#but having molly here makes me realize just how bad I regret giving my New Leaf to GameStop

[tcup-chipped]

Tagged by @chibiranmaruchan for my top 10 fictional female post (thank you so much, Chibisan ^o^)/). And, I’m gonna be less mutual-conscious and say @pinch-o-mad @socio-angels @aviceis @jojobro-jo @golden-flurry @viridian-compass and @nuclear-brachy. I’m pretty sure this might be up your alley.

Urbosa from Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Lisa Lisa from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Battle Tendency)

Aqua from Kingdom Hearts (Birth by Sleep)

Rosalina from Super Mario Galaxy

Latias from Pokemon (Gen 3)

Molly from Animal Crossing (New Leaf)

Star from Star vs. the Forces of Evil

Melia from Xenoblade Chronicles

Ochaco Uraraka from Boku No Hero Academia

Valka from How to Train Your Dragon (2)

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | And Miss Out on Mum Meeting the Girl You Married Without Telling Her? Not a Chance

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly finally gets to meet Luke and they try to convince him that this marriage is not some elaborate plot to manipulate the press.  And Tom makes a critical error.  We learn more about Molly and her past. 

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Tom regretted drinking two cups of espresso the next morning before heading to Luke’s. He definitely regretted not eating anything more than a piece of toast with butter and marmalade. Even after Molly offered to make something for him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you eggs, an omelette? I could probably manage some French toast before we have to leave.” Molly sipped her tea as she ate some oatmeal. 

French toast sounded divine at the moment as Tom’s stomach did somersaults. Molly’s knee bounced in the passenger seat on the way to the Prosper office. 

“Do you think Luke will yell at me?” Molly asked. “I don’t do well when people yell at me.”

Tom’s head snapped over at her. She sighed. 

“Foster parents are not always kind. Bio parents can be worse.” She wrung her hands. 

He reached over and squeezed Molly’s knee. “I promise I won’t let him yell at you.” 

“Thank you, Tom. Are we telling him the truth?” 

“Only if necessary.” 

“Then what are we telling him?” 

“That I went to Vegas, and I fell madly in love with you and on a whim we got married.”

“A fanciful tale.” Her head dropped to her chest. 

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. You sell yourself short. You’re bright, funny, caring and dare I even say easy on the eyes.”

Molly blushed. “Thank you. You are not so bad yourself. Although I seriously question your dietary habits.”

Tom chuckled. “I’ll work on it. And I hope after all of this we will be good friends.”

“Me too.” 

“Looks like we are here.” Tom parked the car on the street. He hustled around to open Molly’s door and help her out. “Time to face the firing squad.” Her eyes widened. “Kidding!”

By the time the meeting was done, Molly wished it had been a firing squad. 

-

“Luke, this is Molly Bishop, now Hiddleston.” Tom wrapped his arm around her waist. “My wife.” 

“My condolences.” Luke shook Molly’s hand. 

Molly’s brow furrowed. “I…” 

“Of all the stupid shit you have ever fucking done—” Luke started in on Tom. 

“Luke, watch your tone.” Tom jabbed a finger in his publicist’s face. “You are not to yell at Molly.” His bright blue eyes flashed and his fists clenched. 

Luke took a step back. “Right. Take a seat and let’s see if we can straighten this out.” 

They sat next to each other. Molly reached for Tom’s hand and he took it. Luke sat down behind his desk, staring at the two of them. Luke pinched his nose hard and took several deep breaths. Before speaking, he poured a glass of water and dropped two Alka-Seltzer into the water. Molly stared at the whole thing. Tom leaned over. 

“For later. Luke says I give him indigestion.” he whispered.

“And headaches.” Luke added.

“I can understand the feeling.” Molly muttered under her breath.

“I beg your pardon!” Tom twisted around to face Molly. “Et tu. Is this about the vegetables?”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat one every so often. You’re not 21 anymore.”

Tom gritted his teeth. “I said I would work on it. Can we not talk about this right now?”

“You’re the one who brought it up. I was just making a comment.”

Luke’s head bounced back and forth like watching a tennis match, a smirk growing on his face.

“You two are good. Really good. Damn Tom, the lengths you will go to… hiring an actress to pretend to be your wife, that’s—”

“We got married, Luke. In Vegas.” Tom retorted. “Darling, do you have the copy of the license?”

Molly grumbled. “I do, but we are not done with the whole diet thing.” She rummaged through her purse and produced the folded piece of paper. “Show him the photos.” She whispered to Tom as she handed over the license. 

“I’m not showing him the photos unless I have to.” Tom hissed.

“Show me the photos, Tom.” Luke beckoned him. 

Tom side eyed Molly and handed over the license and his phone. Luke glanced at the license and then scrolled through the photos, eyes growing wider. He zoomed in on one and squinted. 

“Is that a spider ring?” he asked.

“His name is Clive.” Tom deadpanned.

Luke cuts his eyes at Tom. “Of course, you named it. You wouldn’t happen to have the ring, would you?” He turned to Molly.

She let loose a breath, exasperated. “Honestly,” she jabbed a finger at Tom and then Luke. “I was not expecting the Spanish Inquisition.” She dug through her purse again. “You are both lucky that I planned ahead.” Molly slammed the two Tiffany boxes on the desk. “There, here is your pound of flesh.”

Luke opened the boxes and found the spider ring and plastic gem ring. His eyes went to their proper rings and then ran his hands through his hair. 

“Holy shit, you got married.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “I have been saying that for the last 24 hours, mate. Can we move on?”

Molly giggled. 

“I… I… apologize. Sorry.” He sputtered, he turned to Molly. “I’m sorry, Molly. You have no idea the things this man has put me through.”

“I can imagine.”

“Hey! I—”

“Not talking to you, Tom.” Luke held up a hand. “I am talking to your bride. Clearly the reasonable one. Although she did marry you, so…”

Tom slumped in the chair. “Two of you. I thought you were on my side.”

Molly reached over and rubbed his arm. “I’m always on your side, honey.”

Tom smiled and leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, darling. Do you believe me now, Luke?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I do.” He slammed his hand on his desk, rattling his water. “Now let’s talk about these.” He held up several newspapers.

Forty-five minutes later, they finally ended the meeting. Tom was starving. Luke grilled Molly about her background. By the end of everything, Tom now knew that Molly spent the ages of 12-18 in foster care, went to college where she worked two jobs to make ends meet, and has no contact with her younger brother who was adopted. Tom felt a twinge of guilt listening to Molly tell her life story. He never really bothered to ask. 

Luke led them to the door but stopped short. 

“How did your mom take the news, Tom?” Luke asked. Tom froze and paled. Luke leaned in. “You did tell her?”

Molly glanced between them. “I thought you called her when we got home.”

Tom ran his hands through his hair. Little bits stuck up. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “I forgot. I was distracted by someone yelling at me.”

“You haven’t told your mother about us?!” Molly screeched. 

Luke chuckled, which soon turned into a full belly laugh. “You are so dead, Tom.” Molly gasped. “You will be fine, Molly, but pray for your husband. There is nothing scarier in this world than Diana Hiddleston mad at her only son.” 

Molly gulped. “I will keep that in mind. Now if you excuse us, we have some calls to make.” 

Tom nodded, still reeling from the fact he didn’t tell his mum, or his sisters, that he got married. Fake or not. He hoped she hadn’t seen any of the photos yet. But knowing Emma and Sarah, they sent her the links. “Right, calls.” 

Molly pushed Tom out of the office and towards the elevator. She waved bye to Luke as the doors closed. 

“That went better than expected.” Molly shifted her weight from side to side.

“Yeah, yeah!” Tom blinked and came back to reality. “You were brilliant. What made you think to bring the rings?”

“People have the tendency to believe you when you can present physical evidence. That, coupled with the photos, lends credibility. I mean, who gets married with a plastic spider ring?” She laughed and Tom joined in. 

“Genius, really. Luke would have never—” Tom’s stomach rumbled. He blushed. “You were right I should have eaten something.” 

Molly stretched to reach his cheek and gave him a quick peck. “You will soon learn I am always right. Let’s find you some food and then you call your mother.”

“Fine.”

-

They found a place for Tom to grab a sandwich since it was too late for breakfast and not quite time for lunch. Molly stared on as Tom inhaled the sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of water. 

“Did you taste any of that?”

Tom glanced up at her as he poked the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth. “Yes.” 

She shoved a napkin towards him. “You have crumbs on your face.”

Tom swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Call your mother.” 

Tom slouched. “Can’t we wait until we get home?” 

“No.” She stared him down. “If you don’t do it, I will.” Molly lunged for his phone, but Tom was too fast and grabbed it first.

“I’m calling her right now.” He held the phone to his ear, praying it would go to voicemail.

“Tom!” Diana’s warm voice filled his ear. “How are you doing, love?”

“Doing good. A bit of jet lag, I was in Vegas over the weekend.”

Diana hummed. “And how is Luke?”

Tom chuckled. “Angry at me as always.”

“If you would just listen to him…”

“I like her.” Molly popped in.

Tom waved her off. 

“I know, Mother. Listen,” He fidgeted with his hair again. Molly realized it was an absolute tell when Tom was nervous. “I was wondering if you might like to grab some lunch this week. We can catch up. So much as happened since I last saw you.”

“I would be delighted, Thomas. Why don’t you come up to the house? Does Wednesday work for you?”

Tom mouthed “Wednesday” to Molly, who shrugged her shoulders.

“Like I’m doing anything? You and Luke are the only people I know here.”

“Right.” He returned to the call. “Wednesday is perfect, mum. Noon?”

“It’s a date. Don’t forget to bring that wife of yours, Thomas. I am quite keen on meeting her.”

All the blood drained from Tom’s face. “I… I… can explain—”

“I’m sure you can. On Wednesday. I have to go, love. It was good to chat.” The line went dead.

Tom stared at the phone. “I’m so dead. She knows about you.”

“Oh, she knows. You are her son. And didn’t you mention having sisters? They totally ratted you out.” Molly smiled at him.

-

Tom had some appointments on Tuesday which kept his mind occupied from seeing his mother the next day. Molly took some time to figure out how to change her name, get a new passport, and figure out how to maneuver life in a foreign country. Tom took her to get a phone that would work. 

“Here you go.” 

The first thing she did was snap Tom to add to his contact list. He was laughing in the photo.

“Don’t use that one!” Tom pouted. “Let me pose.”

“But I like this one. It captures your essence.”

But now it is Wednesday morning. Tom woke up early to go for a run. Molly was already up, sipping tea in the living room.

“Can I join you?” she asked upon seeing Tom in workout gear.

“I run about three miles…”

“Sounds perfect. Give me two minutes.” She bounded off the couch towards her bedroom. 

Tom fiddled with his headphones until Molly emerged in sneakers and workout leggings. Over the ear headphones around her neck. 

��Ready to go.” She tucked her phone into a pocket. “I will just follow you.”

“Let me know if you need to turn around.” Tom winked as they set off.

They returned home about thirty minutes later.

“Sure you don’t want to go another mile?” Molly bounced on her feet. 

Tom breathed hard. “Maybe another time. I’m a bit out of shape. You run?”

Molly nodded. “Most days I run. If I get up in time. I miss the gym.”

Tom chuckled. “We need to get you a membership. And I need to ..get into shape myself. Can’t let my wife show me up in paparazzi photos.” he half-joked. 

Molly coughed. “They take photos of you running?!”

“Sometimes.” He took a sip of water, his heart rate going back to normal. “Definitely now with you in the picture.”

Molly raised an eyebrow, stepping towards him, grabbing the water bottle from him. “Think they are out there right now?” 

Tom glanced around and sure enough, he spied a few cameras with zoom lenses down the street.

“Yup.” 

Molly wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe we should give them a more scandalous photo.” 

Tom leaned down. “What did you have in mind?” he smirked as Molly tugged his head towards her and her lips crashed against his. She sighed and Tom slipped his tongue into her mouth. Molly did the same. As he fisted the back of her shirt, Tom noticed one of Molly’s arms moving. 

“AH!!” He screamed as the cold water poured down on his head and Molly jumped back laughing.

“I thought you needed a little cooling off.” she laughed.

Tom lunged for her with a smile on his face, droplets of water falling from his hair. 

“You’ll pay for that!” Tom gave chase, while Molly dashed into the house, screaming and laughing.

She made it as far as the living room before Tom’s long legs caught up with her.

“Got you!” 

Tom grabbed her by the waist to pull her towards him, but their feet slipped and they ended up on the couch. Tom on top of her. Their eyes locked for a moment before Tom scrambled to his feet. 

“I’ll get you all wet.” he commented nervously. “I should…”

“Right.” Molly nodded, sitting up. “I’ll make some breakfast. Eggs and toast. I don’t know what your mother is planning on for lunch.”

“A light breakfast would be best.” Tom shook out his now soaked t-shirt and Molly caught a glimpse of his abs. 

“No problem.” She smiled. 

They both headed off in different directions. When it was time to leave for Diana’s house, Molly fidgeted with her casual dress and knee-high boots.

“Do I look okay?” she glanced at Tom in jeans and a sweater. “I’m overdressed. Look at you, casually gorgeous. I’m going to change. I have nothing to wear. Nothing to wear…” Molly’s face broke down.

Tom wrapped his arms around her. “What’s going on, darling?” She buried her head in his sweater. “You didn’t freak out like this when we went to go see Luke.”

“That was business. This is your mother. I don’t do well with families, particularly mothers. What if she hates me?” 

He kissed the top of her head. “First off, you look beautiful. Second, if my mum hates anyone between the two of us, it will be me. She is going to love you, darling.” 

Molly sniffled and dabbed her eyes with the back of her fingers. “Really?”

“I am 100% certain. Now let’s get on the road.”

Molly smiled and nodded. The fear wasn’t gone, but she felt better knowing Tom would be there with her. That fear came rushing back as they stood on the front step of the house of Diana Hiddleston. Tom reached for Molly first. 

“I’ve got you, darling.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek right as the door opened.

“Gross, Tom. And at Mum’s house no less.” Emma gagged.

Tom’s cheeks turned a bright pink. “Emma! I didn’t expect you to be here.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “What a surprise.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “And miss out on Mum meeting the girl you married without telling her, not a chance.” Emma turned to Molly. “Emma.”

“Molly B… Hiddleston.” She smiled and extended her hand. Emma shook it with a firm grip.

“The papers didn’t give a name. She seems nice, Tom. Clearly she doesn’t know the real you.”

Tom continued to blush. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Em. Can we come in or are we eating on the front step?”

Emma held the door open wide and stepped aside. They stepped inside. “Mum’s in the kitchen.”

As if on cue, Diana’s voice rang out. “Is that them, Emma?” 

“They just got here!” she yelled before turning back to them. “She’s been cooking all day.” 

Molly gulped. Tom squeezed her hand. An older woman with grey white shoulder length hair. She came up to Tom's shoulder, if that.

“You were supposed to tell me when they got here.” she scolded Emma.

“I was on my way to tell you.” 

“Go take the food out of the oven.”

“But…” Emma protested.

“Go, child. You’ll have the entire meal to listen to me yell. Right now I need a word with your brother.”

Emma pursed her lips as she walked into the kitchen but made a slashing throat gesture, mouthing the words “you’re so dead” at Tom before disappearing. 

Diana wiped her hands on her apron. “Now where is my new daughter-in-law?” 

Molly raised her hand. “That would be me. Molly, ma’am.”

Diana held open her arms and wrapped them around Molly tight. She realized where Tom got his hugging skills. 

“You are just a doll. Is my son treating you well?”

Molly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“So polite and much shorter than the last one. Right at eye height for me.”

“Mother…”

Diana waved Tom off. “And please call me Diana or Mum or Mom. I promise I don’t bite.”

Molly giggled. “Yes, ma.. Diana.”

Diana hugged her again before spinning to face her son.

“Tom.” She crossed her arms.

“Mum.” Tom grew very interested in the rug on the floor. 

“Do I get a hug?” Diana smiled. 

Tom looked up and grinned. “Always.” The two of them hugged tight, Tom bending at the knees to wrap his arms around her. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Diana pulled back.

Her hand reached out and smacked Tom right upside the head. Tom cowered, covering his head.

“Mum!” he howled.

“You got married and didn’t tell me!”

“I was getting around to it. Luke distracted me!” Tom explained. 

Diana smacked his arm. “Do not blame Luke for this, he is a saint! You were keeping this lovely girl away from me.”

Molly beamed as Diana smacked Tom one more time. 

“You think I’m lovely?” she asked.

Diana turned to Molly. “Oh dear. You are perfectly charming. Unlike my wretch of a son.” Another smack to the chest.

“Really, Mum? In front of our guest?” Tom flinched.

“Molly is family.” Diana stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled. “Now with that sorted, let’s go eat.” She spun on her heel and headed back to the kitchen. 

Tom hooked his arm with Molly’s. “My mother.”

“I like her.” 

-

Emma and Diane pumped the two of them for every detail about this abbreviated courtship.

“A chapel in Vegas, Tom? Romantic.” Emma sneered.

“I thought so.” Molly added.

“Thank you, darling.” Tom leaned against her. 

“Awww.” Emma commented.

Diana stood to clear the dishes as Emma examined Molly’s ring.

“Let me help you.” Tom rose to help, taking the rest of the dishes. Diana grabbed his arm when they reached the sink.

“I really like her, Thomas. You did well.”

“Thank you. She is something.” Tom smiled.

“Much better than the last girl you brought home.”

Tom frowned. “Mum, I…”

Diana held up her hand. “I know. Don’t mention her. But I will say this. There was something about her that didn’t sit right with me.” 

“You never said anything to me.”

Diana smiled softly and cupped Tom’s cheek. “You seemed so in love and happy. And all I have ever wanted for all my kids is to be happy.”

“Oh.”

“But none of that matters. You have Molly now and the two of you have years of happiness ahead.” 

Tom glanced over to where Emma and Molly hunched over Emma’s phone. Tom’s heart twinged with guilt. 

“Right. Of course.” He smiled.

Molly burst out in laughter.

“What is so funny over there?” Tom called out, heading over to the table.

Emma giggled. “Just some old pictures.”

Tom’s face fell. “No, you didn’t…”

Molly giggled. “You were so skinny and that hair!” 

The two girls fell into a fit of giggles as Diane placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Yes, I like her very much.” she whispered. “Why don’t we pull out the old picture albums?”

Tom groaned. 

[amazingmaeve]

Why’d you do that - Fred Weasley

Harry Potter Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Female!Malfoy reader

Summary: Y/N and Fred were dating but in secret since their families won’t prove of each other. Then Fred leaves and breaks up with her to go work at the shop while Y/N has to join the death eaters. Then she sees Fred and almost sees him die luckily she has which thinking.

Request: A Fred Weasley request where the reader is a Malfoy and they broke up when he ang George left. Then the war comes she has the mark and she saves Fred from dying please🥺

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Angst, fluff, abuse

AN: love Fred Weasley . Doesn’t follow plot.

───────────────────────────────────

Y/N was running through the chaos of Hogwaets with everyone fighting. Unfortunately she had to fight on the bad side.

Y/N didn’t want to be on Voldemort’s side but her family insisted. She really tried to fight back until abuse was introduced by her father. Her brother Draco tried to protect Y/N but in the end he couldn’t.

Only a couple years ago she was running through these halls with Fred Weasley the love of her life. She had met him in their sixth year and reluctantly agree to be friends with each other.

Then he kissed her one night on the astronomy tower in the beginning of 7th year.

Y/N and Fred started sneaking around not wanting people to know about her relationship. Since Y/N was a Slytherin and Fred was Gryffindor people wouldn’t like it.

Everything was perfect no one suspected anything and Y/N and Fred were having the time of their lives.

That’s until wasn’t.

Fred broke up with her the day before he left in a blaze of firerworks. Y/N tried to say something but it didn’t stop him.

“What why,” Y/N whispered

“Because me and George are leaving tomorrow and you know this would’ve never worked you’re a Malfoy,” Fred snapped at the Malfoy girl.

“Why are you just telling me this now,” Y/N asked taking a breath to stop herself from crying.

“Didn’t realize til now,” Fred said putting his hands in his pockets.

“Please don’t go,” Y/N begged wanting him to stay. He was one the only people in her life she had looked forward to see.

“Y/N stop you and I both know that this never should’ve happened,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“So you regret everything,” Y/N asked as her lip quivered while tears were about to come out.

“Yes,” Fred whispered before leaving to go to the Gryffindor common room leaving Y/N standing there with a stunned look on her faces.

She finally let the tears go and run to her dorm room where she finally broke down into the sobbing.

But that was years ago.

Right now she was fighting for her life trying to find her brother. She also was trying to fight off anyone who was trying to kill her.

Y/N hid herself behind a pillar and rested her hands on her knees taking a breath. Once she looked up she saw a death eater about to kill someone.

She was about to look away when she saw who it was.

It was Fred.

Before she even realized it she got her wand out and started to think of a memory that made her happy and shouted, “Expecto Patronum,”

The charm stunned the death eater for only a minute. And in that minuted Fred got up and looked at Y/N  before running away. The death eater grabbed Y/N by her throat when the memory left her mind.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” The death eater growled at Y/N who was clawing at his hands. He grabbed his wand and wrote on her arm which would leave a forever scar.

Blood Traitor

Y/N didn’t understand why he did that since the Weasleys were purebloods. But in that moment she didn’t care since this hurt her like hell. Y/N tried to let out a scream but it didn’t do anything since his hand was still wrapped around her throat.

“Stupefy,” Y/N heard someone scream when she looked up with tear stained cheeks she saw Draco standing there. The guy who was torturing her flew across the room and Draco came over to help Y/N up.

“Come on lets go,” Draco grabbed his sisters hand and pulled her along and ran. Y/N ran with Draco til they reached outside the castle where their mother was.

“Y/N thank god,” Narcissa let out a sigh of relief for her daughter and hugged her. Y/N let out a sigh and wrapped around her mother’s body. “Come on lets go,” She lead Draco and Y/N outside the castle.

Now a few weeks later the Malfoy name was tarnished and Y/N had to go to Diagon Alley where she had to go for a job interview. She just hoped that they wouldn’t cared who she was.

It was a hot day and she had to wear a long sleeve to cover up the scare that death eater gave her.

As she entered the potions shop where they selled potion ingredients.

Throughout the whole interview Y/N was nervous since this is her first interview but it seemed to go well. The guy let her have the job since Y/N has a past in potions.

As Y/N walked out with a smile on her face she ran into someone wiped the smile off her face.

“It’s you,” Y/N says sadly looking down at the ground. It was Fred. Ever since the war she hasn’t seen Fred she at least thought he would try to get in contact with her.

“Y/N,” Fred softly sighs. Y/N was about to walk until Fred grabbed her arm. “Love can we talk,” He asks looking down at her with emotion running through his eyes.

“Why,” Y/N asks crossing her arms over her chest. She’s spent that last few weeks in her bed crying over what happened. But she knows she can’t blame Fred but she just wished he would’ve talked to her.

“Because I want to keep seeing your beautiful face darling,” Fred compliments her which makes her roll her eyes. “So will you come and talk to me,” he asks.

Y/N sighs knowing she’s going to regret this but she nods letting him grab her hand guide her to his shop. His hands sent tingles down her body.

As they enter the shop there was a lot of people kids to be specific. Y/N looked around in awe at the place. It look good.

“Wow Fred this is amazing,” Y/N gushes.

“Thanks but I can’t take full credit since George also helped,” Fred gave her a charming smile.

“Well either way it’s cool,” Y/N giggles.

“Come in follow me to somewhere more private,” Fred smiles liking the smile she has.

Y/N nodded letting Fred guide her through the shop and up the stairs to the apartment he shared with George.

“Ok so what do you need to talk about,” Y/N asks as Fred sat on his bed.

“I wanted to apologize,” Fred began to stay. “It was rude of me to not say something when you saved my life, I’m sorry,” He apologizes looking at her.

“You don’t need to apologize it was a stressful time,” Y/N rubs her arm.

“No it was insensitive of me even mum said it was,” Fred let’s put a laugh.

“Well thanks for the apology but I have to get back home,” Y/N was so stunned at this apology she couldn’t stay. She knew she had to forgive him but she was flabbergasted on what to say.

Y/N ran out the flat before he could say anything and then ran out the shop.

The next few days she got herself her own flat her mother insisted that she paid for it even thought Y/N wanted to be more independent. She promised her mom she would pay her back.

Now working at the stor a couple weeks after her interaction with Fred everything was going great with the job. She got a few dirty looks but that’s it.

“How can I help- oh it’s you,” Y/N dropped her smile after seeing Fred there.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Fred leans against the counter.

“You know how good I’m with potions,” Y/N gives him a smirk.

“That you do,” Fred gives her a smile.

“So do you need anything,” Y/N breaks the trance as she stared at Fred. He was so cute Y/N thought.

“My mum wanted to invite you over to dinner to thank you for saving me,” Fred grabbed one of the items and toyed around with it.

“I don’t know,” Y/N stated grabbing the item before he broke it. “Your family probably doesn’t think the best of me or my family,” Y/N played with her hands.

“She insists, I insist,” Fred corrects putting his hand hers to stop her from picking at the skin around her fingers. It was a nervous habit she had.

“Fine pick me up at 5 after my shift,” Y/N sighed.

Fred gave her a smile and gave her a goodbye and left to go back to his job.

During the whole day Y/N has been nervous. She didn’t know what his mother would think of her. Especially since she’s a Malfoy.

At five she switch shifts with her co worker and left the store to see Fred standing there. Y/N looked around to see if George was there but maybe he was still in shop.

“Can’t believe you showed up darling,” Fred spoke raking Y/N out of her trance.

“I told you I’d go with you,” Y/N smiled. “Anyways how are we gonna get there,” She asked looking around.

Fred gave her his famous smirk and grabbed her hand and got out his wand. Y/N was confused at the beginning but then he did the spell apparition.

