#speaking on him specifically 'cause we already know how the sisters handled this sort of situation ; guess which one took the sacrificial

[poisonedpowder]

Jinx really associates death with the ceasing of pain and that's why she is so ready to let it take her if it so wishes for the majority of the series.

She is also wholly okay with dying if it saves or helps a loved one and I don't think that actually will ever go away even with a better perspective on life. She would rather die than watch her loved one do so and she will jump at the opportunity even when her loved one is begging her not to.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Hard Things

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC.

I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.

@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Masterlist (on semi hiatus)

___________________________________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.

[panic-at-the-fiction]

Hello Darling pt6

Summary: (y/n) is the Salvatore younger sister, and she is low-key in love with one of the originals. You know which one. The only problem is he is a low-key psychopath and neither of them remember that this isn’t their first meeting.

Warnings: I ain’t got nothing to warn this time and less you count language.

A/N: I’m so happy I get to write this one Finally! You're all gonna hate me one day. Trust me. Also I want to be clear. When I started writing this Matt was not a dick. I want to say that (y/n) Salvatore would never be friends with modern Matt Donovan. She was friends with normal Matt who was captain of the football team and just wanted to stay away from vamps.

It had been almost a month since you last saw Kol and life had gone on just like it always had. Damon trying to kill the originals, the originals trying to kill Damon, Stefan was in there somewhere, Elena made decisions for other people and then bitched about people not letting her make her own decisions, etc etc.

But things were going better for you now. You Damon and Stefan began an unspoken agreement to eat lunch together every Sunday. Just like your mom used to make you do. It wasn’t always fancy but every week you went over to the bordering house and brought some sort of food with you, usually take out. But it was a nice peace offering between the three of you.

It was another average Sunday morning and you were about to leave to go get yours and your brother lunches. You were shocked when you opened your door to find Damon and Elena in your hallway.

It was an odd sight at the least. You didn’t hate Elena as much as you used to because you knew she was important to your brother. Like you said the lunches were helping you all get along.

“Hey guys I was just about to head on over to the house for lunch.” You locked your door behind you.

“Sorry sis but lunch is canceled for the day. We’re going on a road trip. Care to join us?”

“No offense Damon but I don’t think the three of us being in an enclosed space for long periods of time is a good idea.”

“Even if we’re going to visit your best bud in Denver? Come on don’t tell me you're over Jeremy moving already after all the bitching to us about it.”

You wanted to be mad about the bitching comment but how could you? They're going to see Jeremy. Your closest friend. And Damon actually thought about you. He knew you wanted to see Jeremy and came by to tell you he was going to do just that. He probably needed you for something but you didn’t care.

Despite yourself you walked over and hugged your oldest brother. He seemed taken aback by your affection, but he didn’t push you away.

You went back into your apartment and packed a small bag before walking outside and tossing it in Damon’s car.

The ride lasted a lifetime but no one tried to kill anyone so over it all it went great. You all got to your destination in one piece.

Elena had to ask around but you had finally tracked Jeremy down to the local batting cages.

“You know next time we compel him lets at least make him better at baseball.” Damon huffed out and Elena smacked him lightly on the chest.

You ran over to the batting cage he was practicing in. “Hey Gilbert!” You shouted at him through the fence. He smiled when he saw you behind him and walked out to greet you guys.

He’s smile dropped when he saw his sister and your brother. He knew you wouldn’t have driven here with them unless something bad had happened. “(Y/n), Elena, Damon. What’s wrong?”

Damon began to tell the whole story. He told him about the sire lines and what happens if an original is killed, he even told him about Rose and how she fit into all of this. You didn’t really care about their mission to talk to Rose so you just stood back and waited for them to finish up.

Jeremy looked over at you and his sister. “So you three all drove in a car together just to get me to talk to a dead vampire? Well I’m sorry guys but I can’t. I could only talk to Anna and Vicky because I knew them. I never met this rose.”

“What good´s you coming back to life if you can’t talk to a ghost when I need you too?”

“Listen here Rose spent a lot of time running from Klaus as well she and Damon were close, so we think maybe we can use him as a connection.”

You started to drown them out as you saw a fissure walking towards you. The sun was in your eyes but you were somehow sure it was Kol. You must have been hallucinating.

You finally snapped back to reality for a second as Jeremy spoke up again. “Can we do this later my friend just got here and yes Damon I do have some of those.” He pushed by Elena, and she turned around to see Jeremy's friend.

She gasped “Damon, it's Kol!”

Just as Damon turned around, Kol swung the bat in his hand and knocked Damon to the ground breaking the bat in half.

Shocked Jeremy yelled at his so-called friend. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Jeremy get back he’s an original!” Elena said, trying to warn her brother.

“No hard feelings mate, but we’re not buds.” Kol just smirked as he picked out a new bat and turned to face you. You were seething with rage. You knew exactly how Kol had gotten here, and he had used you. “You can thank your good friend (y/n) for helping me find you little Gilbert.”

He twirled his new bat in his hands. “You know I’ll never get used to aluminum but hey at least it won't break.” He pulled the bat back preparing to swing again at your brother who was still trying to get up after the first blow.

You quickly picked a piece of the broken bat off the ground and shoved it into Kols chest before he could hit Damon again. “Dick” you said, basically spitting in his face. He collapsed on the ground at your feet and you stepped over his body. Reaching to help Damon on the ground.

“Did you kill him?” Jeremy asked, eyeing the original laying on the ground.

“No, but it will give us a head start.” You said directing the group to the car.

Barely ten minutes down the road Damon started banging his fist on the steering wheel “Dammit I can’t believe that psychopath followed us all the way here.”

“I know I can’t believe he found Jeremy here. After we did all that to send Jeremy away to keep him safe from everything back home. I just don’t see how they could have known where he was.” Elena said not seeming to realize you and Jeremy were in the back seat.

“Wait what do you mean you sent me away? I chose to move to Denver”.

Elena's face dropped now that she realized her mistake in words. You laughed, you had been waiting to tell Jeremy the truth for months. “Oh you see Jeremy, Elena had Damon compel you again so that you would want to move to Denver.” You watched as the two avoided eye contact with Jeremy.

“You compelled me again! After how much I hated it last time and how angry I was at you! You did it again!”

“It was the right thing to do Jeremy we needed to keep you safe.”

“You can’t keep taking away my free will. It wasn’t your decision to make. I can handle myself, Elena. You always think you know best for everyone but don’t!”

The car fell silent again before Jeremy pipped back up. “Kol didn’t follow you guys here. He’s been here for weeks. I met him a month ago.”

Elena turned around to face you as she remembered what Kol had said earlier. “What did he mean by we could thank you for him finding Jeremy (y/n)?” judgement in her voice.

You knew it was your fault for today. You trusted Kol and that was on you. “If you must know Elena I told Kol where Jeremy was. I didn’t realize he would run off and tell his brother about it.”

“What do you mean you told Kol? How could you tell a psychopath where my brother was! Did he compel you or something?”

You pushed your anger down and just rolled your eyes. “Usually Elena when I sleep with a guy and then open up to him about my problems he doesn’t run home and tell his big brother everything I said.”

Damon immediately slammed on the brakes causing you all to jerk forward in your seats. “You slept with the maniac!”

“Who are you to judge Damon? You slept with Rebekah.”

Elena's eyes widened “You slept with Rebekah?”

“That was weeks ago after the Mikaelson ball. That doesn’t count. I didn’t tell her specific information about our plans.”

You were once again boiling with anger. This time not just at Kol for using you but for Elena and Damon. “I can’t do this. I’m walking.” You quickly got out of the car on the side of the road.

Damon followed behind you. “Where do you think you're going?”

“To the diner I saw a mile back.” You called back walking away from him.

“We have to talk to rose!”

“Then call me when you find somewhere to stay and I’ll get a cab.”

Jeremy jumped out of the car and started to walk in the same direction as you. “I’ll go with her and keep an eye out.”

Elena stuck her head out of the window of the car. “Jeremy don’t. Get back in the car.”

He laughed “or what? You’ll have Damon compel me?” You waited for Jeremy to catch up with you and the two of you started to walk in the opposite direction of your annoying siblings.

Defeated Damon and Elena drove off without you two.

You and Jeremy walked in silence until you finally reached the dinner you had passed earlier. You two set down and ate before you even started talking.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened with you and this Kol dude?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I slept with him, let it slip where you were, and he went after you. What’s done is done.”

“I think he mentioned you to me. When he was pretending to be my friend he talked about a girl from his hometown that he liked but his family didn’t approve, and they were too powerful, so he just thought it would be best if he stayed away and didn’t care.”

“Well he got the not caring part right. He’s not staying away though. He’s probably chasing us as we speak.”

Jeremy laughed “Well I think a part of his psychotic mind actually likes you.”

Your phone started buzzing in your pocket. Damon was calling you.

“And that’s our cue to leave.” He said, pulling out his wallet and asking for the check. Meanwhile you answered Damon’s call and wrote down the address of a hotel, he gave you before calling a taxi to come pick you two up.

Whatever did happen between you and Kol didn’t matter now. Whether he cared or not he betrayed you and you were going to give him hell for it.

Hey guys so just wanna say thank you for like this story so much I’m glad people have actually been seeing it. I’m sorry I’ve been inconsistent with it I’m trying to write more but I just got my heart ripped from my chest and I’m working on that right now so yeah. Hope you like the chapter.

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 6

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter offers some additional insight into Nesta’s thought process and sheds a little light on the ongoing process her emotional development has become. I hope it comes through!

This is somewhat of a “building” chapter so that we can get Nessian to the crest, so to speak. Part 7 is already written and only needs some editing, so it’s possible that I’ll be doing a double update today ☺️ They certainly have a lot to discuss, and once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. 😂 Anyway, enough of me. Enjoy!

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Warnings for grief related to the loss of a parent and some strong language.

——————————————————————————

Around 11:00 PM, Nesta decided she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts anymore. She was ruminating on similar memories and effectively raking herself over the coals. Although she knew any one of her friends would be there for her no matter the time of day, she picked up her phone to call the one she knew would most likely be awake at this hour.

“Hello?” Azriel’s raspy voice came through the phone.

“Were you asleep?! Since when do you go to bed early?” Her surprise was obvious by her tone. What the hell? He’s never in bed before midnight.

“Nes. Always a pleasure.” Azriel breathed a chuckle into the phone. “I usually wouldn’t be. I’m.. umm.. at a friend’s house tonight.”

Nesta gasped and dropped her voice. “Oh my gods. Az, were you on a date?! Am I interrupting?” She clapped her free hand over her forehead. “I’m the worst. I’m sorry.”

Another chuckle from Azriel. “You don’t have to whisper, you know. She can’t hear you. You’re not interrupting anything. I was asleep when you called, but I’m out on the couch now. What’s up?”

”If you were asleep, then that counts as interrupting! Are you sure?”

”Yes. Just, maybe the short version?” His tone was tentative, almost as if he felt guilty asking her to keep it concise at 11 PM. No one truly deserved Azriel as their friend.

“I can do that. So, here it is. I’ll save you the long, tedious trip through my brain.” She paused for half a second to take a breath. “I’m in love with Cassian.” She let out a quiet groan for effect.

