean up, it seemed that the chance was less and less likely.

“Forgive us for not helping, Molly,” James said as he gathered up an armful of dishes, “but we would like to give Harry his gift before Remus and Tonks leave.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, and took the dishes from him.

Harry followed James and Lily upstairs to the room they were borrowing from Fred and George during their stay. It was still packed with a few boxes of unfinished Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Between that, the bed, and James and Lily’s trunks it was a tight squeeze for the three of them, plus Remus, Tonks, Sirius, and Picksie.

Once upon a time, Harry had wished that his family was as big as Ron’s, and had not cared for how empty his house had felt compared to the Burrow, bursting with life. Sirius and James so often described their family as “pack,” which was perhaps the only allusion to werewolves that did not make Remus tense. Their pack had grown a good deal these last few years, and even though they had lost Mellie, Harry was overwhelmed both by their support and the interrogation that he knew would follow.

On Harry’s eleventh birthday, his family had taken him into the sitting room and had told him the story of how Voldemort had tried to kill him when he was just a baby. Hagrid had been there, because it was Hagrid who had found Harry, James, and Lily in the wreckage of Voldemort’s attack. Tonight, it was pack only, and it was Harry’s turn to tell them that he had to kill Voldemort.

Sirius sat on the bed, legs folded up underneath him, and Harry took a tentative seat on one of the boxes. It did not explode underneath him, which was a good sign. Picksie sat beside him, and Tonks and Remus stayed standing by the door as James dug through his trunk.

“You have a wand, dear,” Lily reminded him as she took a seat on her trunk.

James grunted and dug his wand out of his robes. He Summoned a small black gift box, no bigger than his palm, from his trunk. He handed the box and his wand to Lily, and she very carefully wove a golden ribbon around the box.

“I know we normally do more than one gift,” Lily said, “but we had to pack light, so we grabbed the most important one.”

She handed the box to Harry as James sat down, and Remus handed him the slender box he had nearly given to Harry before dinner.

Harry started with the gift from his parents. He had been expecting a pocketwatch from his parents, and was prepared for something rather expensive, perhaps something gold plated like Ron’s, or something charmed to mimic the phases of the moon like his father’s.

Instead, the silver pocketwatch nestled in the tissue was scratched and dented. The front of the watch was intricately decorated in bay leaves and flowers inlaid in gold. He lifted it out of the box and turned it over. “Harry Potter” was engraved on the back above a relief of intertwined olive branches, though the “r” at the end of “Potter” was nearly worn away. When he opened it, he found a plain watch face inside. Roman numerals decorated the edges, and a smaller circle to mark the seconds was nestled at the bottom of the watch. The second hand did not tick at all, though Harry could hear the sound of the gears working inside the watch. The initials “H. H. P.” were engraved on the inside of the cover, which Harry thought odd. It was almost his initials, but not quite.

“Thank you,” he said, and hoped it sounded sincere. He was grateful, just not sure why it was so different from what he had expected.

“It was your great-grandfather’s,” Lily said. “We thought, well, what better pocketwatch than the one that belonged to your namesake.”

“More than that,” James added, “we named you after him for a reason — and not just because your grandfather’s name was Fleamont.”

Harry shuddered to think that he could have been “Fleamont James Potter” and decided he was much more grateful to have Henry Potter’s watch.

“Your great-grandfather,” James continued, “lived during a time not so different from ours, when Grindelwald rose to power. He had already lost standing in the Ministry, for trying to convince wizards to fight in the Great Muggle war that marked the first half of the century. And when war broke out in the 1930s, amongst both Muggles and wizards, he fought to protect those in danger.”

“We had a lot of plans for your seventeenth birthday,” Lily said, “and one of them was to give you the Invisibility Cloak.” She paused to glance sideways at James. “We were supposed to tell you how your great-grandfather used the Cloak to smuggle people out of Poland, people who were threatened by those in power — both the Muggle-born witches and wizards that Grindelwald hated, and the Jewish and Romani people who were threatened by the Muggle government. The Cloak became a powerful tool, used to help people who were in danger, to save lives. It isn’t just for getting into and out of trouble at school.”

“A wand can be used for both fun and duels,” Sirius said.

“Besides,” James said, “Harry’s been very responsible with the Cloak.”

“You didn’t have to pull him out of an Acromantula nest in the Forbidden Forest,” Lily snapped.

“Fair enough,” James agreed, but with a small smile, like he, too, had used the Cloak to find Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest, or perhaps something worse. “Anyway, Harry, to finish up the story, after almost ten years of smuggling people out of Poland, Grandpa Harry got the personal attention of Grindelwald. His friends forced him to hide away for a while and managed to get him into India with his wife’s family. But even then, he couldn’t stay out of the fight. Your great-grandparents continued working to provide relief during a famine as best as they could.”

“Didn’t he marry someone called Dolly?” Harry asked, trying to recall the family tree in the book his parents had given him for his birthday last year.

“Mistress Dolly is the English name she is using when she is in England with Mister Henry,” Picksie said, “but her given name is Mistress Dipali. She is a very kind woman, helping raise Picksie when she was born to Mama…”

“You can imagine why Great-Aunt Dorea was so fond of her and Henry,” Sirius said with a wry smile.

“It’s all in that book we gave you last year,” James said, “her story and Grandpa Harry’s, but we wanted to share his story with you on your birthday because it meant a lot to us when we learned you were coming along. Dumbledore didn’t tell us the prophecy until after Voldemort tried to kill you, but while we were in hiding, we talked a lot about my grandfather who had been hunted by Grindelwald, who had tried to help even at risk to his own life —”

“You talked a lot about him,” Lily interrupted, “and I did a lot of listening.”

James grimaced.

“But,” Lily added, “I was the one who suggested we name you after him.”

“Her exact words,” James said, “were ‘If we name our child Harry will you stop bringing him up every fifteen minutes.’ And I told her I might.”

“We had also planned,” Lily said, “to tell you the prophecy today. And we thought that your great-grandfather’s story would help put it into a bit of perspective. It’s not the prophecy that makes you destined to fight Voldemort, Harry. It’s the family you come from. It’s who you are, even beyond what your father and I — and Remus and Sirius — have taught you. We have never wanted you to feel like a weapon, like someone’s tool to be used against Voldemort. You’re our son, before anything else.”

“We never wanted —” James stopped, then started over. “We never thought that keeping the prophecy from you would turn against us the way it did. And we are sorry. When Voldemort came back, we should have told you what that meant, and why it worried us so much. And we did want to, but Dumbledore asked us to wait, and we trusted him.” He fiddled with the strap of his wristwatch. “I know Dumbledore’s done a lot for us — protected us, and protected Remus — but if we had taken a moment to trust our own judgement, to trust ourselves as your parents, then maybe we would have made the right choice.”

Harry looked down at the pocketwatch in his hand, unsure what to say. He knew what his parents were getting at, but really, the only thing he could think about was how differently this day might have gone if Voldemort had never returned in the first place. His family would have been at home. Maybe Dumbledore would have been there. Maybe James would have pretended to gift the Cloak to Harry and they would have laughed about it. Maybe the prophecy would not have felt like a curse.

It should never have been this somber event, in a small bedroom of the Burrow, with the crushing weight of a secret quest on his shoulders.

“Harry,” James said slowly, “we know that you don’t want our help, but —”

“Of course I want your help,” Harry said, and struggled to keep his voice from breaking. “I do, but I — I can’t tell you.”

Lily’s uninjured hand tightened around the hem of her skirt. “But you’ll tell Ron and Hermione? And Neville and Cedric?” He could hear how angry she was, though she tried so hard to restrain it.

Harry looked at each of them — his mother, his father, Sirius, Picksie, Remus and Tonks — and he knew that he could not give them what they wanted.

“I know you want to help,” Harry said, “but you can’t help me with this. I can’t —” He swallowed. “I have to face him. And if I let you help — if you come with me on this quest — you won’t let me fight.”

Lily opened her mouth to argue, but Harry kept talking.

“It’s not about being an adult, Mum, or you treating me like a child. It’s not. It’s that Dad lost his eye in the Department of Mysteries because he stopped to make sure I was alright. It’s that Dad nearly died on our trip to the Burrow because he came back to help me. It’s that Yaxley nearly killed you because of me, and that you dueled Voldemort in the graveyard, even when I was safely back at Hogwarts. It’s that Remus forgot to take his potion one night to try to protect me from Barty Crouch, Jr. It’s that Sirius nearly had his soul sucked out by dementors because he was trying to protect me from them. It’s that if it has to come down to me and Voldemort, I can’t have you there, too, because I know you’ll try to fight. And you can’t. You can’t help me with this.”

He knew it would not make them feel better, but he did not know what else to say. James leaned his elbows against his knees and ran both his hands through his hair. He looked so tired, more tired than Harry had ever seen him. Lily’s face and neck were blooming with red splotches, but she kept her lips pressed tightly together.

Sirius’ voice was dangerously close to a snarl as he said, “You’re not being fair, Harry. We’re your family, and family sticks together. I said prophecy be damned the other day and I meant it. No one gets to decide you have to face Voldemort alone, not even you.”

“I never said it was fair.” Harry looked down at the unopened box in his lap. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Regulus had all worked to get him something, even though Tonks was the only one of them with any income at all — and she had just lost that tonight because she had joined his family. Fair wasn’t a word they could afford to live by, not now.

“What can you tell us, Harry?” Tonks asked. “I’m a trained Auror and officially a free agent as of tonight. There has to be a way we can help, even if it isn’t dueling Voldemort in your place.”

Harry shook his head. “All I can say is that Dumbledore trusted me with a job. Regulus knows what it is. He’s the one who started this task, years ago, before you even went into hiding. It’s why he faked his death, to cover up his betrayal. He’s already helped me with part of it, and I helped him finish up something he started. Dumbledore didn’t leave me to do this fight alone. He knew I would need help, and he trusted Hermione, Ron, and Neville.”

“But not us,” Remus said, “and that terrifies us, Harry. You understand that, don’t you?”

Harry did understand. He had spent most of his fifteenth year worrying over the secret missions his parents went on. He knew exactly what he was asking of his family, and he knew it was impossible to make them agree. But he didn’t have to make them agree, he had to give them just enough peace of mind to let him go.

“I think,” Harry began slowly, “that Dumbledore has always tried to do what’s best for us. Even though I was upset about the prophecy, I understand why Dumbledore wanted it to stay a secret, and why you were so worried about it. I think the best thing to do right now is to trust Dumbledore.”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Lily said.

James reached over and took her hand, slowly loosening her tight fist until their fingers were intertwined. “You’re seventeen now, Harry, so we won’t try to stop you. But we will do everything we can to stay by your side.”

It was the best Harry could hope for, the most he could ask of them.

“It’s a bit underwhelming now,” Remus said, “but you should open your other gift.”

Carefully, Harry pulled the lid off of the white box Remus had given to him. Inside was a slender velvet case, and when he opened it, he found an intricate watch chain. There were three chains, in fact, strung together and connected to a crest decorated with a lion. They were surprisingly heavy, and Harry guessed they were solid gold.

He looked up at Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, bewildered. “Are you… sure?”

“We knew what your parents were giving you,” Remus said, “and we thought we would give you something new to go with the old.”

“But… it’s…”

James cleared his throat and Harry belatedly remembered his manners.

“Thank you.” He very carefully attached the decorative chain to the pocket watch. “It’s perfect.”

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Tonks said. “I’m glad we were here to celebrate with you.”

She gave him another hug and kissed his cheek, and Harry could not find the words to thank her.

They said goodbye to Remus and Tonks. Tonks, though she had been downcast since her conversation with Scrimgeour, smiled and said she was happy to attend the wedding tomorrow now that she did not have to go into the office. Remus, however, did not smile, and Harry did not like the look in his eyes. It reminded him of the way Remus had looked in St Mungo’s last summer — cold, closed off, and ready to run.

After he and Sirius had seen Remus and Tonks out, Harry started upstairs to Ron’s room, but Sirius grabbed his arm.

“Harry,” he said, voice unusually sharp, “James may be willing to let you run off on some dangerous mission just because you’re an adult, but I’m not going to let you do this alone. I don’t care what they’ve decided. You’ll be hard-pressed to get rid of me.”