Y/N looked around the new place and noticed the house. It was a small one but it looked comfortable some place Y/N might want to live.

“Come on Love,” Fred grabbed her hand pulling her towards the door. “Don’t worry they don’t bite,” He reassured her.

Before Fred could invite her in the door opened revealing Molly Weasley. She had a smile on her face when she saw her son and Y/N who had a nervous look on her face.

“Come in come in,” Molly invited them in. “I’m so happy you came here Y/N,” Molly gave Y/N a hug.

Y/N was surprised but hugged the woman back.

“Well I couldn’t turn down a free meal,” Y/N joked around with a smile on her face.

The dinner included Ginny, Ron, Hermione, George and Bill. The dinner was awkward for Y/N since everyone was talking and she didn’t want to interrupt anyone.

“We just wanted to thank you for saving our son Y/N,” Arthur thanked the girl who was playing with the food on the plate.

Once her name was mentioned Y/N’s head snapped up at the sound of her name, “Oh it was no problem,” She gave them a nervous smile.

“You didn’t have to but you did,” Molly smiled at her. “And we can’t think of any other way to thank you.”

“It’s no problem I knew him in school he was nice to me,” Y/N gave her a smile.

“Well if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have my brother wouldn’t be here,” George thanked her. “To Y/N.”

“To Y/N,” Everyone said.

Y/N gave everyone a smile and Fred grabbed her hand from underneath the table.

“What’s that,” Fred asked noticing the scar on her table. Everyone was getting their dishes in the sink and going into the living room.

“Nothing,” Y/N replied nervously.

“Y/N,” Fred sternly replies. Y/N sighed not wanting to fight in front of his family and turned her arm around to show him.

“What the bloody hell happenef,” Fred grabbed her arm out of worry.

“The death eater,” Y/N sighed not wanting think of the memory.

“Oh god I’m so sorry love,” Fred apologized. Sensing the discomfort his twin left to join the family leaving the two of them alone.

“Like I said Fred you don’t have to apologize it was my doing,” Y/N put her other hand on his which was on her arm.

“How’d you get out alive,” Fred asked.

“Draco,” Y/N answered.

Fred still had a guilty look on his face and Y/N could recognize it and put her hand on his cheek and rubbed comforting circles on his face.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Y/N whispered.

“I love you,” Fred whispered as he leaned closer to Y/N.

“I love you to Fred,” Y/N closer the gap and put her lips on his. He removed his hand from her arm and put it in her hair.

Their lips moved along smoothly and when they disconnected she gave him a smile.

“Don’t feel guilty Fred.”

[imjustwritingg]

no doubt in my mind

Happy Valentine’s Day babes! Here’s a fun and sorta fluffy one shot with our favorite couple to celebrate the day. Based loosely on the song “Make You Feel My Love” by Adele. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Also here: AO3 and FanFic.Net

It’s been a month of them and their new thing, and as much as things had changed between Hailey and Jay, things had also remained just the same. Their dynamic in the field hadn’t faltered once since the first night they’d gotten together. If anything, their partnership had only grown stronger. The lingering looks, the way they could communicate with one silent glance, a simple placement of a hand on a shoulder to let the other know they were there.

They were sure no one had noticed a change in their relationship. So sure up until the point the door to their Sergeant’s office opens suddenly one afternoon and he stands in the doorway with a vacant, unreadable look on his face.  

“Upton, Halstead. My office for a sec.”

The pair share a quick glance before they stand from their desks and follow after their boss into his office. He nods at the door and Jay closes it behind them. Hank sits back down behind his desk while the partners stand on the other side of him, both of their arms crossed in front of them and waiting. They watch as Hank reaches into his desk, pulls out some paper, and then leans forward and hands them to Hailey and Jay. They glance down at the sheets as soon as they have them in their hands. It’s hard to miss the words printed in bold at the top of each sheet.

Chicago Police Department: Workplace Relationship Disclosure & Declaration

Hailey and Jay lock eyes again, both inhaling a deep breath, and then Jay looks back at the man behind his desk.

“Sarge, we - “

Hank holds up a hand and Jay goes silent. He’s been in this position before, he and Hailey both have, and he’s not so sure of how this will play out given the unreadable look on their boss’ face. To say it makes him nervous would be the biggest possible understatement.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” Hank starts, looking between the couple in front of him who nod once at their boss and wait for him to continue.

“You both might just be two of the best detectives I’ve ever worked with, the leading officers on our team aside from me. The job comes first and you don’t jeopardize this unit. Do you understand?”

Jay and Hailey share another look, but nod their heads regardless. Neither quite exactly sure as to what is happening or how it could be this easy.

“That’s it?” Hailey finds herself asking the older man a second later.

Voight sighs then, looking between the two again. There’s a fleeting smile that appears at the corners of the man’s face. He looks almost nostalgic for a moment before he speaks again.

“After everything this team has been through over the last few years, after everything we’ve lost,” Hank sighs again as he looks between the two.

“Look, anything outside of Intelligence and the job, relationships or whatever you guys do on your own time. I gotta tell ya, I just don’t care anymore. Fill these out. Give ‘em to Platt for the Ivory Tower. That’s it,” he tells them.

Hailey and Jay glance at each other again, both of them breathing a silent sigh of relief. This certainly was not what they’d expected happening when this conversation started. They turn and head for the door, but just as Jay is about to pull it open he turns back around to face his boss. He just can’t help himself.

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve got eyes Jay,” is all their Sergeant says.

Jay nods once, glances at Hailey, who just offers a small smile, but doesn’t say anything, and then he looks back at Voight.

“Thank you,” Jay tells him and Hailey nods her head, a silent thanks of her own.

It’s not lost on either of the three of them the weight those two simple words carry.

Thank you for not splitting us up. Thank you for not kicking one of us or both of us out. Thank you for understanding.

Hank leans back in his chair, a smirk on his face now, as he looks at his two detectives.

“Believe me, it’s not lost on me the number of partnerships that have crossed lines in this unit. I shoulda been a matchmaker instead of a cop. And send the other two lovebirds in on your way out, will ya?”

“Copy you,” Hailey tells him, and then her and Jay turn head for the door. Jay shakes his head in near disbelief at the outcome of the conversation as they re-enter the bullpen.

“Voight wants to see you two,” Jay calls out, nodding in Adam and Kim’s direction as he stands in the aisle next to his and Hailey’s desks.

The other couple shares a similar look of concern, but head for Voight’s office, closing the door behind them. The disturbance makes Kevin stand from his desk and walk up to Jay, noticing the sheet of paper in his hand.

“What’s that about bro? Y’all good?” He asks. He glances down at the paper in Jay’s hand and catches the words “workplace relationship” before Jay puts it away inside his desk.

Jay nods quickly. “Yeah, all good.”

The officer glances between Jay and Hailey, noticing the same sheet of paper on the blonde detective’s desk before she drops it in her drawer and closes it. He looks back at Jay.

“You and Upton? Like, you and Upton?” Kevin asks, his eyes widening.

Jay looks over at Hailey, notices her flushed cheeks and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The two lock eyes and the look doesn’t go unnoticed by Kevin, who shakes his head in disbelief, not thinking his suspicions of the pair over the last few weeks were in fact true.

“Well, alright then,” is all Kevin says. He picks up his coffee mug from his desk and makes his way to the break room, leaving the partners to themselves.

“That was not as bad as I thought it would be. Definitely expected worse,” Jay says a moment later as he sits on the edge of Hailey’s desk.

“Yeah,” she says as she exhaled a long breath. She’s still a bit caught off guard and the words of their Sergeant are playing on a loop in her head.

“Molly’s tonight?” Jay asks her a moment later, noticing her deep in thought.

Hailey’s being just a little too quiet for his liking, considering the confrontation they’ve just experienced, and that nervousness from Voight’s office is beginning to creep up on him again. He can’t help wondering if she’s starting to second guess this new thing between them. That maybe she’s having regrets and it scares him. He can’t lose another partner. He can’t lose her. Not now.

Hailey turns her head to look up at him, grateful for the distraction and momentary cease of Kevin’s gaze and the eyes of Voight, but soon scrunches her face in realization.

“You know what today is right? That place is gonna be a mad house tonight,” she tells him.

He does in fact know what today is; it’s Valentine’s Day, their first together, and potentially their last given the look on her face and the uneasy feeling he has rising in his chest.

Jay just shrugs, trying to play it off, with a smirk peeking out over his face. “It could be fun and the others are going.”

“Never would have pegged you for the type to wanna celebrate Valentine’s Day,” she tells him.

“Well, if it makes any difference, they’re doing half price pints and they even got a food truck catering from Offset BBQ tonight.”

“What about Offset BBQ?” Kevin asks as he walks out of the break room with a fresh mug of coffee.

“Food truck at Molly’s,” Jay says before standing from Hailey’s desk to sit back down at his own.

“Ah yes, and half price drinks. You can’t pass up half price drinks at Molly’s. Can’t pass up the opportunity to see Herrmann go off the rails over it either,” Kevin tells them as he returns to his desk.

Hailey smiles at Kevin, knowing he’s right, and feeling relieved over the fact that the man doesn’t look at her differently or ask any questions about her and Jay.

She turns around in her chair to look back at her partner. “Fine, but if it gets too crowded I’m bailing.”

Jay just smiles at her and nods his head, and they go back to their jobs and the seemingly never-ending piles of paperwork they have to do. He can’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling still bubbling inside of him at the way the woman across from him remains quiet and doesn’t look up at him again for the remainder of the afternoon.

By the time their shift is over and the last of the paperwork has been done for the day, Jay and Hailey are the last ones in the bullpen. The others had left a short while earlier, even Voight had already called it a night.

“You ready, Hails?” Jay calls out to her as she returns to the bullpen from the locker room.

“Yeah, just had to grab my bag,” she tells him, a duffel slung over her shoulder.

The pair shut down their computers and put on their coats, and then head down the stairs. They don’t say a word to each other as they make their way out to the parking lot to his truck. It’s just as quiet on the short drive over to Molly’s and by the time he finds a parking spot down the street from the bar, he can’t take the silence anymore.

“We gonna talk about it?” He asks her as soon as the truck is in park. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns his head to look at the blonde, but she just quirks an eyebrow up at him.

“The conversation with Voight,” he answers her unspoken question.

“Do we need to?” She asks a moment later.

That’s not exactly the response he was expecting and it surely doesn’t help calm the nerves he’s been feeling all day.

“I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page. We’ve been doing our thing the last month or so and it’s been really great. At least I think it’s been really great, but we haven’t talked about what exactly that thing is either.”

“So you wanna put a label on it?” She asks, trying to hold back a smirk and failing to do so.

“I just don’t wanna assume anything,” Jay tells her, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“What exactly are you assuming?” She presses.

Jay can tell she’s pushing him by the look in her eyes and he’s nervous again. He knows there hasn’t been anyone else for her since that night in the bar when he first kissed her. There hasn’t been anyone else for him either. The fact that they’ve spent every night together at either of their apartments since that first night solidifies that for him. He’s also sure that what they have, this new thing between them, isn’t just some fling between co-workers out of convenience or opportunity. There’s no doubt in his mind about that.

Jay wants to believe it’s the real deal between them, that Hailey is it for him, despite her quiet behavior and the nerves he’s been feeling all day. He takes a deep breath and then he takes the plunge to hopefully solidify what they’ve been doing and make it official.

“You being my girlfriend,” Jay tells her. His eyes are on hers and his heart is pounding so loud in his chest that he’s sure she can hear it.

“Jay,” Hailey says, her voice soft and quiet and he suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. Maybe he had been wrong.

“I already filled out that form,” she tells him a second later.

“What?”

“When you and Kev took those boxes of CI files back down to the file room,” she explains as a smirk forms on Jay’s face.

“And what exactly did you write on the form?” He asks her.

“That you’re my boyfriend,” she says with a shrug as if her answer should be obvious.

Jay raises his eyebrows at her response and she gives him a playful roll of her eyes. She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans just slightly over the console between them. She grabs his arm to pull him towards her and they meet in the middle.

“I know I’ve been acting weird since we talked to Voight, but not for the reasons you think. I like you Jay, I really like being with you, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way, and it seems pretty clear to me what we’re doing, so yeah. I declared you as my boyfriend on that form. Is that okay with you?”

Jay grins at her just before he closes the remaining space between them and captures her lips with his own. He brings his hand up to hold the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek for a moment before he slides his hand to the back of her neck. He quickly deepens the kiss, earning a moan from his partner, and then feels her hands on the front of his jacket. She pulls him as close to her as she can considering the middle console that is wedged between them now.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Hailey whispers against his lips a second later.

“You can take that as a hell yes,” he tells her before kissing her again.

When they separate again, they’re grinning, both of their dimples out on display.

“Gotta say, I was a little nervous there for a second,” he admits then.

She reaches a hand up to the back of his neck, the tips of her fingers brushing through his hair, as she looks him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t because of you or because I was rethinking us. After we talked to Voight, all I could really think about was a conversation I had with Platt actually,” she tells him a small smile.

His eyebrows raise at that. “What conversation with Platt?”

He feels her fingers slip away from the back of his head and she leans back just slightly before taking a deep breath.

“It was a while ago, back when Adam and I were doing whatever we were doing. Platt said that if he was the one that we’d have to make it work. And that if we wanted to be together, one of us would have to leave Intelligence,” she tells him. He nods slowly at her in understanding and then she continues.

“And after what Voight said, I guess I just got lost in my own thoughts and feelings. I know I wouldn’t have given up Intelligence or the job for Adam, but for you? It wouldn’t have been a very hard decision for me and I was ready to make it today in Voight’s office. And I guess it kinda just scared the crap out of me.”

He’s smiling at her now. A wide grin taking over his face as he looks at her with so much admiration and happiness and love. She had chosen him over the FBI. She would have chosen him over her career today. She’s chosen his side countless times before.

“I love you,” he whispers to her then.

He says it so easily, like it’s not the first time he’s uttering those special words to her, and the look she wears on her face after he says them makes him smile like an idiot. He doesn’t care that they’ve only been together a month. He doesn’t care that to others he may be rushing things. He knows it’s been much longer than four weeks that he’s been feeling this way, and not just for himself, but for her too.

He leans towards her again, hanging back just enough to still look her in the eyes, and he brings a hand back up to the side of her face. She’s got tears in her eyes, but they’re shining bright blue, and she smiles back at him just the same.

“I love you too,” she whispers back before closing the space between them again and kissing him hard on the mouth.

When they separate moments later with shallow breaths, they’re still grinning at one another and his hand is still holding her head just centimeters away from his.

“Really wish we didn’t have to leave this truck right now,” he tells her remembering where they are. His voice is so deep and gruff that it sends a heatwave through her almost instantly. She nods in silent agreement before giving him another quick kiss, and then leans back into her seat.

“Let’s go. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can leave,” she says with a wink and he just smirks at her.

They exit the truck and make their way up the sidewalk side by side and shoulders brushing. When they reach the door to the bar, Jay holds the door open for her, placing his hand on her lower back over her coat and guiding her inside.  

When they enter the bar, they’re not all that surprised to see a slight crowd inside just as expected. The twinkling string lights shine bright from the ceiling, and familiar faces from the district and firehouse scatter the bar and tables.

Jay uses his height to his advantage given the crowd and quickly spots the rest of their team at the back of the place. He drops his hand from Hailey’s back and reaches for her hand hanging at her side. He gives her fingers a quick squeeze to get her attention, letting go of them when she looks up at him. He nods off in the direction of their friends and Hailey follows him to the back wall.

“Tell me one of those is for me,” Hailey says in greeting when her and Jay arrive at the table.

They’re met with hello’s and smiles from Kim, Adam, and then Kevin, who grins back at the blonde. He nods down to two pint glasses full of beer and foaming at the top.

“Of course, help yourselves,” Kevin tells the pair.

Hailey and Jay each take a glass, and then take a seat next to one another on the remaining stools at the table. The group begins making small talk and when Adam starts in about the case they just wrapped, Kevin raises a hand to stop him mid-sentence.

“Hold up, the only shoptalk I wanna hear about is those lovely little forms y’all got from Voight today,” Kevin says as he brings his glass to his lips.

Hailey and Kim both shake their heads, amused smiles on their faces, while Jay nearly chokes on his beer as he’s mid-sip and Adam throws his head back and groans.

“Man, come on,” Adam says.

“You two? I get. Lot of history there,” Kevin starts pointing between Kim and Adam.

And then he turns and looks between Hailey and Jay. “But you two. Y’all have been in sneaky stealth mode and I don’t like it. I thought we were all friends here. I mean, I had suspicions, but how long has this been going on for exactly? Inquiring minds need to know.”

Jay just shakes his head, an amused smile on his face, and Hailey laughs.

“You really wanna know about our love life?” Jay asks before he takes another sip from his glass.

Hailey’s eyes dart to Jay at the mention of the word, thinking back to their exchange from minutes before outside. She moves her free hand from her lap to his knee, not caring about PDA – it’s not as if anyone can see the gesture anyway. Jay glances over at her at the contact and she just smiles at him before turning her attention back to the group.

“Ya know, Kev has a good point. I’d like to know that as well. I mean, Kim and I assumed, but we didn’t know for sure until today,” Adam chimes in while Kim just nods in agreement with a smirk on her face.

“The three of you are relentless,” Jay says before glancing at his partner.

“Yeah, there’s nothing really to tell,” Hailey says with another casual shrug hoping they’d back off, but knowing they won’t.

“No, no, no. There’s definitely something to tell. Come on, it’s us,” Adam pushes with a boyish grin.

“Exactly,” Jay teases, pointing in the officer’s direction.

“At least tell us who made the first move because my money is totally on Hails,” Kim says.

“Well, you’d be right about that,” Hailey tells her with a grin.

“Yes! Ladies for the win!” Kim yells out and the two share a high five across the table.

Adam shakes his head in mock disappointment and Kevin runs his hand over his face before looking back at Jay.

“Bro, you didn’t make the first move? What’s the matter with you?”

“Well, she’s my partner for one,” Jay says as if it’s obvious. All he gets in return are eye rolls and a shake of heads from all of them except Hailey, who just smiles at him and squeezes his knee under the table.

“Semantics,” Adam chimes with a wave of his hand.

“Ok, so I was a chicken. Happy now?” Jay says as he takes another drink from his glass.

“In his defense, he did kiss me first. I just had to give him a little push in the right direction,” Hailey tells them, bumping her shoulder against his and smiling coyly at the memory of that night in the bar.

“Alright, so hold up. I gotta ask, am I the only one here that hasn’t slept with their partner? Is that like some Intelligence initiation thing? Because if it is, I’m pretty sure I missed that in the employee handbook,” Kevin says glancing between the two couples who break out laughing.

Jay shakes his head, a grin still on his face. “Shut up, Kev.”

“I’m just saying. I’m the only one here not getting any. And it’s Valentine’s Day. That’s just a damn shame,” Kevin says as he surveys the bar. “Ya know what, y’all enjoy the rest of your evenings. I’m gonna go and find me a lady friend of my own.”

Kevin shoots them all a wink and a bright smile, and they say a quick goodbye before he stands up and heads off into the crowd.

“I’m assuming you guys got the same speech we did from Voight then,” Adam says a moment later looking over at Hailey and Jay. The pair glance at one another briefly before nodding.

“Man, the way things have changed. Voight’s getting soft on us,” Adam tells them, bringing his drink to his lips.

Jay shakes his head, his hand moving over top Hailey’s under the table and giving her fingers a squeeze. “Not sure if that’s it exactly. I think the unit, us, is all he has left. We’ve lost a lot over the years. I think he just doesn’t want us to lose anything else.”

Adam nods and Kim smiles back at him, and he feels Hailey’s fingers tighten against his.

“I’ll drink to that,” Adam says then, raising his glass. The other three nod and raise their own drinks. They clink their glasses together and then drink, and dive in about hockey and work and swap stories about their friends – their family that are no longer with them.

After another round, Kim and Adam make their way to the bar and get distracted with talking to some of the firefighters from 51. The crowd has only grown larger and the volume of chatter around them makes Hailey turn and lean into Jay so she’s leaning over his shoulder.

“Wanna get out of here?” She asks against his ear.

He gives her a nod and the pair stand from the table. They weave their way through the crowd and say a quick goodbye to their friends, and then head for the door.

As soon as they’re outside, Hailey leans into Jay as they head for the truck. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, holding her against him as her arm snakes around his waist.

“Ya know what I just realized?” He asks her as they walk down the sidewalk.

“Who knows,” she teases. He slides his hand down her arm just enough to poke his fingers into her side, tickling her ribs, and she squirms against him.

“What did you realize?” She asks him, giving his side a squeeze.

“We’re one of those cheesy cliché couples that say I love you and make things official on Valentine’s Day,” he tells her, a smirk spreading over his face as he looks down at her. Her eyes go wide and then she laughs, knowing he’s right.

“At least neither of us will ever forget our anniversary now,” Hailey tells him a moment later with a smirk of her own as they reach the truck.

Jay smiles at her again, taking a step towards her and pressing her against the passenger side door. His hands find her waist and his lips are on hers a second later and she’s kissing him back instantly.

It still feels like a dream to her that she can be like this with him. Kissing him, touching him, loving him. Like it’s not still some new thing for them despite the familiarity and the fact that they’ve been doing their thing for a month already. Kissing her partner, her boyfriend, has become one of her favorite things.

Sure, they’ve slept together. And while those times spent in bed with one another have been nothing short of amazing, it’s these moments where he’s pressed against her with his hands holding onto her, and his lips moving over hers that she’s come to enjoy the most. Because it’s all she’s wanted since falling for her best friend. It’s these little moments that she’s wanted and thought about and it’s what causes her to smile against his lips as he kisses her once more before pulling away to look her in the eyes.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jay whispers to her.

Hailey nods, leaning back into him, and smirks up at him. “Might just be my new favorite holiday.”

And then she kisses him again just because she can.

[lunaslethifold]

A Summer in Ottery St. Catchpole: Part 1 (George Weasley x Potter!Reader)

Pairing: George Weasley x Female!Potter!Reader 

Series Synopsis: Y/N Potter used to have a huge crush on George Weasley. She could hardly even function around him. Now fresh out of a long relationship, she can say with confidence that those feelings she harbored for years are gone. George, on the other hand, had barely even acknowledged her existence. But now that Y/N is more comfortable around him, he starts to see the real her. George starts to see her in a new light. Boy, is that bad news for him. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: ~2.4k 

Find the other works in this series in my masterlist (pinned and linked in my bio :))

A/N: Here’s the second part of the series, shorter than the last part as promised. Reminder that this series takes place the summer after Goblet of Fire and before Order of the Phoenix, and it doesn’t follow canon completely. I made the headquarters of the OOTP the Burrow instead of Sirius’ house, mostly because I wanted to write this in the Burrow setting. The beginning of this sort of sets up everything that is to come. Also, thank you so much for all of the support on the prologue! I honestly was hoping for like, 5 notes, so tysm! Sorry for any grammar mistakes.

Harry was sat on his bed, watching his older sister pacing in front of him. Slight annoyance started to creep up on him at her incessant movement. The Dursleys had left not long ago to get help for Dudley. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

“Y/N, would you stop that?” Harry finally said, irritated.

“Expelled, Harry. Expelled! I can’t believe it. They can’t do that. It’s not right,” Y/N replied, completely ignoring what he just said. Harry almost rolled his eyes at her. “I mean, you were protecting him! Not to mention that he already knows about magic. Goodness, I should’ve been there-”

“Y/N, shh!”

“Don’t tell me to shh, Harry. I’m older than y-” This time, Harry did roll his eyes and placed a hand over her mouth, stopping her from continuing. Y/N attempted to pry his arm off.

“Did you hear that?” he said, lowering his hand.

“Hear what?” Y/N said, glaring at him. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped short when she heard it too. There were shuffling noises coming from downstairs.

“The Dursleys?” she mouthed at Harry. He gave her a confused look. “The. Dursleys.” She tried mouthing it again, this time slower.

“What?” he mouthed back, raising his eyebrows.

“The Dursleys,” she whispered to him. Harry still looked lost. “The! Dursleys!” Y/N whisper-shouted, exasperated. This time he understood.

“What about them?” he whispered back.

“Are they back? Is their car here?” she said, gesturing at the window that Harry was standing next to. It seemed to click in his mind and he searched for a sign of their presence outside. Nothing. He turned back to his sister and shook his head. They both pulled their wands out. The noise seemed to get closer and Y/N stepped in front of Harry.

The door to their room burst open and multiple figures could be spotted in the doorway. “Lumos,” a voice said, and the previously dark room was illuminated with light. The source of the light was a wand that was held by a woman with colored hair. She smiled goofily at Y/N and she almost smiled back. Almost. But she was still in protective sister mode and raised her wand a little bit.

While Y/N was looking at the woman, Harry seemed to have noticed a figure behind her.

“Professor Moody?”

-

Suddenly the Potter siblings were mounted on brooms and zooming through the sky. Y/N wasn’t nearly as good as Harry was on a broom, but she could hold her own. Although she was a little bit distracted with the whole being-rescued thing, she realized that the route they were taking was familiar to her.

“Oi!” she called to the woman who had smiled at her earlier. “Er… Tonks!” This caught her attention and she turned to her. “Are we going to the Weasley’s?” Y/N yelled. The wind whipped against her face and she squinted.

Tonks nodded. “Yeah, headquarters.” She also sent Y/N the same goofy smile as before. Y/N was a bit confused, but she smiled back this time. She could tell that she already liked her.

Soon the group approached the Burrow. Or, where the Burrow was supposed to be. It seemed to have vanished into thin air. When they landed, Y/N exchanged glances with Harry. He shrugged in response. It seemed that every year they were learning something new about the wizarding world. Moody lifted his staff and the charming house that they’d spent their summers at seemed to be growing before them. They all entered the house and a different noise than the usual hustle and bustle made its way to their ears. In fact, it seemed that there was arguing going on. And not the usual sibling back and forth, but actual heated conversation.