”Mhmm...” The lilting of his voice implied that he was waiting for something like the punchline of a joke; the unknown part of her statement.

Her breath caught. “I kind of expected more of a reaction.”

”Did you? I thought there was more to it.” He seemed entirely neutral in that grating way of his.

”How did you know?!” She asked, incredulously.

”You told me.”

“Mm.. I don’t think so. When?” Now she was actually confused. Did she make some kind of drunken confession at Rita’s? She would remember having this revelation before now.

“At brunch. When we were driving home.”

”What are you talking about?!” Her voice was definitely higher pitched than it had been previously. She was anxious to hear his response, thinking he had surely dreamed this.

”Nesta. We were in my car, backing out of the parking lot. You asked me, ‘Why couldn’t we be the ones to fall in love?’ Or something along those lines. I thought that you were using some cryptic way of telling me because it implied two parties. Why do you think I hit the brakes so hard?” He seemed impatient, as if he was telling her the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought maybe the question weirded you out! I didn’t even realize what I said, to be honest. How the actual fuck do you notice tiny things like that?” She didn’t wait on his response. He would know it was rhetorical. “Now my problem is this: I think he’s dating someone, so I’ve lost my chance.” She briefly told him what she had overheard the night of Elain’s birthday, her voice starting to crack toward the end.

”Hm. He hasn’t said anything to me about that, but I could see why he would wait being that you and I are close. But honestly, I don’t know that you could ever lose your chance with Cassian, Nes.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. She simply sat there, playing with the corner of her throw blanket and hoping he would continue. He seemed to sense her discomfort and started talking again.

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him. But, if I can offer my opinion, maybe wait a little while so that you know you’re absolutely sure this is what you want. I don’t know how he would handle it if you decided it’s not what you want.”

She felt herself prickle with defensiveness. “I wouldn’t do that to him, Az. Of course I’m sure. It only took me an eternity to figure this shit out.”

Azriel responded in a soothing tone he so often used with her. “I know. But remember, you’re not the one he talks to about you. I’m just looking out for my brother. Maybe let it marinate, yeah?”

She knew his intentions were pure, and she couldn’t really blame him for being protective. Before she could respond, she heard a feminine voice in the background ask: “Az, everything okay?”

She heard him pull the phone away from his face to answer. “Oh, yeah. All good. It’s Nesta.”

Delayed by her scattered brain and the copious amount of wine, the identity of the voice finally hit her full force.

”IS THAT ELAIN?!” She sat up straighter as if it would allow her to hear them more readily.

She heard Azriel laugh, followed by a shuffling on the other end.

“Hello? Nesta? Everything okay?” Nesta could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“Hey, El. Everything’s fine! Sorry to crash your date. It seems we have quite a bit to talk about. Very soon.”

It took Elain a couple of seconds to respond, and Nesta could hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah. I think we do. Someone told me I should just talk to him. Turns out that they were right.” She paused, waiting for an “I told you so” from Nesta. She didn’t have the energy. “You know you can talk to me about Cassian, too, right?”

Nesta shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been leaning on Az since our fight, and I honestly haven’t had the energy to bring it up beyond that. But I do want to talk to you. And Feyre. It’s just been...hard.”

“I can imagine. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. It’s like the end of an era or something. Just know that we’re here.” Her voice was soft, laced with worry and a desire to help her older sister.

”Maybe for now,” Nesta teased, “but you may not have much time to chat these days.”

She knew she was blatantly deflecting, but El’s words had caused tears to prick her eyes yet again. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. She realized how true it was, and what upset her the most was that she knew she didn’t want to know a time without Cassian.

The call wrapped up with more gentle teasing between the sisters, and eventually, embarrassing Azriel a bit over speakerphone. She told them she loved them and promised to keep them updated on how she was feeling. Her heart felt lighter once she finally ended the call, thanks to the laughter they managed to pull from her.

——————————————————————————

Christine Archeron’s death anniversary fell on a Tuesday that year, and Nesta awoke with a similar irritation as last year— death anniversaries should never fall on weekdays. She went through the familiar motions as any other morning, headed to work, and concentrated on her various tasks she was expected to juggle at any given time. As appearances went, it looked like any other ordinary day to those around her, so the extra heaviness remained hers alone to carry.

On her lunch break, she got a chance to pull her phone to check her messages and mindlessly scroll through social media. She had been focused on scrolling for so long that her phone took her by surprise when it vibrated in her hand. She tapped the notification by reflex and found herself studying the sender’s name as if it was some sort of mistake.

Cassian: Thinking about you today. I know it’s a rough one. Keep your head up. Christine would have it no other way ❤️

Nesta read the text several times in a row; just to make sure it was real. It had been so long since he’d contacted her intentionally, and it made her happy that he still thought to reach out today. It simultaneously made her a little sad; however, because it was yet another reminder of what she’d lost in him. That was an issue to deal with later.

Nesta: Of course you are, because you’re the perfect human, and I don’t deserve you. Thanks, Cass 💕 Means the world to me to hear from you. Mom really loved you, and I know she would appreciate you looking out for us.

She hesitated over the send button for several seconds before deciding to go through with it. It felt so weird to intentionally script any type of message to him being that they had spent most of their relationship entirely uncensored. Everything about it felt wrong— she couldn’t act natural with him because it wasn’t appropriate anymore, yet she didn’t feel right having to draft and redraft their communication. It was all so fucked, and she was tired of this odd limbo they stayed in.

She reflected on her conversation with Azriel and Elain on the night she had unintentionally crashed their date. She knew that they both held strong points about her situation and wouldn’t advise her to try to repair things if they knew it was a lost cause. She acknowledged that Azriel, specifically, knew more than he was at liberty to tell her. That being the case, she decided that was evidence in favor of hashing things out with Cassian. It wasn’t long before she was lost in her own thoughts, her food entirely forgotten.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to ensure I didn’t need anyone. I never wanted to depend heavily on another person in a way that I couldn’t manage on my own. But that’s not really the case anyway, right? I’ve managed fine these few weeks, but that’s the thing. I’ve managed. Why do I try to insist that’s enough for me?

But what if the door is closed? What if this was Cassian’s final push, and he’s gone? I don’t know Alis, and she could be wonderful. She probably appreciates the shit out of him and saw immediately that he’s not the average person. She probably knows how special he is. She probably beams anytime he enters a room and tries to take care of his heart in any way she can. She’s probably fucking delightful.

But does that really compete with history? I guess if that history is filled with turmoil, it could. She’ll never know the Cassian that was a freshman in high school— braces and curly hair, still a head taller than most of the other boys in class. She won’t remember how he hit his second growth spurt the summer after sophomore year, where he started to fill out and caught the attention of any girl with a pulse. She doesn’t know what it’s like when he’s truly angry with his dad and the world. She doesn’t know the full range of his eclectic music tastes or the guilty pleasures he sings depending on his mood. She didn’t do the leg work to reconcile the tough, intimidating exterior when he gets upset with the gentle soul beneath. There’s no way she knows when his humor and his laughter are distractions from his pain rather than when they’re genuine. She can’t love him like I do. Im-fucking-possible.

She was pulled abruptly out of her head, and incredible jealousy, by her alarm. It was time to go back to work and finish out the day, and she hoped it passed as quickly as possible. She silently chastised herself for piling this emotional time bomb on today of all days as she threw away her lunch and walked out of the break room.

So much for leaving this issue for later.

She resolved to put all of these thoughts back into their little box until she had the emotional energy to open the lid once again. Whenever the hell that would be.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day zoomed by at a blissful pace, thank the gods. In fact, when Nesta glanced at the clock, she realized it was several minutes after 5:00 PM. She clocked out, grabbed her things, and climbed into her car. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to make the drive out to the cemetery. She wasn’t sure what time Elain had been able to go by, but Nesta had agreed to meet Feyre at 5:30 to pay their respects. It was becoming a standing tradition, where they would make their short visit whenever they could during the day and follow with dinner together as a family.

She made it with a few minutes to spare, so she took that time to sit with her mom one-on-one. She gave her a brief update on her life, told her how much she loved and missed her, and gently brushed any leaves or grass clippings off of her headstone. There were fresh flowers in her vase, something she noted each year on her death anniversary. Any other time of year, they kept seasonally appropriate faux flowers to make sure her site was properly decorated. She made a mental note to offer to contribute to the fresh arrangement in the years following when she saw her family at dinner. They were always taken care of before she made it out to the cemetery, and she didn’t want to risk forgetting for the next year. She leaned into the arrangement, taking in the various floral scents emanating from the blooms in the bouquet. There was a myriad of vivid colors, wildflowers throughout, and Nesta loved how true to her mother’s spirit they were.

She turned when she heard car doors and saw Feyre approaching with Rhysand. She stood, extending an arm out to her baby sister, who accepted it readily and rested her head on her shoulder. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Rhysand stood nearby, resting his hand on Feyre’s opposite shoulder. They stood together for several minutes until Nesta excused herself to allow Feyre some time alone with their mom as well.

She drove to her father’s house where she found Elain already setting the table for dinner. They worked together quietly, making sure they had plenty of place settings for everyone. Azriel offered his help to carry various dishes of food to the dining table and took his seat next to Elain once it was all settled. Almost as if on cue, Feyre and Rhysand walked into the house and took their seats as well. The dinner started off quiet considering the somber mood, but Feyre was the first to break the tension when she started to tell stories from their childhood. In a matter of moments, their home was filled with animated story telling and loud bouts of laughter, and Nesta couldn’t think of a better way to honor her mom’s love of life.

As everyone finished up, she suddenly remembered her mental note from earlier. She waited for a natural lull in conversation, then commented softly, “Mom’s flowers were beautiful, you guys. You did an amazing job.”

”They were really perfect. They couldn’t have been more ‘Christine’ if you tried,” Feyre remarked.

“Elain, Dad. I’m not sure which of you took care of them this year, but would you let me take care of next time? I haven’t contributed since she passed, and I’d really like to.”

Mr. Archeron softly shook his head back and forth, communicating to Nesta that it hadn’t been him. Nesta adjusted her gaze to Elain who looked just as confused.

“Oh. Nes, I assumed it was one of you. I didn’t... I didn’t order them. I wished I had.” She looked down at her hands, and Azriel placed a supportive arm across the back of her chair.

“Okay... so who did?” She glanced around the table from person to person, but no one took any credit. It was Rhys who spoke up first, clearing his throat to master his voice.

“You don’t know?”

”Obviously.” She looked to Feyre for support. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Feyre said nothing, watching Rhysand talk with rapt attention.

When he spoke again, it was cautious, as if his words may startle her. “Nesta. The flowers are from Cassian. He’s done them every year since Mrs. Christine died.”

She was suddenly short of breath. Everyone’s attention snapped to Rhys, including her father’s. Her sisters and Azriel were looking at Rhysand with stunned expressions, their eyes flicking to her face occasionally.

“What? How could you know— why would you know, when we don’t? What the fuck is going on?” She was falling over her own words, struggling to form any cohesive thought.

”I’m so sorry,” Rhysand glanced around the room for the first time, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “The only reason I knew was because he asked me to make sure they made it from the flower shop to her gravesite the year he had knee surgery. He asked me to keep it to myself then, but I figured by now he would have said something to at least one other person.” He looked down into his plate, various emotions playing over his handsome face. Feyre leaned over to comfort him, knowing he was likely embarrassed to be the reason the air had changed so dramatically.