Harry had not considered that Sirius, with his unwavering loyalty and fear of repeating his mistakes from the first war, would be the hardest to convince to accept Dumbledore’s secret quest. He searched desperately for something to ease Sirius’ fear.

“What about with Umbridge? You were willing to let me make my own decision about that.”

Sirius’ frown turned into a vicious scowl. “That was different. We knew where you were — you could come home at any time. You had an out. If you go, Harry, there may not be a way to turn back.”

Harry thought of the Horcrux tucked under the pillow on the camp bed. He was already beyond the point of turning back. Maybe if he had refused to destroy the locket, had insisted Dumbledore or Regulus destroy it, maybe that had been his last chance to turn down this quest.

Or would it have been retrieving Slughorn’s memory? Or the moment he had decided to face Voldemort in the graveyard? Or the moment he had decided to get to the Philosopher’s Stone before Voldemort?

There had never been a turning back point. His path had always been headed this way, since his great-grandfather had decided to fight evil, since his parents had joined the Order, since a prophecy had been set — it was all far larger than Harry, and though he knew he had a choice, he didn’t really, not if he wanted to stay true to who he was.

Just as Sirius, too, did not have any choice.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, for there was nothing else to say.

He pulled away from Sirius and climbed the stairs to Ron’s bedroom. His feet were heavy as he did, and he thought that if he wasn’t careful his entire chest would pull him down to the ground as if he had been struck by a Solum jinx.

A strange sound from his parents’ room made him pause on the landing. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he recognised the uncommon sound of his mother crying. She was always the one who was quick to anger, ready with a Blasting Curse, and Harry’s heart crawled up into his throat as he heard her unfiltered grief.

He could not hear what his father said, but he recognised the tone of comfort, the attempts to soothe her heartache.

“Oh — stop,” she snapped at him, and choked on a sob. “I can’t change Harry’s mind, I can’t bring Dumbledore back, I can’t repair my wand —”

“You aren’t helpless.” James’ voice was raised ever so slightly, only just audible over her sobs. “We will be there for Harry, as much as we can be, and you know this. We just have to trust that Dumbledore knew what he was doing.”

“He’s our son, James, we can’t —”

“We won’t.”

Harry hurried upstairs, stepping lightly to avoid the creaks. Unfortunately he did not know the steps at the Burrow as well as he knew the steps in Styncon Garden, and there were quite a few squeaks in his wake.

When he opened the door to Ron’s room and was surprised to find it empty. He frowned, wondering where Ron could have gotten to. Then he heard, “Finally — I was starting to think your parents had Apparated away with you.”

Harry turned toward the balcony to see Ginny leaning against its frame.

“Have you been waiting long?”

“Only since Ron and I finished the washing up.”

“Where is he?”

“He said he was going to check on the chickens. Kind of him, really.”

Though his chest still ached, he gave Ginny a weak smile and joined her on the balcony.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

Harry looked up at the clear sky and the constellations that decorated it. He thought of his failed Astronomy O.W.L. and the centaurs’ warnings about Mars. Seven years ago they had warned him that war was coming — no, warned wasn’t the right word. They’d simply observed it.

Harry did not want to be an observer, and he could not blame his parents for refusing to stand by, either.

“Should I tell my parents what I’m going to do?” he asked Ginny. It was not the answer to her question, but it was the closest he could get.

Ginny did not answer right away. She leaned against him, despite the warm night. Harry obligingly put his arm around her shoulder, but unlike during the early mornings they had spent together, Harry’s mind did not still. It continued to turn over everything his parents had said, the sad smile on Tonks’ face, the terror in Remus’ voice, and the fury in Sirius.

“Is Dumbledore the only reason you’re keeping it a secret?” she asked.

“No,” Harry said. “I know that they won’t let me face Voldemort — and I won’t watch them die trying to protect me from something I can’t avoid. I have to be the one to face him.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind, then.”

Harry let out a slow breath but the pain in his chest did not relax.

“Hey,” she said, and elbowed him gently, “don’t you want to know what I got you for your birthday?”

He pulled his eyes from the stars and turned to look at her. “What? No — you didn’t have to get me anything, I —”

“Took me a while to come up with it. I thought I couldn’t get you anything big, since you’ll probably be traveling. I wanted it to be useful, but I figured Hermione had all that covered. Still, I thought I ought to get you something to remember me by.”

“Ginny, you don’t —”

She cut him off with a kiss.

They’d had quite a few kisses on the balcony this summer — perhaps more than Ron might like to know about — but none quite like this one. She tangled her hand in his hair and his hand slid to the small of her back, almost instinctively, pulling her closer. It was deeper, longer than their kisses from before…

Until there was a loud bang in Ron’s room.

Harry remembered Mrs Weasley’s bold entry the other day and practically leapt off of the balcony in an attempt to get away from Ginny. He knocked over Ginny’s broom, and his elbow collided with the bannister. A jolt of pain coursed through his arm to his fingertips. He winced and tried to rub the sensation away. It did not help.

“Thanks for the warning, Ron,” Ginny snapped.

Ron sank down on his bed and looked at the two of them, eyes full of something Harry couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t judgement, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

“I spent half an hour with the chickens! What more did you want from me?”

“The whole damn night,” Ginny muttered, but only for Harry’s ears, which burned suddenly.

“Er — Good night, Ginny,” Harry said, hating how formal his voice sounded all of a sudden.

She quirked an eyebrow, then kissed his cheek. “Night, Harry. Sweet dreams. And happy birthday.”

[lunariumarcs]

Dark Angel AU

Adaptation

Light Spinner woke up as the sun rose to light the kingdom. Her toes curled into her feet, stiff from cold. She ran a finger up the frigid bridge of her nose and shivered. A long, pale arm rested heavy across her belly. Her bare skin prickled when she slipped away from the blankets and pillows. Under a weak silencing charm, she dressed herself, grimacing as the fabric grazed the fresh marks across her body.

She stole a glance at the queen on her exit. Her majesty rolled over into a shallow pool of her own saliva. Light Spinner trapped the rage in her stomach and let it go with a gentle stream of air through her nose. The door closed behind her softly. The tiles in the hall froze the bottoms of her feet as she padded out past the guards. Her shoes had to be abandoned by the nightstand. They were too noisy for her stealth mission this morning. 

The guards nodded at her on her way. She nodded back, reeking of sex and sweat and shame and shadows. It was all for the game. Keep her majesty sated and content. Move one space at a time. Wait for the opportunity.

She locked her bedroom door and let her rumpled clothes fall to the floor. The hot water kept her teeth from chattering and cleared the frost bites. She cleaned herself and applied the healing salve to her entire body. Her tooth brush scraped away the after taste of extasy.

She opened the top of the toilet bowl and reached for a book wrapped in waxy leaves and sealed with twine. The thin garden rope slipped away and she gently removed the leaves. The book felt like sin in her hands, dry and restricted. Magic books were rare in the Brightmoon library. The queen horded them away in her chambers under a powerful lock spell. Light Spinner had found this one under one of the old chairs in the library, dusty and forgotten. She cracked it open to a marked section on perception spells. The scriptures and casting diagrams brought her comfort. They were like letters she had once written and forgotten about. Sometimes she whispered the incantations under her breath in the garden, too scared to ignite the magic that the words invited. Before she put the book back in the tank, she brought the open pages to her nose and inhaled deeply.

Nostalgia rushed through her brain, too quick to catch and identify. She inhaled again, wishing the air through her chest down to her toes.

She put the book back in the tank. At least now she had something in a realm of magic and titans and power.

After she dressed, she retreated barefoot to the garden. The sun warmed stones roughed her feet and the grass tickled her ankles. She smiled, finally, when she entered the greenhouse. 

After a few hours, a large cloud roved over the greenhouse. The plants started to shiver. A set of commanding footsteps made their way into the garden. Light Spinner stood at attention to the oncoming queen.

“Good morning, your majesty.” She bowed.

“You left me at dawn.” The Queen remarked.

“Ah my apologies. I wanted -”

“And you left these.” the abandoned shoes were summoned into Angella’s fingers.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Evidently.”

Angella measured a stare at Light Spinner. The gardener gazed back, wondering if she should speak.

“Are you going to come take them or do I have to hold them forever?”

Light Spinner shook her head and forced several even steps towards her majesty.

“Closer, dear. The bites can’t be that bad.”

The gardener walked until she was in Angella’s personal space. She tried not to breathe too deeply. The Queen bent slightly to reach Light Spinner’s neck. Her breath tickled.

“You smell different.” the queen observed, pulling away, “Like lemon grass and honey.”

Light Spinner felt her heart quicken. Angella put a hand over her chest and smirked dangerously. Light Spinner knew better than to move away.

“I almost didn’t want to give you the shoes.” She whispered, “But we have guests in attendance this afternoon and I didn’t want to argue in front of them. It would bring shame upon your reputation. And I won’t have such a thing in my castle.”

“Of course, your majesty. I would hate to make our guests uncomfortable. May I please have my shoes?”

“Do you promise not to leave them behind again?”

“I... yes. I promise.”

“Good. Break that promise and next time you will swear on your own life.”

“I understand. Thank you for your discipline.” She could not look at her queen.

The queen smiled and trailed her hand up the gardener’s chest until it was tilting her head upwards.

“I appreciate your cooperation.” The queen whispered against bitten, chapped lips. She dropped the shoes as she strode out of the greenhouse. Only when she was fully gone did Light Spinner kneel for her shoes and put them on. She trembled as she cared for the rest of the plants.

“I’m sorry you all had to see that.” She whispered several times through the thickness in her throat. She washed her face with the garden hose and rinsed her mouth several times, pushing the water through the gaps in her teeth.

“I will learn the magic.” She said to a rose bush, “Even if she kills me for it. Will you hold me accountable? Will you help me master the art?”

The rose bush sent her warm feelings. None were emotions of compliance.

“I knew I should have asked the blue bells.”

“Yeah but the blue bells will say yes to anything.” A tiny voice spoke from behind her. The gardener startled away from her plant and wheeled around. A small child sat near a patch of daisies. She had strawberry blond hair, freckles and an adorable gap in her smile. She wore a traditional Plumerian green dress, woven from silk and chiffon. A lily blossom wove a crown into her hair.

“Good morning, your majesty. Enjoying the gardens?” She was not aware that Angella’s favoured guests would be royalty from Plumeria.

“Mhm. The plants say you’re the nicest person in the castle. Certainly nicer than that frozen witch, Queen Angella.”

“The queen can be a bit cold... but that’s not a reason to call her mean things.”

“I dunno, you just got done saying that she might kill you. And the merrigolds tell me that she’s real mean when you’re with her.”

“.... How old are you?”

“Probably like ten.”

“You mean you aren’t sure?”

“I’m giving a rough conversion from Plumeria’s unit of time.”

“Ah.”

“You have plant magic too, right? That’s why you talk to them?”

“I don’t have any magic - not since a tragic accident that left me badly injured.”

“Ok. And I’m not a Princess of Plumeria.” A large root emerged from the ground to carry her over to the gardener. She lay on her stomach across the barky surface. “But lets say that I am a Princess of Plumeria and that in this universe, you have magic.”

“... Ok. What then? What sorts of powers do I have?”

“You can make the plants bigger, make ‘em smaller. But its not a matter of forcing their size, its a matter of speeding up their biological stuff - make them absorb sunlight faster and convert it into adenda - aden - adenanine tri-phos-phate -”

“I think you mean Adenosine Triphosphate.”

“Yeah - this stupid science stuff is always dumb and complicated. But! It does come with cool powers. There are always positives to anything. After a while, you can just do it, without thinking of the complicated science speak.”

“That is very helpful, thank you.”

“I can send you some books! We can do botany together! Oh! I can teach you!”

Light Spinner smoothed the girl’s hair, “That sounds lovely. But you must remember that I don’t actually have magic and that you really are a Princess of Plumeria.”

She nearly argued with the gardener, when she realized the meaning hidden in her words.

“Oh, its a secret.” She whispered.

“Its a secret.”

“Cool. I’ve never had to keep a secret before! We never really keep secrets in Plumeria - my parents say it messes with the trust of the community or something. But don’t worry - I’ll keep it as safe as I can.”

“Thank you. Why don’t you go find your parents before they get worried?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye!” She skipped out of the greenhouse and the root replaced itself as she left. 