Y/N and Harry approached the dining room table, where all the commotion seemed to be. There, they caught sight of some of their favorite people.

“Remus!” Y/N said, reacting first. 

“Sirius!” Harry said from beside her. They were all wearing matching grins. As they tried to step forward, Mrs. Weasley blocked them.

“Now, now, we can say our hellos later. Upstairs you two, and we’ll call you for dinner in just a bit,” she smiled at them. Molly wrapped them in a quick hug and ushered them towards the stairs. Y/N glanced back before reluctantly walking up with Harry in tow.

When she reached the top, she was immediately pulled into a hug by Ginny. Harry greeted her before heading off to find Ron and Hermione. 

“Y/N! It feels like it’s been forever. I missed you,” she said, leading Y/N to her room.

“I missed you too. What’s with all the secrecy?” Y/N replied.

“They’re having a meeting. Mum says we’re not old enough to be allowed,” Ginny said, shrugging and fiddling with the books on her desk.

“A meeting for what, exactly? No one can give me a straight answer,” she replied, plopping herself onto the bed.

“The Order of the Phoenix, of course.”

“The Order of the Phoenix, of course,” Y/N mocked, making her voice much higher than usual. She picked up a pillow and chucked it at Ginny. She threw it back at her and rolled her eyes. “Hey, where’s Fred?”

“Oh, and here I thought you were excited to see me,” Ginny replied, smiling.

Y/N groaned. “You know that is not what I meant.”

“Dad sent him and George to town to get some things for dinner.”

“Ah, okay. So, tell me more about this Order of the Phoenix,” Y/N said, turning to Ginny. 

“Why tell when we can listen?” Ginny said with a mischievous glint in her eye as wide grins made their way to their faces.

-

That was how Ginny and Y/N found themselves in the situation they were currently in. Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to have the same idea and took the prime spot outside near the window. 

"I think I've got an idea," Y/N said. The plan was simple, really. Ginny would throw an old book she had lying around her room to the ground floor. Then, when Mrs. Weasley went to go investigate - she was the only one who had a view of the hallway from where she was standing - the two girls would duck into the coat closet that was near the door to the dining room. It was foolproof. Okay, maybe not so much. But Y/N really wanted to hear what was going on and there was no time to think of a brilliant plan.

The moment had come. Y/N sat at the top of the stairs, waiting for the sound of the book hitting the ground. When she heard it, she dashed down and before turning the corner, she peaked just to make sure that Mrs. Weasley was gone. She wasn’t. Y/N stopped herself from running forward. That was a close one, she thought. Just when she thought she was in the clear, Ginny came barreling down the stairs and smacked right into her. Y/N, clad in socks, slipped on the wood floor and fell down, taking Ginny with her. A loud thump sounded, and Mrs. Weasley’s head snapped in their direction mid sentence. She didn’t even hesitate before closing the door with her wand.

-

Fred and George were walking up the hill towards the house, bags of groceries in hand. “Do you reckon Y/N and Harry are here yet?” Fred asked George.

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” George replied, watching the house reveal itself. They stepped into the hallway and their eyes landed on a peculiar sight. Well, peculiar for George at least.

“She didn’t hear! She didn’t get up from her spot,” Y/N said. Her and Ginny were sprawled in a pile on the floor and they were too busy conversing to notice them. 

“How is that my fault?” Ginny replied, trying to fix her disheveled appearance.

“I didn’t say it was-” Y/N began, but she was cut off when a pillow smacked her in the face. Ginny had reached behind her and grabbed it from the stack of laundry behind her. Time seemed to stop for a moment as a shocked and slightly offended expression settled onto Y/N’s face. She wasn’t genuinely offended, but George didn’t know that.

She recovered quickly and let out a shriek of, “Ginny Weasley! You’ll regret that!” Soon a storm of pillows and blankets were being thrown around the room as the sound of giggles filled the air. 

After a minute of this Fred set his bags on the floor and blocked a pillow that was headed straight for the side of Y/N’s head. “Oi! Stop trying to pummel my friend, will you?” Fred said, with a big smile on his face. Y/N turned towards him with an equally large smile on her face. 

“Fred!” she said, pulling him in for a hug. She reached up to touch the ends of his hair. “I like your haircut.”

“Your friend? She was my friend first, actually,” Ginny laughed, tugging Y/N to her side by her arm.

Fred opened his mouth to reply, but Y/N spoke first. “Actually,” she started, looking around the room for something. Her eyes landed on George. “George is my favorite Weasley,” she said, moving to stand next to them. She gently placed her hand on his arm, looked at him, and gave him a silly smile. “Hi, George.” 

George was taken aback when he felt a jolt where her hand was. Fred and Ginny seemed to be protesting her statement, but he didn’t quite register what they were saying. Her hand felt nice there and it seemed to spread warmth throughout his arm. She was still looking at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but his breath hitched in his throat. Her smile was contagious though, so he managed to return it with a grin of his own. To George, it seemed like the girl next to him was looking at him for an eternity, but in reality it was only a few seconds. Something else caught her attention and she turned away, removing her hand from its spot on his arm. He felt himself almost… missing it. He tried to shake the feeling away.

What was going on?

-

The next day George woke up a little bit later than usual. Fred had already disappeared from their shared room. After he got ready he went downstairs in search of his twin. He tried looking everywhere, but he couldn’t seem to find him. George felt like he ran into everyone but who he was looking for. Ron, his parents, Ginny, and even Hermione. He was starting to get exasperated as he headed to the last place he thought Fred would be.

George went out the backdoor and headed to the big old tree where the treehouse that he and his siblings spent countless summer days sat. As he approached he heard laughter and chatter coming from it. He ascended the latter and found Fred and Y/N lounging lazily there. They looked like they were in their own world. As usual, George thought, laughing to himself.

“Stealing my best friend, are we?” George said when he was fully in. Fred and Y/N’s heads snapped up.

“Yeah, Fred, stop stealing his best friend,” Y/N said, sending her and his twin into hysterics. George was caught by surprise, but couldn’t help but join in too. He was a little bit confused, though. Y/N has grown less shy around him over the past couple of months, but she seemed to be letting loose more. This interaction had just confirmed what he thought when he arrived at the Burrow last night.

Y/N Potter had changed in George’s eyes.

-

George found himself conversing with Y/N more often than he supposed he had in his life during the next couple of days. She was suddenly more talkative around him. Not that he minded, though. In fact, George was quite enjoying her company; he hung onto every word she said. Whether they were talking about a prank Fred was planning or the upcoming school year, he couldn’t quite seem to get enough. But still, Y/N spent most of her time with Fred and Ginny. George was used to it by now, but for some reason this year he felt a bit… disappointed. He didn’t let it bother him, though, because he’s usually around Fred anyways. 

George took notice of other things about Y/N besides who she spent time with, too. It first happened one evening when everyone was in the yard, save for Y/N and Ginny, who were meant to be doing the dishes. Keyword, meant.

George had run out of pumpkin juice after a particularly long match of quidditch with his brothers, so he ran into the house to get a refill. He made it to the doorway into the kitchen and paused to take in the scene in front of him. And pause he did. 

The sun was setting and gave the Burrow a warm glow. The sound of a muggle song that George hadn’t heard before echoed through the kitchen. He wasn’t listening to the song, though. His attention was on the girl who was dancing with his sister. They were throwing their arms about wildy and jumping around like no one was watching them. Well, no one was supposed to be watching. Their laughs filled the air as they took turns singing the lyrics. Ginny grabbed Y/N’s arm and twirled her.

George was absolutely captivated. He felt like he had never seen someone look so effortlessly… well, beautiful. It was the only word he could think to describe her in that moment. The permanent smile that adorned her face, the comfortable clothes she was wearing, it all seemed like he had caught her in a perfect little moment. A grin made its way to his face and he gently leaned against the door frame. The song ended way too soon for his liking and the girls stopped to catch their breath.

Y/N turned around and noticed him standing there. She smiled sheepishly and waved at him. “What’s up, George?” she said, giggling slightly. When she said his name butterflies erupted in his stomach and he couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face.

This is completely fine, he thought. I’m fine. Sure, George.

Again, thank you guys so much for all your likes, reblogs, and comments on the prologue! I truly appreciate it. Let me know what you guys thought of this part. Also, what do you think of the length? Do you like them longer like the prologue, or shorter like this part? Thank you so much for reading!

[warriorsbutnotreally]

From The Ashes AU - Sparkstar's Nine Lives Ceremony - Writing Drabble

I've been stuck on this AU a lot so I decided to share some of my writings. For those new I wrote down the plot on how it started and then wrote allegiances

this is from the nine lives ceremony I mentioned in the former for Sparkstar, who now leads a Clan she named in honor of her grandfather's memory.

The air was still that night, two shapes walking along the tree-line with their bodies low and ears pinned down, fearing confrontation. The ground on this warm night felt like ice under Sparkpelt's paws as every little scuttling mouse or curious owl's call made her worry that she and Leafpool were going to get caught.

It had been some time since they had left ThunderClan and being back did not bring any comfort to the bright ginger she-cat.

Mom would've died for this place.. She did die for this place.. Her heart twisted as a sickening wave of grief had her pause for a brief moment as she looked up at the glittering sea of stars above her head. Which one of those are you, Squirrelflight?

She kept moving, glancing up every now and then to find the three brightest stars. One for her mother, one for her late mate Larksong, and one for her son who never got to grow up, Flickerkit.

"We're getting close," Leafpool hushed mew snapped Sparkpelt out of her thoughts as she glanced at the medicine cat. A medicine cat for a Clan that didn't even have a name yet. The thought was almost amusing. "Stick close. We can still be found by a patrol."

She bit her tongue as a smart remark almost left her maw. She was going to ask if her father, Bramblestar, would really drag them back to ThunderClan from the Moonpool, but seeing as Ivypool and Fernsong literally had to fight their way out to leave, she wouldn't be surprised.

The ice that tugged her paws down, trying to stick her in place, grew heavier as she caught a glimpse at the Moonpool for the first time in her life. The way the stars danced in the clear water made it look like the pool itself sparkled with the pelts of StarClan cats.

With a small motion of her head, Leafpool invited Sparkpelt to lap at the water, the brown tabby even taking the first drink to prove it was safe. Leaning down and lapping at the water, it felt so cool and fresh that her body relaxed, causing the molly to realize that her body had been tense with fear.

.

With a small blink, she found herself surrounded by a forest of shimmering trees, a breeze pulling at her fur unlike the stiffness of the forest she had experienced on her way here.

Before she could continue to register the awe-inspiring sight around her, she was greeted by a dark ginger shape rushing over and the feeling of rough, but loving licks to her head. A deep purr rumbled in her throat as she took in the familiar warm feeling and the achingly painful scent of her mother.

"Squirrelflight," Her voice cracked as she realized just how much she had missed her. The bittersweet feeling rose from her chest and to her throat, blocking her words as she struggled to speak. "I-"

"I'm happy to see you, too," The small she-cat, nuzzling her with such warmth. It felt like lifetimes ago that she was expecting kits and Squirrelflight had been right there beside her, comforting her and assuring her that she was going to be okay, even while the older molly had been fighting with Bramblestar. "How I wish I could be there for you and your kits and-"

She glanced at Leafpool, who stood there with a saddened smile.

"You did so much for us already," The brown tabby molly said, reaching one of her white paws out and resting it on Squirrelflight's. "You've done so much for me already. You deserve the rest."

Sparkpelt watched as a wordless conversation followed, their expressions changing ever so slightly as the only noise was the faintness of their breaths. After a long moment, Leafpool stepped back, dipping her head and glancing towards the bright ginger she-cat.

It's my turn to talk. She realized quickly, looking back at her mother.

"What you did for us - for ThunderClan and the Sisters - no one will ever forget," Sparkpelt promised. She refused to let herself forget that sacrifice made to save kits that wasn't even hers or her Clan's. "And I know it's a lot more to ask, but there's something we need - or at least need to know. You see, after you.. After you were gone, Leafpool and I left, followed by-"

"I know."

Sparkpelt blinked at the interruption.

She knows?

"I've been watching every moment," She assured, nudging her daughter's shoulder with her nose. "I know how you and Stormcloud have been working hard to make a safe and caring home for you and the other ThunderClan refugees. I know that Bramblestar is fighting tooth and claw to bring everyone back home because he's become blind with grief and rage."

She blinked more slowly this time, her green eyes shining even brighter than usual for a brief moment.

"And I know you're here for your nine lives."

Shock rippled through Sparkpelt.

"So-"

"StarClan is ready to gift you your lives. We talked for so long after you left, trying to determine if this was the right path. In the end, we are sure of it."

Behind the StarClan warrior, the queen saw the forest come to life with many shining cats, all of them holding their heads high with pride.

StarClan..

Squirrelflight stepped close, the warmth of her glittering body overwhelming Sparkpelt for a moment, like an inferno under the smaller she-cat's pelt. The younger she-cat felt that energy rush through her, burning at her paws like she was standing in flames, the crackling ringing in her ears as she could hear the distant shouts of her mother.

"With this life I grant you compassion," She murmured, eyes full of love and burning determination. "I don't regret how I ended up here. Bramblestar may have thought it was foolish for me to help cats I barely knew, but I was able to ensure the chance that three kits would be able to live and see the world."

Sparkpelt pulled Squirrelflight in for one last goodbye nuzzle before letting her mother step back.

Her lonely heart twisted more as another cat came forward, his dark pelt alight with many stars that danced in his eyes.

"Larksong.." His name fell from her maw before she could stop it and she longed to lay in a nest with him, to talk about everything and nothing all at once.

"Sparkpelt," He purred her name with such love and warmth that for a moment she felt secure and safe. He rested his chin on her head and she pressed against him, breathing in his scent for a long while. "I wish I could've stayed. I miss being with you with every breath I breathe.."

"I miss you, too," She felt herself about to weep. "I miss you so bad that it hurts. It feels so lonely without you."

He pulled away and her heart yearned for this to not be over.

"But you're not alone," He reminded her. "You've built your own family, one of many cats who can be there for you. And, even if you can't see me, I'm standing by your side forever and always."

She leaned forward again, wanting to feel his fur against his, but he lowered his head to where their foreheads were touching, their noses close.

"With this life I give you confidence. I believe in everything you do and I know you'll lead these cats well. You just need to be able to see it, too."

Their noses touched and Sparkpelt felt a shocking mix of being as light as a fallen feather and being as sturdy as stone. Like she could do anything and take on any foe. The feeling started to taper after Larksong pulled his head away.

"I'll be with you always." He meowed, stepping away to allow room for a much smaller shape to toddle over. The grief became overwhelming as little Flickerkit approached, his eyes bright and joyful at the sight of his mother.

"Mama!" He chirped, pressing his head to her leg. She leaned down to give him a lick, but was met with his nose touching hers, as if he had been expecting her to move to make it easier for him. "With this life I give you forgiveness. It's not your fault, okay? I'm not mad that I had to leave, so please don't be mad at you either."

Sorrowful sand coated Sparkpelt's tongue and the stone of loss made her throat ache.

"My beautiful kit," She whispered out. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mama."

She managed to get a couple licks on his head before he ran over to Larksong, standing next to his father with such light in his eyes. Losing them so close to each other was still so hard for her to bare.

It took her a moment to notice that a new cat had approached - a white and speckled brown she-cat, whose eyes narrowed in such a sharp look that it felt like it stung the grieving she-cat.

"I'm Pebbleshine of SkyClan," She stated bluntly, her intense gaze fixed on Sparkpelt's eyes. "And if it were up to me, you wouldn't be the one getting these lives." Sparkpelt winced. "But I was outvoted, so instead I'm going to give you the life of acceptance."

She pressed her nose firmly against the ginger molly's, causing a small shock of pain with just how quickly she pressed her nose. A bright intensity filled her, followed by a warm flood, as if someone was letting out the first feeling.

"May you accept all cats, not just your own."

As Pebbleshine turned to walk away, it clicked suddenly to Sparkpelt on why something had been bothering her. This molly was Twigbranch's mother. They didn't look a lot alike, but they had the same general body shape.

After her approached another she-cat - a cat whose solid black fur shifted ever so slightly in a mix of emotions as she looked past Sparkpelt and to the she-cat next to her. There was another silent conversation, one of forgiveness and kindness, before the black she-cat turned to her.

"I'm Hollyleaf," The name shot many stories through Sparkpelt's head as she recalled it quickly. "I'm-"

"Lionblaze and Jayfeather's sister. I remember.. My mother and father raised you.."

She nodded before stepping forward.

"I died for my Clan, much like she did, but I made some grave mistakes along the way that I still wish I could take back, but I never gave up," She blinked slowly, her gaze becoming intense. "And I don't want you to give up, either. So with this life, I give you endurance. Use it to carry you and your Clan."

Sparkpelt wasn't ready for the burning, aching, tired feeling to erupt through her body. Her heart pounded in echoes through her ears and her legs quivered helplessly, but she found she could still stand, despite the soreness that clawed through every part of her.

As she was recovering, someone else stepped forward. A large golden cat, whose pelt somehow still had the soft cling of milk to it. Confusion settled over the fading pain as she noticed a look of love and affection in the molly's eyes.

"Who are you?" She asked quietly.

"I'm Goldenflower," Came the reply. "I'm Bramblestar's mother - your grandmother - and it's such an honor to finally meet you. I may have passed away so many moons ago, but to know my son had such a wonderful family kept me from letting myself wander too far."

"With this life I give you protection. May you fight for every life as if they were the lives of your kits."

A new feeling surged through, like fire and electricity, dragging out her claws in order to defend those around her from the shadows looming in the corners of her mind.

Blinking her eyes open, Goldenflower dipped her head and whispered a soft goodbye before stepping away.

Two more kits replaced the one queen - a dark brown tabby tom and a pale ginger she-cat. It took only one look at the tom for it to register just who these two were, even if she didn't have any actual memories of them.

"Juniperkit, Dandelionkit," She felt a faint sadness for never getting to know them, but she found it wasn't as intense as her sorrow for anyone else. It made her wish she had more time to get to know them, to give them the proper respect they deserved as her littermates. "You're so much bigger than I remember."

It wasn't the truth, but it was enough for the two kits to become giddy.

"I told you! She remembers us!" Dandelionkit boasted, holding her head high. Juniperkit stuck his tongue out before shoving his sister. She was about to shove back when Squirrelflight let out a cough, catching the kits' attention. "Oh! Yeah!"

Dandelionkit pressed her nose against Sparkpelt with such speed that it hurt much worse than when Pebbleshine had done it. She got a quick apologetic glance from her late sister before the kit spoke again;

"With this life I give you enthusiasm! You gotta enjoy every day you can!"

Kit-like energy spread through her body as she remembered playing with Alderkit in the nursery and chasing Bramblestar's tail as he tried to get things done around camp.

The buzzing feeling made her paws tingle, even after Juniperkit walked up for his turn.

"With this life I give you faith!" He declared loudly, shooting a smug look at Dandelionkit before turning back to Sparkpelt. "Even if things are looking bad, you gotta hang in there and know that there are cats there for you! So never ever give up!"

Emotions swirled through Sparkpelt's chest as bubbling feelings of fear and despair were suddenly washed out with new feelings of hope and confidence. Not the same soaring confidence that Larksong had given her, but enough to make the world just a bit brighter.

They all stepped away as a shape emerged from the crowd and Sparkpelt's eyes widened as a tom came forward. His flame-like pelt was the same stunning color as hers and she didn't even need to think about who this was. She had heard enough stories to fill the heads of many cats for moons to come.

"You're Firestar." She blurted out. He smiled and she realized just where her mother's warm and loving gaze came from.

"I am," He confirmed as he stood only a whisker or two away. "It's good to finally see my granddaughter. I would've loved to dote on you while I was alive, but I'm still so happy to get to see you."

It felt overwhelming in the moment. This was Firestar. She was a part of his legacy and suddenly the shame of how she had been acting before made her feel like an embarrassed little kit.

"With this, I proudly give you the life of love. From the kits born inside the nursery to cats who choose to wander, all your Clanmates are worthy of love."

When he pressed his nose to her, she felt as if she was floating, her heart swelling so much that it almost hurt. She could see everyone's faces as she closed her eyes as well - Stormcloud standing by her side as he watched Cherryfall, Ivypool and Ferncloud helping their kits build dens for everyone to sleep in, Daisy helping watch Finchkit and Flamekit, and even Finleap and Twigbranch returning home with prey in their jaws.

To love these cats like family.. She could feel herself able to do that, even if she hadn't always been the best cat in their lives.

"Congratulations, Sparkstar." Firestar bowed his head to her as she could hear her name being called by many cats, both those she knew and voices she had never heard.

"Sparkstar! Sparkstar! Sparkstar!"

.

Waking up, Sparkstar's ears were still ringing as she slowly stood, her legs shaking lightly as she took in what happened. She could hear movement beside her as Leafpool was soon awake, looking at her with warm amber eyes.

"How do you feel?" She asked softly, aware that what just happened was a lot. There was a moment of silence as the newly named leader took in a long, deep breath.

"I feel great," She assured, smiling at the medicine cat. "Let's get back home. To FireClan."

[bluenet13]

It's All In Your Head (Chapter 1/2)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Characters: Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51.

Prompt: Hair Matted with Blood

Summary: Post-ep to S09E09 "Double Red." Casey's life continues to spiral as his friends worry around him; or what happens when no one notices Casey is struggling and our captain is too stubborn to ask for help. AKA, I enjoyed the ep but needed more angst, h/c, and Brettsey, so I'm fixing it.

Links: ff.net / AO3

Playing basketball with Severide probably wasn't his greatest idea, because by the end of just one round with Stella's new arcade machine, Casey's head is throbbing and the whole room is spinning.

Barely suppressing a grunt, he stumbles backwards until his back hits the column in the middle of their loft. Taking advantage of Stella and Severide being focused on their new furniture, he takes a second to rest his head on the pillar. Eyes sliding closed as he massages his temples, another barely suppressed grunt escaping his lips when he touches the swollen and tender spot on the side of his head. Moving his finger around the area, Casey makes a mental note to take a shower before work the next day as he can still feel the cut from when his head hit the ground and dried blood sticking to his hair around it.

As soon as the machine plays the sound that signals game over, Casey quickly opens his eyes and rights himself. His mask continuing to slip away as his pain continues to increase.

Turning towards the kitchen, Casey does his best to avoid his roommates' stares as their eyes search the place where he had just been standing. He moves quickly to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, before he gingerly makes his way to his room.

"Going already?" Severide shouts from the living room.

"Yeah, man. Just tired. So I'll grab a quick nap before beating you again. God knows you need some alone practice," Casey says, trying to get the attention off him, while doing his best to sound convincing and not slur his words.

"Are you okay, captain?" Stella asks carefully, knowing how the boys get when you fuss over them. She is standing a few feet away from her boyfriend and is looking at Casey with clear worry in her eyes. They're all usually tired after a shift but their last one wasn't particularly bad and Casey always likes to take advantage of his days off to do some construction or work around the apartment. And it wasn't even 6pm. Definitely early for Casey to turn in.

"Yeah, yeah. All good. As I said, just tired. I'll see you both later. You guys enjoy yourselves," Casey says, throwing what he hopes is a reassuring wink their way, and making a point to hide the side of his head where blood might be visible.

Stella nods, but she can't shake the feeling that something is off. The previous day's events play on her head and she wonders if the accident did more damage to Casey than everyone thought.

Turning to her boyfriend as soon as Casey's door clicks shut, Stella grabs his shirt and draws Severide to her. "Did Casey seem off to you?" She wonders, not able to stop herself.

"Hmm, honestly? Since that night last fall, he always seems a little off," Severide answers sincerely. Both automatically knowing which night he's referring to.

Thinking back to the last few months, Stella can't help but agree. Remembering how the captain tends to spend his free time on shift closed down in his quarters, and how often he loses his cool and snaps at people now. Not to mention, how little they see of him at home, with Casey spending most of his days off working his construction job or locked inside his room. His occasional trips to Molly's usually ending soon after Brett makes an appearance with Grainger.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Stella concedes eventually. She then grabs the basketball and proceeds to put the ball in the net from where she's standing. "Come here and let me school you. And maybe next time you can actually beat Casey," she teases, picking up the basketball and scoring another point.

Severide mumbles something under his breath but he's smiling to himself as he stares at his girlfriend proudly. He waits until she's done, beating both his and Casey's scores in the process, before he takes her hand and pulls her alongside him towards their bedroom.

-x-x-x-

As soon as the lock clicks shut behind him, Casey slides down the door. The short walk to his room left him winded, and made his headache evolve to include nausea and a ringing in his ears that makes him feel as if his PASS device is active. But unlike in that scenario, there is nothing to turn off now because this sound comes from within, as his skull seemingly threatens to break in two.

Taking a tentative sip of water, Casey stops as his stomach tries to revolt. Closing his eyes, he takes slow, deep breaths willing the nausea to pass so he can drink enough water to down the two pills he managed to grab without Severide or Stella noticing. Now wishing he also had the presence of mind to grab some nausea medication from the kitchen.

After minutes tick by and his symptoms don't ease at all, Casey decides to forgo the water and just down the two pills dry. They scratch his throat but, at this moment, he couldn't care less.

With a groan, he then drags himself through the floor and awkwardly climbs into his bed. Not even bothering to take his clothes off and just collapsing into the mattress. Hopefully a good night's sleep in his own bed is all he needs and he will wake up feeling refreshed and like the last two days had just been a bad dream.

-x-x-x-

He doesn't.

Sleep is elusive all night long. And he spends the whole night tossing and turning because of the pain in his head, and then having to take deep breaths to calm his worsening nausea because of all the tossing and turning.