Nesta’s head was swimming, emotions roiling from a million different directions. She knew anger was cheap and unfair, but she pulled on that tether as hard as she could to make sure she could navigate everything she was processing. She was on her feet suddenly, pushing her chair away from the table and walking toward her keys.

“I have to go.” She couldn’t be in here anymore. The room was too small, the walls were too close. Too many people. She picked up the pace, flinging the door open and shutting it hard behind her. She was down the porch steps when she heard the door open again. Azriel’s voice followed her.

”Nesta. Where are you going? Nesta, stop!” He had jogged lightly to catch up with her, and he tugged her gently by the wrist to stop her. She spun on him quickly, eyes flaring and brimming with tears.

“Anywhere but here! What the fuck was that, Az?”

He said nothing; looked down at his own feet as he shook his head.

“Cassian has some fucking nerve, you know that? Why is he insisting upon himself?” Her voice was lowered and had taken on an almost eerie quality; the calm before the proverbial storm.

“Nes, I don’t think he meant to upset you. It sounds like it’s something he’s made somewhat of a tradition. Maybe he just wanted to be sure and see it through.”

”He doesn’t get to do that anymore, Azriel. He doesn’t get to butt-dial me while he makes date plans with some girl, then turn around and send flowers to my dead mother. What am I supposed to think about that? And how would that make his girlfriend feel?” Azriel pulled her into a hug at that, resting his chin on top of her head. He didn’t answer her. There was nothing to say.

She pulled away from him, gripping her keys, and walked toward her car. “I’m out. Tell them I love them, and I’ll call tomorrow.” She nodded her chin toward the house, climbed into her car, and backed out of the driveway.

——————————————————————————

She wasn’t sure how long she’d driven before she found herself in his driveway. She knew it hadn’t been very long considering the sun was still clinging to the end of the day. She honestly didn’t remember making the conscious decision to come here, likely fueled by anger and muscle memory more than anything else. She was still so frustrated at her situation, her emotions spilling over and refusing to be put into that stupid fucking box anymore. The worst part was that, as mad as she was with him, she so badly wanted to see him. She wished the circumstances were less complicated so that she could knock, ask for a hug and some tea, and lay on his couch. They were a hell of a long way from those people now.

She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the very last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost hear him gently telling her to “get in here”.

Too late to turn back now.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Alrighty, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, even with minimal Nessian. The next chapter(s) will more than make up for it, though! I’m hoping to have max Nessian to y’all ASAP. A million thanks to all of you who continue to follow this au. Your comments/ feedback have meant the world to me!

If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to comment, reblog, or send a message! I’d be happy to add you to the list. If I’ve accidentally left you off or there are issues with your tag, let me know, and I’ll look into it! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome (even encouraged)!

Tags:

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm // @courtofjurdan

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today V

A/N: Hello everyone! So, if you didn’t see my announcement earlier this week, this update may seem early compared to my usual posting schedule, and it's true! But also not. Let me explain- from here out, I will be posting chapters twice a week! These will go up late Wednesday night/early Thursday morning, and late Saturday night/early Sunday morning. That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the next chapter will come in a few days! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

Björn was somehow unsurprised entirely when Aethelind approached him once more, a very happy look on her face. He figured her talks with Torvi, Ubbe, and his mother must have all gone well. He’d be lying to say he hadn’t sort of kept an eye out from his place, watching to see if he could tell anything, and each time, Aethelind had seemed thrilled by their answers. So… He guessed they’d all come around to her plan- daft as it seemed to him.

When she finally reached him, he chuckled a little. “Am I outnumbered?” he questioned with a small, expectant grin.

“Drastically so, I’m afraid,” Aethelind answered him. “Though, with specifications I believe you’ll approve of.”

“Let me hear them,” Björn said, “and I will tell you if I approve or if I do not.”

Aethelind nodded, and took a deep breath. “Torvi and your mother wish to train me to defend myself before I go, and with a majority rule, and my brother’s permission for this quest, I can go to Kattegat to speak with Ivar.”

"You could have no better mentors than Torvi and my mother,” Björn agreed. “But Ivar would not send two shieldmaidens to kill you if he wanted it done. He would likely send an assassin in the night. We would need more than defense training for you… We would need a reason for you to gain his trust, before he ever learns you are there on our behalf.”

“Your mother agrees that we need to work out more details before she can agree to send me to Kattegat, but she has at least agreed to begin working toward that goal. You know we only need a majority, per Torvi, and I have her support, your mother’s, Ubbe’s, and even Bishop Heahmund’s. So, the majority is had, but I would still like to have your support, Björn. The more support I have in this, the greater success I believe we’ll have, and you are quite the ally. You could do much for this plan, I’m sure. We’d be all the better for having you.”

Björn hummed as he thought over what she said. It was true, they would all be better off if he’d agree to give them aid. And his agreement to provide aid, assuming Alfred didn’t stop this- which, considering how Aethelind had talked him into multiple things already, he figured he wouldn’t- then it was really Aethelind who would be better off. And could he hold his support, to have the ‘moral high ground’, so to speak, just so he could say he didn’t support it if something went wrong? Or would he be angry with himself, for not having given her all he could have, and always wondering if it hadn’t been because of him that things had failed, if they did.

This wasn’t a question Björn was certain he had the answer to, just yet. There was too much on each end to consider.

“I imagine you will speak to your brother about this regardless of my decision?” he soon questioned, having already taken a few moments to ponder on what he would decide. When she nodded, he sighed slightly. “Then ask him to allow us all to meet,” he requested. “I want to discuss this with all involved, and then we should take a vote. Those who agree to the final plan will speak in support of it, and those opposed will speak against. I cannot decide now what I think.”

Stubborn, just as Torvi said, Aethelind thought, and yet still gave a slight nod. “That’s very understandable,” she said. “I’ll go and speak to my brother, then, and we can have that arranged. I’m sure he won’t have any issue with it.”

“Aside from sending you to Kattegat?” Björn asked, and Aethelind grimaced.

“Well… that, he may not like at first. But that’s what this meeting will be for!” she almost chirped. “Not to… convince him, exactly, but at least to make everyone feel better about it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ll go regardless of what is decided?” he questioned, regarding her with a curious, yet suspicious gaze.

The almost guilty expression she wore proved his theory. “I-” she began, and then paused. A sigh escaped her, and her eyes dropped. “I can’t stand to see this situation stay this way, or end in violence,” she finally confessed. “Or, more violence, at least. I want to at least try to do some good in it. More than just offering food and shelter. I want to be part of bringing peace back to your lands. It isn’t my place, to shove myself into these plans, I know, but…”

Björn put a hand on her arm, cutting her off there. “Your eagerness to help is appreciated, Princess,” he said, and she smiled.

“Björn, please. You’re my guest. Aethelind is just fine, you needn’t hold to the formalities.” She smiled sweetly and genuinely at him, and he returned the smile, nodding.

“Then it is very appreciated, Aethelind.”

The Princess beamed at him, and nodded. “I’m glad to be of help, then,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go and speak with my brother. But I hope you’ll enjoy the feast, and I’ll try to stop back by before it’s all over, hm?”

“I will be waiting,” he said, and gave a small nod. Aethelind smiled, gave a quick, somewhat playful curtsy, and started off to find her brother, unaware of Björn watching her with an interested smile on his face- one Torvi could recognize all too well as she watched the two. She shared a look with Ubbe, who simply sighed.

Alfred smiled as he saw his sister approaching, and Elsewith at his side smiled as well. The Queen herself, Judith, had finally joined the feast, standing with her son and his betrothed. Her dark hair was pinned up as always in a braided sort of bun, a crown resting atop her head that accented her dark gold gown. The bun rested in such a way that it covered the space Aethelind and Alfred knew should have had an ear. But adultery wasn’t treated lightly in Wessex, and they both knew their father had not been her husband.

“Mother,” Aethelind greeted with a warm smile, and took Judith by the arm, kissing her cheek affectionately, before turning to the Northumbrian Princess beside her brother. “Princess Elsewith.” Elsewith nodded politely to Aethelind, a form of quiet greeting, as she turned to her brother. “Alfred, I need to speak with you alone for a moment.”

Alfred looked a bit concerned by her request, but nodded anyhow. “Alright,” he said. He turned to Elsewith and Judith briefly, saying, “Please, excuse us for a moment,” before he followed Aethelind out of the hall.

Once they were out there, Aethelind looked around for anyone who might be nearby to listen, and then positioned herself in such a way that she’d see if anyone tried to do so. Spies tended to be everywhere at an event like this, and while she doubted Ivar would somehow have any there… She wanted to be sure no one overheard anything.

This behavior, of course, only concerned Alfred further, and his brows creased together in show of this. “Aethelind… What’s going on?” he finally asked her. She took a deep breath, and grinned.

“The Vikings and I have a plan to help the situation in Kattegat, but we need your approval for it before we do anything. So, I can explain everything to you as best I know now, and then Björn has requested we hold a meeting to discuss it all with each other. You, me, all the Vikings, and Bishop Heahmund, as he could be very helpful in a few different ways.”

“What could Bishop Heahmund do?” Alfred questioned, tilting his head a bit.

Aethelind took a deep breath at that question, and seemed to grow a bit more anxious. “Train me, and… give me some advice regarding how to handle Ivar,” she explained slowly.

The look of shock on his face might have been priceless in any other situation, but right now, she was too anxious about him taking this well to really enjoy it. “You want- he wants to train you in what?”

Alfred was very nearly certain he knew what she meant, and that it was the cause of her suddenly nervous disposition, but he wanted it confirmed first. There was no need to panic about what exactly this plan entailed, not until she answered-

"To fight.”

Oh no.

Alfred turned as white as a sheet at her words, and he felt like his heart lifted into his throat. Or sunk into his stomach. He couldn’t be too sure, but he knew it couldn’t have been in his chest anymore. It just… it couldn’t have been.

“I’m going to regret asking this, but… Aethelind, why do you need Bishop Heahmund to teach you to fight?” he questioned her. Another deep breath from her, and Alfred was far more concerned than he’d been a moment before. He’d hoped that perhaps she just wanted to learn because it would be interesting, now that two shieldmaidens had turned up- and hadn’t he just told Ubbe he’d thought she’d have been happier with the Vikings? This made sense to him.

“I want to go to Kattegat.”

Oh no.

“And, I regret asking that,” he said.

Aethelind chuckled a little. “We have more plans, Torvi and I, mainly, though I do have her support, as well as that of Prince Ubbe, Queen Lagertha, Bishop Heahmund, and possibly Björn Ironside. He wants to have this meeting, come up with a more solid plan, and have a vote, and he will either give his support or deny it there.”

Alfred sighed, and nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll allow this meeting and arrange for it, but I am not yet backing this. Not until I feel that you could go safely. I could… I could write to him, perhaps, find a way to warn him you’re coming, and make some reason you would be?”

Aethelind smirked slightly. “It sounds as though you’re already on my side with this,” she pointed out, and he shook his head.

“I just know you’re too stubborn to be stopped if you want to go. It’s better I work with you to ensure your safety on this,” he said.