- this is unedited so rip if there are grammar. ill comeback to edit.

[hj-creates]

Out of the Shadows, Into the Light

Fandom: BBC’s The Musketeers

Pairing: Aramis/Porthos (a tiny dalliance with a female OC)

Genre: SUPER fluffy, a little spicy, with a dash of Aramis angst.

Note: Oh gosh, I had abandoned this idea due to time and working on other stuff, but I saw a post regarding Aramis’s anxiety over being abandoned. So I decided to write the damned thing.  In this, he’s terrified of once again losing someone he loves. This is set roughly around the time of Season Two.

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

Aramis patrolled the gardens surrounding the palace and sighed. It was only afternoon and these outdoor parties that the king was so fond of always lasted long into the night. He was already terribly bored, the other musketeers were keeping to their stations closer to his royal highness and to make matters worse, Anne had decided to return to her quarters after a small wave to the crowd. He felt his talents were wasted babysitting French nobles and esteemed foreigners whose only danger was perhaps a sprained ankle due to ridiculous shoes and too much Bordeaux. He heard footsteps approaching him and he clenched his jaw. If one more duke or baron asked him if he knew how to get an audience with Louis, he was going to snap.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the legendary lothario of the Musketeers, Aramis himself.”

He turned around quickly and smiled when he saw a familiar face. “Legendary?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Perhaps notorious?” She teased softly.

“I see my reputation precedes me.” He grinned before bowing slightly. “Vivienne, it is good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too. It’s been years.”

“Almost a decade. I’m glad to see you doing well. What’s brings you to my humble town?”

“An invitation from an old friend. She said I was growing boring, living out my days in the country and that I simply must revive myself in the capitol.”

“Is it working?”

She giggled playfully. “Oh Aramis. You should know I could never be boring. But yes, the city is a bit invigorating. Especially when every salon and tea party hen is talking about one particular member of the King’s Guard.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed, I have only been here a few days and it seems there is hardly a woman in Paris who doesn’t have your name on her tongue.”

“Not just my name.” He smirked.

She shook her head and covered her mouth with a dainty, gloved hand. “Paris hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“Not true. I am far more discreet than I used to be.”

“Really? Is that why they keep you far away from the queen?”

At this, his face darkened a little. “Vivienne.”

“Oh stop. It matters not to me who you choose to spend time with, I only worry about you never finding happiness.”

“I assure you I am quite fine. Happy enough.”

“Aramis.” She gently touched his cheek. “I know you. I saw the way you looked at the Queen. Longing for a life that could never be yours. But I assume you have made your peace with that. There is a another, however. An ache far more painful than the crush you have on Anne.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She looked around quickly to make sure they were alone. “Porthos.”

He furrowed his brow. “What about him?”

“Something a bit more than friends between you two?”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing between us. I mean, yes, we are more than friends. The Musketeers are like family. I would lay down my life for any of them.”

“Oh? Do all Musketeers look at each other that way? That must make the Garrison very interesting.”

He huffed out his frustration. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? Tell me you don’t look at Porthos and pine for one thing.”

“It doesn’t matter. I would never risk our friendship over it.”

“Always the romantic.” She said softly. “Willing to suffer in silence while your love goes unrequited.”

“Is there a point to this? Besides flustering me while I’m on duty.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover quickly enough but if you’re not too angry with me I’ll be at Le Chat Noir tavern later. It would be nice to catch up and talk freely in a less formal setting.”

“You mean you want us to get drunk together and see where the night takes us?”

“It’ll be just like the old days.” She teased. “Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You should invite Porthos. If you’re feeling daring, of course.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.” She smiled. “Au revoir, Aramis.”

He smiled in defeat and tipped his hat. “Good day, mademoiselle.”

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

The tavern was loud and raucous. The fireplace cracked and popped while the patrons pounded on the tables and laughed boisterously. Tankards were knocked onto the floor and women’s shrill squeals could be heard from dark corners.

At one of the tables by the window, Vivienne was cozying up to Porthos, leaning ever closer into him and even whispering risqué things in his ear.

“What are you doin?” He pulled away, his cheeks flush with either wine or desire.

She giggles. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, I mean, I saw you earlier today, talking with Aramis. The two of you looked quite cozy.”

“Oh. Aramis is an old friend. We used to know each other a long time ago.”

“And I suppose you two…”

She giggled and sipped her wine. “No. He was head over heels for another. He thought she was going to be the love of his life forever.” She sighed.

“Sounds like him. Always jumping into love headfirst.”

She looked at him, eyes glittering, and bit her lower lip. “Not always.” Porthos looked a little confused and she just shook her head, laughing melodically and nuzzling her face into his neck.

She could feel his chest rise and fall, his hands slide across her lap and rest on her hip. He cleared his throat a little before speaking. “I would’ve thought he was more your type, though.”

“Oh, he’s fine. But, I don’t know. I prefer you, I think. Rugged. Strong. Perhaps a bit dangerous. You have the look of a man who isn’t to be messed with.” She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “And yet, there is something in your eyes. A warmth, bravery. I mean, why wouldn’t I fancy a man who puts his king and country before himself. It’s very noble.”

He chuckled. “I suppose.”

“Not that Aramis isn’t handsome.” She looked across the room at him.

“Oh yeah. He’s very pretty.” He snorted out before laughing loudly.

“Mmmm…” She cooed against his neck. “The both of you could be quite a night.”

“The two of us?” He let out another chuckle. “That’s a bit wild. Never done anything like that. I think I prefer one partner at a time.”

“Oh, I’ve never done anything like that either. But It’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

Porthos laughed again, but a little less freely. “Really? That’s pretty scandalous.”

“I suppose.” She backed away but was undaunted. “Aww… Aramis looks lonely.” She stood up and winked. “Be right back.”

She joined Aramis at the bar where he had just swallowed an entire glass of madeira. “What are you doing?” He snarled at her.

“Trying to help you.”

“By flirting with him?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have told you anything. I can’t believe you used that to humiliate me to my face.”

Her eyes widened. “Aramis. That is not at all what I am trying to do.” She moved closer to him so no one else could hear. “You said yourself you could never tell him outright how you felt. We can… circumvent you confessing, which I agree might be a little too much to unload on him. But if, say, there was a female there with you to distract him; get things started, he might be more willing to try something new.”

“So... what is this then? A trick?”

“A trick? Not exactly, more like getting him to slowly warm up to the idea.”

“You’re pretending to like Porthos to lure him into bed with us?”

“Who said I was pretending? He’s very attractive.” She smirked. “And you make it sound so lurid.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“I guess we’ll see.” She kissed his cheek and made her way back to the table. “You’ve underestimated my charms, Porthos. I told your friend I had a room upstairs and if he wanted to join us, I would be ever so grateful.”

“I dunno.” He appeared dubious. “It’s still a bit much.”

“Aww…” she playfully pouted and let her hand creep up his thigh. “Please… I promise we can stop if you don’t like it.”

He quickly drained the rest of the bottle in front of him and let her take his hand, leading him upstairs. She looked over her shoulder at Aramis and gestured for him to follow.

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

Things started a bit awkwardly, but Vivienne patiently eased the nerves of the musketeer in front of her. She was perched on Porthos’s lap in the creaky bed, working on untying the laces of his shirt. Aramis was behind her, kissing her neck and shoulders and avoiding looking at Porthos. His hands moved around, resting on her waist, cupping her breasts. She slid them down, until one of them was resting on Porthos’s arm. She then cupped the larger man’s face in her hands and kissed along his jawline to underneath his ear. He slowly figured it out and laughed a little. “Hey mate.” He nodded at Aramis. “That’s my arm you’re grabbin’.”

Aramis stared back at him, not moving his hand away, his eyes expressing both hope and defiance. It began to dawn on the other musketeer that this wasn’t an accident and the room seemed to grow silent for a moment as no one dared to breathe. Porthos didn’t say anything but dipped his head to press his lips to the girl’s collarbone. His hand slid off her hip and tentatively rested on Aramis’s thigh.

Vivienne looked down and smiled to herself. She pressed another small kiss to Porthos’s throat and made an excuse that she needed more wine. She slipped away and back down to the tavern with no intention of returning. It didn’t matter now that Aramis and Porthos were alone. Now the unspoken had stepped out of the shadows and Aramis paused, frozen, looking at Porthos in almost a panic. He knew the next step could never be taken back. They couldn’t just pretend they were drunk. Pretend they didn’t remember. This next step would change everything. A heavy burden for a gesture that was so small and yet seemed like the most important moment of his life. He leaned in and let his eyes flutter closed. His lips parted slightly and he felt the hesitant touch of the other man’s mouth on his. Soon, a strong hand came around to caress the back of his neck and a muscular chest was pressing against his own.

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

Aramis woke up slowly. His head was a bit fuzzy and his mouth was parched. Where was he? He blinked a few times and the room came into focus. Oh right. The Tavern. Wine. Porthos.

Porthos. Shit. He turned over in a panic. Of course. The bed was empty. Fuck. Porthos had realized what he’d done and he probably couldn’t leave fast enough. He would probably never be able to look at Aramis again, nevermind fight by his side. Damn. He had ruined everything. He should have kept his secret to himself. He should have never agreed to this stupid idea. What an idiot. What an absolute-.

“Well, well…” came a deep, gravelly voice from the doorway. “Sleeping Beauty is finally awake.”

Aramis turned and saw Porthos walking over with two mugs of steaming coffee. “Figured you could use this after last night.” He smiled warmly and set one mug on the nightstand, then sat on the bed beside him.

“Oh.” Was Aramis’s feeble reply. “Yeah. Thanks.” He reached for the coffee and took a small sip, trying to gauge Porthos’s expression. “So…”

“So.” Porthos repeated. A slow smile spread over his face. “I suppose this makes things a bit complicated. Should we tell the others or keep this our secret?”

Aramis narrowed his eyes, a little confused. “You… you’re not mad or ashamed?”

Porthos shook his head and a small chuckle rumbled out from his chest. “Mad? Nah. I mean, there is one thing I’m a little upset about.” Aramis waited for the worst. “You snore. Horribly. Woke me up a few times.” Aramis looked down, the tiniest smile tugging at his cheeks. “Oh, and you’re a bit clingy in your sleep. I was afraid if I moved I might disturb you.” He reached up and tilted the other man’s face up to look at him. “I suppose I can live with that though.”

Aramis leaned into his touch, afraid to say anything.

“You coulda just told me, ya know.” Porthos said softly. “I guess I coulda told you too.”

Aramis grinned meekly. “We’re idiots.”

“Yep.” Porthos laughed. “But better late than never, eh?”

“Yeah.” Aramis said softly. “Better late than never.”

[lakesandquarries]

Baby Shoes - Chapter 2

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

AO3 Link

He stays away from the Biological Research department for three whole days before curiosity gets the best of him. Work is the only thing that’s a suitable distraction, and his current work is frustratingly easy. He’s supposed to be moved around departments, placed on whatever project is most difficult, but currently he’s just helping design a new line of robotic limbs. It’s almost an insult, frankly.

He tests the springs on the arm one last time, determines that there’s nothing more he can do today, and leaves.

The trip to Biological Research is a short one, but once he’s there he’s reminded of how confusing it is. The scientists seem less frazzled today, at least. He winds up in a hall filled with desks, some kind of office space perhaps? Most of them are empty or occupied by very stressed looking scientists, but he spots one young man with blond hair sitting at a desk playing with a slinky, and makes his way over.

“Excuse me,” Bubby says, clearing his throat. The young man straightens up, accidentally launching his slinky across the room.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles as it narrowly avoids hitting someone.

“You might wanna pick that up before someone trips on it. Or, don’t, it’ll be good entertainment.”

The man snorts as he stands up, grabbing his slinky and dusting it off. “Maybe. Not worth risking my job if the wrong person slips.” He holds his hand out to Bubby. “Dr. Dekkard.”

Bubby shakes it warily. “Dr. Bubby.” Dekkard’s eyes widen, and his grip tightens.

“Oh, shit! You’re the -”

“Ultimate Lifeform, yes.” He smiles at Dekkard, showing off his slightly sharper than average teeth.

“Damn, what - what are you doing here? I was told you were working in the Robotics Department.” He releases Bubby’s hand, shoving his own into the pocket of his lab coat, the other still fiddling with the slinky.