His awake moments also mix with dreams of cars and sad smiles. Leaving him feeling even more miserable and exhausted than the night before. So much that the last two days do in fact feel like a bad dream, while this night feels like a full-blown nightmare.

-x-x-x-

The following morning, knocking on the door wakes up Casey, and he groans as soon as his eyes land on the clock sitting on his nightstand. He's late for work.

"Case? You alright? We need to leave soon or we're going to be late." Severide's voice comes from outside his room and Casey briefly wonders if it's too late to call in sick. He feels like hell but all things considered he should probably feel thankful he's still alive and that his head is still in one piece. Even if it feels like someone is trying to crack it open from the inside.

"Sorry, man. Just getting ready. Give me a minute," Casey shouts, wincing as his own voice hurts his head. With no time to shower, he just spends a couple minutes getting ready in the bathroom, mostly trying to fix his hair that's sticking up in every direction.

"Let's go," Casey says, stumbling out of his room, and going directly to the front door so his roommates have no time to take in his appearance.

Or so he hoped. "Are you really okay? You look like hell, and you're wearing the same clothes you had yesterday." Severide asks. "And is that blood on the side of your head?"

Looking down at himself, Casey frowns, taking in his wrinkled look, before moving his hand to the spot where he knows the cut is and sighing as he can feel new crusted blood around his hair. He must have reopened the wound with all his tossing and turning the night before. "Didn't have time to do laundry. Will get on that after shift. And why would I have blood? It's probably red paint from my construction job yesterday." Casey settles on the first excuse that comes to mind, hoping they're already so late that Severide won't have time to question him further. "I was working on a barn," he adds as an afterthought, shaking his head and promptly regretting the movement as it intensifies the pounding on his skull.

Severide and Stella look at each other. Both knowing Casey is not the type to neglect his housekeeping duties, and also remembering the captain had actually done laundry last weekend. But, they're both more worried about what looks nothing like red paint and definitely like blood on the side of Casey's head.

Does he really think he can fool a squad lieutenant and firefighter/paramedic/future lieutenant? Stella seems to ask as she shares a look with Severide.

Severide nods, then shrugs and walks to the kitchen, grabbing a styrofoam mug and a plate with toast and eggs. "Here, we left some breakfast for you. You can eat in the car."

Casey's stomach does a backflip at the sight of the food and he has to use a lot of his remaining energy just to push his nausea down. "Thanks, man. But not really hungry. I will just take the coffee," he says casually, trying to sound normal.

Severide and Stella share another knowing look, but both decide to let it go for now, instead Severide sets the plate on the fridge and passes the cup to Casey. Then everyone grabs their keys and bags and they're out the door.

For a moment, Severide worries that maybe he's imagining things and Casey is totally fine. But looking at Stella out of the corner of his eye, noticing his own worry reflected in her brown eyes, he decides to trust his intuition and ask her about it later. He has been Casey's best friend for a long time and he knows they need to tread carefully when it comes to the man sharing his feelings and opening up about what's ailing him. Because something clearly is.

For his part, Casey is barely able to follow Severide and Stella down the stairs and towards the parking lot, and in his struggle, has the sudden, very obvious realization that he shouldn't work like this. All his energy is going into just taking one step after the other and he's in no condition to be anyone's captain today. But he made it this far so he can at least make it home. Once he's there, he can just tell Chief Boden he's not feeling well and spend the day out of the field and doing paperwork. It would be good for Stella too. She can be truck lieutenant and get some more preparation for her upcoming exams.

With that decision made, Casey then spends the next half hour sitting quietly in the backseat of Severide's car. The cup of coffee getting cold in his hand after his first tentative sip was received with his body threatening to throw up. What exactly, he wouldn't know, given he had skipped both lunch and dinner the day before.

When Severide parks his car in the street in front of Firehouse 51, Casey takes a second to close his eyes and compose himself, then slowly gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Not sparing his roommates a single glance.

Ignoring everyone who is already in the common room, Casey walks directly to the bathroom and closes himself inside a stall. After taking a minute to make sure there's no one inside, he finally lets go and proceeds to try to throw up the emptiness in his stomach. With nothing to come out, Casey just coughs and dry heaves. By the time he's done, he is sweating and shaking. And not for the first time realizes he's in no condition to go out into the job. Matt Casey has never been particularly good at self-preservation but he is the best at protecting the lives of the firefighters and paramedics under his command, and he would never willingly put their lives in danger.

Moving to the sink, Casey washes his face and mouth, before reaching inside the stall for his discarded bag and taking off his now sweat soaked t-shirt and changing into his white captain's shirt. He spends the next five minutes carefully scrubbing the blood that's matting his hair, before he arranges it in such a way that it covers the cut on his left side. Then taking deep, calming breaths, he schools his features and exits the bathroom.

As soon as he turns the corner towards Chief Boden's office, Casey collides with Severide and he can't help the grunt that escapes his lips. "Here you are. I've been looking for you. Case, are you sure you're okay?" Severide asks, concern evident in every single one of his words.

"Yes, man. Stop worrying. You're acting worse than Stella last time you got hurt," Casey says, as the previous day, trying to take the attention off him and direct it back to his roommate.

Severide says nothing, but looks at his best friend intently. Easily noticing how tired he looks and how the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than anytime in the last few months. His skin also looks flushed, cheeks reddish, and he keeps squinting at him. Casey hasn't particularly looked good since his failed night with Brett, but he looks like shit now. But before Severide can steel his resolve and call him out, Casey seems to dismiss him with a shake of his hand and continues on his way.

"Going to speak with Chief Boden, I will see you later," Casey offers, then he is gone.

-x-x-x-

"Casey, good morning. What can I do for you?" Chief Boden asks from his desk, signaling for Casey to close the door and sit down.

"Hi Chief, I wanted to request the day off," Casey begins, but stops at the shocked look on his chief's face and the sudden way his eyebrows go up. Casey knew it was uncommon for him to voluntarily request time off but he wasn't expecting his chief to look so surprised. "Must have eaten something bad yesterday because my stomach is not agreeing with me today," he lies, inwardly wincing.

Matt Casey never lies, but sometimes he likes to color the truth. After all, his stomach is really not agreeing with him. And, as if trying to add more truth to his statement, Casey's stomach does another flip.

"Alright, Casey. I will tell Stella to take command of truck for the day and you go home and rest. Let me know if I can do anything to help," Boden agrees easily. A small seed of worry settling deep inside him because his captain rarely takes himself off the lineup voluntarily. But if he says it's just a bad case of spoiled food, there's nothing he can do and they just need to let time do its magic.

"Thank you, sir. But, if you're okay with it, I'd prefer to stay here. I can just lie down in my quarters for a bit, then take advantage of the time to get ahead on some paperwork," Casey proposes, knowing his situation is a lot more complicated than food poisoning. He doesn't want to go to the hospital as he fears this might be the time the doctor mentioned where another head injury could really put a damper on his career as a firefighter. And even if he hopes that this will all resolve on its own with time, he would still like to be close to an ambulance and paramedics in case it all turns worse before it gets better.

As it turns out, he does have some sense of self-preservation after all.

"Whatever you think is best, Casey. But if you're feeling worse, don't hesitate to go home. Or ask Brett or Mackey to check you out. They can give you something to make you feel better," Boden instructs. Like always being the type of leader that likes to point out what he believes to be the right path, but ultimately, wanting to give the men and women under his command the chance to decide for themselves.

Casey nods, even knowing that Brett is the last person he would ask for help right now. He almost did yesterday, then spent the whole night dreaming with her sad eyes when he had broken her heart. Being honest with himself, he knows he wants nothing more than to talk to her and let her comfort him. But he has done enough damage already; now she wants space, and the least he can do is give that to her.

"Thank you, chief." Casey bids his boss farewell before he walks straight to his quarters. Closing the door and lowering the blinds, then promptly falling face first onto his bed.

Five minutes later the alarms go off, calling all five units to a vehicular accident. The alarms and sirens only intensify the throbbing in Casey's head and a sob escapes his lips as he tries to shield himself from the noise by covering his head with his pillow. When the room is back to silence, he sighs in content, glad he doesn't have to get up and worry about being Captain Casey right now. At this moment, he has more than enough just worrying about how he feels like he is dying.

Barely shaking his head, Casey wills those thoughts away from his mind and closes his eyes. With the whole firehouse out on a call, he can finally get some rest and hopefully this time actually wake up feeling better than before.

-x-x-x-

After Casey more than dismisses him and walks to the Chief's office, closing the door behind them, Severide has the familiar need to follow him and find out what's going on. But he doesn't want to get on his friend's bad side, so instead, he follows the path where Casey came from, and decides to find some clues on his own.

Seeing the locker room empty and intact, Severide walks into the bathroom and quickly notices the discarded cup of coffee on the trash. The entirety of the black liquid spilled on the bag. Sighing, Severide decides to go wait for Casey outside of Boden's office so he can talk to him about it. Something is clearly wrong with him, and Severide needs to do something about it before Casey's stupidity lands him in trouble. Severide knows he's not great at taking care of himself, but some days he thinks Casey is even worse.

Getting to Boden's office, Severide finds the door open and the chief alone working on some paperwork. Briefly considering talking to Boden about it, Severide eventually decides he doesn't want to go over Casey's head, so he turns around and walks to the officer's quarters.

From a distance, Severide can already see that Casey's door is closed and the blinds are down, so he's probably inside, but before he has time to knock on the door the alarms go off as they're all called to an accident downtown. Staying in place for a few seconds, Severide waits to see if Casey will come out so he can make sure he's really okay before they go into a scene. But there's no movement inside, and Casey never comes out.

Hearing the engines of the trucks, Severide shakes his head and runs towards the apparatus bay, coming face to face with Boden as soon as he exits the door.

Seeing all of truck, but Casey, sitting at their usual spots, and the seat next to Stella empty, Severide turns to his chief. "Sir, is Casey alright?" Casey can get pissed off if he wants, Severide thinks. After all, he wouldn't need to be asking their boss if the idiot had just opened up to his best friend and roommate, instead of avoiding all his questions.

"He said he has food poisoning, and requested the day off. Stella, you're in charge of truck today," Boden all but shouts, both answering Severide's question and informing the rest of the house that they will be going to work without their captain today.

Food poisoning? Severide wonders, scrunching his face when he remembers he hadn't seen Casey eat anything since the day before yesterday. Something is clearly up and he will find out as soon as they're back from this call.

Nodding, Severide jumps into the squad truck and turns on the sirens as Cruz hits the gas. For a brief moment, as he passes the apparatus floor, he catches Stella's eyes, and again, sees his own worry reflected in them. They briefly spoke when they got to the firehouse, and even though Stella also felt something was off, they both agreed this might all be in their heads and was just another side-effect of Casey's current distance from Brett. Still, they can't help but worry. And if that wasn't enough, Severide then turns to Brett, who's sitting on the driver's side of ambo 61, and sees an unasked question on her gaze, her face also showing concern.

-x-x-x-

Sylvie Brett prides herself on always being ready to do her job and help whoever is in need. Or rather, almost always. Because a certain fire captain has the uncanny ability to draw her thoughts away from the job and towards his beautiful blue eyes and deep gaze. Even when the man is not even in the same space, her mind is an expert in conjuring his face whether she wants to or not.

So now, even as she exits the ambulance and goes to the back to find her med bag, Brett tries to catch Severide or Stella's eyes. At any other time, they would be the ones seeking answers from her, but nowadays, she knows Casey is much more likely to share personal details with his roommates than with her. It's not the first time she has that thought, and as every time before, a sad smile escapes her lips with the realization.

Brett can't deny that she is in love with Casey and wants to be more than friends with him, but mostly, she just misses her best friend. And wishes things would go back to normal, when they would communicate like no other, and share with each other what neither dared share with the rest of the world. That's how she knew that whatever was happening now, wouldn't be happening at all if she hadn't sought Casey that night. Then she wouldn't have asked that question, and he wouldn't have broken her heart with the power of his honesty alone.

Shaking her head, Brett gives up trying to attract Severide or Stella's attention and instead focuses on the current call. Grabbing every instrument and item she might need, she follows Mackey to the accident, and together they stand to the side, while squad works on getting the victims out of the three cars involved in the crash, and truck, minus Casey (as her mind helpfully points out), works on extinguishing the few flames that had already sparked and making sure no others join.

When that's done, Brett and Mackey do quick work of taking care of the victims and getting them stable while they wait for additional ambulances to come and help them transport the victims to Gaffney Chicago Medical Center. Only for that brief moment she forgets about Casey, taking some time to stare at the young paramedic, her partner for two more shifts, as she ponders why another partner is leaving her. Maybe she's a good paramedic, and just not a good leader? Because there has to be some reason why no partner is able to stick with her for more than 2 years, while the previous Ambo's 61 PIC was able to spend years with just Shay and then Brett. Apparently Casey is not the only one who prefers Dawson.

Sirens getting closer draw Brett away from her own pity party and she joins Mackey in letting the new paramedics know the state of the victims they just treated and helping them get everyone inside an ambulance. As she proudly stares at Mackey, hearing her confidently recite all the patients' stats and known injuries, Brett makes it a point to remember to congratulate the young woman again and wish her good luck in her new house.

That thought also makes Brett realize that even in a very small way, she's still a part of Mackey's success and the fact she so quickly got the recognition she deserved by being considered for a future PIC job, an achievement which took Brett more than a few years. She should feel proud of that, for both of them. Plus, she's always been good, some would even say great, at her job. So there's no reason for Brett to be feeling down on herself.

But then she remembers Casey, and her conviction crumbles. Whatever is happening to him now wouldn't be happening if she hadn't let their personal lives mix with their jobs. And even if it is just food poisoning, which she doubts, it would still be her fault, because any firefighter should feel like they can reach out and ask her for help, however minor the injury or illness might be. And Casey clearly hadn't thought he could. But then again, he had tried to ask her a question during the last shift. It hadn't been her fault that, as usual, they got interrupted, but it was her fault not to ask him about it later.

Same as it was her fault that she didn't check Casey after the incident last call. And deep down in her gut, she is certain that is the real problem of whatever is happening to him now.

Sighing, Brett forces her mind to return to the present and closes the door of Ambo 61 after Mackey climbs inside next to the stretcher. For now, she will focus on doing her job to the best of her ability, but she knows something is up, and she will find out what, as soon as they're back at 51.

-x-x-x-

Again, Casey doesn't wake up feeling better than before. In fact, the pain in his head now reaches a new level of misery and the room is spinning so much that just getting out of bed is a struggle.

Closing his eyes, Casey pictures what he remembers of his small quarters and tentatively makes his way to the door. Resting his head on the wood as he wills the world to stop moving.

Opening his eyes again, he unlocks the door and slowly makes his way to the common room in search of Brett, Mackey or anyone that can help him. But the room is empty and with a sinking feeling he realizes the call lasted longer than expected or maybe he just didn't sleep all that much.

But then Casey hears the telltale sound of the firehouse's units and his friends' voices and with the last of his energy follows the noise to the apparatus bay. Every step is a new challenge and by the time Casey crosses the threshold and stands on the garage, the ache in his head has worsened. He moves a hand to message his temple, hoping to alleviate the ache in his head and frowns when his fingers come back sticky with blood.

When the trucks and SUV are close enough for Casey to see them, or rather, their blurry outlines, he raises his hand, hoping to get Brett or Severide's attention, and in his disorientation, frowns again when he sees blood staining his hand. Wanting to get closer to his family and the only people that can help him now, Casey takes one final step but it's too late and his whole world collapses on him. His dizziness and nausea take over, the room around him disappearing as the blurriness gives way to full-blown darkness and the familiar sounds of the firehouse are reduced to interminable silence.

And before Casey can process anything of what's happening, the world seems to tilt off its axis and he feels himself falling...

[peach-the-owl]

Child of the Nein

When you first meet (Mighty Nein & Child!Reader) Part 2

Finally here’s part 2 like promised :)

Again not 100% accurate but I tried to keep it as close as possible

Fjord

Walking along the shores of Port Damali was a common activity for you, the sound of the waves and seagulls brought a sense of calmness to you. Today however proved to be a bit different when you saw a body laying on the beach (I’m guessing this is where he had ended up, if not feel free to correct me), waves lapping around the unconscious half-orc. You proceed cautiously not entirely sure how to approach the situation, were they dead? Alive? You couldn’t tell at first glance, so doing what any reasonable kid would you find yourself a nice long stick and start poking the body. When they let out an irritated groan you flinch back waiting for something to happen, when nothing does you resume your poking. "Hey! Are you dead!?" The words slipped out before you knew what you were saying, however the half-orc stirred once more.

When Fjord first regained consciousness he was surprised to find himself back on shore a sword in hand. The strange poking sensation while mostly irritating did help him get some focus back as he recoiled from the source. A small yelp pulls his attention to a kid, maybe 10 or 11 years of age, who’d stumbled to the sandy ground at his sudden action. A small staring contest ensues as neither say anything.

"Are you ok? I thought you were dead." You had decided to break the ice first, albeit in a rather odd fashion.

"I’m… fine?" You quickly noticed the shift in his tone of voice from a softer british composure to a heavy southern drawl. "Now what’s a kid doin' out here all alone? You should be getting back to yer parents."

"I would if I had any." You say nonchalantly.

"Oh, I’m sorry to hear-"

"It’s fine, can’t feel sad over people I never met. I’m (y/n) by the way." You quickly change the subject, holding out your hand for him to shake.

"Uhh… Fjord." He accepts the handshake, after which you help pull him to his feet.

"So, Fjord are you going to stay in town long?"

"What’s that supposed to mean?" He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at you.

"Well…" You let the word drag for a second, before deciding to come clean. "It's just that you look like a man on a mission and I for one would like to join you. I’d do anything to get out of here." You flash him your big puppy dog eyes in hopes of enticing him to agree. Sure it was a little selfish and possibly unwise on your end to ask a stranger such a bold question, but you were desperate to leave and he didn’t seem like a bad guy.

"While I don’t plan on staying long, I’m not sure I feel all too comfortable with a kid taggin' along either." He shifts a little, scratching the back of his head before looking over to you. You weren’t ready to give up so quickly.

"Oh please, the people here are awful, they don’t even care that I’m all the way out here without anyone looking after me. Look, I know the worlds a dangerous place but I’ve gotta face it eventually, and what better way to face and learn about it then with someone who already has experience." As you spoke you could see his resolve slowly break, you kept pushing. "I want to prove myself better then the dirt these people say I am, haven’t you ever felt the need to prove yourself?" It's not like you were lying about any of this and Fjord could see that written on your face. He felt pity for you but also hesitant at first, trying to think this through, your little puppy dog stare kept getting in the way however. He sighs in defeat.

"It may not be all bad to have some… company along-" He spoke slowly, almost trying reason with himself. You don’t let him finish as you practically squeal with joy and give him a quick hug.

"Thank you! You won’t regret this I promise." You let go and flash him a bright smile, in return he gives an amused side smile. As the situation fully dawned on Fjord, one part of him still wasn’t sure about this while the other hoped he made the right choice. You seemed like a smart kid to him surely you’d be able to learn quickly too. What could possibly go wrong?

Beau

Beau gave an exasperated sigh while trudging down the halls of the Cobalt Soul, she had been summoned for some "important training and experience" which wasn’t specified when she questioned them about it. Once she enters the sort of meeting room she sees 4 individuals, one being Archivist Zeenoth with two others from the Cobalt Reserve and the last looking to be a child, about 10 years old.

"The hell's all this?" The words came out before Beau could catch what she was saying.

"Language Miss Lionett, there are children present." The archivist scolds while gesturing to them. "Regardless, I’ve called you here because from this point forward you shall be this child’s new teacher."

"I’m sorry what!? You do realize that this is a bad idea, right? I haven’t even finished my own training." Beau was taken aback by his words, surprised they even considered her to be teacher material as it were.

"I’ve… considered it. However, as per mentioned earlier, I do believe this will make for a good exercise not just for this young one but for you as well."

"… I really don’t have much of a say do I?" She lets out a sigh as Zeenoth shakes his head. "Fine, whatever."

The archivist leaves the room with the two other monks that had escorted you in, leaving you alone with your new mentor. The two of you just standing in a silence that feels as though it’ll last an eternity.

*Sigh*"So, you’ve gotta name kid?" You could hear the annoyance in her voice.

"Yeah, I’m (y/n) (l/n) and if I’m not mistaken your Beauregard Lionett."

"No need for the formalities, just Beau is fine."

"Right, ok…" Your voice trails off as an awkward silence now takes over. After a moment or two you decide to try speaking up again.

"So what should we do first?" You ask, hoping your question leads somewhere. Beau stares off into space for a moment, scratching the back of her neck. You could tell she wasn’t used to this.

"I guess we'll start with the basics. Come on, there should be a more open room to spar in somewhere." She starts heading out of the room, you following close behind. From what you could gather so far, the passive aggressive tone was just a default for her and nothing to be taken too personally. After all she was your teacher now so you’d have to take everything in stride. What could possibly go wrong?

Yasha

You sat by the alter, you don’t remember much, just that you were guided here, HE had guided you here. When you had first arrived you saw a woman laying unconscious before the alter, you didn’t know what to do so here you now sit, waiting, waiting for something to happen. The woman begins to stir a groan escaping her, you scramble back a bit and hide behind the alter.

Yasha pushes herself off the ground and looks around, she didn’t know where she was or what was going on all she knew was that she was here at this alter. She decides to approach the alter, seeing two medallions. Confused she picks up both, as she does there's a soft but somehow comforting sound of distant rolling thunder. She then looks back to the alter, catching a set of curious eyes watching her before ducking out of sight. She readies herself for a fight.

"Who's there?" Her tone sounded both threatening and a little scared, she was surprised to see a child step out from behind the alter, their hands up as a way to show they meant no harm. Her stance relaxing just a little as they now stood before her.

"I’m not here to start a fight. I was guided here, like you." You could see her trying to process whatever was going on, honestly you still were too. You try to think of something else to say, thinking it best to simply introduce yourself. "Ummm… my name's (y/n). What’s yours?" You give a slight bow.

"… My name's Yasha… uhhh… I think this is yours." She kneels down and holds out her hand with one of the medallions in it, you carefully take it from her, examining the beautiful design. The silence that soon falls between you feels awkward yet comforting all at once. Neither one of you knowing what to say or do next.

"What happens now?" You ask, breaking the silence. Yasha looks to you and shrugs. "Yeah I’m not good at this either." You scratch the back of your neck feeling a little sheepish for asking. Another chorus of distant rolling thunder breaks you both away from your thoughts, this time seeming to call both of you to follow it. Sharing a look and finding no other options, you both set out to an unknown future. What could possibly go wrong?

Molly

Your legs felt as though they were on fire after hours of walking and your stomach growls at you in hunger. You march forward nonetheless, not sure as to where you were going, but just going. The burning slowly turned to a biting feeling until eventually your body forced you to drag yourself somewhere safe and out of sight to rest.

As you let the evening air blow past you a very faint scent of sweets hits your nose, looking in the direction of the scent you could make out thin pillars of smoke still a distance away, most likely the source of the sweet smell. You tried to get up but your legs wouldn’t allow it making you stay put until the pain subsided. Hours seemed to pass, you fiddled with some grass to entertain yourself, feeling the ground shift a little as you did so, strange. Ignoring that and shifting your gaze up to the sky you watch the night take over, stars dotting the darkness and a beautiful full moon seeming as if it was looking right back at you. By now the pain subsided, you now being able to start heading for that town, or what you hoped to be a town anyways. However when you try getting up this time it isn’t your wary legs that hold you back but something gripping onto you. Looking down you see a lavender hand clinging to your pants. You yelp in shock and try to pull away, tugging at the fabric to get whoever or whatever this was to let go, but to no avail. Soon another hand emerges from the ground then the top half of the body, the individual gasping for air as their head breaks past the soil. You stumble backwards, not getting far as they still had you in their death grip, all you could do was stare at them. Where they undead? No that didn’t seem right, they were breathing and defiantly looked to have all their skin intact. Maybe it was a resurrection spell? No, you seemed to be the only one around from what you could observe and you certainly didn’t know any powerful magic like that.

Dozens of questions swam around your brain as you tried to decide your next course of action, this somehow not dead person amazingly didn’t seem to notice your presents or that they were still holding onto you, their eyes fixated on the sky. You shuffle a bit to get into a more comfortable position, when you do you see the mystery man had finally moved their gaze away from the sky and onto you. Red eyes beating into you, yet you no longer felt fear from them as you could now see, much like yourself, the fear and confusion in their own eyes.

"Uhhh… hi?" You really weren’t sure how to approach any of this, and when they don’t respond you could only assume they didn’t know what to do either. They do however release their grip on you, retracting their hand to their chest. You could run, but should you really just leave them here? They were a stranger that just popped out of the ground (like daisy's) but that didn’t mean they were instantly bad. You slowly rise to your feet, and with a deep breath hold your hand out for them to take. You see the hesitance in their face as they just stare at you.

"Come on it’s just a hand. I don’t bite, promise." You offer a welcoming smile, and after a second they accept the offer, you helping them up. "I’m (y/n) by the way. What’s your name?" They look at you but their voice was so quiet you weren’t even sure if they were actually talking. It’s then that your stomach rumbles again, making your hunger known after being ignored for so long.

"It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. Let’s just get moving, I think I saw a town not too far away. We can go there, maybe find something to eat and then figure this out." You give another reassuring smile hoping to calm your new mystery friend enough to focus a bit more. While still holding onto their hand you gently start tugging them along, they follow you like a lost puppy toward where you’d seen the pillars of smoke earlier. You tried to stay optimistic in your assumption and hoped to find somewhere to stay soon. What could possibly go wrong?