“I believe that’s what Björn is trying to decide. If he wants to support me so I have my best chance, or if he wants no part in something that could go wrong for me,” Aethelind commented, and chuckled. “I just hope he comes around.”

“It seems you have his favor, I’m sure he will,” Alfred said, smirking slightly, and her eyes widened a bit.

“His… his favor?” she questioned, blinking. “How do you mean I have his favor?”

This now earned a slightly shocked look from Alfred. “Surely, you must know?” he said. “He looks at you like… Well, you must see it?”

Aethelind shook her head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Alfred. See what, exactly? You don’t think Björn is interested in me, do you?”

The look from Alfred assured her that was exactly what he thought, and the girl blanched. “But- but he’s a Viking. Won’t he be returning to Kattegat as soon as we handle all this with Ivar the Boneless, however we handle it? What good would be done for him by having a wife in Wessex, unless he chose not to return to Kattegat after all?”

“I’m not entirely sure Vikings are ever… only interested in marriage, when they meet someone they’re interested in.” Aethelind’s cheeks turned red.

"Oh,” she said, swallowing. “Right. Well… I wouldn’t… You think that’s what he wants here?”

Alfred shrugged a little. “Perhaps,” he said. “But even if that weren’t all he wants, I don’t imagine he’d be open to a Christian marriage.” Through his conversation with Ubbe, he’d quickly learned which of the Ragnarssons were more, and less, open to things not of their culture. And Björn… he was not one of the more open ones. And if he wouldn’t be open to a Christian marriage, then the Princess would not be marrying him, if he asked- and if she approved, of course. But Alfred had already decided the terms of giving his blessing to such a thing when he saw how Björn was watching her. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder if that would ever be an issue, considering the fact Aethelind clearly didn’t even realize he was interested.

But if both Björn and Aethelind ended up in Kattegat, who was to say Björn wouldn’t pursue her? He was getting ahead of himself. Aethelind would first have to go to Kattegat, succeed against Ivar, then Björn would have to go, and she would also still have to be there. Aethelind wasn’t going to pop up wanting to marry a Viking, and that was likely a bridge he was trying to cross before he ever came to the bridge. He did that with many bridges.

“Well.” Alfred was brought out of his thoughts and anxieties by Aethelind beginning to speak. “If he doesn’t want to marry me, we’ll have no issue.”

Alfred nodded. “Right, yes,” he agreed. “So… tell me more of your plan concerning your journey to Kattegat.”

Aethelind began to explain to him everything she had discussed with Björn, Torvi, Ubbe, Lagertha, and Heahmund, and while there was obviously a lot to go over, there wasn’t quite enough for Alfred to agree right there, just as there hadn’t been for Björn.

“We’ll have the meeting, then,” he said with a nod. “And we can set more in stone there, come up with a stronger plan, and see what still needs to be done. Does that sound alright?”

Aethelind nodded her agreement eagerly, grinning widely. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, thank you, Alfred. I know it’s unnerving, but-”

"Oh, it’s more than unnerving, Aethelind. I’d be sending you to possibly one of the most dangerous places I could be sending you. You won’t be safe in Kattegat, not unless you’re trained as best you can be by these Vikings we have here.”

“Or, if I can earn Ivar’s trust and care again,” she pointed out. “I don’t think he’d let anything happen, then.”

“I think that’s going to be harder than simply defeating him in battle.”

Aethelind hated herself momentarily for giggling at that, but she had a bad feeling he was right. “Well, hopefully we can try this first,” she said. “And if we do, then there’ll be peace once again.”

Alfred sighed. He just hoped ‘peace’ wouldn’t mean the Vikings turning their raids back to Wessex once again.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

[mikeisthricedeceased]

Ghost Stories

Chapter 2: The Mechanic

Mando x OC

Warnings: Language, Angst, Graphic Violence

Word Count: ~3.2k

Chapter 1

A/N: The only storyline taking place in chronological order is the one involving Mando. Just wanted to state that early on.

Summary: We meet Vayik and the Finder, two sisters who have a tense but caring relationship with one another. Mando remains cautious around Toram, despite the fact that she watched over the child in his absence and repaired damages to his ship. The Riever claims another victim.

AO3 | Masterlist

~*~*~*~

Vayik marched down the hall, gripping a fistful of brushes that were stiff with the dried remnants of brightly colored paint. She was glad for the relatively empty path, not trusting herself to keep her temper entirely in check should she so much as bump into someone on her way to confront the one who was undoubtedly responsible.

Her gloved fingers further tightened as she neared the open workshop door, teeth gritted as she stormed inside.

She almost immediately came to a halt, poorly concealed giggles reaching her as she took in the sight before her.

The Finder looked up from where she was tinkering at her worktable, expression calm. Her gaze shifted from Vayik’s tense stance and rigid shoulders, to the leather straining over her knuckles where she held the brushes.

Vayik was more preoccupied with the sight of small arms wrapped around the Finder’s neck and scraped knees tucked tight against her waist, the faint giggles even more noticeable now.

The Finder seemed entirely unfazed. “Good morning, vod,” she said simply.

Vayik brought her eyes back up and furiously held up the brushes. “Care to explain why the ceiling outside of the forge is suddenly very pink and green?” she growled, voice made all the more accusatory by the crackle of her modulator.

“Personally, I think we’re in the early stages of an infestation,” reasoned the Finder. She gave no indication that she heard any of the giggling as it intensified.

When it became clear that the giggles had more than one source, Vayik eased. But only slightly. “Is that so?”

The Finder nodded before taking slow, awkward steps around the table between them, revealing two more small children, one clinging to each of her legs. She gestured solemnly down at them. “As you can see, my workshop has already been overrun. I guess that makes the forge the next target.” She shrugged, all three children dropping any attempt at being sneaky with their laughter. “You should probably warn Kith.”

“I shouldn’t have to warn them about anything,” she said, crossing her arms, “because there shouldn’t be any paint on the walls outside of the mural spaces. And there certainly shouldn’t be any paint on the ceilings or in the forge. Isn’t that right?” Her helmet very pointedly titled down toward Alamak and Lisith, who were still sitting on the Finder’s boots and clinging to her.

The pair of them visibly shrank at Vayik’s words.

“Sorry, buir,” Lisith said as Alamak mumbled his own apology. They let go of the Finder and scrambled up to their feet.

Vayik tilted her helmet, indicating the door behind her, and the two were quick to rush out and find other things to entertain them.

Once they had left, her attention was solely forward again. “That includes you, Kerreeka,” she said, voice stern.

A small face appeared over the Finder’s shoulder. “But—”

“No arguing,” Vayik said firmly. “You know where you’re allowed to paint, and you painted where you weren’t supposed to.”

Kerreeka reluctantly slid down off of the Finder’s back, her head hanging as she shuffled forward. “I’m sorry for painting on the ceiling,” she said softly, pouting. “I won’t do it anymore.”

Vayik just looked the girl over for a moment before sighing heavily and stepping aside. “Go on. Find the others.”

She left the room just as quickly as the other two had, scrambling to get away from the tension.

Then, it was just Vayik and the Finder.

They were both silent for a few seconds, neither of them really wanting to start the conversation, but knowing that it needed to happen.

Vayik’s shoulders slowly slumped and she walked closer to the worktable, setting the brushes down.

The Finder broke the silence first. “Don’t be too hard on them,” she said, dark eyes searching the Mandalorian’s posture.

“I wouldn’t have to be if you would stop encouraging such dangerous behavior,” Vayik huffed.

The Finder’s stance shifted, hands on her hips. “I was with them the whole time, vod. It was perfectly safe.”

She scoffed. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“The point is that you aren’t always here. The point is that they are just children and they will try to do that kind of shit when no one’s around to make sure they don’t hurt themselves!” She jabbed a finger in her sister’s direction. “You are supposed to be an adult. You should show them how to have fun that doesn’t involve going near the forge while it’s unattended, or painting somewhere that’s impossible to reach when you’re not around! It puts ideas in their heads, makes them forget to be cautious because they assume it’ll all go just how it did when you were there!” Vayik placed her hands flat on the surface of the worktable as she exhaled shakily and tried to compose herself. Her visor shifted level with the Finder’s face. “Those children have your name, vod,” she said flatly.

The Finder tensed immediately. “Don’t,” she growled.

Vayik didn’t back down. “You’re the one who brought them here. The one who wanted to make sure they had a home, a family—”

“Stop it.”

“—after they’d lost everything. And yet here you are, putting them at risk for no reason. Making them feel like they’re invincible, even more so than children already do, when they’re too young to know any better. What are we supposed to do when you’re not here? Kith, Me, Leo, Nevera? We can’t do what you do.” Her shoulders dropped down again, her whole posture seeming very tired. “I need you to tell me you understand that.”

The Finder didn’t look up as she nodded, her voice even rougher than usual. “I understand.”

“Good.”

“I’ll make sure we stay away from the forge, and I’ll keep them grounded the next time they want to paint.” She glanced up at that dark visor. “I’m sorry, Vayik. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Thank you,” she said firmly. And then, quieter, “This all used to be so much easier.”

The Finder took a slow step closer and leaned a hip against the table. “I know.”

The room was silent all over again, but the tension was gone. All that was left was a fractured sort of sorrow.

It was Vayik’s turn to speak first. “I hope they aren’t breaking anything,” she muttered.

One of the Finder’s brows rose. “Kith or the kids?” The subtle tilt of the helmet across from her indicated a harsh glare and she chuckled.

“I’m telling them you said that. We’ll see if you’re still laughing when they melt your little project down into a flimsiweight.”

The Finder shrugged, a grin tugging at her mouth. “That might still make a pretty good weapon. Just have to throw it.”

“Throw it at you, maybe,” Vayik grumbled.

She rolled her eyes at that.

There was a beat before Vayik nodded to the datapad near the edge of the table, out of the way of the main work surface. “Anything new?”

The Finder straightened and walked over to grab the device. “There are a few new parts down in scrap, stuff from older ship models and probably junked droid components. Found some areas to look for information about weaving that specific type of traditional Sullustan robe that Yuumma wants.” She typed something in before handing the datapad to the Mandalorian, smirking. “I’ve also been invited to a party.”

“A party?” asked Vayik as she looked down at the display. Realization set in as she looked over the details and she stiffened. “You can’t do this.”

“I think we both know that I can,” the Finder said slowly. She got the impression that Vayik was scowling down at the datapad.

“That doesn’t mean that you should. Not alone, at least.”

That sounded like a scowl.

The Finder crossed her arms loosely, head tilted. “I’ll be alright. You know I can handle myself if things get complicated.”

That scuffed green helmet lowered a fraction. “And you know that that isn’t always enough,” she said solemnly.

Dark eyes reflexively glanced at the red stripe on Vayik’s left pauldron. There was a matching yellow one on the right. She just nodded, clearing her throat as she looked away.

“Be careful. Okay, vod?” Vayik fixed her with a steady gaze. “Make sure those kids have someone to cause trouble with.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will,” said the Finder, chuckling roughly.

Vayik offered a short nod. “Good.” Her helmet turned as she glanced around the workshop, straightening up and tapping her gloved fingers on the worktable to break the growing heaviness in the air. “Is there anything else?”

She sighed, shoulders slowly relaxing. “Just that little project Kith and Leo have been working on for me. I’d like to break them in before I head out, if I can.”