“I am. I get curious.”

“I dunno, most of the sh - uh, stuff here is pretty boring.”

“You can swear, Dr. Dekkard. We’re all adults here.” Probably. Dekkard has the look of someone too young to be working at Black Mesa, still innocent and excited about the possibilities of science. The spark in his eyes will be gone soon enough. “I had...an encounter here, the other day. There was a subject that escaped, apparently?”

Dekkard nods. “Yeah, XEN-3. Don’t know much about it - some kinda shapeshifting alien? It’s supposed to be really dangerous, though. Bit a scientist a while back and nearly killed the guy.” He shrugs, taking his hand out of his pocket so he can move the slinky between both hands. “I only started here a month ago, I don’t know much about it. It keeps trying to escape though, the guys in charge are pretty pissed.”

Bubby purses his lips, thinking. “Maybe they need a new perspective. A better perspective. Who’s in charge?”

“Dr. Zeki. She’s - I think she’s free right now? I can show you where her office is.”

“Yes, please do.” Bubby straightens his lab coat. Dekkard drops the slinky on his desk before leading Bubby down one of the many identical corridors. They stop after reaching a door with a plaque attached to it.

Dr. Amelia Zeki, Head of Biological Research.

Dekkard knocks on the door. “Dr. Zeki? I’ve got someone who wants to see you.”

There’s a sigh on the other side. “Send them in.”

“Alright, well. Good luck. Uh, nice meeting you. I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” Bubby says. He hopes he doesn’t. He hopes Dekkard quits within the next 20 minutes and finds somewhere else to work that isn’t this shit hole.

He opens the door to Zeki’s office.

Behind the desk, looking over a stack of papers, is the same woman he saw the other day. The one who shot Benrey in front of him. This is the same person in charge of their well being?

“Well?” Zeki asks, looking up at him. “I assume there’s a reason you’re here, but I’m busy. I don’t have time to wait for you to say something.”

“I had a few questions. About the - the subject I encountered the other day.”

“XEN-3?” She puts the papers down. “Did it bite you or something? If so, you’re gonna need antibiotics immediately, it -”

“It didn’t hurt me,” Bubby says sharply. “I only encountered it briefly, but it seemed perfectly docile.”

“You’d better hope you don’t encounter it again, then, because I doubt you’ll get that lucky twice.”

“That’s what I came here to ask about, actually. I’m - well, the current project I’m working on is far below my usual standard. I’m hoping to find something more...challenging.”

Zeki raises an eyebrow. “And you want to deal with the violent shapeshifting alien?”

“It’s certainly a challenge, isn’t it?”

She looks back at her papers, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “We have it pretty heavily restrained at the moment, and it would be nice to have someone who can interact with it without getting attacked.” She pushes her chair back from the table and stands up. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Fine. You can come see it.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

How does anyone find their way around this place? The hall Zeki takes Bubby down is identical to every other god damn hallway in this shitty department. She leads him into a room with a large glass partition, separating the subject from the scientists. One-way glass, he assumes. Bubby steps forward to get a better look, and his blood goes cold.

There’s no cage like he’d seen a few days ago. This is an entirely new enclosure, a different room than before.

It’s worse. They replaced the cage with heavy chains and shackles. The presumably cold metal clamped around Benrey's wrists, ankles, waist, with even their tiny neck being held by the restraints They’re flopped over, the chains the only thing keeping them upright, and their eyes are open but vacant.

“Are - are they alive? ”

Zeki nods. “Thing won’t stay dead. No matter what we throw at it, it just heals itself. Total reset.”

“I -” he wants to strangle her. He thinks back to just a few days ago, Benrey clinging to his shirt, impossibly grateful for the simple gift of a name.

“It’s not sentient,” Zeki says. “It just imitates what it sees. It’s not like you , Dr. Bubby.”

But it is. It’s exactly like him. He remembers days spent floating listlessly in his tube, wishing for something, anything to happen. Even some kind of experiment, because at least then he wouldn’t be alone. Days spent slamming against the glass in a feeble attempt to break it.

He swallows down the words he wants to say. “If they’re a shapeshifter, how are chains supposed to keep it in place?” Bubby asks, stepping away from the glass and forcing himself to look away.

“It’s not impossible, but it’s harder. We keep the cuffs tight so it can’t expand without hurting itself, and getting smaller seems to be more difficult somehow. It’s only a temporary solution, though. We’ve been hoping to study the shapeshifting better, but it’s tricky.”

“I understand you also have an...escaping problem.”

She clenches her jaw, muscles in her neck twitching. “Only a few times.”

“Over how long?”

“Five. Five times in three months.”

“Hm.” Bubby steps forward, touching a hand to the glass, then walks a slow circle around the room. “There might be a better way to prevent it from escaping.”

Zeki sighs, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Let’s hear your idea.”

“You could always try to improve its living situation. Give it some incentive to stay.”

She shakes her head. “Its first cage was fine . It’s just being difficult.”

“I know you said it’s not sentient, but -”

“It’s just mimicking us. It doesn’t understand what it says, or what it does, or any of that. It’s from Xen. All it wants to do is kill and eat, and sometimes that means a little bit of acting.”

“It must’ve chosen this form for a reason. Humans are, to put it plainly, shittily designed when it comes to killing and eating. So why not try treating it like a human?”

Zeki eyes him again, studying him as intensely as he’s seen her stare at Benrey. “You’ve got some kind of attachment to it.”

“I find it interesting. It’s more of a challenge than robotic arms. ”

Another long moment as Zeki stares at him. “You know what? Sure. Fine. I’ll clear it with the head of Robotics, see if we can borrow you over here. I’ll give it a try. But Mr. Bubby, I do hope you remember your place here.”

“That’s Doctor Bubby,” he snaps, straightening up to his full height. He’s nearly a full head taller than her, yet can’t shake the feeling of being looked down on.

“Like I said. I hope you remember your place.”

[consumedkings-archive]

@shallow-gravy jess..... jess jess jess...... where do i even begin huh? what do i even say? you are the sweetest, the most obnoxiously talented, and i just!! hm!! i just really adore you all to tiny bits and pieces. merry christmas my beloved friend, thank you so much for all of your love and support and listening to my ramblings, for loving my girl elliot, for letting me gush over diana. the list really do be endless!! i could probably wax poetic about how grateful i am to have made a friend as wonderful as you, but in the interest of time, i will just say: thank you thank you thank you! and merry christmas!

ii. a venom dripping in your mouth

elliot honeysett/john seed/deputy diana baker, the unholy trinity, in full-fledged terroristic force. this is pure self-indulgent trash, and i can’t believe this is an acceptable christmas gift to give you but i so hope you like it! 

canon? who is she. i don’t know her. herald!elliot au, largely canon divergent but like it doesn’t REALLY matter bc i don’t go into detail that much. idk man just roll with it

words: 8.8k because i’m incapable of having any Chill

warnings: naughty language, some blood warnings, mentions of past trauma. nothing super explicit but like idk when elliot and john set their sights on diana i do think they need a warning of their own lmao. also, i guess i should warn i don’t know how anything works ever and don’t come for me, don’t drag me, this is supposed to just!!! be fun!!! thanks!!!

“Who the fuck is that?”

Burke’s crossing the street with Pratt and the rookie in tow. Diana drags a few feet ahead, smoking and attempting to not be a part of the conversation, which is hard to do when there’s only a handful of them at the office anyway.

Pratt glances up at the blonde they’re about to pass. She’s propped against the hood of a jeep, the hem of her daisy dukes barely reaching mid-thigh, taking a long drag of a cigarette. He notices the head of a snake tattoo coming down her thigh. It’s hot; the air is buzzing with bugs and heat from the midday sun, and Burke can feel the sweat collecting in the hollow of his collarbones and at the nape of his neck.

From here Burke can tell she’s not looking at them—she’s looking at Diana. Hungrily.

“Elliot Honeysett,” Pratt replies, keeping his voice low, and he spits on the ground. “John’s wife. Fucking psycho.”

Ah. A Seed, Burke thinks, with no absence of venom. A Seed but with her own last name. An uninteresting but unexpected detail.

“You know her, rookie?” Burke asks, looking over at Diana. The brunette stares at him and drops her cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with her shoe.

“No,” Diana replies shortly. “I’m not from here.”

She says it like that’s supposed to explain it, like that’s going to make it make sense why the blonde’s eyes are fixed on her, and of course it doesn’t.

“I went to school with her,” Pratt offers up, and Burke looks at him curiously.

“Yeah? She a psycho then, too?”

“Nah.” The deputy crosses his arms over his chest, refusing—pointedly—to look at Elliot even once after identifying her the closer they get. “John made her that way.”

Diana’s been quiet, lighting up a second cigarette, when she says, “I dunno. To join a cult you've probably gotta have that shit in you all along.”

Burke makes a low noise of agreement. He watches Elliot wiggle her fingers at Diana in a little wave as the cluster of them nears, flashing a most pretty smile; at first glance, he thinks that the blonde looks more bubblegum than cyanide, all curled hair tucked up in a high pony and red cupid’s-bow lips and white, white teeth.

“Howdy, deputy,” she calls, Southern drawl honeyed.

Diana visibly grimaces, pointedly pushing her gaze forward and fixing it on the office. There’s a split second where Burke thinks he sees something flash across her face, but she’s stuffed it down and the sharp lines of her expression smooth out.

And then Elliot looks at him. Burke waves, but he doesn’t smile—it’s not meant to be nice, it’s meant to relay the message that he sees her. When she regards him expectantly, he goes ahead and greets, “Mrs. Seed."

I fucking know you. No surname fuckery is going to throw Burke off the scent. There are so many boogeymen and monsters in the world that don’t want you to know their name, and he thinks Elliot Honeysett might be one of them.

She doesn’t stop smiling at the misnaming, necessarily—her expression smooths out into mild amusement—and then she opens her mouth and pushes the lit end of her cigarette onto her tongue. Pratt says, under his breath, “Jesus Christ,” and Burke thinks he can hear the sizzle for a split second before it’s out, and then she tosses the cigarette to the side.

“Marshal,” she greets him, and he slows his walk for just a moment. “Lookin’ a little flush. You not used to the hot weather, honey?”

“It’s cooling off up in D.C.,” he replies, keeping his tone conversational despite the urge to punch those pearly whites in, “but I used to come here every summer. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Elliot smiles. It’s all teeth. Burke thinks about how most animals do that as a threat. “Good. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.” And then her gaze turns to Pratt, and she says flatly, “Pratt.”

“Honeysett,” Staci returns, and he might not have been able to sound more disingenuous, but it’s well-deserved—the blonde makes no effort to hide her disdain. She rolls her eyes, mouth twisting in amusement before she swings around the front of her jeep and into the driver’s seat.

Like he can’t resist the blatant dismissal, Pratt tacks on, “Tell the hubby I said hello.”

The engine revs. Burke watches her pop a pair of blue shades on, leaning against the rolled-down window. “Eat shit, bud,” Elliot says, and smiles just before she kisses the air in Burke’s direction and pulls a hard u-turn. The tires squeal on sizzling pavement, and she waves at them through her open window before she speeds off.

Burke watches the receding vehicle and says, “They all that peachy? Can I plan on Joseph being a fuckin’ breeze?”

“Fuckin’ whatever,” Pratt says, biting the words out as Diana swings the door open. “She’s all golden princess until you get close enough to see she’s picking the wings off of flies. Why’s she so interested in you, rookie?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Diana snaps. “I don’t know what goes on in that psycho’s brain.”

Burke grimaces.

“Might do well to find out,” he says, “before we learn the hard way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“John.”

He makes a low noise, staring at the map stretched out before him; it’s his first mistake, because Elliot has never been very patient when she has something to say, and this time is no different. She ducks under his arm and settles herself on the table, on the map, effectively breaking his eyesight with the thing which is keeping him perfectly and completely unfocused on her.

“Do you remember what you said to me when we got married?” she asks him, her voice suspiciously light and unfettered by the usual components of her timbre—like venom, or sharpness. Elliot skims her fingers along the skin exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt.

He watches her. She’s up to something. “I remember every single thing I’ve ever told you,” he replies, stifling his amusement, “and I said many things. Which are you referring to?”

“Pick one and try.”