[brackenfur]

reedwhisker & mistystar drabble

i always wanted a scene in shattered sky between these two; poor reedwhisker had been held prisoner by darktail, and i always felt like mistystar must’ve been worried sick about her poor baby - i decided to write something for them bc these two rly are one of my fave families in all of wc.

after reedwhisker is rescued, before he goes on the patrol with the other deputies to talk to onestar.

Mistystar’s eyes are fond as she looks over him, slowly padding into the medicine cat den. “Hi. How are you doing?”

Reedwhisker blinks, squinting at the light seeping into the den from outside; the hollow of ThunderClan’s camp usually offers shelter from the harsh elements, but at this time of day, the sunlight seems to be especially blinding.

He smiles at his mother weakly. “I’m alright, Mistystar. Hanging in there.”

She frowns; his mother’s tail twitches absentmindedly as she looks around, as though pondering of something else to say. After a few moments of strange silence, she settles down, curling her tail over her paws as she sits in front of him. She eyes Reedwhisker cautiously.

“Leafpool said you were getting better,” she murmurs, relief in her voice.

Reedwhisker shrugs, ignoring the stab of discomfort as he jostles his aching shoulder. “Almost as good as new; ready to get back to our own camp, once this is all over.”

His mother stares down at him, overlooking him with pained eyes. “I heard you want to go on the patrol to WindClan to speak to Onestar,” she says slowly; Reedwhisker knows his leader’s tone well, and knows that she’s ready to discourage him from doing so.

He’s already building up his protests as she continues: “And I don’t think you should.”

“Mistystar, I’m fine,” he tells her, gritting his teeth. “Well, okay - I’m better. You said it yourself - Leafpool says I’m getting better. I can make the walk to WindClan and back; Bramblestar wants the deputies of each Clan to go.”

“I can send Mintfur, or Minnowtail,” Mistystar meows, her voice tight. “You need your rest, Reedwhisker; I don’t-”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, tail-tip twitching. He’s trying to remain respectful of his leader and mother, but he can’t help but think she’s being overprotective in this moment - he’s healed from Darktail’s prison, more or less, and the walk won’t be too hard for him. He made it to ThunderClan camp, afterall, and that was when he was days from StarClan’s paws.

“You need rest,” she tells him, abandoning the soft approach for something more authoritative. “You almost-” She hesitates, as if saying the word could make it come true. “Your condition could have been much worse.”

“I’m alive and ready to protect my Clan,” he reminds her, twitching his whiskers. “I want to take down Darktail, Mistystar; Bramblestar and the other leaders want my help convincing Onestar to join us. What - do you think I can’t do it?”

He knows he’s being unfair to her, lashing out at his mother for the pain he still feels from his time as a prisoner; he can see her flinch slightly.

“I know you can do it,” she tells him firmly.

“But you don’t want me to.”

“No,” she says simply, narrowing her eyes. “You need to recover, and stay in this camp for as long as possible until you can walk around without needing breaks because your shoulder hurts too much.”

They’re both silent for a few moments, eyes locked on one another, until Reedwhisker finally lowers his gaze.

“Are you saying this as my leader,” he meows softly, “or as my mother?”

Mistystar is silent for a long time; he almost thinks she’s going to walk out of the den, until she finally speaks: “As your mother,” Her voice sounds...broken, almost, losing all of it’s strictness from minutes before. She sounds exhausted. “As your mother, Reedwhisker, please stay here. Stay with me. I can’t-”

She stops, and he realizes that she’s shut her eyes, turned away from him for a moment as she composes herself.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” She finally says, shaking her head and looking down at him with a devastated expression. 

“You didn’t, though,” he meows, flattening his ears. He’s suddenly back to when he was an apprentice, when it was just he and Mistystar left in their little family. “I’m right here, Mom.”

She cracks the tiniest smile at hearing him call her Mom; it’s been a long time since he’s done so - he’s also her deputy, after all. He can’t invoke much respect from RiverClan if he’s trailing after her, calling her Mom and Mama.

“But I almost did,” she reminds him, sighing. “You don’t know how hard it was to leave you, when Darktail drove us out of our territory. Reedwhisker, you- you don’t realize, how agonizing it was to walk away from you.” Her eyes are swimming with emotion. “I failed you.”

“You had to protect the rest of RiverClan,” he tells her sincerely; he doesn’t blame his mother for leaving him behind, not with the threat of her and the rest of the Clan being killed by the Kin. Darktail meant business; they’ve all come to realize it. He didn’t teter around or make exceptions - it was leave Reedwhisker and the others behind, or die themselves. No room for comprises, and the Clan was in no state to keep fighting.

“But as your mom, my job is to protect you,” she reminds him, and it’s at this point her shoulders shake; he can see how hard these past few weeks have been on her, and he realizes at this point - not for the first time, but this time with more shock and dread than any of the others - that she is an old molly, an old molly who has lost too much and been through some horrible times.

“You’re my mother and my leader,” he says, and then finds himself chuckling lightly. “You kinda-” He shakes his head. “I mean, Ma, you kind of asked for some complicated emotions when you asked me to be deputy. Sometimes I forget you’re my leader, and I can’t just treat you like I did when I was ‘paw.”

She sighs; she gives him a weak smile. “Believe me, so many others were telling me the same thing when I made you deputy,” she tells him, voice soft. “There’s times when...when all I want is to comfort you, or stop everything to ask you how your day has been going, if you’re finally going to give me grandkits,” At this, Reedwhisker rolls his eyes. “But I don’t regret asking you to be my deputy; the pros have outweighed the cons by far.”

“Cons like now,” he meows, frowning. “Where you’re blaming yourself for making the best possible decision for the rest of RiverClan, and trying too hard to protect me. But I’m- I’m a grown cat now, Mom. I’m your deputy; you need to trust that I’m making the best decisions, too.”

She blinks at him. “It’s just so hard, when all I can think about is you in that prison, being starved and neglected, about you almost dying,” She shuts her eyes. “You...I mean, for StarClan’s sake, after TigerClan, how was I supposed to feel, baby?”

He looks away; he’s come to realize over the past few days that his mother must have thought back to Tigerstar’s rule over RiverClan while he was with Darktail. He knows that, but her saying it makes it more raw, more real, for him; he feels a nugget of guilt in his belly, for lashing out at her when she must have been plagued by nightmares about all those years ago.

(Sometimes, he has them as well.)

“We both made it through those times,” he tells her, reaching a paw forward to place it on hers. “Mom, we both made it through those guys. We just need to go the extra step, and get rid of Darktail for good - let me do this. For both of us.”

She blinks, ears flattened to her head. “You’re so stubborn,” she says, a very light purr dipping into her words. “You remind me of your uncle; Stonefur...he never listened to me, either. Always telling me I’m overprotective, I fret too much.” She seems to be lost in her memories for a few heartbeats. “I lost him, and your brothers and sister - I just have you left, baby. You’re an adult now, and yes you’re my deputy, but-” She sighs. “You’re my only baby left.”

“All I have is you, too,” he reminds her, frowning up at her. “You’re my only family, Mom - don’t you see? I have to protect you, too. Family isn’t just moms protecting their stubborn sons; it’s sons protecting their tough moms, too.”

She shakes her head at him again, but he gets a small chuckle from her. “Just like Stonefur,” she sighs, taking a deep breath. “If I let you go to WindClan, will you promise me that you will come back home as soon as you start to get dizzy, or if you start limping? Any sign that you’re not feeling well, you come straight home.”

Reedwhisker blinks, and nods at her. “I promise, Mom. I’m fine.”

She stares down at him, nodding slowly. “I can’t lose you,” she reminds him, sighing. “But I have to let you be my deputy; I know that.”

Reedwhisker smiles at her, and begins to sit up; his joints ache, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was. He’ll make the journey there and back; he has to. For himself, for his mother, for RiverClan in all - he needs to do this. Anything he can do to take Darktail down, he’ll jump into, no hesitations.

“I love you,” Mistystar tells him, looking over him for a moment before touching her nose to his forehead. “You always were the best option for RiverClan’s deputy; not many cats would have endured everything you have, and still give their all to protect us. I’m so proud of you.”

Reedwhisker swallows down his emotion; he’s an adult, a senior warrior of many seasons; he knows he can’t get emotional at his mother’s words.

“I’m proud of you too,” he tells her, giving her cheek a lick.

She moves back, looking him over, and gives him a nod. “Don’t let Onestar boss you around, though; that tom is in no position to tell my son what to do, or how to act. He’s an idiot.”

Reedwhisker affectionately rolls his eyes, smiling at her. “Yes, Mom.”

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 6 (3/3)

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640021017292636160/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640495394492710912/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-23

Chapter 6 (3/3) - Gifts

Words: 3k

Molly was probably able to hide all those bad feelings from the other people in camp, but she couldn’t hide them from Emily: she was good with emotions, and in reading poetry. However, she had talked too much, again, and she felt mortified for how Molly had treated her. Walking around with the weight of regret on her chest, she ended up in front of her tent where Mary-Beth was still reading and Tilly was washing some clothes.

“Hello, girls. Do you need help, Tilly?”

“No, I’m almost done.”

“Is it still that book? The one with the man who wants to visit the moon?” she asked to Mary-Beth.

“Ah-ah” she affirmed. 

Emily had soon found out that her books were boring and foolish, but she tried not to point it out to avoid insulting Mary-Beth. Besides, she had only three and she kept reading them again and again.

“How did the job go?” she asked to Emily.

“Good, I’ve made some money, so now I can buy you some other book. Something more interesting.”

“This one is not so bad. You have never wondered what goes on, on the moon?” “What should go on, on the moon? It’s a big cold rock.”

Mary-Beth widened her eyes.

“How do you know? You’ve been there?”

“No, of course not, but other people have.”

“You mean there’s folks living up there?”

Emily laughed, but then she saw Mary-Beth’s half hurt half curious face and decided to explain to her what apparently she didn’t know, that the moon couldn’t be colonized because there was no air and that men could only go up there with spaceships and space suits that allowed them to breathe.

“I’ve never heard of any of that” said Tilly.

“That’s because you have to wait until 1969 for that to happen.”

“So much time? We’ll probably never see that” replied a disconsolate Mary-Beth.

“But I can tell you everything about that, so it’s like you’ve lived that” Emily tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” asked Karen walking closer.

“The moon!” exclaimed Mary-Beth.

“Puff, again with your stupid fantasies?”

“It’s not a fantasy. Emily says we will walk on the moon one day.”

“Is that so? And how you expect to reach it? Riding a winged unicorn?”

Emily summoned all her patience and started explaining how Armstrong had been the first man to ever walk on the moon, how space rockets worked - without going into details that even she didn’t know, of course - and especially what gravity was, a new bizarre concept for the three girls.

“How the hell can you know all these things?” asked Karen who in spite of herself had started to get interested in what she was saying. 

“I learned them, at school.”

“Are girls allowed to learn these things at school?” asked Tilly.

“Of course. We learn everything.”

“That sounds great. Can you bring me with you when you go back? The future looks so much better than now” said Mary-Beth.

Emily giggled but almost immediately she turned serious. 

“If I’ll ever go back.”

...

The next morning Emily had an insistent itch on her head, and she perfectly knew the reason for that: a week, a week without a shower, a week without touching water. As she walked across the camp to reach Mr. Pearson’s kitchen and take some biscuits, scratching her head vigorously, she wondered how could those people live without washing everyday. It was humanly impossible. 

“Morning, Miss Emily!” thundered Pearson with his big scratchy voice. Emily was getting used to it, he was a sort of morning alarm clock for her.

“Morning.”

“Some big plan for today?”

“Yes, washing” she murmured.

“Aah nothing better than a good bath.”

She couldn’t but agree, the only problem was: who she might have asked for a ride in town? Taking a couple of biscuits and with that question buzzing in her head she started walking around camp. Charles was her first choice, he was the one she trusted most there, so she went looking for him. Only after a couple of minutes of empty roaming she learned that he was out hunting, so her choice moved on Lenny.

“I’m on guard duty. I can’t leave my place.”

“Never mind, I’ll ask someone else.”

Javier? He was still asleep. He had had the guard turn that night. Uncle? He found an excuse not to lift his ass from the piece of shadow under which he was seated, drinking from his bottle. Dutch? Never. Bill? Emily wanted to bath in water, not in blood. In the end, she thought about Hosea. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him, but she had no other choice, that was becoming a matter of life or death and she couldn’t delay it anymore.

“Morning, my dear” the man said when she reached him.

“Morning, Hosea” she murmured and left a slight kiss on his cheek, a habit she had taken in those days and to which Hosea still hadn’t become accustomed. 

“How are you?” he asked a little embarrassed.

“Fine. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“What do you need?”

“I…” “Gentlemen, I’m going to Valentine for a little business.”

Emily turned around when she recognized Mr. Strauss’ voice and she fixed her eyes on the little man with the tiny glasses, walking quickly with his back bent and his ledger tightened to his chest.

She hadn’t even taken him in consideration, but after all, she didn’t mind with whom she was riding, she just needed someone who brought her to town and then back to camp. She turned again to look at Hosea and said a hasted “never mind” before she ran to Mr. Strauss.

“Good Morning, Mr. Strauss.”

“Morning, Miss Richardson.”

“You said you’re going to town. Do you mind taking me with you?”

“No, if you can keep the pace.”

“The pace? Y-you don’t… I thought you were taking a horse.” “I don’t ride horses, Miss, I walk. If that is a problem for you, you can go with someone else.”

“N-no no, it’s not a problem. I can walk.” “Good. Keep up the pace.” Without a wagon nor a horse, the little path that leaded out of the wood and on the main road seemed endless. Besides, Emily couldn’t fill the time with words because, let’s be honest, what kind of conversation could she have with Strauss? And only when they emerged from the trees she found the courage to ask him something.

“So, why don’t you ride horses?” 

“I don’t like them.”

Emily raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had just found something in common with the person she thought to be the most different from her. 

“Oh, well, you know, I don’t like horses, either. I can’t understand why they find them so interesting.”

“They’re easy and fast transportation.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell as they kept walking. Mr. Strauss had spoken the truth, he really had a fast pace, he almost ran with those short and skinny legs and Emily found it really difficult to keep up. For a second she wondered what was he going to do in town, but then she glanced at that ledger he tightened to his chest like a new born and realized that probably he was going there for some debts.

“Are you going to Valentine to recollect some money?”

“Lending.” “To whom?”

“I reckon you’re asking just to make conversation, but if you don’t mind I’d rather keep the names of my clients for myself.”

“Alright” Emily whispered and lowered her head. She was starting to regret her choice. Hosea would nave been a far better conversation partner.

“I know what you all think of me” said Mr. Strauss suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You think that what I do is disgusting, but if you think about it, compared to what other people do, my job is not so terrible. After all I don’t kill, I don’t steal, I don’t do anything which is not inside the limits of the law.”

Emily kept looking at him with wide eyes asking herself where all that was coming from. She had never questioned his “profession”, she had never spoken about it, nor expressed a judgement to his person. How could she express a judgement on a money lender in a camp of criminals? And, how could the others in camp express a judgement on him? After all, Mr. Strauss was right, they were thieves and murderers, and if they really despised him for the usury, they were a bunch of hypocrites. 

“I don’t think you do anything wrong Mr. Strauss. You lend people money and then ask it back with interests. You’re like a private bank.”

“I’m glad you are such an open minded type, Miss.”

“Who knows, maybe with your job you also help some people. If someone is in extreme need of money and you lend them some, you might save their lives.”

Mr. Strauss looked at her for a moment, a second really, before he fixed his eyes again on the road.

“I don’t understand you, Miss. You look perfectly sane but at the same time you insist on that deluded story of the time travel.”

Emily huffed. It was time to try and convince him too. And she tried, for all the way to Valentine she tried convincing Strauss that she wasn’t crazy, but she couldn’t. That man was so firm and attached to his principles that she had to give up. 

They parted when they reached town, with the promise to meet again in front of the general store when they had finished to do what they had to do. Strauss walked down the main road while Emily aimed for the Hotel. Mary-Beth had told her she had to go there for a bath. She climbed the four steps of the porch and walked inside.

“Morning, Miss. How can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.

“I’m here for a bath” she said with insecurity. 

“I’ll have it arranged for you” he said and walked down the corridor to his right. 

Emily took the opportunity to look around: the room was rather basic with no paintings on the walls nor carpets on the floor. After all, in a town like that, what kind of luxury could they have?

“They’re warming the water, Miss. If you want to sit down while you wait” said the man coming back from the corridor and pointing to a chair.

Emily sat on the green worn out cushion and waited patiently for the water to be warmed and in the mean time she wondered how they were doing it. Maybe making it boil on the fire before pouring it inside the bathtub, just like she had seen many times in the movies?

It was exactly what they were doing and she found it out only when they let her inside the candle lit room with no windows. The average large bathtub was in the centre, a sort of basin with a mirror stood right beside the door while on the back of the room there was a partition panel for clothes changing. On a little table beside the tub there was a big bar of creamy soap and a brownish sponge, which she was sure she wasn’t going to touch. 

Emily looked around her carefully and then fixed her eyes on the piping hot water. For her all that was awful: wash in a copper bathtub, with a piece of soap that God knows how many people had touched, no towels, no carpets. But she had to do it or she was sure that in a couple of days she would have got fleas. 

Slowly and unsurely she undressed herself and dipped in the water. The lack of other kinds of soaps made her understand that in 1899 people made no distinction between shampoo and body soap, so she took the bar on the table and melted it in the water and, in the end, the general feeling wasn’t as bad as she expected. 

She made sure to wash her hair carefully, who knew when she had had the chance to wash them again, but she tried not to spend too much time just in case Strauss had got bored of waiting for her and had chosen to go away and leave her there. But when she finished, dressed up again in a hurry, quickly gave a look at herself in the mirror, ran outside the room, paid the man his twenty-five cents and walked out of the Hotel, she didn’t find him waiting out of the general store, and that meant he wasn’t done yet. She decided to cross the street and enter the store to have a look and maybe find something interesting. Now that she had her money, she could buy anything she wanted.

“Hello there. Nice to see you again, Miss” said the owner when he recognized her.

“And you too, Mister. Do you have any books?”

“On the top shelf, up there” he said pointing a finger to the corner of the room.

He really hadn’t a big selection of books and most of them were unknown for Emily, but eventually she found what she was looking for.

“I’ll take this” she said leaving the little red book on the counter together with a couple of chocolate bars.

“Tess of the d’Ubervilles. What is this? Some kind of silly romantic novel?”

“No, it’s the story of a fallen woman who commits murder and in the end she’s hanged” she replied with a little annoyance. Did she look like someone who liked silly romantic novels?

“Well, not exactly the kind of reading for a lady” he laughed.

“But it perfectly represents the patriarchal repression that 19th century society had on women and the wrongs of a hierarchical mindset.” The man’s eyes widened and an imperceptible “oh” left his lips, but he hadn’t understood a word she had said.

“I-is that all?” he asked pointing at her purchases. 

“Yes.” 

She paid for the book and the chocolate and left the store. Right when she stepped outside she saw Mr. Strauss walking down the muddy street with a man following him and gesturing widely with his arms. Emily left the porch and reached the two of them, being careful not to walk too closer: the last thing she wanted was to stick her nose in Strauss’ affairs, but the two of them were talking so loudly she could perfectly hear them even if she had waited on the other side of the street.

“I have already told you Mr. Downes: you have a week.”

“B-but Mr. Strauss I have a family, I’m about to lose my house a-and…”

The man stopped to cough, bending on his knees and grasping Strauss’ arm who withdrew with a disgusted face. 

“P-please, Mr. Strauss. I need some more time. Kindness… kindness will always be repaid. Be kind to me, please.” Strauss tightened his ledger to his chest and looked at the man with no trace of mercy on his face.

“You have one week” he repeated before he walked away. 

With a sorry glance at the poor man, Emily reached Strauss and the two of them took the road back to camp. 

“These cheap do-gooders are the worst. They believe that because they are benevolent with their neighbor everything is due to them. I have rules in my job, I expect everybody to follow them, with no exceptions.”

“Aren’t people who do good usually selfless?” asked Emily.

“I don’t get involved in matters of good and evil. That is a job for priests. All I care about is feed the mouths in camp, and the only thing I’m good at are numbers.”

Emily thought that he was a little harsh and insensible, but she couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the goal the problem, but the means. 

“You could try and… give him some more time. He looked kind of desperate.”

“I can’t delay a payment. If something happens and we are forced to flee, I won’t be able to recollect the money. And two weeks are more than an appropriate amount of time to collect thirty-four dollars.”

Just like it had happened with Javier and Dutch, Emily couldn’t find anything to reply. That man had his way of doing things, all the reasons to do so and no intention to change his mind, which meant that argue with him was impossible. 

The road back was made of scattered questions and long silences, but Emily didn’t mind too much. She was clean, she was smelling of soap, she had brought chocolate and she was in a great mood. Now, following Strauss’ fast pace wasn’t a problem anymore, on the contrary, it was Strauss turn to follow the girl, who was almost running. 

“Alright, thank you for bringing me with you Mr. Strauss” she said when they got to camp.

“No trouble.”

Emily ran to her tent where Mary-Beth was reading, as always. Anyway, Emily was surprised to find Tilly reading too. Not that Tilly didn’t like reading, but she preferred to avoid Mary-Beth’s silly stories.

“You can put down that thing, my friend. I bought you this” said Emily showing her the new book.

“What is it about?” asked a surprised Mary-Beth taking the book and reading the title.

“Just read it. It’s a little different from what you’re used to, but it will make you understand some things. And there is a love story in the middle.”

“Have you read it?” 

“A long time ago.”

“What do you mean ‘a little different’?” asked Tilly.

“It’s a little… dark sometimes.”

“Good, I like dark things. Can I read it too?”

“Sure, you can all read it. I reckon Karen will also like it” replied Emily opening one of the chocolate bars to take a piece.

“Karen doesn’t like romantic stories” said Mary-Beth.

“Who said it’s a romantic story? Chocolate?”

“Yeah, I’ll take some” replied Tilly stretching out a hand.

“You said there is a love story in the middle” stated Mary-Beth frowning.

“Ah-ah.”

“How… how can love not be romantic?”

“You’ll be surprised.”

[impostertamsong]

Learning to be Happy Again

Hey, I’m back. Wow. Sorry for the late update. I would like to credit @linhamon-roll because I used their drawing as a description for Huz.

Chapter Three: Thank You So Much

There was a problem. As soon as I hopped out of the window, I realized I had no idea where Elwin lived. 

So, being the genius I am, I decide to just light leap to Foxfire. It’s not that late and Elwin might still be there. 

“Hey, wait up,” Ro calls as she thumps to the ground, landing on her feet. She grabs my hand and we leap to Foxfire. 

Elwin is just walking out of the building when we get there, so I run towards him. 

“Keefe? What are you doing here? Did you have more problems?” 

“Um, well. Can I just stay at your place tonight?” I can’t talk about it right now. 

“His dad--” Ro starts, but I glare at her, so she stops, glaring back. 

“Um. Okay, but you have to tell me what’s going on when we get to my place, okay?” I feel that worry again, and smile despite the situation. 

“Yeah, I will.” 

“Good, now come here.” 

So I do, and we leap to Elwin’s house.

It’s a lot smaller than I expected, only about three stories high. 

Elwin seems to notice my confused expression because he says, “Oh, Huz and I didn’t want a big place. So much unnecessary space. There’s still too much of it, but oh well.” 

“Who’s Huz?” I realize now that so much of Elwin’s life is unknown to me, and I’m bound to learn a whole lot of new things. 

“Oh, he’s my husband,” Elwin answered, smiling slightly. Husband? That’s new. I mean, I’d heard of two elves of the same gender in relationships, but never seen it before. “He runs a community center for kids who need people to talk to. Kids with bad parent situations, problems at school, issues with friends, really anything.”

Okay, that’s cool. I didn’t know that kind of thing existed. Sophie probably needs it for all the stress she puts herself through,” I say, knowing full well that Elwin meant me to talk to Huz. 

Elwin sighs, and opens the door and my eyes widen. The front room is the coziest that I’ve ever seen for its kind. Candleshade was, well, Candleshade (as cold as its former occupants). Everglen was fancy because of Alden’s status. The closest I could think to comfort level was Rimeshire or Havenfield, but this was more. I immediately felt safe among the brightly colored couches and large bean bags that surrounded the room. 

Elwin smiles. “You like it?”

I nod. “It’s wonderful.” Past this room is a kitchen lined with pale green tiles. If I thought the first room made me want to live here forever, the kitchen definitely did. Something told me that a lot of cooking and baking happened in that room. Good cooking and baking. 

I look at Elwin. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course, kiddo. Now will you tell me why you came to me?” 

“Um, yeah.” I walk over to a beanbag and slump into it. “It was my dad. He didn’t give me the welcome home you’d expect after being in a coma for a few months.”

Elwin plops on the beanbag next to me. “I’m so sorry, Keefe. Do you want to talk about it more?”

I shrug. “I mean, I should right?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with telling me.” And I feel like I should, but also don’t want to. If I don’t tell him, he won’t know just how done I am and send me back tomorrow morning. But if I tell him, well. I don’t want to be a burden.

“It was just really bad. I might tell you later, but. I don’t know. It’s kinda too fresh right now, you know?” My sign comes out shuddered. 

“Oh, Keefe. I’m always here if you want to talk about it more, okay?” There’s that same feeling of worry again. 

“You don’t have to be so worried all the time you know, I’m fine.” I regret the sentence as soon as I say it.

But Elwin seems unfazed. “Fine hardly ever means good, Keefe.” 

And there I blanch. The room is silent for a few moments and then there’s a knock at the door. Elwin’s face immediately lights up. 

The door opens, and a tall man with shoulder length dreadlocks dyed orange at the tips comes in. His blue-purple eyes are extra bright against his dark skin. He does a double take when he sees me. I wave awkwardly. 

“Elwin, who’s this?”