“Alright. I’ll check in with them,” said Vayik. “I think Kith mentioned that they were almost done.”

“I look forward to comparing them to the old ones. See how the craftsmanship has improved over the years.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted. “Are you saying my riduur wasn’t skilled enough when they helped craft the old ones?” she accused, though there was little real force behind it.

The Finder held up her hands in surrender. “I wasn’t saying anything. Just noting that they’ve gotten even better than they were when I first showed up, which was already a remarkable level of skill.”

Vayik shook her head with a scoff, turning on her heel to head out. “Sheb’urcyin.”

“I heard that,” the Finder called, grinning.

“I know,” came the reply as Vayik turned out into the hall.

~*~*~*~

He stood with his back against the sealed doors of the weapon store, looking as relaxed as could be, hands folded and resting at his belt. From that position, he was easily able to watch over the child quietly playing on the narrow bunk next to him, as well as keep an eye on the mechanic as she finished repairing the side ramp.

His eyes locked onto her when the bright sparks of her welding tools ceased and she stood up to survey her work.

Seemingly satisfied, she removed her goggles, tucked her tools away and hefted her bags up onto her shoulders before ascending the ramp into the ship. Pulling the dark bandana off of her face, she nodded to him. “It’s good to go.”

The scar across her face was made even harsher by the hull’s lower lighting. It spanned from just below her hairline, between her eyes, and down to the opposite side of her jaw. It was old but he could tell it hadn’t healed cleanly.

His helmet dipped in acknowledgement before he took the child into his arms and quickly punched in the code to draw up the telescopic gate and seal it. As it steadily hissed, he made to start up the ladder.

He’d just grabbed a rung and stepped up when she caught his attention.

“Am I allowed up there, or do you want me to stay here?” she asked, a hand on her hip as she pointed in the direction of the cockpit. “I understand if you’d rather keep strangers away, given what happened.” She shrugged in sympathy.

That dark visor turned to her as he considered the consequences of either option. Letting her up meant the possibility of her harming the child or himself, or gaining control of the ship. Leaving her in the hull could allow her to sabotage the ship’s systems, steal supplies, or take advantage of any weapons that were not currently on his person.

The door shut with a dull clunk and his gaze lowered to the blaster at her hip. Being a mechanic, she was likely strong, but he was willing to assume that she relied on scrappiness more than skill in a fight. Still, he’d rather decrease the risk as much as possible.

“Leave your weapons. That includes the tools,” he specified.

For a moment, so brief he might’ve imagined it, tension pulled at her shoulders and something sparked behind her eyes. But it was gone almost instantly, and he wasn’t quite sure if it had been there at all.

She pursed her lips as she looked down at her belt before nodding. “Alright.”

He watched as she unclasped her tool belt and set it down on top of her bags, soon joined by her blaster, still secured in its holster.

When she was done, she held her hands up, brows raised. “Good?”

His posture relaxed fractionally. “Fine.”

Toram waited as he climbed up the ladder, the child carefully tucked against his chest, before she followed. When she stepped into the cockpit, she immediately noticed the open bassinet resting on the foldout seat to the right of the pilot’s seat.

The Mandalorian walked right past it, easing into the pilot’s seat with the baby in his lap.

She just smirked at his protectiveness as she unfolded the chair on the left and sat down, arms crossing over her chest.

He started prepping the ship for flight, the child cooing and watching his movements with those massive brown eyes, ears rising slightly in interest. The rising mechanical whir of the engines powering up overtook the baby’s babbling in the moments before take off, a low rumble spreading through the entirety of the Crest. As it lifted off the ground, he braced himself. The moments he actually had to pay attention to flying would be when he was most vulnerable if she wanted to take advantage of him or the child, even if she was currently stripped of her weapons and he was fully armed.

He was also fighting to press down the guilt that began consuming him upon finding out that the child had been in direct danger while he was away. He couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it when he had to focus on leaving the atmosphere, calculating a reasonable enough place to jump, and keeping an eye on the Razor Crest’s newest passenger.

The little one seemed to pick up on his unease though, making a troubled noise and reaching for his gloved hands where they gripped the yoke.

He took one hand off the controls and let the baby hold it as a sign of reassurance.

They climbed higher up into the atmosphere, the ship shuddering against the resistance until the air gradually thinned.

Once they reached smoother flying and fully left the planet’s gravitational pull, he paused.

His helmet turned slightly to the left as he asked “Where do I need to drop you off?”

Toram shrugged, more to herself than for his benefit. “Anywhere with a decent spaceport will be fine,” she told him.

He gave no response, turning back to the controls again and taking his hand from the child long enough to charge the hyperdrive and set the coordinates for the jump. Pressing the lever forward, the stars stretched around them until the hyperdrive was fully engaged and the ship was swallowed by hyperspace.

The Mandalorian placed his hand back within the child’s grasp and sat back, allowing the guilt to trickle in slowly to keep from upsetting the baby and to prevent himself from being overwhelmed while still feeling wary of Toram.

Throughout the day, there had been little in the way of physical demand, but he was still being weighed down by exhaustion.

~*~*~*~

The tall Weequay bounty hunter scanned the crowds on the street suspiciously, the hood of his coat drawn up to offer some form of disguise as he walked. Such behavior had become common for him in the last few days, ever since a passing acquaintance had let it slip that someone had put a request on him.

He hadn’t believed it at first, assuming it was some joke or mock threat. These things were common among bounty hunters. However, his vague caution had steadily crept into paranoia. He found himself glancing over his shoulder every few steps, reluctant to accept any new bounties for fear of making his location too obvious.

He wanted to believe that the Riever was just a myth, some creature that those operating in the more...illegitimate businesses across the galaxy had made up in order to threaten one another. Wanted to believe that it was just a grandiose bluff.

But he also couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him.

The Twi’lek and Nautolan couple in front of him stopped abruptly, setting him on edge. His hand closed on the grip of his blaster just as the Nautolan woman excitedly pointed to a fruit stand down the street.

He couldn’t bring himself to relax, even as the couple scurried off. The constant movement and noise of the night market was torture on his already worn nerves. Fingers still squeezing the blaster at his hip, he quickly turned into an alley, hoping to escape the assault on his senses.

The level of noise began to decrease only a few yards into the alley and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. There were a few more blocks before the spaceport and he was hoping to stow away on one of the cargo ships heading offworld. Any opportunity to throw pursuit off his trail would be taken advantage of, whether said pursuit was real or not.

His eyes shifted from one alleyway to the next, constantly bracing for someone to rush him, as he briskly moved through the shadows.

Rounding the next corner, his only warning was a dull gleam before something slammed into his chest.

He let out a pained cry, reflexively drawing his weapon and aiming down the alleyway in front of him. He fired, the charge illuminating the walls around him before pinging against an approaching figure.

He kept shooting at the silent form, stumbling back. His tunic was beginning to stick to him, and he risked a glance down, firing wildly in his panic.

The hilt of a blade stuck out of his abdomen. Nausea brought the sour taste of blood to his mouth.

He looked back up as the figure reached him and his blaster was knocked away, sending it skidding across the ground.

Black eyes bore into him as the knife twisted and he helplessly grasped at the figure, blood rising up into his mouth and spilling down his chin.

“Please,” he gasped, scrabbling for purchase, eyes wide. He made a feeble attempt to push out of its hold, to run away or grab his blaster, but it held firm.

The blade was yanked free. For a moment, the pain was gone and he swayed unsteadily, vision focusing on those black eyes.

Then it was plunged back into him, piercing straight through his heart.

It wasn’t long before all remaining strength bled out of him and he slumped to the ground, eyelids heavy. He listed to the side slightly before collapsing. All movement ceased.

The figure withdrew the blade, wiping it clean on the bounty hunter’s coat and sliding it back into its sheath. It drew another blade, this one larger and heavier, in order to separate the bounty hunter from his head. Again, it used the already stained coat to clean the blade. The head went into a sack connected to the figure’s belt, the body unceremoniously tossed into a dumpster.

Plucking up the discarded blaster, the figure silently disappeared down a dark alleyway.

~*~*~*~

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Taglist

@misslolasworld @stevieharrrr @mrsparknuts @annlandy @readsalot73 

@blue-tidal-waves-blog @beskars @that-one-weird-one 

@hopelikethesun @maxlordd @absurdthirst @pablopascal @ezrasarm @storiesofthefandomlovers @catfishingmorales @cinewhore @longitud-de-onda @mxndoscyarika @dindjarindiaries @pettyprocrastination @cosmicbug379 @miscellaneous-mando @engineeredfiction @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @fleetwoodmactshirts @hdlynn @softpedropascal @di-kut​ @forever-rogue​ @lannister-slings-and-arrows​ @lestrange2703 @anxiety-riddled-mando @darthstyles @plexflexico @spacegayofficial @aerynwrites @corrupt-fvcker

@tintinwrites @shadow-assassin-blix @flightlessangelwings @agentpike @woakiees @darksideofclarke @velvetmel0n @damerondjarin @poeticandors @thirsty-flygirl @perropascal @writefightandflightclub @yougottakeeponkeepinon @huliabitch @mylifeliterally @maybege

~ Mike

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 4

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: We’re back with another chapter~~! This one FINALLY goes into the actual Season 4 haha I’m really happy you all enjoyed the first half of this season, you guys make it worth everything so thank you to all of those who read, liked, reblogged, and commented, it means the world to me! Enough of me being sappy, let’s get into it!

Chapter 7 

A month had passed after Nina’s exile. Since then, the group of survivors have brought more people into the prison. Rick thought that they needed to build the community they had and couldn’t let one individual stop them from trusting others. They were, however, much more wary about the people they brought in, making sure to ask three questions: how many walkers they’ve killed, how many people they’ve killed, and why. They’d also made sure to not let any new comers go on runs until they were sure they could be fully trusted. 

Daryl and Glenn were planning a large group run to The Big Spot, another abandoned shopping mall Glenn had spotted while on other runs. The group that they planned to bring along with them was Maggie, Sasha, Tyreese, and Zach, a boy from Woodbury who had become Beth’s boyfriend. With the help of some others, they were now all preparing to go on the run, packing up some emergency supplies in the cars. 

Gloria puts a bag into the trunk of a car they were taking then purses her lips in thought, then holds onto Daryl’s arm as he walks by her, “hey...”

Placing a box into the trunk, he looks at her, noticing her perplexed face, “wha’s wrong?”

“I’m... I’m worried.” Gloria sighs, telling him honestly, “the last time we went on a run to a mall...”

“Hey... shh...” he cuts her off, knowing what she’s insinuating, he caresses her face with his knuckles, “nothin’s gonna happen, we’re gonna be fine.” 

“I can’t help but worry about you when you’re out there.” Gloria looks down, shy and slightly embarrassed. 

Her words cause Daryl to wrap his arms around her, holding her close, his hand cradling her head, “ya don’ need to worry ‘bout me, I’ll always come back to ya.” 

Gloria hums, wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling into his chest, “did you know that Glenn proposed to Maggie the other day?” 

“Oh yeah?” Daryl smiles at the news.

“Yeah, I’m glad romance still exists in this cruel ugly world.” Gloria smiles, sighing happily.

Daryl chuckles then kisses the side of her head, “I love ya.” he whispers into her ear.