The neckline of her tank top brushes the bottom of her Wrath scar, the jagged lines marring what was otherwise perfectly unblemished skin. What game are you playing? he thinks, but not without affection, digging his thumb past those little shorts she likes so much. “How about... ‘I can’t wait to rip this fucking dress off of you’?”

“Try again.”

Ah, so that kind of game. Not the sexy kind. “‘I’m going to give you anything you want’?” He says it with a border of cautioning, because Elliot doesn’t cash that line in very often, but when she does it’s almost always for something big. She’s in a mood tonight, this wife of his, the kind of mood that he’d normally like to take advantage of if he wasn’t busy trying to make sure they keep eyes on the Marshal.

Elliot beams at him. “You know me so well, handsome,” she murmurs, and tugs him down by the front of his shirt for a kiss; luxurious, open-mouthed, and slick, and then against his mouth she says, “I want the deputy.”

“For what?” John asks. “Dinner? She’s been around that Marshal, who’s almost certainly here for something to do with Joseph.” When the blonde blinks at him, as if this has no bearing on her request, he barks out a laugh. “You’re asking too much.”

“You said anything.” Elliot pulls back to look at him, fingers still fisted in his shirt.

“I did,” he says, slowly.

“So,” the blonde murmurs silkily, “get her for me.” And then, as though she is the most gracious: “Consider her a belated wedding gift.”

John exhales out of his nose. He’s hard-pressed to say no to Elliot, but he’s got the sneaking suspicion that this is one of the instances where he should. It’s not like Elliot ever asks for anything that’s really unreasonable—not usually—but this? He could get her just about anyone, and she wants Diana Baker?

“For what?” he asks again, brows furrowing as Elliot undoes the rest of the buttons of his shirt so that she can drag her nails against his abdomen. “What could you want the rookie deputy for, hm?”

“Does it really matter?” she prompts, looking up at him through her lashes, and he thinks no, not really, but he knows better.

“Yes,” he replies, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. “It does matter. Really. I’m going to have to pitch this to Joseph and Jacob.”

“I like her,” Elliot says without hesitation. That’s how it always goes—John will push as long as he has to, until he doesn’t anymore, because they always give each other what they want. In the end. “And we could use her.”

He scans her face. Elliot doesn’t say she likes someone without merit. He’s come to trust that she’s got an eye for people, even if he can’t always see it—and he doesn’t see it, not really, in a fresh-in-town junior deputy that’s in over her head.

For a second, he thinks about it; it wouldn’t be the first time that they’ve allowed a third party, but it would be one of few times that she’s chosen, which is different in and of itself. If he knows her at all—and he does—she doesn’t usually pick unless she intends to keep them around for a long while.

“I’ll consider it,” John says finally. “After tomorrow.”

A smile curves her mouth. She slides her arms around him and kisses his sternum, just beneath his own sin, revealed—a pair, the two of them, closer than just lovers.

“That’s all I ask,” Elliot murmurs sweetly as his thumb sweeps the slope of her cheekbone.

It’s not, John thinks, but he thinks it with love, because he does—he loves his wretched little viper, this monster that looks at him through her eyelashes and says things like, I want her, so get her for me.

It’s not all you ask, but that’s just fine.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Absolutely not.”

Jacob is the first to speak after John’s proposition, which is not uncommon. The eldest brother does tend to be the most unforgiving, John finds, of his wife’s aspirations; even though, between all of his siblings, Elliot and Jacob get along the best.

John heaves a sigh. “Elliot is convinced that the deputy can be of use to us, if she’s allowed to—”

“Your wife,” Joseph interrupts, “shows a great lack of self-control asking such a thing.”

John bites back the gut-instinct response—that Elliot shows the most control for asking, rather than just taking what she wants, because as a woman capable of it, she can—and instead swallows back, “She would like to serve the Project, Joseph. In this way.”

“Maybe I wanted the deputy,” Jacob drawls. “Didn’t you ever think of that?”

Turning his gaze to his eldest brother, John says, “Well, have you expressed that to our brother, Jacob?”

“It didn’t occur to me until now,” the redhead replies, feigning an air of innocence. “But now I think I do.”

He can feel his teeth grinding. “Funny, that until Elliot showed an interest—”

“Yes,” Joseph acquiesces after a moment. “You and our most holy sister may pursue the deputy by your own means, but you must—” And here he looks at John, pointed. “—let the love into your heart, brother.”

A wash of relief crashes over him; after the fucking shit show that the last evening had been, John thinks that it’ll be good to bring some good news back to Elliot, who’s been itching to get out into the thick of the madness. Even if Joseph seems to be implying he doesn’t want their typical means used, that’s fine. Open to interpretation, right?

“I want the deputy brought to heel, John,” Joseph continues. “It is crucial for the survival of not only us, but also our people, that you show you are capable of doing this.”

“Of course,” John replies, smiling. “Elliot and I would do anything for you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the junior deputy finally comes to, Elliot is sitting across from her. Diana makes a low, vicious sound as she lifts her head and fixes Elliot with her eyes—lovely eyes, Elliot thinks admiringly, while her molars grind and the noise vibrates through her head. John’s reluctantly left her alone; he thinks he should be the one to soften Diana for her, but Elliot thinks John’s just going to push her farther away.

“Good morning, sugar,” she greets, and Diana spits onto the floor.

“Fuck you.”

“Yes,” Elliot replies sweetly, “if you behave.”

Diana’s eyes flutter for a moment, like she isn’t expecting that so soon and so fast—but certainly she expected it in some respect, because Elliot’s been purposefully obvious about her intention for the deputy, to both Diana and John. She doesn’t want a mindless convert, dulled and emptied out by Bliss and agreeing blindly.

Her fingers itch. She tugs absently at the sleeve of her sweater, rolling her chair forward as the brunette pulls at her binds.

“What the fuck did you do with Hudson?” Diana grinds out.

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Elliot dismisses, and waves her hand. “She’ll be just fine.”

There’s a brief moment where the brunette looks at her, sweeps sharp, green eyes over Elliot and she cocks a half-done smile at her before she says, “Yeah, Joey told me all about you.”

Elliot smiles. “Only good things, I’m sure.”

“Said you’re a fucking bitch.” Diana arches a brow loftily. “A nutjob.”

“That checks out.”

Diana spits on the floor again, ridding her mouth of the blood from her rough handling, but this time she spits it out at Elliot’s feet. Elliot sighs and tucks some hair behind her ear just before Diana asks, “So, what’s the plan here, princess?”

She blinks at the deputy. She's a little pleased at the pet name, but she doesn't want to let it show. “Plan?”

“Yeah,” Diana says, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, I’m not fucking stupid. What’s the plan? What’s the dynamic? John sends you in because you’re the pretty one, soften me up, and then he comes in to finish the job and cleanse my sins or what the fuck ever it is he thinks he’s doing?”

Elliot feigns bashfulness and flutters her lashes. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Fucking come on,” Di bites out viciously. “Whatever the ploy is, get it over and done with.”

It’s no fun when you say it like that, she thinks, but she can tell Diana’s sort of at her limit—not quite, because if this was her limit, then Elliot would have greatly overestimated her—but she’s getting there. Residual Bliss still burning through her system, and for what? For her to have more of an attitude? How well she’d chosen.

“There’s no ploy, Diana,” Elliot says after a moment, leaning back in her chair. “John wanted to cleanse you his way—I told him no.”

The deputy regards her for a moment, tugging absently at the binds on her wrists. “Why?” she asks, warily.

“Because it wouldn’t work,” Elliot replies. “You can’t make someone get better. They have to want it. And I don’t think that you do, honey.”

Diana’s eyes flicker for a moment. Elliot can tell that she’s trying to regulate her breathing, trying to smooth it on the way in and out of her so that it isn’t so laborious, but it’s hard to do when there’s Bliss wreaking havoc on all of your defenses. She would know—she tries not to expose herself to that shit if she doesn’t have to.

“You’re right,” she says after minute, “I don’t want to “get better”, and I sure as fuck don’t want anything you’d give to me.”

“I don’t want that either,” Elliot tells her. “Not through any kind of religious baptism or cleansing, anyway.” She waves her hand and settles back against the seat, fishing a carton of cigarettes out of her pocket and sticking one in her mouth before she wiggles the box at Diana. “Smoke?”

The brunette regards her hatefully, silently, and Elliot shrugs before she lights her own, tosses the cigarettes onto the nearby workbench and takes a drag. When she blows the smoke out through the corner of her mouth, she says, “I don’t think we’re that different, Diana.”

“No?” Diana prompts, her mouth twisting around the words ruefully. “I could count the ways. One of us is a married to a fucking psychopathic kidnapper...”

“Colorful.”

“... and one of us also is a psychopathic kidnapper....”

Elliot smiles, but she doesn’t show her teeth, not the way that she smiles at Burke or Pratt because she wants to make them squirm. Diana rolls her neck.

“So if you don’t wanna cleanse me,” she begins, barely modulating the venom in her voice, “why the fuck am I here?”

“I like you,” Elliot says plainly, because she’s never been able to beat around the bush, not really. She’s not as sneaky as John, as brutal as Jacob, as smooth as Joseph. She’s not like any of them, and sometimes, that’s lonely. 

The deputy regards her with something close to a poison-riddled look. Instead of addressing I like you, Diana seems to take advantage of this and makes a demand, instead. 

"That Bliss shit makes me feel like garbage," she says. "Don't give it to me anymore."

"You did puke it up quite a bit, didn't you?"

Diana grimaces. She looks like she might want to say something, perhaps regarding Elliot's explanation, but the blonde waves her hand to stop whatever is about to come out of the deputy's mouth. She's not there to argue the logistics of a cosmic pull, anyway.

“I moved out of Hope County straight after high school,” she explains, “and back home to Georgia. Big city. Very exciting. I was tired of this little town and how few opportunities it had. Atlanta? That shit had so much going on.” Elliot pauses, crossing her leg over her knee.

“So glad,” Diana seethes, “that I’m getting a fuckin’ origin story.”

Elliot sucks her teeth. “Anyway, I date a shithead, I break up with him, and then he breaks into my apartment and holds a knife to my neck.” Elliot waves her hand again, because these details are so inconsequential to her at this point; she can barely remember the boy’s face, or anything about that moment except for a few key details. The color of his sweater sleeve (cream); the smell of his cologne (expensive); the paint chipping around her doorframe (small, baby blue chipping to white plaster underneath).

The brunette stares at her. Elliot takes a drag of the cigarette and taps the ash off of the end.

“I’ll spare you the details,” she continues, “but do you know what I was thinking that whole time? And after?”

Diana’s jaw works loosely, absently, like her brain is firing off neurons without needing to. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Try and guess.” She pauses, and then says meaningfully, “I’m sure you’ve got an idea of the kinds of things your mind says when you’re in a moment like that.”

When she watches Diana and smokes her cigarette with leisurely, relaxed movements, the brunette’s eyes flicker over the smoke cloud and she manages out in a wobbling sneer, “Probably something like—like that it wasn’t your fault, or some other kind of psychological-drivel to make you feel like you were in control.”

Elliot comes to a stand. The deputy’s closer than she thinks; it is about control, but just a different path.

“No,” she says, planting a hand on the arm of the chair Diana’s tied to so she can lean down. “I kept thinking, ‘this isn’t going to ever fucking happen again’.”

There’s a strange suspended moment between them. Diana’s lovely—more lovely than she’d let on, probably—but more than that, watching the deputy claw and rake her way through group after group of Eden’s Gate members, causing them problem after problem, Elliot can only think, aren’t we a little pair, the two of us?

A person didn’t get used to killing so fast unless they’d at least thought about it before. Maybe done it before.

“Do you know what it’s like, Diana,” Elliot continues, “to realize that you’ve reached a point of being able to do anything to stop something like that from happening again? It’s not oppressive. It’s liberating. Why do you think an animal stuck in a trap will chew its own foot off to get out?”

She straightens up. She wants to touch—tuck the hair away from her face, trace the lines of her face—but she won’t. Not yet. She’s more patient than John is, more willing to wait for that moment of satisfaction.

Diana says, “It’s real fucking liberating knowing Hudson’s chained up somewhere.”

“You have to stop giving a shit,” Elliot replies, “about other people’s freedoms before you’ve gotten your own.”