Elwin gets up and walks over to the man, Huz I assume. “This is Keefe. His home situation isn’t good, so he came to me. He wanted to stay here, so I brought him here about fifteen minutes ago.” And then he whispers something I can’t really make out. Something about talking later. Elwin looks at me. “Keefe, this is Huz.” He looks at Huz. “And that’s Keefe Sencen and his bodyguard, Ro.” 

I cringe at the last name. Am I turning into Tam? 

“I see I haven’t been forgotten then,” Ro says, not unkindly, but with a little edge to it. 

“A Sencen, huh.” Huz looks at me with an expression that I think is understanding, but ignoring Ro’s comment.

And then I get cocky. “Not if I can help it.” 

Huz chuckles, again with a knowing element to it. The green understanding surrounds him like a bubble. It must be because of the kids he works with. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.” 

“Thank you.” I smile.

“Now. Let’s show you your room, yeah Keefe?” Elwin starts walking towards a staircase that I hadn’t even noticed in my awe of the living room. 

I follow him up the stairs which is a purplish crystal. Huz follows behind me and Ro takes up the rear.

Elwin points at a room to the right when we finish ascending the stairs. “This is our room, so if you need us for whatever reason, that’s probably where we’ll be.” 

With the quick glance that I catch, the room looks big, but not as big as most bedrooms. 

The tour continues on though, so I don’t catch much else. 

Elwin points to the left. “This is the bathroom on this floor. It’ll be yours, since there’s one in our bedroom.” 

I nod. 

After a little while, he points to the right again. “And this can be your bedroom.” 

I look inside and am immediately happy. The bed is huge, with a super fluffy comforter and so many pillows. But the thing that makes my smile widen is the desk. It’s a big table, enough room for a whole lot of art supplies. The walls are a pale blue, and there’s a huge window at the far end looking out over a big forest. A really great thing to paint, I think. 

“Well, you’re probably tired, Keefe. We’ll leave you here to settle in, is that alright?” Elwin breaks my thoughts. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you so much Elwin. And you too, Huz.” 

They both smile. 

“Of course, Keefe.” Elwin smiles. 

“Well goodnight,” I say. 

Elwin hugs me. “Goodnight Keefe.” He looks at Ro. “Oh! Did you want a room to, Ro?” 

“Naw, I don’t need sleep.” Ro says, even though I know for a fact she does. We did a dare to see who could stay awake the longest a while back. She won, but when I woke up the next day, she was sitting with her face in her knees, snoring. 

“Oh, she does need sleep, she’ll take a room,” I say, smirking. Ro glares at me, but follows Elwin and Huz out when they nod and beckon her. 

I get ready for bed, turn off the lights, and crawl into bed. 

Which means, of course, that all of the memories of this evening come rushing back, so I turn the lights back on and go to the desk. 

I fall asleep drawing a picture of me with Elwin and Huz, all of us smiling.

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[obsidianfr3sk]

Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 8)

Summary:  Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.

They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn’t know it yet.

AO3 Link

Hi!! I honestly didn’t expected to update today, but here we are:’) I hope you enjoy this chapter!! If someone wants to be added or remove from the tag list, tell me haha.

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @dawniebb @healing-winston-pratt @cerenoya @ marissagustrerbenson

Getting cold hands?

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,

and how you suffered for your sanity,

and how you tried to set them free.

They would not listen, they did not know how;

perhaps they'll listen now.

Simon

“YOU DID WHAT?”

Hugh put his hand over his mouth to shut him up and Simon felt his cheeks turn red when he realized a couple of older boys had turned to see why the hell he was yelling. Their faces contorted in disgust and continued with their chat.

Because prodigies were disgusting.

He immediately regretted his decision to come back to school.

Hugh removed his hand from his mouth. “Don't be mad at me,” he whispered.

“I'm not mad at you,” he replied in a lower voice, “it's just that I'm surprised you did something so impulsive and so, so… so stupid.”

Hugh bit his lip but couldn't hide his laugh. “Wow, Simon, watch your language.”

He kicked him to silence him. “I am serious,” he replied. “You gave my address to a complete stranger—"

“Georgia.”

“—To make a plan for which we have no ideas—"

“I do have many ideas.”

“—and who will bring a friend we don't know.”

Simon went silent, waiting for Hugh to answer with the friend's name. But he did not.

That only further proved his point. “From the beginning, your plan was very wrong.”

And I should have been there to warn you.

“No, my plan was golden from the beginning,” Hugh argued, “because Georgia is not a stranger. I met her at Joe’s Basket and she turned out to be a really nice girl. She likes mystery novels, wears white pajamas to sleep, and can fly. I consider that a very specific profile.”

“I consider her a stranger. You don’t even know her last name.”

“Rawles.”

“Does she has a middle name?”

Hugh ignored him completely. “If you just had heard her speak, Simon. She was absolutely right about everything,” he continued. “Georgia is a good person. She returned my notebook even though she didn't have to. And look what she did.”

Discreetly, he took a sheet of paper out of his back pocket. It was the drawing he had been working on a couple of days ago. Propaganda. “She repaired my drawing with washi-tape. It’s… kind of pretty, isn’t it?”

It was the most adorable washi-tape Simon had ever seen. “Too girly,” he growled.

“Girly? The— the washi-tape?”

“Yes,” Simon answered. “It’s too girly. I don’t like it.”

“Oh, no, I don’t like it either,” Hugh answered. “I just thought the contrast was… funny.” 

Simon said nothing more. Hugh put the drawing back before anyone else saw it. “Look, that’s what would make us a great team. We all have different strengths. And also… she’s a girl. An older girl. And she likes Wonder Man.”

Simon decided to draw the line there. To hell with her pretty washi-tape. “Why does it matter she’s an older girl who likes Wonder Man? I like Wonder Man too.”

Hugh adjusted his glasses, confused. “But… you don’t like it,” he reminded him. “You say Wonder Man is an idiot.”

I do say that.

“What I mean is,” he said evasively, “like ... I mean, what does strengths does she has? Because being a girl is not one of them.”

“Her vision,” she replied. “She has a way of seeing things that are surely different from ours. Not just because she's a girl, but also because I bet she has experienced the world in a way we haven't and has more experience with certain things that could help us. How many times have we talked to someone who isn’t part of the school?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “We don't talk to anyone at school,” he muttered.

They hate us. They really hate us.

Or do they fear us?

Is there a difference?

“Well, when have we talked to someone... other than the two of us? Or your dad, or your sister—” and he smiled playfully “—or my aunt.”

He immediately realized he was trying to make him laugh. But at that point in the conversation, Simon was fed up with the entire female gender and he wasn’t even willing to smile at him.

Hugh hugged himself. For some reason, he was not wearing a jacket that day... “Where’s your jacket?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I gave it to Georgia,” he replied. “The one she had didn't protect her from the cold.”

Then Simon remembered that they were arguing and that Hugh was an idiot who gave his address to strangers and did not deserve his compassion. “Well, it's her fault. Why does she wear a jacket that looks cools but doesn't protect you from the cold?”

“Maybe she’s… passionate about fashion?” he said, half-joking.

Simon didn't find it funny. “Maybe she puts fashion above basic needs.”

Hugh realized that it was useless to keep trying to make him laugh. He put his hands in his pants pockets. “Simon…” He glanced at him. “You... that someone you mentioned last time—“

“What’s with that someone?” he asked sharply.

“That someone still wants me to believe in him, right?”

At that moment, Simon realized that throughout the entire conversation, he had had his arms crossed as if he were throwing a tantrum.

Stars. How childish Simon looked. And how worried Hugh looked.

The last thing he wanted to do was worry him.

Simon wasn't even quite sure why he was reacting like that. Like, of course, he had been annoyed that Hugh had made a move without first consulting him, especially one involving his home.

However, it didn't take long for him to realize that that other emotion he felt, in addition to the obvious annoyance, was fear. Fear that he was going to leave him for that new friend he had made. Which he knew didn't make sense because Hugh wasn't the one who abandoned others.

That one was Simon. Simon had abandoned him the other day.

Simon was the bad person here. 

He leaned against the wall. “Yes...” he acknowledged. “That someone still needs you to believe in him.”

Because that someone needs you maybe a little too much.

Hugh seemed suddenly calmer. “Good,” he sighed. “I was starting to get a little worried.”

“Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize.”

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“Simon, stop.”

But he couldn't. “Sorry.”

Hugh just laughed and leaned against the wall too. “Well, you know, since we're on the apology thing… I'm sorry I didn't consult you before giving the address to someone who is a stranger. For you,” he added quickly. Simon kicked him. I told you that she is a stranger. “It's just that… I got excited. I have never met someone like Georgia.”

Simon nodded and felt a lump in his throat. He knew what Hugh was talking about.

He had never met someone who believed in themselves because the only person Hugh hung out with was Simon, and Simon…

Simon didn't believe in anything. Not even himself.

“Are you sure we can trust her?” he asked in a small voice.

“She promised me he would be there,” he replied. “And I had to promise her that I would be there too. Simon… can you promise me that too?”

Simon scoffed. “You will be at my house.”

“You know what I mean—“ he tapped his hand with two fingers. “Can you promise me you'll be there?” he repeated.

Simon ignored the feelings that light touch gave him.

He had always been good at ignoring.

So he nodded.

The bell rang and the few students in the courtyard began to enter. Hugh chattered his teeth and hugged himself again.

“You are cold, right?” Simon asked him.

Simon didn't want to go to class yet. He wished he could stay out a while longer. Simon loved cold days because he could put on a lot of layers of clothing and people saw less of him.

But the truth was that he didn't want to go to class yet because he wanted to stay talking with his friend a bit longer.

Even if he made him angry.

“I’m freezing,” he answered. “Look, feel my hands.”

He put a hand on his cheek. Simon could feel his face turning all red again.

Ignore it, ignore it.

“Yes. They’re cold,” he answered.

“Told you. Cold can’t kill me, but is surely a pain in the ass.”

Simon gave him a lopsided smile, trying not to look like he was doing his best not to imagine… that.

Don’t think about his ass.

In a desperate attempt to distract his mind, he searched his pockets for the gloves his father told him last night to wear when leaving the house. He stood up and handed them to Hugh. “Put them on. I don't like wearing gloves anyway.”

They headed for the school entrance while Hugh struggled to put them on. They were a little too small for him, but if he didn't move his hands a lot they would surely cover them well. “Thank you,” he mumbled with a smile.

Simon shrugged. It was the least he could do.

The rest of the day, he was the one whose hands were freezing because his school had no heating since always. Yet the thought that Hugh was wearing them and that his hands were warm made him better able to ignore the cold.

That and the fact his cheeks were still red.

I'm not abandoning you again, Hugh.

I’d rather be dead.

Georgia

When she arrived, she did not make her classic introduction. She didn't say "Honey, I'm home!" nor did she hold Molly in her arms and ask her how school went. She only greeted Tamaya, gave her the bag with the few provisions that she could offer her, and dropped onto her mattress.

It was more comfortable than one would expect to. She didn't understand why Tamaya said it was uncomfortable.

Tamaya didn't seem to notice that change. And if she did, she said nothing. Georgia would dare to say that she was just as quiet as her.

She lay down beside Georgia. They were shoulder to shoulder, staring at the old roof of the abandoned store. Tamaya fiddled with her broken locket.

“Who goes first?” Georgia asked leaning on her shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Who tells her problem first,” she clarified.

“Oh.” Tamaya dropped her locket. “You. You go first.”

Georgia wanted to refuse. She knew that if she started talking, there would probably be no one able to stop her. And it was already difficult to get Tamaya to open up…

But she had to tell someone. She couldn't hold that secret inside her for another second.

She turned to see her. “I met someone.”

Tamaya did the same. “Someone?”

“A boy.”

“A boy,” she repeated. Sharply.

“Not like that,” she clarified quickly. “He's a literal boy. So yeah. It would be kinda gross, to be honest.”

Tamaya relaxed her expression. Only a little. “What did he do to you?” she asked.

“Stars, Tamaya,” Georgia laughed. “He did nothing to me. But he gave me this.”

She reached into the pocket of her jeans. Georgia hated wearing jeans because her legs were too wide and she could never find jeans that actually fit her. However, that day all her skirts were too dirty to wear. And she also had to keep that paper in a safe place.

They both straightened up as Georgia unfolded the paper with her fingers.

It's made of glass, Georgia. Like your hopes. Like the future of the world.

Be very careful.

She opened it without breaking it and passed it to Tamaya.

To a very confused Tamaya.

It's made of glass, Tam. Please don't break it.

“Is this his address?” she asked, confused.

“No, it's his friend's address.”

Tamaya crumpled the piece of paper rolling her eyes. “What the hell do you want to tell me, Georgia?��

“Be careful!” she screeched, snatching it away.

She put it on her leg and began to try to flatten it with all the strength of her hand. Luckily she had rescued it in time...

It’s made of glass! It’s made of glass!

Tamaya hid between her wings. Immediately, Georgia could recognize what he was trying to tell her by that.

She was afraid. Altered. She didn't like being yelled at.

And Georgia knew it. “Sorry...” she mumbled.

Tamaya nodded.

Why did she have to be so loud?

“Tamaya... who are you?” she asked.

Tamaya rolled her eyes. “I think you just answered your own question,” she mumbled, annoyed.

“No, I mean ... what are we?” she asked. “Look where we are—” she pointed around her “—look where we ended up.”

“I don't know if it's time for you to make me feel bad about where I live.”

“No! It's not that, Tamaya, it's just that…”

 And she stopped.

“Is it just what?”

The same question was in her head.

What's your excuse now, Georgia?

She fought the urge to cry that suddenly washed over her. “It's just that I haven't stopped wondering if we've been on the right side of history,” she replied, standing up. “And it's something that I hadn't really asked myself until yesterday, you know? Until they gave me this address.”

Tamaya's shoulders hunched more. She was still hidden behind its wings.

Jeez, Georgia, can't you lower your voice a bit?

Georgia knelt beside her friend and put a hand on her shoulder. She did not reject her or bite her. Good. “Tamaya, what are we?” she insisted. “Are we women?”

“Well... yes,” she replied with a frown. “Or at least you are.”

“No, Tamaya, I am not a woman. I'm a girl,” Georgia said. “I am a girl who continues to live in the fantasy world that she designed to survive all the trauma she went through. It doesn't matter I have grown physically, on the inside… on the inside all I have done is hide my head between my books and my dolls and your friendship, because I am too much of a coward to do anything for the outside world.”

She covered her mouth with her hands as she turned her back to her. Don't cry, don't you dare cry.

Georgia did not cry.

Tamaya stood up. “Are you... are you okay?”

“Yes,” she replied with a sigh. “All good. You? Are you okay? Do you forgive me for yelling at you?”

She did not reply. For a second, Georgia thought she was going to hug her. How childish of her to think that. Tamaya never hugged people. She didn't know how to do it.

So Georgia hugged herself.

She always hugged herself. There was no one left to do it.

“I still do not understand—”

“These kids—” she showed her the slip of paper “—these kids are not cowards. And they are children. How are they braver than us? What has happened in their lives that have made them so brave?”

Tamaya pushed her fist away from her face. Georgia had accidentally put the paper on her to just below his nose.

She looked into Tamaya's eyes and realized that many things had happened to her in her life that had made her brave. Because yes, Tamaya was brave for the sole fact of her existence.

Tamaya was born with wings, which although Georgia found them wonderful, for her they were the constant reminder of everything that was “wrong” with her. Her parents despised her, she lived locked in a cage, like...

Like a bird.

But Tamaya was not a bird. Or a monster, as she called herself. She was none of those things. She was a woman.

And a brave one. Georgia wished she could see herself the way she saw her. 

No, there was nothing wrong with Tamaya. Who was wrong was the rest of the world.

And that world was so different from the one Georgia had created when she was little. One that writhed in pain and hurt whoever dared to help it. Georgia was so scared of pain.

But she was more afraid of continuing being the coward in the story.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

Last night, intoxicated by the smell of vanilla and the taste of freedom, it had seemed easy. As if giving the notebook back to a child was going to make the difference the world needed at that moment.

However, as the effects of adrenaline left her body and Hugh began to speak more and more, she realized that things were more complicated than she had initially imagined. That a simple act of kindness was not going to take away the suffering from the world in which she lived. She wished it did though. I want to help you, but I'm not sure how.

Was she going to have to take the pain for the world?

Coward. Coward. Coward.

She turned to see her friend again. “Tamaya, I want to stop being a girl,” she whispered, taking her by the shoulders. “I want to stop being a coward that hides in her own imaginary world.”

Tamaya grabbed her wrists. “And what do you want to be then?”

“I want to be a woman,” she replied. “One that goes out into the real world and does something to save it.”

She nodded. Georgia decided to venture out to ask her a new question. “What do you want to be, Tamaya?”

Tamaya held on tighter to her.

Although she wasn't hurting her Georgia wondered if she was holding her tighter so she wouldn't hurt herself. “I just know I want to stop being a monster, Georgia.”

Georgia wrapped her in a hug. Tamaya reciprocated by surrounding her with her wings.

Yes. This is better than a hug.

Then a putrid smell suddenly hit her. She discreetly sniffed Tamaya's body. It wasn't her.

Good. She wasn't quite sure where she could have found a soap that could remove that.

"What’s that smell?" she asked.

There was a foam plate right behind her friend. Georgia broke away from the hug and took the foam plate in her hands. She opened it, and the retching she felt was enough to make her realize that it had been a horrible decision.

The smell was of rotten fried rice. “Tamaya!” she screamed “Why do you have this here? It's disgusting.”

Tamaya came up behind her and closed the foam plate. The scent lingered in her nostrils still, but Tamaya seemed unaffected. “It is my reminder.”

She sounded so distant, so empty...

Had she sounded like that?

She put the foam plate at the other end of the room quickly. When she returned, Tamaya was sitting on the mattress, hugging her legs. Georgia took Molly and held her out. Tamaya took her doll and put it on her lap.

Georgia sat next to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tamaya shook her head. She undid one of Molly's braids and started doing it again. “Give me ideas.”

“Ideas for what?”

“Ideas for what I could be. I don't know anything else.”

Georgia undid Molly's other braid. “How about... being a superhero?”

[calaryssia]

exceptional | j.s.potter {three}

word count: 2158

November 13th, 

James sat in the infirmary, as the new assistant nurse was cleaning up his face. Grant was laying in the bed on the other side of the room passed out, as the main nurse was cleaning up his face. James still felt the anger inside his chest, he felt bad for Ara as she was currently getting interrogated by Mr. Longbottom about the fight since he was the one to find the three of them in the dungeons. 

After Grant threw that first punch, James was all in, enough to where he felt like he blacked out and was suddenly on top of Grant beating his face in.  Ara yells behind him for him to stop, James pulls back just as some arms come around his pulling him off of Grant.

“Your father won’t be very happy about this.” 

James had completely forgotten that they would contact his parents. He knew that his mother was out of the country for a quidditch game, so he knew that his father would be the one receiving the news, which wasn’t a good thing. He knew that his mum wouldn’t give him as hard of a time about it, but his dad was a different story. The last time that James had gotten into trouble, his father said that if it happened again he might need to make a trip up to Hogwarts. James sighed, not looking forward to the lecture he knew would be coming later today.

Currently, Ara was in Mr. Longbottom’s office as he asked her some questions about the fight. He made her as comfortable as he could knowing that she was a little shaken up from seeing the fight. He gave her a cup of tea to help calm her down, but she just sat there blankly staring down at the cup.

“Ms. Malfoy, I know this is hard but I need to know a few things about what happened tonight, or should I say last night considering it's now morning.” He looks over to the window noticing the sun starting to come up. Ara looks over as well, breathing in heavily, this whole situation giving her anxiety.

“I need to go see James.” She says quietly, looking back over to Mr. Longbottom. He sighs, picking his own cup of tea and taking a drink from it.

“I can’t make you talk to me, Ms. Malfoy. But, when you want to, I’ll be here. James is in the infirmary.” Ara instantly stands up, and leaves her tea on his desk before leaving and heading toward the infirmary.

James sees Ara run into the infirmary, and she looks around for him. Once, her eyes met his and she ran over to him, concerned across her face. “Are you okay?” She scanned his face noticing all the small cuts and bruises that littered it.

“I’m fine,” He patted the spot next to him on the bed he was sitting on, and she sat down next to him. “I’m sorry about all of this, I hope you didn’t get into trouble.”

“I didn’t. Mr. Longbottom just wanted to talk to me about what happened, but I didn’t really tell him anything.” James sighed at the mention of the teacher’s name, he did happen to be one of his father’s close friends when he went here, so he knew that he would send an owl to him this morning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really, it’s just that, my father will probably be making an appearance in the next hour or so.” Ara looked down at her hands that rested in her lap.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

“No it’s not, Ara.” James bends down in front of her, so that she would look at him. “If Grant hadn’t been a complete jerk, we wouldn’t be here right now. We were having a good night, I wish it didn’t end this way.”

Ara nods at him, knowing deep down that he was right. This was Grant’s fault, he didn’t have to be in their business. At this moment, Ara realized how awkward it will be later today, news got around Hogwarts quickly and this would be the top story of the week. ‘James Potter and Grant Oscars fight over Ara Malfoy, who would have thought a Gryffindor would go for a Slytherin. Especially a Potter going for a Malfoy.’ Then the realization hit that, James’ father was coming up to the school.

-------

Harry wasn’t necessarily a strict father, he, himself was into mischief when he was at Hogwarts. But, he never liked the idea of fighting others unless he had to or if it was for the right reasons. In his fifth year, him and George had gotten into a fight with Draco after he said some fowl things about Molly. Fred would have joined in two if three people wouldn’t have held him back. Harry never wanted his temper to be transferred to his children but James was more like his father and his grandfather. To say Harry was a little upset when he got the letter from the school was an understatement, he immediately grabbed his coat and apparated to Hogsmeade.

James was still sitting on the infirmary bed, as Ara went to go get a snack before the Great Hall filled up with the rest of the students. His dad walked into the room instantly looking around for him, James sighs, glad that Ara had left when she did. Harry spots his son walking over to him, sitting next to him.

“So, firstly how are you?” He says, looking at his son with slight concern.

“I’m fine, Dad.” James sighs, making Harry realize that he wasn’t too pleased he had come to the school.

“Good, secondly, how is your brother and sister?” James looked at his father, he was expecting a lecture on how it was idiotic of him to get into a fight, but instead he asks of his siblings.

“They are fine. I don’t see Albus much but Lily seems to be doing well.” Harry smiles slightly, looking down at his feet.

 “How about Rose and Hugo, how are they?”

 “Fine, as far as I know, Lily hangs out with them more than I do. I’ve been occupied with quidditch recently.” Harry sighs, not exactly looking forward to his next question.

 “Was that what the fight was about? Quidditch?” James looks down, scoffing quietly.

 “No.” Harry sighs, looking at his son as James looks away from his father’s harsh gaze.

 “What was it about then?” As if on queue, Ara walks into the hospital wing, with a danish for James. James looks at her, with slightly panicked eyes, and his father turns to her. She still proceeds to walk toward James, not fully noticing his father right next to him.

 “I got you some breakfast, you were right about the house elves, they are quite nice. Especially when I told them you sent me.” She smiles, handing James the cherry danish to him. He took this moment to notice she was still in her dress from last night, but had his quidditch jumper around her shoulders so she wouldn’t get cold. He smiled back at her taking a bite of the danish before turning back to his father, noticing the expression on his face, ‘Are you going to introduce me?’.

 “Ara, this is my father.” James motions to Harry, as he holds out his hand for her to shake. She shakes his hand, smiling politely. 

“Ara Malfoy?” Harry asks, she nods, looking down slightly feeling kind of embarrassed that he had recognized her. “Sorry to hear about your mother.” She looked up at him shocked, but smiled at his niceties. She muttered a quick thank you before they were back in silence for a few seconds. 

“I’m going to go to my dorm, it was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Potter.” Ara nods to him, as she turns to leave the hospital wing, feeling more awkward than normal. As she walked into the halls she felt immediate regret as the students passed to make their way to breakfast, all while making quick glances at her making her feel insecure. The students talked in hushed voices as they passed her, she could hear some talking about the fight. She looked down as she got closer to her dorm, passing by other Slytherin’s that were scoffing as she walked by. Ara ran straight to her dorm room once she got to the common room, not wanting to be bombarded by questions about the fight last night from her peers. To her luck, no one was in her shared dorm room, making her sigh in relief as she took off James’ jumper, and changing out of her dress into something more comfortable. She lays his jumper on the end of her bed. 

She sits down looking down at the jumper thinking about all the people that saw her in it, surely the news has gone around the school by now that Ara and James were together last night at the party. She wondered if her brother would have told their father before she even got a chance to. She sighs, not sure what will happen tomorrow when she has to return to her class. Would James still talk to her? Or would they go to just being acquaintances and saying hello quietly when they see one another in the halls? These questions ran around in her mind, while the fact that Harry Potter was at Hogwarts at the moment and soon the talk of her and James will be hushed for the next few days to come.  She did wonder however, how was James?

James was now being walked back to the Gryffindor common room, by none other than his father, who had people turning heads toward them. Of course, he didn’t notice, due to the fact that his whole life has been like this. Even when he was at Hogwarts, he tended to be the center of attention, that’s what it’s like being the ‘chosen one’. James on the other hand, was noticing more head turns than normal. He was used to the fact of people staring at him, mostly in his first year, due to being Harry Potter’s son. Though he loves being popular, he doesn’t truly like why they are looking toward him. Because they weren’t looking at him, they were looking at his father. He would never admit it but, James always liked coming to Hogwarts because he liked being one of the popular guys. When he was with his father, mother, and his siblings, he always felt shadowed behind them. So here, at Hogwarts, he got to be his own person and not just Harry Potter’s son. 