The words make Gloria push away from Daryl, looking up at him in pleasant surprise. She didn’t expect him to be the first one to say those three words. A shy smile creeps on her face as she kisses him gently on the lips. Daryl squints at her when she pulls away from the kiss.

“Ya ain’t gon’ say it back?” he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. 

“I’ll say it when you get back.” Gloria grins cheekily at him, making Daryl scoff. 

From behind Daryl, the sight of Beth with Zach catches Gloria’s eye as they share sweet smiles and kisses. Gloria chuckles and nudges Daryl to look behind him. He glances back and smiles too at the scene, then proceeds to get more supplies for the run. Beth plants another kiss on Zach’s cheek then walks away from him.

“What, no goodbye?” he calls out to her.

“Nope!” Beth grins as she doesn’t even turn around to him.

Daryl walks back to the car carrying a crate while noticing the two teenagers, “’s like a damn romance novel.”

Gloria laughs at his words, “stop, they’re cute!”

Once he places the crate into the trunk, he slams it closed then goes to the other cars with Gloria following him. They both check the other cars to see if they’re missing anything else for the run. Gloria looks around and sees Glenn but no Maggie. She goes up to her brother and nudges him.

“Where’s Maggie, isn’t she going on the run?” she asks, leaning against the truck.

“No, she’s not.” Glenn answers, then looks up at her, “can you um... can you check on her for me? She might not be feeling well.”

Gloria blinks at him, confused, “might?” 

“She’ll explain it to you when you see her.” Glenn says, patting her arm as he walks away.

His answer did not clear up any confusion, it only made her even more confused. She sighs as she pushes herself off the car, crossing her arms and going over to Daryl who had already mounted his bike. Gloria puts at hand on his shoulder and kisses his cheek.

“You be safe out there.” she says with a soft smile.

Daryl looks up at her and pats her hand that’s on his shoulder, “Always am.” 

Seeing that the others are ready to set off on the run, Gloria backs away from Daryl who revs up his bike. She watches as they drive out to the main gates, meeting with Michonne who had just come back from a month of searching for the Governor outside. Remembering her short but confusing conversation with Glenn, Gloria goes to check up on Maggie to see what Glenn was talking about. 

“Can I come in?” she asks after knocking on the open gate of Maggie and Glenn’s shared cell.

Maggie looks up and smiles, “of course.” 

Gloria walks into the cell and sits on the bed beside Maggie, “are you feeling okay?”

“I am...” Maggie says but frowns in confusion, “why do you ask?”

“Glenn told me that you might not be feeling well.” Gloria tells her, shrugging.

Maggie chuckles and shakes her head, “I’m fine. It’s just...” she glances at the floor then back at Gloria, hesitating to speak, “I... could be.... Pregnant.”

“Really?!” Gloria asks, her eyes wide with happy shock, “when did you last have your period?”

“I haven’t really been counting the days but it feels like a few months ago.” Maggie explains.

“Well, have you done a test yet?” she asks, her nurse side peeping through.

Maggie sighs and shakes her head, “I’m a little afraid to...”

“It’s best that you do, just so you know and don’t have to be worried about whether you are or not.” Gloria tells her then reaches out to hold Maggie’s hands with hers, “I’ll be right there with you when you take it so you don’t have to be afraid.” 

Maggie smiles gratefully at her then nods, “okay.” 

“You head to the bathrooms, I’ll get a test for you at the infirmary.” Gloria instructs as her and Maggie get up from her bed and walk out of the cell.

“Why do we even have those in the infirmary anyway?” Maggie questions, slightly amused and wiggling an eyebrow at Gloria, “are you and Daryl...?

Gloria looks at Maggie, bewildered and blushing slightly, “what?! No! The boys went on a run and grabbed a bunch of stuff without trying to sort out what was what and just somehow brought a bunch of maternal stuff back.”

Maggie laughs at Gloria’s reaction and pats her back, nodding and accepting her answer. The girls split ways, Maggie going to the bathrooms and Gloria to the infirmary. Reaching for the bin she had put together specifically for females, Gloria takes out two pregnancy tests and places the bin back in it’s spot. She figured that she would get two just in case Maggie didn’t believe the first one or it turned out to be faulty. She’s about to leave the infirmary when Patrick, a boy who was close to Carl’s age, comes by looking rather pale. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Gloria asks once she sees his complexion, “sit down.”

“Carol told me to come here to see either you, Hershel, or Dr. Caleb.” Patrick explains as he makes his way to sit on the patient bed, but not without coughing a few times. 

Gloria nods then sets to work. Taking a tongue depressor, she tells Patrick to open his mouth wide and presses the wooden stick down, firm but gentle on his tongue as she shines a small handheld flashlight down to check his throat. 

“Your throat doesn’t seem to be swollen, so that’s a good sign.” Gloria tells him, then places her hand on his forehead, “you don’t seem to have a fever either.”

“I’ve been feeling really nauseous and coughing a whole lot.” Patrick tells her, worry in his voice.

Gloria nods as she looks at him, “yeah, you don’t look perfectly fine, but you should be okay, you might have just caught a small cold. Just remember to rest and drink lots of water, and if you don’t feel better by tomorrow morning, come back to see me, Hershel or Dr. Caleb, okay?”

Patrick nods and thanks her before going back to his cell block. Gloria quickly grabs the two pregnancy tests and rushes off to the bathrooms, worried that Maggie would be upset at her for keeping her waiting so long. She calls out a string of apologies when she sees her sister-in-law.

“Patrick came to the infirmary and wasn’t feeling so well, so I did a small check up on him.” Gloria explains quickly and slightly out of breath.

Maggie chuckles at her, “it’s okay, don’t worry. Is he okay though?”

“Yeah, he should be fine. He’s coughing and says that he feels nauseous but I didn’t see any signs of anything too serious.” Gloria tells her.

“That’s good,” Maggie nods, then furrows her brows together when Gloria hands her both of the pregnancy tests, “why are there two?”

“I didn’t know if you would believe just one.” Gloria shrugs, a sheepish grin on her face.

Maggie playfully rolls her eyes and nudges her, taking the tests and goes to one of the stalls. Gloria leans on the sink counter and waits outside patiently for Maggie to do her business. Once she hears the stall door opening, she pushes herself off the counter and looks to Maggie who’s looking down at the test in her hand. She’s unable to read her face then goes to her and looks over her shoulder, reading the test as negative. 

“You don’t know whether to be happy or sad about this, do you.” Gloria says more as a statement than a question.

Maggie nods and sighs, “I do want a baby but... I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle that in the world we live in now.. And after what happened with Lori...”

Gloria wraps her arms around Maggie’s shoulders, “”hey, nothing’s gonna happen to you, you can handle anything that comes your way with us by your side.”

Maggie smiles at her and nods, “yeah, I know.”

---

Later in the evening, Glenn and Daryl’s group had returned from the run but rather than being happy from the successful run, their moods were solemn and depressed. Gloria was in her and Daryl’s shared cell, sitting on the bed writing in a blank sheet music book Glenn had found her on a previous run. She’d been keeping up with her music and writing songs again to pass the time. Sometimes she would even hum her songs to Daryl, lulling him to sleep. 

Daryl walks into the cell, stopping close to the doorway as Gloria was in the middle of humming softly to herself the song she was writing. She looks up at him and sees that he’s looking down at the ground. She frowns as she notices something’s wrong, putting the book to the side, she gets up. 

“Daryl?” she calls out to him as she makes her way to him, caressing his face with her hand, “what’s wrong?” 

“We lost Zach...” he manages to mutter out. 

Gloria stares at him with worried eyes, not knowing what to say. It felt like a while since the last time they had lost anyone in their group, she knew it was too good to be true to last this long. Her mind wanders to Beth and her heart aches for the girl.

“Is... does Beth know?” Gloria asks softly.

Daryl nods, “jus’ told her.”

“How’s she taking it?” she bites her lip, worried about his reply.

“She’s fine,” Daryl chuckles, bitterness in his voice, “ain’ even sheddin’ a tear. Said she doesn’ cry anymore... who the hell says that?” 

He walks deeper into the cell past Gloria, taking off his crossbow and setting it on the ground beside Gloria’s bag and belt of daggers. Gloria takes his hand and guides him to sit on the bed, taking a seat beside him as she wraps her arms around him, kissing his cheek.

“Are you okay?” she says in a small whisper. 

Daryl doesn’t respond right away, he seems to be in deep thought for awhile as Gloria patiently waits for him to speak. Finally, he lets out a sigh.

“It’s been awhile since anythin’ bad happened... since we lost someone.” he starts, “should’ve never brought him on the run...” 

“Daryl...” Gloria reaches down and holds his hand, “no one can ever predict these things, every single time anyone goes on a run, there’s always a possibility that someone might not make it back, and I know it sucks but you still go anyway.. You can’t prevent every loss, no one can.”

He lets out another heavy sigh and nods, he then glances to the side and notices Gloria’s book is open. Daryl takes it and looks at the pages, not comprehending what’s written on the paper.

“Ya writin’ again?” he asks then leans into her as she nods, “what’s it sound like?”

Gloria chuckles softly and turns two pages back, “I don’t like starting in the middle of a song.” 

She kisses his temple then starts to hum the melody to him, a soft smile on her face. She could feel the tension in his body slowly dissipating as he relaxes in her embrace. Gloria was somehow always able to calm him down and help him feel better with her voice, there was just something about her that soothed him like nothing else. 

---

Next Chapter

I know that compared to the previous chapters, this one may seem more uneventful but it gets better! I also tried to incorporate more fluff in each chapter haha I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I liked writing it! Please let me know what you think!! Love you all~~

Also, I know it’s scary out in the world right now with everything that’s going on so I just wanted to let you guys knows that if you ever need someone to talk to or just need someone to listen while you vent, my inbox is always open, I’m here for you guys!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep​ | @letsstarsfalling​ | @molethemollie​ | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox​ | @womanup22​ | @jodiereedus22​ | @theonlyone-meeeee​ | @theunofficialduke​ | @inlovewdxx​ | @delightfullykrispypeach​ | @mrsfortune1306​ | @wolfkg​ | @funeral-7​ | @wnygirl2012​

[fleckcmscott]

Another Decade

Summary: Arthur discovers Y/N's fortieth is just around the corner. He hopes to get the occasion right.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 5,044

A/N: This request comes from @hhandley80​, who is an absolute sweetheart! Funnily enough, I got the request for this story and Another Year within a couple days of each other. Thank you so much for it! It was great to write.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! 

This morning's therapy appointment had boosted Arthur's spirit. Left him refreshed instead of worn. Dr. Ludlow had given him a break from discussing his negative thoughts and various neuroses. Rather, she'd asked him what he wanted to talk about. What was foremost on his mind. And he'd spent close to the entire hour diving into what it was like to live with Y/N.

Having a person who cared about him was fulfilling. Beautiful. Challenging. Struggles inevitably happened but she attempted to help him through them. (A stark difference from when he’d been on his own.) The faith she'd placed in him by inviting him into her home was exciting.

Fears he'd never be worthy of that trust or such a good, intelligent woman did tend to eat at him. Especially when he couldn’t sleep or suspected he was slipping. But he was trying. Doing his best to learn every day, every hour, every minute. To alter his view of himself to include intimate partner alongside mentally ill loner. “I- I thought it would fix me,” he’d said. “It’s hard. But I don’t feel so bad all the time anymore.”