The brunette opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Elliot plunges on. “We’re the same because we’re both going to get it done, whatever it is for us,” she says. “By any means necessary.”

Diana’s staring at the wall. She’s silent, and spitefully so, and she won’t look at Elliot; maybe because she knows that’s exactly what Elliot wants. In fact, that’s almost assuredly what it is.

“I want a cigarette,” the brunette says after a moment, petulant.

Elliot smiles thinly and brings her own to Diana’s mouth. More enunciated, Diana says, “I want my own cigarette.”

“It’s nice to want things, deputy,” Elliot idles. “Take it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

She does, after a moment of deliberation. Elliot drops the cigarette to the concrete floor as she breathes the smoke out and stamps it out with her foot. Diana takes a long time to blow the smoke out of her mouth, and she shifts in the chair; her eyes flicker up to meet Elliot’s, and she’s sure she can see something wicked in them.

“Animals chew themselves out of a trap because they’re animals,” Diana says after a second, not exactly the profession of attraction Elliot was hoping for. “Not because it’s liberating.”

Elliot laughs and pushes the chair she’d been sitting in back and out of the way. She picks up her carton of cigarettes from the tool bench and replies. Glancing over her shoulder, she can feel her expression softening when she looks at the deputy—soaking wet, rattling with cold and what Bliss they’d manage to pelt her with. Not much, they told her, whatever “much” meant.

“We’re all animals, deputy,” she acquiesces after a moment. “In the fucking end, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Glad you’re getting along with your deputy.”

John knows he sounds petulant. He knows, and he still can’t stop it from coming out of him as Elliot peels her sweater off over her head and drops it onto the floor. She glances at him over her shoulder.

“Green with envy looks good on you, baby,” she idles, and he feels his molars grind.

“You could play a little hard to get,” John says, trying for lofty and failing. “She’s a fucking menace, after all. She’s been causing problems nonstop, she took Fall’s End from us—”

Elliot says, “Our,” without stopping her undressing, which is two parts frustrating and one part endearing because John knows she’s trying to disarm him. She’s not stealthy about her tactics, and she doesn’t try to be.

“Our what?” he asks her, barely containing his irritation.

“Our deputy,” his wife replies sweetly. She turns, finally, to look at him—giving him her eyes, because she knows that he hates when she doesn’t—and leans against the dresser. “You called her my deputy. She’s not mine. She’s ours.”

John presses his lips into a thin line. He knows Elliot. He knows what it is she’s doing, because even though Diana has been nothing but a fucking thorn in his side, hearing the blonde say she’s ours gives him a pleasant, wretched kind of thrill writhing slick and hot in the pit of his stomach. As much as he knows her intimately, so too does she know exactly the kind of thing to keep him interested.

But it is a little different, if she’s considering sharing. If Diana isn’t her own private conquest.

“Is that so?” he asks, managing to keep his voice conversational now despite his piqued interest, sidling over to her. “I seem to recall that she was supposed to be my belated wedding gift to you.”

Reaching up, he drags his fingers along the inked scales of the serpent curved around her hip, swallowing up some of those gossamer-fine scars she had given herself and stretching down her thigh.

“Well,” Elliot murmurs demurely, “would I be a very Godly woman if I didn’t share with my husband?”

The words push the corners of his mouth upward.

“No.” He sweeps his eyes over her face. “I suppose not.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Joseph quickly comes to think that the deputy is more trouble than she’s worth. John hates when he says things like to Elliot with him still in the room, because he knows that Elliot isn’t going to cow to his brother—even though she should. It’s one of the most irritating traits of hers.

“She’s making a mess,” Joseph says, standing in their kitchen, watching Elliot with his eyes—the same way that he watches Jacob, sometimes. With wariness. “More of a mess than the good she would do us if she were converted.”

Elliot replies tartly, “It’s a good thing you don’t lift a finger to clean up a mess then, isn’t it? John does it for you, no questions asked, and by proxy, I do too.”

“If you have an issue with the way things are,” his brother articulates carefully, “then perhaps you should discuss the expectations that have been set out for you by God, with God.”

Elliot’s jaw sets. The contention sits there, her death, locked in her jaw.

Oh, John thinks, and he says, “I’ll be back.” She gives him a sharp look.

“I think that’s best,” she bites out. He knows what that means—she wants to be alone to argue with Joseph as she pleases, without having to worry about Joseph going, well, what do you think, John? Because he will, inevitably. He will, and John will have to look at Elliot and say, you know that he’s right, Joseph knows best, we’re here to shepherd.

As he descends to the lower bowels of the ranch, he stops at the bottom of the stairs.

“... do more for you than you fucking realize...”

“—refrain from speaking to me like—”

“—deserve to have this, Joseph—”

They should have taken Diana to the bunker, not kept her here. Not where there is so little space between them and her. The lack of distance lets Elliot feel close to her, and like any unloved animal, when she has something to keep, she guards it viciously. This is no different.

Diana is no different.

“You’re quite the conversation piece,” John tells the brunette when he walks into the room. She’s been with them for three days, and in that time she’s nearly escaped; unfortunately, the only exit from the basement is to go up, and she’s easy to catch up there.

The deputy regards him with a half-lidded gaze that reeks of impudence. “What’s it like?”

“Having a conversation piece?”

“Being so pathetic you have to kidnap someone to be able to have conversation,” Diana drawls venomously. The words spike a bout of irritation in him, hot and wretched, and he thinks he doesn’t know if it was worse to come down here to avoid Joseph and Elliot’s argument or if he should have stayed.

“My brother thinks you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” John bites out.

“I’m really fuckin’ concerned about Joseph’s opinion of me.” She smiles, all teeth, and the gesture strikes him as eerily reminiscent to Elliot. “So what, you’re gonna baptize me now or whatever instead?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he snaps, circling the chair that has been her home. “He doesn’t even want you cleansed. I’m thinking he’s just going to have us kill you. Stick your head up somewhere to send a message to all of your little friends in the resistance.”

Diana’s quiet at that for a minute, before she says, “Wifey won’t let that happen.”

“You—” John sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why not? She’s been making fucking bedroom eyes at me every second, that’s not my fault.”

Diana’s goading him, but it’s hard to see around the irritation. She’s impertinent, and impudent, and there’s nothing that he wants to do more than to just break that inside her—until she’s saying his name and begging and begging and begging. It’s the part of him that Joseph wanted him to cleanse and cut out, but that Elliot tells him she likes the best.

We’re closer than lovers, she would say, digging her nails in hard enough to draw blood, the same sin binds us.

The same sin that she sees in Diana, too. Wrath, he knows, even though he hates it.

“She has taken a particular interest in you,” John relents after a moment, though he doesn’t like to, “deputy.”

“I’m a catch,” Diana agrees. He sucks his teeth.

“My wife has always been a purveyor of wretched things.” John leans against the tool bench, narrowing his eyes. “I suppose she must think there’s something salvageable about you.”

“Is there a point?” the deputy asks, sounding tired. “To this... Monologuing? It’s very Marvel-villain of you, but I don’t have any popcorn or alcohol, and it makes it a lot less enjoyable.”

“Look,” he hisses, pushing off from the tool bench, “if we had it my way, you’d have your sin revealed and you’d be on your fucking knees begging us to keep you, you wicked little—”

“John?”

Elliot’s voice drifts down from the stairwell, and he snaps his mouth shut. She’d be furious if she knew he’d lost his temper. Maybe. Probably.

“Uh-oh,” Diana sing-songs, just low enough for him to hear, “here comes the ol’ ball and chain. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

The insinuation hangs there, between them, that Elliot is their ball and chain, and he feels his blood pressure spike. “Shut. Up,” John grinds out between his teeth, just as he hears footfalls descend the stairs above. When his wife does finally turn the corner, there’s a lovely high colour in her cheeks, and her eyes look a little wild.

“Bonding time?” she asks.

“Hardly,” John replies, just as Diana says, “Oh, you know it,” and he shoots her a look. Elliot had called her their deputy, their shared conquest, but both he and Diana look at Elliot more than they want to look at each other.

He does want, he thinks. He feels that tell-tale itch. It wouldn’t be so strong if Diana didn’t just buck against them all the fucking time, but he does want, which makes it all the more frustrating when she turns that venom on him.

“We should give the deputy a little blissful encouragement,” John remarks, turning his gaze to Elliot. “It might make her behave.”

“I don’t think so,” the blonde idles, as he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair away from her face. Oh, yes—she is furious. He can feel the tension from the grind of her molars against each other. The conversation with Joseph didn’t go well, then.

“Joseph wants to speak with you,” Elliot tells him as he runs the pads of his fingers down the column of her throat. There’s a nasty, jagged scar there—he’s trying to remember where it’s from, but he can’t.

“About what?” he says, brows pulling together.

“Wives, submit to your husband as to the lord,” she intones, the obedience in her voice cloying and all-too-sweet to be genuine, “for the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Saviour—”

“Fucking unreal,” Diana says from the chair, and Elliot’s mouth ticks upward.

“As the church submits to Christ,” she finishes, fixing John with her eyes, “etcetera and so on.”

John is filled with dread. He thinks maybe Elliot’s mouthed off one too many times—she’s never liked Joseph, never even been particularly religious, and her own heritage is such a violent mishmash of religion and criminal activity that she’s hardly got the track record for piety. Scarlet is a practicing Catholic and Ambrose’s opinions on religion are unknown, considering that he’s been vanished for so long, so it’s no surprise that Elliot views religion as something like ambiguity.

“I’ll be quick,” he murmurs, which they both know isn’t true, but he says it anyway.

“Don’t rush on my behalf.” Her eyes are dark—he can see the pupils eating away at the baby blue of her irises, and when she reaches up and brushes his hand away from her face, there is a tiny tremor in her hands.

Not good at all, he thinks, stepping around her and looking at Diana. Her eyes are on Elliot for a heartbeat longer, and then she looks at him, and he knows that she’s seen it too. She’s too sharp not to have.

As he approaches the stairs, John says, “Play nice, hellcat.”

“I always do.”

Near the top, he hears Diana say, “I don’t think you’re capable of playing well with others, princess,” and Elliot says, “He said play nice, not play fair, and I can be plenty nice,” and he feels a little surge of warmth at the playfulness in her tone. It’s a timbre that he doesn’t hear out of her often, and almost exclusively with him, so to hear it now not only makes him a little envious, but also pleased.

The deputy is a wretched, wicked thing, yes; she should be cleansed, but there is also a part of him that knows Elliot would not want her any other way, just like he wouldn’t want Elliot any other way.

And that’s good enough for him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The deputy escapes.

It’s not a surprise to Elliot when he tells her, and he thinks maybe she was waiting for it all along, considering that Joseph had conditionally allowed them their pursuit of Diana as long as they can keep her under control; it would not be completely unfounded to think maybe Elliot gave her a way out, to keep the chase fun. To keep it fresh.

She takes Fall’s End back. She takes the fucking plane back. She takes Hudson back. She takes, and takes, and takes, and that’s all Diana Baker is capable of doing, John thinks—fucking taking, even after he and Elliot had been so gracious with her. It grinds against his patience as though his nerve endings have been exposed; it shreds the last of his control, sinks its claws into him like nothing else.

Sunrise Farm. Rae Rae’s. The Lamb of God Church. One after another, they play this game of existential tug-of-war; where Diana takes one and moves on, Elliot surges back in to take it back again. He thinks that his wife should be able to crush the Resistance under her bootheel, but he has the sneaking suspicion that she doesn’t want it to be done so quickly. And, in many ways, Diana outfoxes them with what appears to be little effort; their supply trucks get mowed down. The silos burn. Men keep dying.

These are all things that should disparage Elliot, but each time John points it out to her—“She’s wicked, Ell,” he’ll posit—she regards him loftily and says, “Well, she can’t be anything less than us, can she?”

Diana gets pulled back to them. She escapes. It happens over and over, until the lines start blurring, until John thinks maybe, sometimes, she lets them catch her—like she’s looking forward to those moments. When she’s there, at the ranch, things feel different; Elliot moves with a strange surety around the deputy, like they know each other already, deep in the marrow of their bones. Maybe, in a way, they do.