“I would like to see your brother and sister before I leave.” James nods at his father, as the neared the portrait of the fat lady. “And I’m afraid I must write to your mother about this, she’ll want to know. Just expect a letter from her later in the week.” James sighs, saying the password, letting them into the common room, which Lily happened to be sitting in. 

“Dad!” She says, running up to her father, giving her a hug. “What are you doing here?” Lily slightly looks to her oldest brother, before taking a double back as she notices a few little bruises on his face, “What happened to you?”

“Got into a fight, it's nothing really.” James said, knowing that Lily does have this protective quality in her that she gets from her mother. 

“With who?” She says with an angry look across her face. 

“Some Slytherin, it wasn’t anything serious Lily, promise.” She sighs, looking down for a moment then back up to their father. 

Later that evening, James was up in his dorm laying in his bed looking up at the ceiling. His thoughts began to rome about Ara, he honestly couldn’t get her out of his head. She still had his jumper, and he smiled about it, hoping to see her in it again soon. He knew the rumors going around wouldn’t make her very happy, she seemed like the type of person that didn’t like all of the attention. Considering when she first started at Hogwarts, all everyone would talk about is her father and what he had done during the war. He sighed thinking about how his father had said her last name, how you could tell that brought back memories of her father. James didn’t know how the rest of his family would react upon hearing from his father that he was conversing with a Malfoy but he didn’t care. He started to realize how much he was starting to adore Ara. And he hoped she was feeling the same way. 

[kathyprior4200]

Wanna make a Deal?

Inspired by MrMautz’s “Wanna make a deal” animation and “Alastor’s Game” by the Living Tombstone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1BFaW4h-l8

A silhouette of a tall man with furry deer ears and antlers hummed happily as he walked down the cobblestone path to the Hazbin Hotel. There was a sway in his steps, like he was walking and dancing at the same time. The entrance awning was covered with a tattered pink circus tent, decorated with yellow eyes along the border. The ground was solid dark gray asphalt and dead gnarled trees stretched up toward the crimson sky. The building was pink, gold and reddish in color. A Titanic looking ship and a carousel were attached to the structure. The sign on the roof changed from Happy Hotel to Hazbin Hotel.

 The stained glass windows in the double doors and off to the sides consisted of apples and circus tent designs. The doors burst open and the silhouette walked in from the burst of light. Large red eyes and a big yellow smile appeared on his face.

 It was Alastor, the Radio Demon.

 “I’ve got a game I want to show you.”

 He spoke the words in a radio sing song voice, wearing his tattered red dress coat with a big black bow tie, his hair red and black. His under shirt was light red with a black upside down cross on it. He wore wine colored pants and black tap dancing shoes with red deer tracks on the soles. A monocle was under his right eye. He walked over toward Charlie and Vaggie in the lobby. Gray-skinned Vaggie wore her usual gray tank top and stripped leggings, plus her pink bow tie in her hair white. Charlie had her fluffy blonde hair and a pale face with blushes on her cheeks. She had her salmon pink suit on with a bow tie, a white undershirt, dark pants and shoes. Angel Dust, the white spider, was sitting on the couch in his pink and white striped suit and high heeled pink boots.

 Charlie was disheartened. After having several new clients at the hotel including Angel Dust, Mimzy, Crymini, Baxter, Cherri Bomb, Arackniss, and Molly…Angel Dust was the first one to break his bad habits and almost achieve redemption. But the elite angels in Heaven weren’t accepting of sinners without them going through harsh punishment to prove themselves. Indeed, going to Heaven was near impossible.

 And with Vox, Valentino, Velvet and the other Overlords up to no good, things weren’t looking very bright.

 “If I give you advice, you’ll have to play, too.”

 Charlie nodded, eager for advice on how to continue with her project. Vaggie held her wrist and shook her head, warning her not to accept anything from the Overlord. But the desperate princess looked at Alastor, wanting answers.

 “I’ve been here for years bidding my time, waiting and primed, until I could find you.”

 His partially shadowed face briefly moved closer to theirs, causing the young women to flinch. He smiled and held up a scroll of paper that read “contact,” on it. A small red and black feather pen appeared next to it. With magic, the paper was pushed toward Charlie. At the bottom of the page were several lines for other people to sign.

 “Just sign on the line and we can be friends. I’ll be here for you until your world ends.”

 Suspicious as Charlie was, his words also tugged at her heartstrings. Alastor had done a lot to help promote the hotel in the past several weeks on his radio show. Plus he was quick to defend Charlie, her friends and the hotel, against outsider intruders like Sir Pentious, Seviathan, and the snobby Helsa.  

 Charlie saw a vision in front of her from Alastor’s hand, showing her and Alastor dancing while demons lined up to the hotel, each one developing better habits. Vaggie was staring at Charlie with pride in her eyes. Both her parents hugged her and apologized for not believing in her idea to redeem sinners. The vision faded away, Charlie wondering why it had gone. Taking a deep breath Charlie took the pen and signed the contract, Vaggie staring in disbelief. Charlie looked slightly downcast, believing it was the only other option.

 Alastor walked over to Angel Dust, the spider demon happy to see the attractive deer demon near him. From Alastor’s hand, light shone from it, creating another vision for Angel. In this one, Alastor was hugging Angel after the spider demon had been freed from Valentino’s clutches. Angel was now free to do what he wanted with Cherri Bomb and his friends. Angel even saw himself reuniting with his brother Arackniss, his sister Molly, his father Henroin and his mother Aranea. Alastor handed him a bag of money and wished him luck before blowing a kiss and giving him his number.

 Angel’s eyes dilated as he, too, scribbled his name on the contact. With a smug look on his face, Alastor walked over to Vaggie, holding the paper in front of her. Vaggie growled and shook her head. Alastor shrugged, almost looking like he was about to walk away. But then he presented a vision to her before she could close her visible eye: Vaggie and Charlie sitting together on the roof of the hotel, smiling under a starry sky. Alastor and Angel were nowhere to be seen. Best of all, her father Valentino was in prison where he belonged. No more catering to men and being a prostitute like she did in her human life. The message in Alastor’s eyes was clear: sign this and I’ll leave you be.

 With a reluctant sigh of defeat, Vaggie pressed the pen down and wrote her name. The contract vanished and Alastor stood in front of the girls with a look of triumph, the microphone staff in his right hand. He twirled it.

 “Enjoy all your toys I will supply. You only live once…or twice.”

 He then spoke in a low voice that no one else could hear: “And you’ll be mine.”

  Alastor grinned and clenched his fist, as astrological symbols appeared in the swirling fiery light.

 “The day you die, I’ll have my payment. Your eternal soul’s enslavement. Did you divine our dark arrangement?”

 The light vanished and he turned back to his friends. “You were lovely entertainment.”

  He pulled Charlie and Vaggie close to him, both of them with stunned looks on their faces.

 “The dark desires you’ve been serving.”

 He briefly hung upside down, pointing at them…

 “You can bet that you’re deserving.”

 He stood back up in front of them.

 “No regret for who you’re hurting. Why it’s almost like you’re flirting.”

 Alastor stood straight with a smirk on his face as he looked down at them. He was now wearing a matching red top hat. Everyone stared at him with suspicion and concern in their looks.

 “Sorry, I don’t mean to alarm you,” he said. “If you ask me to stay, I would be charmed to.”

 Charlie and Angel nodded their heads, while Vaggie crossed her arms. Charlie wanted him to stay at the hotel longer. She needed all the help she could get. She needed to convince her stern but protective father that her plan could still work. Lucifer had refused Charlie and her friends from going up to Heaven for good reason.

 Alastor picked up a picture and looked at it. It was an old one of Charlie and Vaggie in the 666 News Room studio. It was back when Charlie was about to make her speech about the Happy Hotel. Vaggie had told her not to sing, but she did anyway. Charlie playfully poked Vaggie’s nose in the picture, while an On Air sign was in the background.

 “You all have such cozy little lives. How do you survive like that?”

 Alastor, being a being of chaos and having experienced past trauma, was not one to know what a normal life was…especially in Hell.

 “I wish I knew,” Alastor said sarcastically as he tossed the picture behind him, hitting the moth demon in the head. Vaggie rubbed her head in frustration and pain. Charlie stared down at the lopsided picture, the cracked frame and the broken glass.

 Angel came over and stared down at the mess as well. Alastor turned around to the three of them. “But you got a lovely little secret. You’re tired of feeling awful small. So you…”

 Alastor roared, sending a scrambling Angel toward the couch. Angel sat on the couch where an old black rotary phone sat on a nearby table.

 “…gave Mister Alastor a call, to make a deal. Because you’re hungry, for all the sights. You want to see them.”

 The contract floated in front of Angel as a reminder. Alastor’s microphone staff glowed and an angry red eye appeared.

 Appearing from Alastor’s hat was a floating dollar sign and a heart. Angel stood up from the couch and stared at both.

 “Earthly delights, you feel you need them.”

 Alastor appeared in front of Charlie and Vaggie.

 “Your appetites, I’ll help you feed them.”

 A large bag of money appeared, Alastor laying down on a couch in front of it, cupping his face.

 “I’ll be your sweet Radio Demon.”

  For a brief second, Alastor’s eyes turned into red radio dials, the surrounding areas black. Sitting on top of the couch was a little Alastor plush doll, the eyes black with red circles, wearing the same outfit. Angel gleefully picked up a pile of dollar bills from the bag and stuffed it in his shirt. Vaggie narrowed her eyes. Hell used souls, not dollars.

 Charlie’s cheeks blushed at the sight of Alastor and the plushie. How cute would it be to have little Alastor in her arms. Charlie reached out for the figure, but Vaggie held her arm down with a glare.

 “And once your hunger has abated, don’t forget your friend who waited. Watched as you indulged your thirst and…”

 Alastor walked over in front of the trio. He then spoke in a bone-chilling whisper holding up a long finger, “Did I mention that you’re cursed?”

 Realization hit Charlie like a ton of bricks, just as a horde of shadow demons and tentacles burst into the room. The floorboards broke and collapsed as a hole formed in the middle of the lobby, tentacles bursting forth like upright serpents. Angel Dust took out his guns and fired several rounds, but they were immediately knocked away by the shrieking spirits. The money in Angel’s shirt and the bag disappeared, replaced by a large dark portal with long tendrils emerging from it.

 Charlie remembered how she had ordered Alastor to help her out with the hotel for as long as he desired. Alastor’s look told her he had done just that like he promised.

 But now, he didn’t have that desire anymore.

 Tears welled up in Charlie’s eyes at how foolish she had been. Fire raged in her eyes at his betrayal. A thick tentacle wrapped around her waist and started to pull her toward the portal. Charlie yelled out, her horns sprouting from the skin of her head. Angel latched onto the floorboards with all six arms, more tentacles gripping onto his many wrists and limbs. Angel strained as he tried to hold himself against the forceful tentacles. His mouth was full of sharp teeth, his arms trying to snatch at Alastor’s legs. The smiling Radio Demon merely shook his head and stepped out of his reach. Angel’s pink webs from his fingers flew against the wall as Alastor avoided them.

 Vaggie grew moth wings with many eyes and sprouted out several more limbs that held weapons. With a roaring screech and a flap of her wings, Vaggie threw a horde of daggers and spears at him. Alastor’s shadow quickly flew in front of Alastor, taking the blows and protecting his master. Alastor snapped his fingers and more shadow monsters came to his aid. Alastor grew in size, dark antlers branching out from his head, his eyes becoming red radio dials. A prominent red x was on his forehead. All the demons were now in their full forms. Charlie blasted away several shadows with her flames, but more kept coming.

 In one last effort, Vaggie aimed her spear at Alastor’s forehead, her wings briefly pushing back the shadow spirits. She used all her strength to move her arm among the tendrils, desperate to hit that mark. Angel also helped briefly held them back with more gunshots from summoned weapons. Alastor moved his microphone off to the side, but he wasn’t pointing it at Vaggie or Angel.

 Vaggie, spear in hand, glanced out of the corner of her eye…and saw an unnerving sight. Charlie’s eyes were red radio dials, her smile unnaturally wide. She had been staring right at the microphone and listening to the soft jazz music that played from the speaker. She stared up at Alastor with utmost adoration. Vaggie felt sick to her stomach, her heart and gut crushed with anger and hopelessness. Alastor winked at Charlie and kissed her on top of her head. Charlie let go of the floor, letting herself be dragged backwards. Her eyes and form soon returned to normal, however. Realizing what she had done, she screamed in fear as the tentacles carried the princess into the gaping hole.

 Vaggie screamed her girlfriend’s name as her spear was promptly knocked out of her hands by Alastor’s shadow. The microphone was then positioned in front of Vaggie and Angel. An ear-piercing shriek came from the staff, causing screams and convulsions from Vaggie and Angel. Vaggie squeezed her eyes shut and frantically covered her ears in desperation. Both Vaggie and Angel returned to their normal forms. The spirits and tentacles grabbed hold of Vaggie and Angel, pulling them helplessly toward the portal. The radio waves from the staff helped push them further back. Vaggie and Angel held hands for comfort and yelled out as they both fell through the dark hole, which soon closed.

 The three fell separately through the darkness. The world soon filled with fire, symbols and static. Hell was already burning and swarming with Alastor’s minions who looted stores and feasted on the carcasses of demons and deer. The world spun around before two swirling portals appeared, one red, one dark pink. Alastor towered over the trio in his demon form, his antlers almost touching their faces. More astrological and voodoo symbols floated and moved around Alastor. His eyes were pure black with small red irises, the monocle by his right eye. His microphone staff was in his left hand, the staff appearing taller and more dimensional.

 The world spun again. Charlie and Vaggie found themselves standing on the balcony of the hotel. Both of them trembled in fear. They glanced at the city below, getting a clear view of the cloudless blood red sky. Hovering in the sky was Hell’s moon, a dark sphere with a glowing red pentagram engraved on it.

 Just then, the pentagram on the moon’s surface moved away, and was replaced with Alastor’s eyes and wide yellow smile. His monocle was red. The moon appeared to be inching closer towards them.

 Charlie closed her eyes, calling upon four ancient beings to come forth. She opened her eyes, which briefly glowed in flames before returning to their normal yellow. The ground shook as footsteps approached. The stomping giant figures arrived from different directions, raising their claws in the air.

 They were the four demonic Horsemen, each of them having the heads of horses with fangs and tall humanoid bodies. War had a red coat and flaming hair. Conquest was strong and had white fur and hair. Famine had a black horse head and a mane of wild black hair. The final Horseman, Plague was skeletal in appearance. All four giant Horsemen wore leather jackets and ripped jeans, their eyes glowing red. All four of them held the moon in place with their claws, but it wasn’t going to last long.

 Charlie shot Vaggie a look, telling her to go and find a safe spot. But Vaggie stayed with her, refusing to leave her side. What Alastor said next after a few minutes paralyzed Charlie and Vaggie in fear.

 “I shall consume…consume everything…”

 More powerful radio waves spread through the air. They were so powerful that they knocked all four Horsemen backwards to the ground with violent crashes. The men vanished back to the ether before the shadows could finish them off.

 A long black limb extended from the Alastor moon, picking up Charlie and Vaggie. The two females were lifted from the balcony in his palm. The two of them were soon moved right in front of his mouth. Given his cannibalistic nature, he knew they were going to taste delicious.

 Alastor’s teeth chomped down hard into both of their heads and necks. All Charlie and Vaggie could feel was searing pain and an unpleasant crushing sensation. They let out sounds between screams and gags, the coughed up blood adding to the gushing red life force flowing from their craniums. Vaggie had gotten the brunt of the damage, her skin already pale and cold. More yellow teeth impaled her in the stomach, chest and upper thighs, whimpers and strained gasps of breath coming from her mouth. Her gray head severed from her neck and fell into the mouth opening, her body soon following. Charlie weakly tried to hold onto her friend’s hand, before she, too fell limp. Charlie weakly croaked out for her parents, her brain and thoughts going fuzzy. The last thing she saw before she was pushed in was Alastor’s dark maw and the outline of a long lavender tongue.

 Charlie woke a few hours later on the ground, her body intact the way it was before. Vaggie and Angel helped her up, both of them unscathed. The three of them watched as Alastor danced by a telephone booth, the background flames illuminating the outlines of dead trees. He held a telephone in one hand then reappeared higher in the sky. In his left hand was his microphone staff, a light shining from the single eye. From his right hand, green fire sparked to life along with a green pentagram. He threw cards into the air as outlined eyes and grins of Exterminators leered in every direction. No doubt he was broadcasting his carnage and showing off.

 Charlie almost wished that the Exterminators had invaded instead.

 Alastor effortlessly slid down a randomly appearing flight of stairs in the sky. After going down some more, Alastor jumped from the stairs and onto the pentagram moon. His body lowered and morphed into a black spring as he shoved the moon toward the ground…

 …Right where the trio were standing. In a panic, Vaggie pulled Charlie out of the way just as the moon crashed into the ground next to them.

 The Radio Demon was going to destroy all of Hell!

 Alastor’s body returned to normal and he glanced delightfully at the trio’s stunned frightened faces. Alastor laughed and held out one of his bloodstained business cards. It showed his smiling face in the lower right hand corner.

      It read:

 “Alastor, a.k.a. your sweet radio demon. :3

Wanna make a deal? Call me: 069 666 42.

After all the world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment. So just sell your soul to me and I provide all you need to fulfill your desires. You wonder why I make you this special offer?

Why does anyone do anything?

Sheer absolute boredom!

(Eternal suffering and punishment in hell guaranteed!)”

  Alastor danced as giant cards appeared in the background, the flames adding to the chaotic dystopian Inferno. He snapped his fingers and the trio were transported into a neon colored bar.  “Alastor’s Game” was displayed in purple and light blue neon letters attached to a brick wall. Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie sat at a wooden table, Alastor arriving at the head of the table to throw chips on the table to start. A gamble of life and death.

  After half an hour, the table was filled with piles of playing cards, chips with bold numbers on them and a stack of dollar bills toward the left. A few of the chips had the character’s icons on it. Off to the right were beer bottles.

 As they gambled, two other figures walked into the room. One of them was the gambling cat Husk and the other was a small cleaning cyclops demon named Niffty. Husk crossed his arms with a scowl, already mad that he wasn’t included in the game. Alastor suddenly grinned and held up four aces in his hand, no doubt he had cheated. Husk was furious but found himself unable to move and pounce at the man. Niffty just stood and watched eagerly on a step stool. Husk was able to grab a nearby bottle of booze and drink several gulps before putting it down. Husk and Niffty’s eyes turned into red radio dials, rooting them in place. They had already given their souls to Alastor.

 Husk stared at the winning deck in Alastor’s hand and suddenly shook with fear. He remembered Alastor saying to oblivious souls in the past, “You laid your chips on the table now. When you gamble souls, the house will always win. I’m double dealing in betrayal and I’m here to cash my payout.”

 Indeed, Alastor was saying the same thing now, lounging in a tall spinning chair shaped like a throne.

 Husk tried to yell in warning, but no sound came out. Images of the contracts that the trio had signed appeared in front of them. Charlie, Angel and Vaggie found themselves unable to move. Neon Exterminator grins hovered in the background. Charlie and Vaggie stood by the table on Alastor’s right side, Angel on the left side.

 Alastor raised his hands and two glowing pentagrams rotated behind him. He appeared to be chanting some ancient spell. Husk’s eyes grew wide as an instant feeling of dread shook him to his core. The cat demon saw flashes of metal flying from all directions in the dark. Alastor lowered his arms, his hands crossed over each other, his fingers pointing downwards. Husk was able to move and cry out just as he heard a series of sickening squelching thuds. More unsettling was the girlish giggles from Niffty beside him as the two of them witnessed the horrific result.

 Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust were slumped motionless onto the table, knives embedded in their backs and heads. Angel’s white furry head had been chopped clean off, the blank faced head now on the floor surrounded by blood. Several knives were lodged into Vaggie’s back, staining her clothes deep red. One knife had gotten Charlie in a fatal part of her head. Their glazed eyes and expressions were frozen in terror.

 “I hope it was worth the life of sin,” Alastor finished with a dark chuckle.

 Husk swore several times with audible gasps, holding in a gag reflex. Alastor moved his hands behind him and strolled along toward the exit, mentioning for Niffty and Husk to follow, no doubt going back in later to feast. Niffty eagerly scurried after him in love struck admiration for everything he did. As Husk passed by and examined the bloodstained knives, his heart stopped for a second time since he died as a human decades ago.

 The knives were fatal angelic blades.

  Alastor later posed and danced in front of a large wrought iron gate made of bones by the Goon Salon. He turned his head all the way around as he turned to face a crowd of terrified demons.

 “You’re in my world now. Take a look around. Inside your nightmare beyond the mortal veil.”

 Several horned shadow spirits with different colored triangular eyes peered at the demons before mercilessly attacking them. Alastor snapped his fingers and the “Welcome to Pentagram City” sign changed into one that read “Welcome to New Horror-leans!” Vox, Lucifer, Lilith and several Overlords were dragged into separate portals to be consumed by powerful spirits. Alastor made sure to smash and burn Vox’s TV head before sending him away. The Magne apple themed mansion quickly became a deer-themed headquarters for Alastor and those under his control.

 Alastor stood by a brick wall, flames harmlessly surrounding him. His shadow turned into its beast-like wendigo form, a monstrous skeletal deer of shadow. The shadow had gigantic antlers on its head and fiery colored eyes that matched Alastor’s. The wendigo shadow raced and rampaged through town after town. Shadows stalked and spied on hiding demons, crawling through small spaces to hunt them down. The choice was simple: surrender or die. It was easy for Alastor to play music from his microphone, possessing any denizen who stared and listened too intently. The ones who were killed and tortured immediately where the primarily powerful snotty males.

 No one was spared from the radio waves. Not even the imps and hellhounds could escape the Al-pocalypse.

 Alastor posed back and forth at a sign that read Heaven on one side and Hell on the other. Papa Legba’s veves were drawn nearby. “You made a wrong turn at the crossroads.”

 An old fashioned boxy TV showed Alastor’s neon face in orange, teal, white and black.

 “Now you’re at the final episode. Eternity with me in Hell!”

 Through a pentagram portal, humans from a city on Earth watched as a towering figure stomped through, carrying fire, demons and chaos with him. Alastor was in full demon form, with sharp teeth, claws, and a full head of branching antlers. He held his staff in his right hand. Voodoo imps and shadows rode on bony horses and creatures, one creature being a dragon. They carried skulls and heads on pikes. The red eyed denizen demons carried red and black banners with Alastor’s symbol: a microphone with a dialed eye in between clawed hands. Deer antlers branched out toward the bottom in an upward curve. Kalfu’s diamond-like symbols were in the design as well. The humans ran and screamed for their lives as the glowing white eyed demon roared, showing a mouth of sharp teeth. Buildings caught on fire and chaos spread everywhere.

 With enough human and demon souls on his side, Alastor could go for Heaven next.

  Later on, Alastor sat comfortably in a red velvet chair in a room of the Hazbin Hotel. The wallpaper was red and had the apple family crests on it. Alastor’s eyes were red radio dials. Alastor sipped coffee from an orange plaid tea cup and set it down on the table in front of him. Off to the side was a bookshelf lined with old leather bound books, vases, a white plate and a globe. On the small round table was a brown old fashioned radio, a white jug, a few white candles and a skull. A deer skull hung from the wall nearby. A picture on the wall showed a figure of Angel Dust in indigo, with the words “Addict VIP” on it. Another picture showed a furry female from Valentino’s group of clients. There was also a grandfather clock against the wall. To the right of the clock was a black grand piano.

 “Pleasure to play, how I enjoyed you. Suffice to say when I play I don’t lose.”

 Alastor appeared to be talking to someone nearby.

 “Collecting on the debts that you accrued. It was such a gas. I really am amused.”

 Just then, a black cat with large orange eyes jumped up on the table beside Alastor. Alastor leaned his face close to the feline familiar.

 “Have a dark thought, I’m right beside you. A casual whisper just to guide you.”

 The cat revealed a strange toothy grin. Alastor moved away. “Look over your shoulder and I gone.” The cat looked around then played with the empty tea cup, looking inside. Indeed, the animals in Hell had been spared, save for Fat Nuggets whom Alastor had for breakfast many days before.

 “Remember this song…”

 Alastor then stood up and waved goodbye to his audience he was talking to: floating heads in separate jars suspended in liquid on a large shelf.

 They were the heads of Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Katie Killjoy, Sir Pentious, Baxter and countless others.

 “And I bid you adieu!”

[mithrilwren]

Dedicated to my own persistent insomnia over the last number of months, and the fact that I’ve never written a Fjord-centric oneshot, which is frankly criminal. This is Fjord/Caduceus, but leaning more towards the queerplatonic side of of the die than explicitly romantic (smooches are nice but have you heard of unfaltering emotional support?) [also on ao3]

the morning calls your name (fjorclay, ~5000 words)

It’s not so much that Fjord stops sleeping. It’s more that it’s begun to taper down: the number of hours he spends with his eyes closed. 

There was a time that he got a full seven hours a night, sometimes even more than that, though it seems a far off memory now. Ship life is lousy with routine, the kind that can ruin the wrong sort of man - drive him mad with boredom, or make him rabid for the first sight of land, or trouble - but for Fjord, the routine was all part of the draw. You always knew the time your shift began, and when the bell rang and your berth beckoned, you went. His body got used to that predictability. It knew how to lull itself off to sleep without his help. All he had to do was lie there, let himself be drowned in the creak of the bulkheads and the briny surfside air, and then he’d be out, just like that. There wasn’t a trick to it. It just happened. 

A month ago, he would have settled for six. Now he tells himself that five is still enough to go on. Five hours is all that Vandren took - and after all, why should Fjord need more than him?

It’s when the number gets to four that it starts getting harder to convince himself that everything is the way it should be. That everything is fine, just as it is.

But, of course, he does.