The doctor had complimented his resolve. Said he was dealing with all the changes as well as could be expected. If he followed his treatment plan, she anticipated he'd continue to do so. Appreciating the recognition, Arthur had wondered how to keep her praises close.

And now here he was. Experiencing the ordinariness of sitting in a diner with his girlfriend. Talking about their respective mornings. Sharing a meal. The crinkle fry he grabbed from the blue-plate special in the center of the table was soggy. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he dunked it in ketchup, a possible punchline coming to mind. If he could just figure out the right-

An inviting caress to the back of his hand brought him back to the present. He hadn't meant to tune out Y/N. With an apologetic grin, he pressed back into the booth's plastic cushions and took another drag off his cigarette.

“I was saying I need to head back to work,” she told him. A smile slowly spread across her face, until it nearly blinded him. “And that I can’t believe we’ve been shacked up for almost two months. I know it’s been an adjustment-“

“A good one,” he interrupted gently, interlocking their fingers.

"I’m proud of you.” The pink on her cheeks was faint. “I wouldn’t have taken the leap with anyone else. I can’t seem to get enough of your company, Mr. Fleck.” With that, she signaled for the waitress, retrieved her wallet from her purse, and got out some cash. Rising, she turned to Arthur. “Get the change for me,” she said, heading towards the back.

Her suede billfold was open on the table, her Gotham City ID card in view. He tentatively picked it up to examine the photo. Her hair was uncharacteristically flat, shorter than it was now. The flash had turned her lovely eyes red, and her lips were agape, as though she was in the middle of a sentence. A giggle escaped him. Frumpy. She was frumpy.

Reading her details, his brow quirked at her full name: “Y/N M/N L/N.” There was a nice rhythm to it, one that would also work with “Fleck,” if they got as far as he daydreamed. Then he saw her date of birth and stilled.

Her fortieth was in less than two weeks: 4/6/1942. April sixth. Shit.

He’d learned so many facts about her: the names of her nephews and niece; which college she’d attended; her favorite bands. She’d told him her birthday was in the spring. How the hell had he neglected to ask her the specific date? Awash with embarrassment, a hiccup left him and he covered his mouth.

The waitress returned with a dubious look, a receipt, and coins. As he counted out the tip, he calculated what he had in his own wallet and checking account. He’d scrimped and saved to cover the electric and water bills (though he knew he’d have to pay them in secret to avoid Y/N’s finding a way to repay him). Could he afford a decent gift, too?

Arm in arm, they walked back to Y/N’s workplace. She chatted about that afternoon’s court process, and he puffed away as if he was going to Hoyt’s office for an impromptu scolding. When they reached the steps in front of her building, she tugged at him until he stepped closer. “You’re so stiff.”

Putting on a half-grin, he leaned into her. “Don’t worry about me.” He stole a chaste kiss, one she tried to turn into more before he backed off. “I’ll see you later.”

When he got home, he didn’t bother to change into his thermal shirt and pajama bottoms. Relaxing wasn’t an option. Stretching and pacing the kitchen, he breathed in and out, in and out. He needed to focus instead of letting himself be thrown off. Like a good partner would.

Plans. He had to make plans. And not the vagaries floating around in his head of what boyfriends were supposed to do. Special ones. Personal ones. Ones that demonstrated the depths of his love for her. This was important. The start of a new decade. And her first birthday with him.

Unable to conjure other options, he grabbed the phone from the wall and dialed Y/N’s office. His leg bounced harder with every ring. He hadn’t yet spoken with Patricia, Y/N’s friend and co-worker. But he’d heard she was nice. Any suggestions she could offer were welcome.

Thank goodness she answered before he lost his nerve. “Shaw and Associates. Patricia speaking.”

“Hi,” he pushed out, fiddling with the phone cord. “Um, this is Arthur. Arthur Fleck. Y/N’s boyfriend?”

A smile lingered in her professional lilt. “It’s nice to talk to you, finally. But she isn’t here. I can take a message.”

“No, I know.” If he hesitated too long, he'd reveal his awkwardness. So he went for it. “Do you know what Y/N’s favorite cake is?” That question commenced a conversation that gradually became easier. Each sentence soothed. Consoled the irritation he’d aimed at himself.

Y/N liked hummingbird cake, a mix of pineapple, banana, and cinnamon. It sounded intricate and expensive. There was a bakery that sold it by the slice, according to Patricia. Y/N hadn’t disclosed what gifts she would fancy, but had said she didn’t need any knick-knacks, mugs, or other such trifles. As for activities, she was uncomplicated. She liked going to the movies and restaurants. Conversations and walks. The mundanity of domestic life, especially since becoming involved with him.

That lovely sentiment caused his eyelids to shut, an ember to glow in his heart. But it only confirmed what he already knew. “I want to make her happy,” he breathed. “I’m new at this.”

“We all were once,” she said, brushing his concerns off. “Arthur, she’ll love anything you do. Because you’re the one doing it.”

The kindness she was extending to him felt surreal. Not yet used to it, he tried to believe it wasn't a trick. He thanked her quietly, for her ideas and for listening to him. But as he was about to hang up, she gave him one last piece of advice. “Wear your button-up with the blue flowers. And your yellow vest.”

Blinking, he frowned. “But those are for work.”

Patricia laughed softly. “Yeah, well. She likes them. What was it she said? ‘They accentuate his sexy waist?’”

A burn rushed across his face and he rubbed his forehead. “...Oh.”

Well, that was a request he could handle.

~~~~~

It seemed as though newspaper adverts, television commercials, and even the damned billboards plastered around Gotham had an ax to grind. They all declared the same thing. Women needed to “mold their faces back to youth!” “Guard against aging skin!” Learn they could “look young again!” To be someone other than themselves.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dropped the magazine she’d been reading in the trash can next to her desk. She’d be crossing into the “Fatal Forties” in a week. While she did use lotion before bed to prevent the formation of wrinkles, and the prospect of gray hair wasn’t one she relished, turning the big 4-0 bothered her less than she’d anticipated. Her looks were minor concerns compared to what she’d gained over the years.

The hardships she’d endured had mostly strengthened her. Allowed her, mercifully, to grow into a person who was comfortable with herself. It was said women were supposed to be set in their ways by now. And in many respects, that was true. She enjoyed her routines. She liked her career. She loved participating in life amidst millions of other people.

But meeting Arthur had changed her path. Started her on an adventure she treasured. A journey into actual partnership, rather than her earlier attempts to please and meet other’s expectations. Attempts she had failed at. Miserably.

He hadn’t cared she was five years his senior. Hadn’t hinted that he’d considered her a “spinster.” Never joked that she was an “old maid.” If she stood in front of the cosmetic counter at the pharmacy while he got his prescriptions, he’d slink up behind her and say, “You’re already pretty.” She’d never expected him to make her feel more desirable now than she’d ever felt in her twenties, stretch marks, moderately saggy breasts, and all.

During the past few days, she’d tried to piece together what he could have planned for her birthday. He hadn’t left any clues, though one night he had hurriedly tucked something under a couch cushion. He’d been a bit out of sorts, though. Biting his nails more than usual. Seeking greater reassurance.

She’d had plenty of good birthdays. There’d been parties and games. Presents. Hugs and well wishes. When she’d taken care of her father it had mostly been forgotten, apart from the cards she’d received from her ex-husband and sister. The passage of time had been marked by worsening dementia. And she had been fine with not caring.

In contrast, Arthur had stated he’d never known what it was like to matter to someone. Not until her. He’d told her he’d given Penny a blouse for her birthday once or twice. That had been years ago, however, before his mother’s reactions to him had gradually reduced to requests to send letters. Before her health had declined when he was a child and he’d had to take over every basic task. Before he’d become too exhausted to try.

Would it be fair to expect him to take much notice?

At the end of a long workday, she’d be satisfied with a quiet evening at home. Cooking dinner together. Drinking wine until she felt warm and fuzzy. Kisses exchanged here and there. Maybe some fooling around before she nodded off on the sofa with her feet in his lap. Such basic joys would be plenty.

~~~~~

The page in Arthur’s journal taken up by Y/N’s special day wasn’t atypical. He’d been writing about her since the grocery store. (“I wonder what her name tastes like. Less bitter than mine, I bet.”) Since they’d shared donuts. (“I shud have given Sara my number.”) Since she’d stared at him, then smiled at him, and he’d felt the whole world change. (“I hope Y/N likes the joke I rote for her. I practised it 100 times! Maybe she’ll let me touch her again. Shit. I’m nervos.”)

With it a mere four days away, there wasn’t much time left for gift hunting. So he pulled on his trusty tan jacket and headed out. He was unsatisfied with what his search had turned up so far. Flowers. Candy. Nylons. It had all been mediocre when she was beyond compare.

On the verge of desperation and distress, he finally managed to stumble upon the right shop. The name above the entrance, Nice Twice, was catchy. And there was a sign: “Personalization available!” Following a quick glance through the streaked shop window, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and opened the wooden door.

As he stepped inside a shopkeeper bell rang. The stench of sandalwood incense and mothballs was thick, causing him to wince. The place was overstuffed, filled with circular clothing racks, shelves of home decor and appliances, and furniture from the sixties. He tread along the faded, orange parquet floor. Squeezed between displays of bell bottoms and coats to reach a large jewelry counter by the cash register.

A man Arthur assumed was the owner popped out from behind a nearby shoe rack. He appeared to be what Penny had disdainfully referred to as a “hippie,” with his beaded headband and light blue jeans. When asked if he’d found anything he liked, Arthur answered, “Not yet.”

His shoulders tilted, drew together as he scanned the contents of the glass cabinet. Being able to get Y/N diamond earrings or a bracelet would have been ideal. He’d heard they were supposed to be symbols of commitment. Show her how important she was to him. But they’d never be affordable, even in a thrift store. There were some lovely brooches but they weren’t her style. She didn’t wear pins, anyway.

About fifteen minutes had passed when, at last, he spotted a suitable piece. The owner gave it to him to inspect. The heart, hanging from a long, silver chain, was a tad smaller than the end of his thumb. Purple, blue, and gold flowers, faded with age, were pressed under the pendant’s rounded, glass front. It was lovely, like her. And picturing her wearing it made his chest tighten.

The necklace was twelve dollars. For two dollars more, the heart’s silver back could be engraved. Arthur could definitely swing that. It took only seconds for him to choose what should be etched into it, having had his imagination sparked by a recent fifties sit-com. It would be ready Monday, the day before her birthday.

While Arthur retrieved his wallet, the owner asked, ”Hey, what’s your sign?”

Forehead furrowed, he tried to decipher the man’s meaning. He was sure he’d heard the question on television and in films. “My sign?” The man clarified and Arthur provided both his and Y/N’s birthdays.

The owner laughed. “Woo wee! That’s a powerful match.” He indicated a collection of astrology scrolls next to the register. “Your lady friend might like one of these.”

Waving dismissively, Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe in that.” Seemingly determined, the hippie held out a rolled-up scroll. It was about the length of a cigarette, its title printed in a faux-ancient font: “Aries & Scorpio: Love & Romance.” Curiosity piqued, he pressed his lips together. “What does it say?”