And in those moments, there’s a shift. Elliot allows her freedoms on good behavior, which run on such thin ice considering Diana herself, and are almost always immediately broken at first. But no matter how many of their things she destroys or spits on or takes, no matter how many times John finds himself disgustingly exasperated with her—he is always happy to see her back. 

In part because he knows Joseph has given Jacob and Faith both leave to kill her if they have the misfortune of coming across her, and in part because he sees the way Elliot leans into her like a flower to sunlight; her fingers ghost over Diana’s skin, and she pulls Diana into her lap and kisses her, hot and open-mouthed, and sighs when Diana petulantly sinks her teeth into her lower lip.

It draws blood, and John knows from the way his wife looks at him that it delights her.

“Wicked,” Elliot murmurs then, tongue peeking out to swipe the blood from her lip, reiterating the word that John favors Diana with the most. “Don’t you think so, baby?”

“Incredibly,” John agrees. He climbs onto the bed behind Elliot, sweeping the hair from her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the junction of her shoulder.

“How well we chose,” the blonde purrs, dragging her fingertips along the column of Diana’s throat, and he can see the goosebumps rise in her skin. Diana’s eyes flicker, dreamily, and their gazes meet over Elliot’s shoulder. She’s tame, like this—or nearly-tame, close to domesticated, at least for a little while. It’s only ever for a little while. And though they fall into a strange, tentative routine every time she’s here—even though John can lean over Elliot’s shoulder and pull Diana into a bruising kiss, until he feels her breath hitch.

He loves it. He loves the feeling of Diana’s mouth parting under his, loves that their fingers meet, tangled, in Elliot’s hair, grounding Diana to them. At night, when Elliot has contented herself with enough of a taste of Diana and John both, when they lay tangled together, Diana kept between them.

Our deputy, Elliot had said; in moments like these, it feels true.

“You missed us,” the blonde says against Diana’s neck. “We missed you, too. Especially John.”

Her eyes are sly when she looks at him, when he pulls back from Diana to regard his wife curiously. She takes the brunette’s chin in her grip and guides her back, brushing their noses together.

“Missed having both of his little vipers,” she murmurs silkily, and John sees the flicker of her tongue against Diana’s lips. “Didn’t you, John?”

Yes, he thinks, but does not say, because his mind is encompassed with the way Elliot kisses Diana; reverently, with the intent to worship. Never rushed and never urgent, only ever luxuriating in it.

At first, he and Diana get along for Elliot’s sake—as much as they can, anyway, because even Elliot is not enough of a bridge to force them to get along—but when they have the deputy, and his wife gets called away, they fall into a kind of rhythm with each other. It’s not a familiar cadence. It’s daunting, and a little jarring, the way they bite and scratch at each other for comfort, both missing their girl.

“I’m not going to stay,” Diana says then, against the blonde’s mouth, the same way that she said it into John’s mouth. Her neck and shoulders are littered with the remnants of their time together, and he wonders if the Resistance members ask.

“We know,” John says, leaning down and grazing his teeth across the fading bruise of a love bite. He drinks in the way Diana hisses and squirms. “You’ll always leave.”

“And always come back,” Elliot agrees. She noses past the hair gathering in the crook of Diana’s shoulder. 

“Like you were never gone at all.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It becomes her mantra. I’m not going to stay, Diana says every time, and every time she only sticks around for a day or more before she dissipates into the air like a wraith. He doesn’t know how long it goes on like this, but he does know that each time Joseph becomes more impatient. Each time, the act of losing her strikes a chord of panic in John—she won’t come back this time, he thinks, or maybe this time she’ll come back with more than just her, or or or—but Elliot doesn’t feed into his panic; she treats it like anything else, with the confidence that the deputy will come back. He desperately wants to keep Diana there with them, where he can see and touch and taste her, where he is certain Jacob hasn’t gotten her, but she always follows through on the promise of leaving.

“Aren’t you at your limit?” John asks, late in the evening, watching Diana from across the island counter in the kitchen. This time around, Elliot has been gone for most of the time Diana has been here, which makes it more difficult to know that her tolerance for sticking around is going to be running out soon. By the time Elliot comes back, Diana might already be gone.

“I’m always at my limit,” she replies, her idle venom more a comfort now than ever, “with you.”

“You’re a real comedian, deputy.” He saunters around the island, his hands finding her hips and his mouth finding her neck. He likes hearing the way her breath slides out of her when he does. “Though I seem to recall a specific instance in which you were not at your limit, and couldn’t stop asking me for more—”

He’s about to follow through on the insinuation, because Diana’s eyes narrow when she looks at him but she’s warm and close and he watches her gaze flicker down to his mouth, but the sound of the front doors to the house opening startles him out of the dreamy haze the brunette tends to put him in. John pushes off from the counter and walks out of the kitchen, brows knitting together at the impudence of someone to come barging in without being announced.

“Herald.” It’s one of the men, and his face cloudy. “It’s—I’m sorry, we—”

“Spit it out,” John grinds out between his teeth. He hears the sound of Diana rustling in the kitchen behind him, and then from outside, Elliot’s voice.

“Don’t fucking touch me—”

The blonde shoulders her way through the doorway as someone flutters nervously behind her. John takes in a number of details very rapidly: she’s clutching at a spot close to her shoulder, just below her collarbone, there is blood coming out of her mouth, and she’s fucking pissed.

“Get a doctor,” John barks out, just as Diana steps around him and goes to Elliot. He does, too, but mostly to clear the members of Eden’s Gate out of the room because he knows Elliot’s going to come unglued if they stick around.

“Fucking Pratt,” Elliot seethes, even as Diana’s hands go to her, trying to guide her to the couch. The blonde jerks when she feels hands on her, looking wild, and John tenses for just a second; in moments like these, his wife’s ability to differentiate between threat and non-threat is almost non-existent, and he’s suffered the consequences of it plenty of times. “Don’t—fucking—”

“It’s me, you monster,” Diana snaps. “Sit the fuck down.”

The blonde’s breathing is labored. She swallows back what he can only assume is a mouthful of blood before he says, “Hellcat.”

“I’m going,” she bites out, and then she does. Diana touches her elbow, and she stiffens, and then sits down where the brunette tells her to. When she pulls her hand away from her shoulder, it’s sticky and wet with blood.

“Jesus Christ,” Diana says, a little wrench in her voice that she quickly snuffs out. “Getting sloppy?”

“Eat shit,” Elliot wheezes. “I hate that fuckhead. Can’t wait til I—” She sucks in a sharp breath. “—til I g-get my fucking—hands—”

Diana is circling Elliot, trying to get a good look, as John grabs a first aid kid from under the kitchen sink. He keeps thinking about all of the blood coming out of her mouth; it’s not the first time he’s seen her like this, but it’s definitely not any easier, either.

“Exit wound?” the deputy asks.

“Fucking shot me with a 9 milli FMJ,” the blonde says between her teeth, “there’d better fucking be an—”

“Stop,” Diana interjects as John returns with the first aid kit, “being unhelpful.”

It’s a torturous amount of time between Elliot’s arrival and the arrival of the doctor they have for such occasions. In the meantime, Diana does what she can—she knows probably more than both of them, even Elliot with her close proximity to violence, about how to stabilize a gun wound; she cleans it and stops the bleeding as much as she can, her face set in a grim, tight expression.

The brunette packs the wound with gauze and says, “You’re a goddamn idiot.”

“Cute one though, huh?” Elliot asks, her voice a little hoarse and her eyes fluttering. “Be cuter if someone could get me some fucking oxy.”

“Save it for the doctor, princess.”

“So glad,” John manages out tartly, Elliot’s fingers loosely curling against his palm, “so glad we have your calming presence here, deputy.”

Diana regards him for a moment, and she looks about to say something when the doctor chooses precisely that moment to arrive. He doesn’t do much by way of conversation; he works silently, intensely, his fingers moving a sort of surety that comes with many years of practice, but he hardly looks at John or Diana while he works.

It’s probably odd. People know that Diana is around, but they don’t know-know, in the sense that there’s never been an official announcement or acknowledgement of what’s going on. Occasionally, the doctor’s eyes furtively flicker towards the brunette; but if he’s feeling pressed to ask, he doesn’t let it show.

By the time Elliot is stitched-up, drugged-up, and planted into the bed, the heat and bubbling fury have died out of her, the embers smothered by the painkillers. Diana lays in the master bedroom next to her while the doctor talks to him outside in the hall.

“Bed rest, minimum three weeks,” he says. “If she keeps coughing up blood, call me. No strenuous activity, no stress—”

“Doctor,” John says tightly, “with all due respect, let’s keep the expectations under control.”

The doctor grimaces. “Bed rest, three weeks. Everything else, just—try your best.”

John nods, short and impatient, and dismisses the man with a gesture of his hand before he steps into the bedroom. Elliot’s murmuring something to Diana, but the words are slurring and her voice is pitched so low beyond normal volume he can’t make it out, even from there.

He wanders to the side of the bed, sitting down on the edge by Elliot’s hip.

“What’d he say?” the blonde asks, her words slurring and her fingers tangling in strands of Diana’s dark hair. “Two days, ready—go?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Diana says irritably.

“Three weeks bedrest,” John tells her. “He thinks you have a collapsed lung.”

“Fuckoff,” Elliot groans, the words blending together.

“He also said no strenuous activity, no stress—”

At that, Diana laughs, the sound billowing out of her in a short, disbelieving bark. “Fucking what?”

“That...means you t-two have to….behave,” Elliot mumbles, her eyes flickering. “No stressin’ me—no streeeessin’—”

“Stop.” Diana sounds almost affectionately exasperated. “You are so painful to listen to.”

“—no stressin’,” Elliot finishes stubbornly, “me. Out.”

Later that night, when she’s finally drifted off into sleep and John and Diana have her settled between them, John props his head up in his hand and sees Diana still awake. She’s looking at the window. It’s open, and the late-August breeze comes drifting in, bringing with it the smell of pine and wilderness.

“At your limit?” John asks as he did before, keeping his voice soft so as not to stir Elliot. Normally, he wouldn’t ask—he would just wait to realize that Diana’s not there, and go from that point on. But it’s different, now, with Elliot like this.

The brunette turns her gaze to him. For a second, her eyes flicker over Elliot, who stirs a little.

“She always this annoying?” Diana says, instead of answering, and by annoying he thinks she means worry-inducing.

“Like it’s an Olympic Sport,” John replies.

She exhales out of her nose. They sit like that for a little while, until Diana settles back against the pillow. Elliot’s fingers are knotted loosely into the sleeve of her t-shirt, and the blonde’s breathing stutters and hitches in her chest.

“Not yet,” she answers, finally. “Not at my limit yet.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“How many days has it been?”

John’s voice breaks Elliot out of her reverie. She blinks, and realizes that she’s been checked out. The painkillers make her brain foggy, and if it weren’t for the excruciating, searing pain in her chest and shoulder, she’d just stop taking them.

The sound of the shower running in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom trickles in through the fog. That’s right: she’s in bed. She’s in bed, and John is next to her, his fingers tracing the coil of the tattooed serpent on her thigh, the cigarette in her fingers burning for who knows how long since the last time she’s taken an inhale of it.

“Since what?” Elliot asks, looking at her husband. John slides his hand up and snags her fingers, bringing the wedding ring she sports to his mouth.

“Since our viper came back to us.”

She tries to think back that far, but it’s hard. Elliot reaches over with a wince and taps the cigarette out into the ashtray. In the bathroom, she can hear the water switch off.

After a moment, she replies, “Must be over two weeks.”

Her husband makes a low noise. She brushes her fingers through his beard, and he murmurs, “Longer than usual.”

“What are you two gossiping about?”

Elliot’s gaze flickers up sluggishly to Diana, standing in her towel, propped up against the doorway. She’s such a far cry from the girl that she was when they first got their hands on her that it’s almost easy to forget she ever existed in a place where she wasn’t theirs. How absolutely dreadful, Elliot thinks, just absolutely fucking dreadful, to think she was once not ours.

“How long we have to wait for you to come back over here,” John says easily. “Not only are you using up all the hot water, but Elliot’s pining.”

“Oh, yeah?” Diana sounds amused as she makes her way to the bed. “Poor little bed-ridden snake, aren’t you?”

Elliot laughs, because it should be absurd—it should be, that Diana is here, leaning in when Elliot beckons her, the brunette’s mouth soft and sweet against her own. It should be absurd, but it isn’t, because this isn’t the first time Diana’s kissed her like this and it won’t be the last, either.