—- 

One night over dinner in some backwoods tavern, Caduceus catches Fjord by the wrist. “Are you running a fever?” he demands, already reaching for Fjord’s forehead with the hand that isn’t occupied keeping Fjord’s still. The spoon between his fingers steadies, and the last of its soupy contents are saved from sloshing back into the bowl, or onto the table.

Fjord hadn’t realized he was trembling quite that badly, if he’s honest.

The meat of Caduceus’s palm is cool against his skin, a soothing pressure that might have been easier to bear in a less public venue. Embarrassed, he pulls away before the others can see. Maybe he is catching ill. It could explain why his face seems determined to flash between flushed and clammy with giving him a moment’s rest, and why the shivers running down his spine are more electric than your typical chills.  

Fjord puts the spoon down and places his hands in his lap. If he presses down on them, his fingers quiet a little. Better.

Caduceus lets him go without a fuss, which he’s grateful for, but… gods, he misses the hand once it’s gone. It was nice to have something to lean against, if only for a few seconds. It’s too early to go to bed, but his head already feels impossibly heavy.

“Don’t think so,” Fjord answers finally. “Must just be hungry. Low blood sugar, maybe.” He can’t pretend like Caduceus didn’t see what he saw, though he’s still hoping Caduceus might. And after all, if it isn’t sickness, maybe it is hunger. It would make sense. Food’s been turning his stomach lately, the type or quality not seeming to matter. He hasn’t really examined it too closely. He was raised a kid in an orphanage that never had enough to go around, then a sailor on a long haul vessel, where the hardtack was all that was left by the end of the voyage. A lack of appetite has never been anything but a blessing.

“Mmm,” muses Caduceus. “Then you should make sure to finish that.” He nudges Fjord’s meal towards him. The sodden vegetables that sank to the bottom of the bowl swirl in a lazy arc as it inches closer, leaving streaks of oil all through the thin broth. Fjord’s stomach does a flip.

Caduceus is one to talk, he thinks. If there’s anyone who needs a lecture on feeding himself enough, it’s their resident vegetarian. But Fjord doesn’t say that. Caduceus will (rightly) read his words as deflection, and redouble his efforts to get Fjord to finish the bowl. Which would be simpler to do, if his hands would just stop shaking for two damn seconds. 

It’s a bit of a conundrum - a circular problem, really. Eat, then feel better, then it makes eating less of a trial. He just has to pick a point and start. 

He reaches for the spoon. And that’s as far as he gets.

Nott and Beau are arguing about something across the table. Somebody stole someone else’s mug, there’s not enough pork belly to go around, some circumstance has off and upset Caleb; who knows what it is tonight. There’s always something to bicker about, but at least tonight it’s keeping the rest of the group’s attention occupied. 

“I could help, if that would make things easier,” Caduceus offers, a hint of a smile playing over his lips, and this time Fjord’s face flushes with a definite heat. Shame slinks down low in his belly, enough to overpower the nausea in his gut, enough to spur him to pick up the bowl, spoon be damned, and swallow the rest of the broth in three mighty gulps. When he looks at Caduceus over the rim of the bowl, already regretting the decision, his expression hasn’t changed. He’s still smiling, like he’s pleased either way, so long as the soup made it into Fjord. 

He definitely doesn’t feel better.

“I can feed myself,” Fjord insists, wiping the corners of his mouth with his hand. He means to be scornful; it comes out defensive. The shame coils a little tighter, curdling the soup to bile in his belly. He isn’t a child, but he’s doing a fine imitation of one. 

“I know you can,” Caduceus says, unmoved. “Did it help at all?”

“Yes,” Fjord lies. Then, because he’s starting to feel like an asshole, “thanks.”

He shouldn’t have snapped. Like always, Caduceus is just trying to help. He’s not searching for ammunition, or picking him apart for things to whisper to the others:  proof that Fjord is unable to shoulder his own load, yet again. 

He wouldn’t do that. Others might, others have, but Caduceus won’t.

At least, Fjord hopes. 

They really haven’t known each other that long.

—

It must have started with the dreams. Or… well, then again, maybe it was the shipwreck that did it. The two experiences are indelibly linked; you don’t get one without the other. Could have been either. Might have been both.

Probably both.

Either way, the months drag on, and Fjord finds his eyes opening a little earlier each night. At first, that seems like a good thing. There are things that need doing, and not enough capable hands to do them. Nobody else can mend a spoke like he can (that’s a lie - Jester’s magic does in an instant what his hands can in an hour), or keep a fire going on a damp night (that too - and Caleb doesn’t even need wood to do it), or-

There really isn’t much, is there? Things he can do, that the others can’t. 

More nights than most, he ends up just lying awake as the moon glides slowly overhead, curled with his blanket below his chin and his eyes squeezed tightly shut, like a little more pressure might help him nod off for good. Occasionally, he gives up and wanders a bit off from camp. Finds a log, leans his back against it, counts the leaves in the trees above. He does his best to ignore the scratch of rough cotton against his chest, and the salty particulate that dries hard and irritating within the weave of coarse fabric, that doesn’t come out no matter how hard he scrubs. The discomfort is as good an excuse as any for why he doesn’t want to lay back down. But in general, the group doesn’t ask. Everybody has their own shit to deal with.

He does find, alone in the cool night air, his eyelids fluttering, listening to the birds greet the new dawn, that he rests a little easier. He still can’t usually sleep, but a light doze is manageable.

When there’s a tavern, he shares a room with Molly. Molly, who drinks and carouses and comes back at all hours of the night - sometimes alone, sometimes in company, always loud . And if Fjord wakes up once, that’s it for him - the end of whatever meager rest he’s managed to eke out, though truthfully, if it’s a night involving company, a hallway sit or chatting with the bartender till sunrise is preferable to being present for what follows, asleep or no. 

It’s annoying at times, sure, and he begins most mornings bleary-eyed one way or the other, but it’s not that bad, all in all. The nights when Molly is present and it’s just the two of them, Fjord sleeps well, and deeply, and the dreams tend to come less often than they otherwise might. 

Those are the good nights.

Then comes Shadycreek Run. Then comes Lorenzo, and darkness, and endless nightmares that spill into the waking hours, and when they all emerge into the light of day once more, Fjord can no longer bring himself to wander too far from camp at night, not without someone else watching his back.

And Molly is gone.

And Caduceus takes his place. And they all move on.

And Fjord still sleeps, on most nights. Just a little less.

—-

“Hey, there. That’s alright. That’s fine now. You want to take a few steps back towards me?”

Fjord blinks, the shattered shards of glass crystalizing in his vision into something a little less metaphorical, a little less abstract.

The cup. He dropped it. 

Oh.

It’s well past midnight, though in the absent light of Rosohna, there’s no good way to tell. There’s also no good reason for Caduceus to be awake, down here, watching Fjord make a mess of things as he fumbles for a glass of water in the dark.

He’s not really sure why his eyes are burning. It’s just a glass; they have twenty, of all shapes and sizes, and none of them expensive. What a stupid thing to be upset over.

He’s just tired.

He’s just tired .

“Fjord?”

Oh, right. Caduceus is still standing there, waiting for Fjord to back away from the hazardous region now strewn across their kitchen floor, like a normal person would. 

The first step is easy enough to keep steady. The second is harder. Caduceus grabs a hold of his shoulders by the third, guides him into a chair that definitely wasn’t there a moment before. “There you go,” Caduceus encourages him. “Let me just get that cleaned up, ok? Just a couple minutes. Don’t go anywhere on me.”

Fjord opens his mouth - to offer to help, or to apologize, he’s not sure which - but his tongue is lead-weighted, his throat too closed off to form sound. Caduceus grabs a broom, and Fjord takes deep breaths, and watches someone else clean up his mess. 

“Thank you,” he says as Caduceus pads back over his direction after depositing the broken glass into a basket by the door. His feet are bare, but he doesn’t seem worried about any shards that might remain. “You didn’t have to do that.” Vandren’s accent cloys in his mouth, too difficult to maintain properly at this time of night. His ‘r’s are beginning to morph into something smooth and clipped, rather than long and drawling, and his words come slower as he tries to choose simpler ones, the kind that don’t require an effort. “You should… bed. Sleep. We’ll have a long day tomorrow.” Shit, he almost made it, but that last one nearly ended in a flipped tongue. Fjord shuts his mouth before it can betray him any further.

“I’d offer you a metaphor about glass and houses, but it seems a little too on the nose,” Caduceus teases. He goes to the wall and lights a little lantern, summoning a dim glow that neither of them technically need to see, before kneeling in front of Fjord’s chair. Caduceus’s height being what it is, that brings the two of them just about to eye-level. “May I?”

Fjord nods, not quite knowing what he’s agreed to, but feeling it’s owed, regardless. Caduceus places a few fingers beneath Fjord’s chin, turning it this way and that, tipping his jaw back to expose Fjord’s throat in a way that sends his blood singing from root to fingertip. When he swallows, his gorge rises against the soft fur that carpets Cadcueus’s knuckles. He shivers - not quite afraid, not quite not.

“Can you look down at me? There. That’s perfect.” Apparently, Caduceus finds what he’s looking for with little effort, because he barely meets Fjord’s eyes longer than a moment before his gaze shifts away. Or maybe Fjord’s does; it’s hard to tell. He’s been having trouble keeping his eyes focused, recently.

“What- what was that for?” Fjord stumbles, trying and failing to land in the realm of ‘curious’ rather than ‘irrationally frightened’. 

“I was just wondering… hmm. Did you know, you can tell a lot about most animals, just by looking at their eyes?”

“I... did not.” 

“Oh yes. If an animal is fatigued, or in distress, their pupils tend to dilate and contract rather rapidly. Haven’t you noticed?” If this is an allegory that ends in his health being measured against Jester’s weasel, he’s laying full claim to the right to quit the team for good.

“Can’t say that I spend a lot of time looking into animals’ eyes.”

“I highly recommend it.” Caduceus cocks his head to the side, pausing to mull over whatever his next words will be. His shock of pink hair tickles the edge of Fjord’s collarbone. Fjord swallows again. “Your eyes are telling me quite a bit, Fjord.”

Maybe there’s a bit of animal in him after all, because Fjord’s first instinct is to bolt like a cornered one. “Like what?” he asks, a question he doesn’t want the answer to.

“That this isn’t the first night you’ve been up wandering at all hours. That you could use a little more sleep than you’re getting.”

Fjord huffs a laugh, then forces himself to shuffle the chair back out of Caduceus’s reach and stand. Caduceus follows suit, quick enough to block Fjord’s path before he slips out of the kitchen. He’s lithe, but tall and long-limbed, and Fjord would have to shoulder-check his way out to get past him. He doesn’t think Caduceus would put up a fight. He wouldn’t force him to stay. 

There’s no reason to feel as trapped as he does.

“I should probably get to bed, like you said,” Fjord offers weakly.

Caduceus doesn’t move aside. “Will you sleep, when you’re there?” A whine is building up in Fjord’s throat, desperation and frustration mingling into something easier to call anger than dread. 

“As much as I ever do,” he forces through gritted teeth, not quite there enough to lie. “Let me past, will you?”

Caduceus’s willowy arm branches towards the doorframe - at first a barrier, and then an acquiescence. A beckoning, guiding Fjord through. “...Go ahead.”

Would you come with me?  

The question is so unexpected, even in his own mind, that it startles him back into some measure of wakefulness. Once he has it, it rests on his tongue like a buzzing insect, begging to be set free. He hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest since Molly died, and Caduceus wouldn’t read the same implication into the question as others might- But it’s too late to ask for that now. It’s all too late.

When they first got this house, Beau and Jester claimed a room together, like there was no question that one would stay without the other, and he really had wanted his own space back then, he had wanted it, had been desperate for it, because it was safer to be on his own - less time he had to spend hiding the salt-water stains, and the accent slips. He wanted it, and he can’t complain now about loneliness when Caduceus is already gone and settled into his own private sanctuary on the roof, when it’s all been decided and laid down in stone. The sheer neediness of the request chokes him. He can’t always be the one asking for help. He can’t be-

Fjord-

He can’t-

Fjord…

He can’t-

“Fjord.” 

They’re at the top of the stairs. 

How did they get there? 

Caduceus is still at his arm, still talking. “Will you be alright?”

“Always am,” he says mechanically, because it’s true. He’s kept going this long.

There are blankets being handed to him, hands guiding him into bed, hands smoothing back the hair from his forehead. His mind leaps about, springing from one thought to the next with alarming speed, and the one incredulous thought at the center of it all: that he used to want something like this, in the years before he taught himself not to want anything from parents that were never coming back.  

“I could stay, if you’d like.” Did Fjord say it after all, then? He doesn’t think so. He would have remembered - but the trip from kitchen to bedroom is still rather hazy. “Do you want me to stay, Fjord?” Caduceus asks again, uncertain, like he doesn’t already know the answer to his own question. That’s a first.

“M’ fine,” he mumbles into his pillow. Now that it comes down to it, the prospect of having someone else there when he wakes goes back to being terrifying, though the reason why eludes him, lost somewhere in the sparking cavalcade of exhausted thoughts. Maybe there isn’t a reason. Maybe he’s just scared of everything. That tracks.

“... alright.” Caduceus isn’t pleased with his answer. That tracks too. He’s not usually good at giving them. He’s not usually good... 

“Sleep well, Fjord.”

And he does, for the hour or so before another dream comes, and when he wakes it’s to the visage of a yellow eye burnt into his eyelids. But somewhere beyond that, in the periphery, there’s another sight too: the memory of two pink irises, and a soft hand against his throat, so different from Avantika’s sharpened nails or Uk’otoa’s slithering grip. 

It’s been a while, since someone has touched him there, and not meant for him to choke.

—-

It’s fitting, he’ll think many years later, that the end of it all came in a dream too. That he should have woken again in the ocean’s embrace, but safe on dry land as well. The kelp that embalms his limbs protects rather than pulls: warding against an icy death, rather than dragging him to it. There is no struggle to reach the surface - no call to fight, to destroy, to dominate, to consume. There are only gentle words, gentler warmth, and an ever-greening light - not a promise of salvation, but a path towards it. 

He dreams, for as long as it takes for his friends to pull him from his cocoon. Once he’s finally found his feet again, his legs are stronger beneath him than they’ve ever been. When he reaches out to summon the sword, his fingers are steady. No hint of a tremor in his wrist.

It feels like being awake, for the first time in a long time. 

—-

They take a long, long rest in Halas’s armory, or what’s left of it. Honestly, Fjord would have rather kept going. He’s all too cognizant of the time that’s passing in the outside world. The last time the group went on an indefinite sojourn into the unknown, they came back to find Felderwin in ruins, destroyed in their absence. He hasn’t forgotten how Nott could have lost her husband and child for the sake of his stupidity, his hubris. How they all could have brought about the end of the world if he’d just pushed it a little farther. How even now that he’s left that life behind, even now that the Wildmother has - somehow, impossibly - deigned to make him her paladin, he still has a lot to make up for.

The rest of the party is already asleep, all pressed to the edges of the dome like fish in a barrel, circling Caleb’s huddled form beneath the apex. Even in the faint light from the glowing runes of the two magical ballistae, Fjord can make out the beginnings of an angry bruise at the base of his throat, where the golem’s collar snapped shut and bit into the flesh. Caleb’s hand twitches every so often towards the injured spot, worrying the absent collar even in sleep. He understands; Fjord doubts he’d be able to forget something like that any quicker than Caleb.

From his perch in the gunner’s nest, there isn’t much to see - just a closed door to the tower, and the still-smoking remains of the golem at its foot. 

Off.

Who knew it could be that simple? One word from Caduceus, and the lights go out. If he’d known, he thinks with more humor than bitterness, he might have asked Caduceus to try it on him months ago, just to see if it stuck.

Fjord told the others that he didn’t need to rest with them, that he felt fine. And it was true, truer than it’s been in a long time. He’ll be tired when the party wakes, but not deliriously so. That’s the thing - when you get enough sleep on the regular, missing a night or two here or there isn’t unbearable.

And funnily enough, he has been. Sleeping, that is.

At first, he thought the shift was Melora’s doing - a depth of dreaming she invoked to keep Uk’otoa’s eyes off him. He was alright with it being nothing more than her failsafe against his being taken back - anything for an extra few hours of shut-eye. But the change wasn’t all at once, a one and done thing. There are still plenty of nights that he tosses and turns, wakes sweat-soaked and exhausted, paces the length of his room while he waits for a socially appropriate hour to start on breakfast. Still, he’s found that not dreading the mornings to come is helping at lot with staying asleep. There are still problems and worries to face when he gets up, but far fewer that he has to handle on his own.

He didn’t really realize, until now, how much the facade was taking out of him. 

Though he wishes he could, Fjord doesn’t meditate the way Caduceus does, at least not when he’s alone. He’s tried before, but he never seems to know the right words, the right rituals, the right state of mind. But he’s learning. He’s getting there. In the meantime, Fjord does what he can: he thinks the night away. He ponders lakes and dustlands and marshy swamps; all the places they’ve been, all the ones they haven’t visited yet. He hears her voice in the remembrance of crashing waves, and calls that close enough to worship. 

He thinks, for him, it is.

When the rest of the party finally comes to, Fjord hasn’t slept a wink. Still, he doesn’t feel exhausted. He’s fine, actually.

And you know what? This time, he really might be.

—-

The girls have their tattoos finished by the time the three of them return to the ship, bellies heavy with greasy food and hearts a little lighter. Caleb goes to check on Nott, already asleep in their room, and a wincing Jester drags Beau around the middle and pulls her off to bed, both trying not to jostle the other’s fresh ink. Which just leaves Fjord and Caduceus on deck, and Orly, who’s in the process of wrapping up his tools into bundles and tying them off with leather twine.

“Your cabin’s waiting, Cap’tn,” Orly says, catching Fjord’s eye. “Finally got the last of Avantika’s things cleared out, if you’ll be wanting a bigger space.”

He’ll never quite be comfortable with that title, nor the privileges it seems to afford. “No,” he hedges, “that’s- my old room’s fine. Plenty of space for me.” Caduceus clears his throat and Fjord flinches, all at once reminded that he’s not the only one impacted by his refusal. “Unless you’d rather have the room to yourself, Caduceus? I could- or you-”

“Whatever you prefer is fine with me,” Caduceus says, pleasant but noncommittal, then heads for the hatch to the lower level. Fjord stares after him, not really sure what to do with that. 

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Orly says, finally breaking the awkward silence. “Night, Cap’tn.”

“Night,” he echoes back. Orly disappears below deck, and then it’s only him, left with nothing but his indecision to ward off the night chill.

It’s not like he has to make the choice right away - Avantika’s former quarters are on the way to the rest of the crew berths. He’s somewhat surprised to find that no one else has taken up residence there. Like Orly said, they’re far more generous than the typical room. But the way he had said it… it’s almost like they were keeping the space open. For the Captain, whenever she- whenever Fjord returned. 

Fjord staunchly swallows past the lump in his throat, then turns the doorknob to Avantika’s quarters.

There it all is, just as they left it, if a bit more barren - a desk, a bed, a poorly sealed hole in the floor, an empty alcove where a shrine once sat. It’s a fine room, and well insulated from the outside world. With the doors to the balcony closed, he can barely hear the ocean’s rock against the hull.

Fjord sits on the double bed, presses a hand to the sheets. Still the same mattress as when- as the last time. He can tell. It’s not hard like a typical berth; Avantika had a taste for the richer things in life. She was particular. She was…

His throat closes up a little more, not from emotion this time, but a memory. He looks down at the pillow, and sees red hair spilling like silk from a careless hand, sees his own grip come up to match hers. Sees how easily a slender throat can snap, with enough pressure. If the mood is right. If it’s what has to be done.

Avantika never once asked him to stay. 

He doesn’t know what it’s like, to wake up in this bed. He doesn’t want to.

...He doesn’t have to.

Caduceus is still awake by the time Fjord finds his way back to their old room. There’s a little kettle going on the dresser, which has to be against some sort of shipside regulation, but without an open flame he can’t find any reason to complain. Caduceus doesn’t comment on his tardiness, but he does offer Fjord a cup. 

Fjord can’t help but notice that there were already two set out.

“So, how’s it feel?” Caduceus asks as Fjord takes a seat on the opposite bed. 

“How’s what feel?”

“Being back here, on this ship?”

Fjord sips his tea - herbal, loamy, not bad - and takes the time to consider his answer. He wants to give an honest one. He’s been working at that. “Good,” he decides. “I missed this.” What this is is somewhat nebulous, even in his own mind, but it feels right when he says it.

“Good,” says Caduceus. “Glad to hear it.”

They sit a while in silence after that, drinking their tea, exchanging the occasional friendly glance over their respective cups. This feels… safe, in a way that Avantika’s chamber didn’t. 

“Hey, Caduceus? Can I ask a question?”

“Mm?” Caduceus hums, setting down his tea and giving Fjord his full attention. “Sure.”

“It’s just… something that I’ve been wondering about.” He laughs, the old self-deprecation still creeping into his voice, though not as heavily as it once did. “It’s stupid... you probably don’t even remember this. But there was a night, back in Xhorhas, when you helped me clean up a broken glass in the kitchen.”

“...I remember,” Caduceus says after a moment, expression unreadable. 

Fjord’s heart is pounding harder than it has any right to.

“Did I… did I ask you, to stay with me?” Fjord ducks his head, knowing that his embarrassment, as always, shows too clearly on his face. “I mean- just because you said, you know- I wasn’t sure.” He cuts himself off before he can stumble back into the neverminds and forget its. They can only protect him so far, and he really does want to know, as much as he fears the answer.

Caduceus breaks into a soft smile. “Well, not in those words, no. But it seemed to me that you were asking for something, for a very long time. We just weren’t very good at hearing you.”

Fjord laughs again, rubbing at his neck. “You have to actually speak for people to hear what you’re saying.”

Caduceus watches him, rolling over Fjord’s self-effacing tone with painfully solemn honesty. “I don’t think that’s always true.”

Fjord stares at the walls, not really able to keep on meeting eyes that always seem to see right through him. “I wanted you to stay,” he admits - not quite a whisper, but not quite there either. “ I was afraid to.”

“Why’s that?” The question betrays nothing more than curiosity, but Fjord treats it with the seriousness it deserves.

“Vandren always taught me that there’s nothing weaker than saddling other people with your problems. I didn’t want... to need that kind of help. To be weak, like that.”

“Even if I wanted to give it?”

It’s Fjord’s turn to look at Caduceus, to really look at him. Insight has never been his strong suit, but Caduceus seems genuine, in the way that Fjord wants to be, has been trying to be. 

“Why?” That’s the crux of his confusion, the one thing Fjord can’t wrap his head around. “Why would you want that?” What am I to you, that you keep on giving, when all I do is take?

“Because I care for you.” He says it like it’s true, like it’s what he really feels. I care for you . What does that mean? “You don’t believe me,” Caduceus states, impossibly understanding, but still disappointed.

“No,” Fjord is quick to correct him, not wanting to throw his words back in his face, “No, it’s just…” Why bother with me, of all people? “It just seems like it shouldn’t have to be your responsibility.”

“You make it sound like kindness is a burden.” Fjord shrugs. Caduceus leans forward, knees a breath away from brushing his own. “You are not a burden to me, Fjord.” 

His eyes are burning again. Fjord grips the edges of the mattress, tries so hard not to hear those words for what they are, and what they mean, because the moment he does he knows something will break.

“You don’t have to believe me. But can I… may I show you?” The other mattress creaks, and then his own dips as Caduceus sits down by his side, waiting for an affirmation. When Fjord nods, he takes both hands and places them on either side of his chin. He turns Fjord until they’re nose to nose - breathing the same air, filling the same space. The pads of his thumbs soothe along the rabbiting pulse that courses beneath Fjord’s skin. 

Fjord closes his eyes, overwhelmed, as Caduceus lifts one hand and traces it along the edge of his cheek.

“I wondered, for a very long time, if I was on the right path. Whether what I was doing was really what the Wildmother intended.” His fingers move to the line of Fjord’s nose, pausing over the scar that cuts a jagged crease over his eye. “You were the first sign, that I had found my destiny. I knew, from the moment we met, that there was something broken in you.” Fjord flinches, but Caduceus’s other hand squeezes his neck gently, keeping him from turning away but not forcing, never forcing. “But you found your way out from the darkness. I may have lit the way, but you pulled yourself out. And I am so proud of you.” 

Fjord’s mouth parts involuntarily as the words seep into his chest, caught between a gasp and a whimper. The burning behind his eyes finally spills over. “You- every part of you, even the ones you hate- deserved to be saved. So if anything, it’s me who was selfish in all of this. Because I wanted to be the one to do it.”

He doesn’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person. He’s not sure he ever has. He should be mortified. But as Caduceus’s thumbs smooth away the wetness from his cheeks, he can’t bring himself to feel any shame. The tears seep like poison from an old wound - too long held inside his chest, too long carried beneath his skin, and hidden away. 

He lets his head drop to Caduceus’s shoulder. Lets himself be held. Lets himself hold on in return. And doesn’t feel guilty, for any of it.

—-

Crew quarters aren’t nearly as finely made as the captain’s cabin. Here, you hear everything - every groan of the hull, every buffett of wind, every shuffle of rigging from those still above deck. 

Fjord wakes to all those familiar sounds, and some that are new - gentle snores, puffs of warm breath, a heartbeat slower than his own. The seagulls are just beginning to herald the dawn, their cries sharp and biting, urging him to get up and start the day.

A little longer, Fjord thinks hazily. Just a few minutes more. 

He pulls one elbow out from where it’s fallen asleep beneath Caduceus’s side, then presses the tip of his cold nose back into the warmth of the silken shirt in from of him. Caduceus stirs, but doesn’t wake, and the arm that covers Fjord’s shoulders pulls him in a little closer. He lets himself be pulled. Lets his eyes fall closed.

Before he knows it, he’s asleep again.