“Every time we’re apart,” Elliot confirms resolutely, “I wallow around. Just ask John.”

“I have a hard time picturing you wallowing.”

“She does,” John says, planting a kiss on Elliot’s jaw. “She wallows around and says, when do you think our Di will be back? Does she think about us?” And then, grinning wickedly, he adds, “Do you think if I ask nicely, she’ll shove her fingers in my mouth?”

Elliot laughs, grabbing John’s jaw and jostling him. “You fucker.”

“I will,” Diana says, and now she sounds sly, and in the way that Elliot does. “If you ask.”

Pausing, Elliot feels her chest tighten a little. Mine, she thinks tiredly, glancing between John and Diana both. They’re here, and hers, and even though she told John the deputy is for them she thinks maybe they’re both for her.

“What else?” She turns her gaze back to Diana. “What else will you do, if I ask?”

Diana’s gaze flickers. Her lips press into a thin little line. I’m not going to stay, she looks like she wants to say, but she doesn’t. She just says, “You’re chatty as fuck tonight, aren’t you? Sounds like it might be time for you to pop another painkiller,” and goes to fetch the pill bottle.

Elliot settles back against the pillows and watches the brunette rifling through the dresser. This is when Diana says, I’m not going to stay, her little mantra, but she doesn’t, and John tangles their fingers together and squeezes her hand. 

The deputy always leaves, and she always comes back. She hasn’t said yes, she’ll stay, and she also hasn’t said no, she’ll go, and in this instance maybe that means exactly what Elliot wants it to.

Maybe, it means this time, she’ll stay.

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 5

Previous Chapter

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU Belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A stranger has been found in the forests of Edolas, unconscious and unanswering to the questions the Edolas Hermits have. Who is he, and why does he look like a friend they lost long ago? Why is he so badly wounded? Why does he have a broken clock? 

Why has the ocean stopped taking Zed and Tango’s wishes?

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Part five is my favorite part- I’ll tell you that. Finally reaching edolas, and getting to have fun with the wacky characters that Red has come up with! And, since Edolas is a world of opposite hermits, we decided that yes- Jellie is a dog. A good girl. 

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

________________________________

“Jellie! Come here girl!” Scar whistles, clapping his hands together as he continues along the dirt trail through the forests of Edolas. Tall, cozy spruce trees offer a fresh pine scent, the detritus beneath Scar’s shoes a tangle of soft needles and bark. The dark wood offers a muted, calming sensation for Scar. 

Jellie barks off in the distance, but doesn’t return to her owner’s side. That’s unusual...Jellie almost always comes when called. The only time she doesn’t is when food is on her mind. Scar hops off the path, following the barking through the winding maze of trees. He picks up the pace as Jellie’s barks turn into a whine. 

“What’s wrong, pretty lady?” Scar whispers as soon as he spots the dark coated dog. Scar’s next sentence falters in his throat as he sees the body. Face down in the dirt, surrounded by stones, an unmoving figure lays. White bandages, fraying and bloody, wrap around his arm. Brown, wispy hair is dirty with grass and mud, caking down the remnants of a white buttonup shirt. Black trousers are torn and covered with dirt, one leg bloody both on the fabric and skin. In one hand, a busted clock is still firmly held onto- even with the person obviously not conscious or even alive. Scar sighs. “Xisuma needs to stop dumping bodies in the woods.” 

Scar reaches out to pull Jellie away from the corpse, but she plants her paws into the dirt and refuses to leave the side of the person. It’s not until Scar is forced to get closer that he realizes why- it’s not a corpse. He’s still breathing. Holy shit he’s still alive. Scar begins to panic, unsure who to turn to. This isn’t exactly his expertise, dealing with something like this. Who is? 

Scar calls the only person he can think of at this moment in time. Cub. He starts to pace around the clearing, too afraid to get close to the body. Jellie stays near instead, laying her head gently on the boy’s back. Keeping his body warm, her fur comforting. Finally, after 3 times going to voicemail, Cub picks up the phone. “Is everything alright, buddy?” 

“No, everything isn’t ‘alright’. Things are super fucking weird, Cub.” Scar can’t help but snap, looking back at the form still laying in the dirt. “I...I found something.” 

“Something? What kind of something?” Cub’s voice is calm and soothing, a fatherly tone that Scar has come to rely on so much. 

“I...it’s a person. He’s still alive, but...I dunno, I think this is some sort of cult thing. He’s wearing some really nice trousers and shirt, but they’re torn to hell and back. He’s got bandages, and surrounded by rocks and theres a clock and…” Scar doesn’t know what else to say. This is too odd, too much for him all to take in. 

“Take a deep breath, Scar. I’ll get some others to come out, and we’ll take a look at what you found. Just...make sure he stays alive.” Cub hangs up, leaving Scar to the silence of the forest and the occasional whimper of Jellie. The boy’s chest continues to rise and fall, but Scar doesn’t dare reach out and push him onto his back. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t far from the others. Cub, Keralis, and Bdubs appear in the clearing, all stopping dead as they see the body. Bdubs shrinks behind the others, peeking over Keralis’s shoulder. “Oh my god…” 

Cub stoops low, taking a gentle hold of the boy’s unharmed arm and checking his vitals. His pulse is steady. “Let’s get this kid to the infirmary. Looks like he needs it.”

Keralis helps Cub gather the boy in his arms. Scar can’t help but watch with Bdubs, both a little too shocked as the others roll over the body and see his face. It’s covered in dirt, caked with sweat and a little bit of blood. But it looks exactly like the face of a person they thought was long gone. No, that’s not right. It’s just coincidence, people look the same all the time. Scar won’t entertain that idea any further. They just need to focus on getting to the infirmary.

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

Wind blusters across the sea, white capped waves pounding against Zedaph and Tango’s bare legs. Behind them, sand whips and scratches at anyone who dares to be in it’s path. 

But no amount of wind, not hell or high water will stop the duo from their daily ritual. When even Zed’s beliefs change, this is still constant. A tradition, no matter what else is going on around them. Tango’s elegant, cursive writing is slipped into the clear glass bottle that Zed had brought. Tango opens a single, white feathered wing to protect his friend from the angry sand behind them, daring to blister their skin from the beach. He stays silent as Zed whispers out the same wish every single day. “Please, bring him back.” 

Salty tears fall from Zed’s eyes, mixing with the ocean around them, just another drop in the sea awash with their pain. They’ve been doing this for years, but every time it still feels as fresh as the day they lost him. Zed caps the bottle, and throws it out with all his might. Beyond the angry turmoil of the surf. 

The two remain ankle deep in the ocean, silent and staring. Searching for some sign, any sign that their prayers have been answered. They know it’s impossible, but they still do it. They saw him sink, trapped in the ropes and sails. A gentle smile as he assured them everything would be alright. 

But it’s not alright. Tango and Zed are without their best friend, left with a hole in both their hearts. A bed empty in their shared apartment. Zed rubs his tearstained face into Tango’s shoulder, comforted only by his large white wings as they wrap around Zed. The two are about to return to shore, until Zed feels something brush up against his foot. 

The bottle. It returned to them. Zed picks it back up, and throws the bottle again. Beyond the surf once more. “No, no. You go out to sea.” 

“It’s never done that before.” Tango breathes. He feels sick to his stomach as the bottle returns again, carried on the white waves back to rest at his feet. He stoops low, plucking the bottle as it brushes against his legs. It has to go out to sea. Every single time Impulse showed them this tradition, he said the sea would take their wish. And grant it. He takes off, flying well past the waves, dropping the bottle into the sea. 

But by the time he returns to Zedaph, the bottle is back in his friend’s hands. Zed’s anger grows, grabbing the glass bottle. What was once something the two teased to Impulse, was now their only lifeline, their only way to process and grieve his loss. “Take the fucking wish!” Zed screams, reeling back and throwing the bottle as far as he can. He stumbles into the sea, collapsing to his hands and knees. “Take the god damn wish and give us our friend back!” 

Tango pulls Zed back to his feet, careful to be sure he doesn’t get a mouthful of water and drown. Drown like Impulse did. Zed’s cries turn into quiet prayers, angry curses at the gods who won’t listen and desperate pleas to those that will. Wishing for a miracle they know will never happen, but still desperately beg for. 

The two retreat, grabbing their shoes and rolling their pants back down. Fighting the heavy wind and stinging sand, neither look back. Because they know it’s sitting there again. Spit back out by the ocean. 

It’s a quiet walk back to the guild, back to town. It always is quiet, both lost in thoughts and memories. Of easier days, warmer days. When the sun was warmer and shone through their best friend’s smile. When laughter filled their apartment so loud that their neighbors- even Cleo- would yell back for them to shut up. 

Zed is the first to notice that things are busy with the guild. Joe nearly knocks Tango over, running to the infirmary with a handful of bandages. Zedaph looks at Tango, both sharing confused looks, before following after the mercenary. Inside the infirmary, most of their friends are there too. Talking in small groups, trading information in whispers and passing papers. 

Tango grabs Mumbo as he makes his way towards the exit, fingers wrapping into the leather of Mumbo’s jacket. “Mumbo...what’s going on?” 

Mumbo turns, smoothing out his mustache and hair. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem at all frazzled. “Eh, Scar found a body out in the forest- turns out the body is still working. Now they’re trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Stuff way beyond my capacity, dude.” 

“A person?” Zed echoes, frowning. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Yeah… though he kinda reminds me of Impulse. Looks exactly like him.” 

Zed and Tango share shocked glances, and Tango immediately lets go of Mumbo as they sprint past the others, ignoring the shouts. Mumbo simply shrugs, walking out and sauntering to the nearest bar. Not the strangest thing to happen to him. 

"Should've known you two would come." Cub states as the two barge into the room. 

"Is it really him?" Zed's voice betrays his disbelief. He wants it to be true, for all those gods he's dedicated himself to finally be answering his prayers. Tango flutters closer, peeking around the blinds to see.

"I...I truly doubt its Impulse. He just looks like him." Cub sighs, watching the hope on the two's faces collapse. They creep closer all the same, getting a good look at the stranger in the hospital bed.

Dark brown hair, wispy and unruly, frames a pale and weak face. Even unconscious, the stranger's brows are furrowed together as if he's thinking through some complex problem. He's wearing a torn up white shirt, the buttons lost or in the wrong hole and the tail of the shirt untucked. His hips and legs disappear under the bed's covers, but one foot has been pulled out. White bandages wrap around his ankle, spots of red slowly growing. 

And then there's his arm. Opposite of the arm that the stranger's IV is protruding from, red and black catch the pair's attention. Underneath a slick coat of medicinal salve, angry red skin and dark burns surround a series of letters and numbers tattooed under the skin. Zed points to the arm opposite of him. "What is all that?"

"We...aren't really sure." Ren whispers, setting his quill down from taking notes. "Scar thinks its some kind of cult thing, Xisuma says maybe an experiment of sorts. But without him awake, we won't be able to tell for sure."

But while Zed is focused on the tattoo, Tango can't take his eyes off of the stranger's neck. Black, blue, and purple marks ring  around the skin, the surrounding area inflamed. The bruises are tight against the person's neck, nestled at the juncture of jaw to spine. Right on his trachea. 

Cub notices Tango’s gaze. "Someone else did that, poor kid. Someone tried to kill him. And nearly succeeded."

For Tango and Zed, its like seeing a ghost. It looks exactly like Impulse, from his hair all the way to the dirt under his fingernails. But it can't be true. This isn't really Impulse. Just someone who looks like him. But how much they both want it to be real.

Tango looks up, seeing fluorescent light glinting off of something on the bed stand. It’s not like anything else in the infirmary- dirty brass against the sterile white and silver of the room. Tango flits over the bed, picking up the item. It’s dented, with the clock face ripped open. Trapped at twilight hour, not quite daylight and not quite nighttime. “Was this with him?” 

Cub nods. “I don’t know why, but he wouldn’t let go of it. Even unconscious, we had to pry his fingers off it.” 

Zed peeks over Tango’s shoulder and wings, violet eyes taking in the damage. It’s quite broken- but not destroyed. The two look at each other, then the stranger, and finally the clock. “We… let’s see if we can do something with this.”