“Only good things, man.” This was obviously a well-practiced pitch. And it was working The man retrieved a keyring full of unrolled, laminated scrolls. After flipping through the collection, he handed one to Arthur. He wasn’t the fastest reader, having had difficulties with it since he was a kid. But he scanned the page.

According to “the stars,” palpable chemistry existed between Aries and Scorpio. They were fun, passionate, and explosive in the bedroom. Snorting, he brought the scroll closer. “Your attraction to each other defies logic. Aries has a tough demeanor, but Scorpio brings out the compassion and love hiding underneath. Scorpio has an inner strength Aries finds irresistible.” Hm. What it said about Y/N was true. And she’d told him he was strong (which he didn’t really believe). He smiled, pleased this silly tract paid him such compliments.

He kept going. “As a pair, you are inhalation and exhalation in one. Two sides of the same coin. Aries is the sun to Scorpio’s moon.” Y/N was all those things to him. Even on days he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel better. Even on days it was easier to sink into the familiarity of misery than to strive for the unfamiliarity of feeling good.

It was after reading the final line that he nodded and dug into his pocket for two quarters: “You will be together for decades, even into the next life.”

~~~~~

Though she was standing in an overcrowded subway, squished between a man holding a dog and a woman using her as a vertical bed, Y/N felt giddy. Albeit tired. The day had been brimming with paperwork, phone calls, and running around. But it had started off well, and she was certain its upward trajectory would continue the rest of the night.

When she’d awoken, she’d discovered a pink envelope in Arthur’s place, laying haphazardly on his pillow. She’d boosted herself up on her forearm, ran her fingertips over her handwritten name, and taken out the yellow card.

There was a drawing of a man holding a woman by the waist. Lifting her until her hair touched the cheery, red “Happy Birthday.” The couple appeared thrilled. Taken with each other. And straight out of the forties. It wasn’t quite them, but it did reflect Arthur’s old fashioned romanticism.

No preprinted poem was inside. No famous quotes. Arthur had written a message instead. One which made her ache. “What do you get when you cross chocolat with something that goes thump-thump? A sweetheart. (That’s you.) My life is nicer with you in it. Even Gotham. I’m happy you talked to me. I love you a lot. -Arthur.”

He’d returned to the bedroom. Caught her mid-giggle as she’d wiggled out of her nightgown, hidden between the sheets. He was holding a mug. The same one they’d shared after the first of many lovemaking sessions.

Greedily, she’d ogled his damp hair and slender musculature. Light green eyes soft and serene, he’d sat next to her and pecked her cheek. At the flick of his gaze to her mouth, she’d flung her arms around his shoulders. Stubble burned her skin, her kisses to his dimples urgent.

“Wait,” he’d chuckled, putting the drink on the nightstand. “I made pancakes.” Even as he’d protested, he’d splayed his hand on the small of her back.

“To hell with pancakes,” she’d purred, pulling him under the blankets.

Work had been sentimental, which she’d neither expected nor wanted. Her new job would be starting in a week and a half. The small celebration they’d squeezed in served as both a goodbye and “Over the Hill” party, black balloons and grey streamers included.

Matt had been downcast as he’d shoveled red velvet cake into his mouth. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

A lame attempt to lighten the atmosphere had been needed. No one was going to start blubbering on her account. “You could come with me. Follow the conscience I know you have hidden somewhere.” He’d looked askance, turned towards his office. Trying to soften her joke, she’d patted his arm. “Don’t feel too bad. You could still lose the case.”

Settled on the windowsill, she’d gazed out at the streets of the city she’d grown to love. The city she called home, despite having spent only five percent of her existence in it. It was fitting to start this phase of her life here. The only period in which she’d felt whole, both professionally and personally.

A sheen had been in Patricia’s eyes when she’d joined her in the tight space, nudging her with her hip. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you here, accelerating Matt’s hair loss.”

“You’ll have to add it to your list of duties.” Elbowing her gently, Y/N continued. “I’ll only be a couple blocks away. We’ll meet for lunch. And you have my phone number.” Before her own eyes could water, she’d gone to her desk to cut another slice.

Patricia raised her hand. “You’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“Oh? Should I be expecting something?”

Finishing her own piece, Patricia crossed her ankles. “Arthur called for tips while you were in court. He decided I was an expert on you.” Y/N’s brows shooting up prompted a chuckle. “I didn’t give away all your secrets. Just some of your favorite sweets.”

The clench of Y/N’s throat was instant. And shame washed over her for assuming he wouldn’t plan much, if anything at all. He’d been considerate, even during tough times. Like at Christmas, which had been hard for him but turned out well in the end. He’d made it clear that what he coveted most, besides love and validation, was to be treated normally. Normal expectations were a part of that. She’d sought to give him a break when the benefit of the doubt had been what he deserved.

Y/N thought a bit. Surveyed the ornate woodwork in the corners of the room. Then she'd met her friend’s gaze. “Patricia, I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Because he’s getting you cake?”

“I’m not that easy.” Laughing, Y/N sat on the corner of her desk. “Do you remember when I said I was almost forty and was going to grab what I want? Well, I’m forty and he’s what I want.”

Caution and kindness had softened Patricia’s concerns. “I don’t mean to be indelicate. But you’re his first relationship. Is he ready for that?”

Y/N sucked the frosting off her fork. “Our sixth month is soon. I’ll drop a hint. When he’s ready - if he’s ready - he’ll know I am, too.”

She’d been floating since that realization. Since admitting her devotion to Arthur aloud and thereby making it concrete. Since getting a supportive hug from Patricia. And reassurance from Matt, of all people, that she hadn’t entered a mid-life crisis.

That headiness continued as she fumbled with her keys. Upon entering their apartment, music reached her ears. Music with a faster tempo than the classics Arthur usually played. Hanging up her coat and slipping off her shoes, she recognized it as one of her “Best of Soul and Disco” LPs. She braced herself on the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, her cheeks breaking wide open.

Arthur had moved the television and its stand to the side of the coffee table. A blanket, folded into a square, lay in front of the windows. Two plates and two wine glasses were on it. As she approached, she saw sandwiches on a platter. There was pasta salad and potato salad, both covered in plastic wrap, from the deli around the corner. In the center of it all sat an empty vase.

When he came out of the bedroom, magic wand in hand, he stilled. “Oh. Hi. You’re back already?”

A giggle. “I ran.” Biting her bottom lip, she admired his tousled brown curls, feathery, light, and attractive as hell. His face was unobscured by make-up, allowing her to revel in his handsomeness. The top button of his white shirt was undone. And his yellow vest outlined his lean frame in all the right ways. He wore his usual trousers. “Did you have a gig today?”

“No.” He smoothed a palm down his chest and stomach, and she noticed he’d rolled up his sleeves. “Um, I heard you like it.”

She felt herself blush and nodded eagerly. Thank you, Patricia.

With a flick of his wrist, flowers sprouted from the end of the wand. “I wanted to do this outside. On the fire escape. But it’s too cold.” He knelt on the blanket to put the flowers in the vase.

Y/N cocked her head. The juxtaposition of him wearing his “Carnival Casual” outfit, the cutesy charm of the picnic he’d arranged with the music that was playing was ridiculous. The song went on repeatedly about miracles, need, and “sexy things.” She snorted.

As Arthur removed the cellophane from the salads, his shoulders tensed. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he breathed. “I got too much.”

“No,” she replied, sitting next to him, laying a hand on his thigh. “This is wonderful.” When their eyes met, she found his look at once bashful and flirtatious.

She served the sandwiches and salads while he poured the wine, following her request to fill the glasses to the top. Mostly potato salad ended up on her plate, the mix of mayonnaise, pepper, and egg just right. A majority of the pasta wound up on his - he liked the vinegary flavor. The red wine did not pair with the turkeys on rye he’d prepared, so she saved most of it for dessert.

When Arthur held out an orange roll of paper, she was dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin. The title made her laugh. She never would have suspected he put stock in the zodiac; she certainly didn’t. Gingerly, she opened the scroll and squinted down at it.

It described her as determined, confident, and extroverted. And called Arthur a curious, emotional introvert. While mostly true, it wasn’t quite accurate. Arthur was only introverted in personal situations, while having the courage to perform as a clown and a stand-up. Those traits could belong to anyone, depending on the situation.

But the next paragraph clued her in as to why he’d bought the horoscope. And given it to her. “You were made for each other. There are times when it’s hard to know how you both managed to ever exist apart. The bond between you is unbreakable. You have much to learn from one another.” A lump formed in her throat when she read the last line, that they’d be together until the next life. She didn’t believe in that, yet longed for it all the same. “Thank you, Arthur.”

The scroll would have been enough. Dinner would have been enough. He would have been enough. But he placed a pink, velvet necklace box on her lap. She blinked at it, hoping he hadn’t spent too much on her. Then she forced that notion from her brain - he was a grown man who could buy what he chose - and cracked it open. Her breath caught.

The heart with pressed flowers was obviously vintage. The size was demure, like her other, few pieces of jewelry. And it was exactly her style: feminine and practical. She was grateful he hadn’t gotten her diamonds or other flashy gems. Her eyes darted to his as she took it out. “This is...” Gently, he turned it over in her palm, and she saw the engraving on the back: A+S.

A+S. Arthur and Y/N. It was a bold move from him. A welcome one.

“I think that’s usually done on trees,” he said. “But there aren’t that many in Gotham.”

Chuckling, she sniffed back her tears and shoved it at him. “Here.” She turned her back towards him. His fingertips dragged along her collarbone as she lifted her hair and he latched the chain. The kiss he placed above the clasp made her shiver. Wanting him to see how the pendant rested right above her cleavage, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

“It’s beautiful.” She pulled him in for a kiss. Traced his crow's feet. Let her thumbs wander to the slight puffiness underneath. The wine, along with her earlier confession to Patricia, was making it easier to open up. “You have my whole heart, Arthur,” she sighed into his mouth.

His palm went to her chest as he tilted his head, his other holding the nape of her neck. The tip of his tongue slipped between her lips and warmth enveloped her. She felt his fingers play with the necklace. Heard his ragged inhalation. Knew that pride and pleasure were emboldening him, because she was wearing what he’d gifted.

Eventually, he broke their connection, told her to close her eyes and pecked her nose. She concentrated on his steps to the kitchen. The clatter of him going through the silverware drawer. And then the chill breeze of the glass door being opened.

When she was allowed to peek, she stood and followed him onto the fire escape. A lit cigarette was already between his lips, and he was lighting a candle on a gigantic slice of cake. “You’re supposed to make a wish,” he said, smoke escaping his nostrils.

She snuggled his side, snaked an arm around him as he slung his across her shoulders. After eyeing the flame a moment, she sucked in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and bent closer...

Just in time for a split-second gust of wind to blow out the candle.

Arthur groaned and started to let go of her but she stopped him. “It counts.” She lifted the fork and fed him a bite, grinning at his pleased hum. “You won’t mind me turning grey, will you?”

“No. I won’t be the only one looking old.”

She nuzzled his temple. “You don’t look old. You’re refined.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. They ate silently for a bit, but then he squeezed her tighter. “What did you...” Trepidation lurked behind his question, even after their steamy picnic. “What did you wish for?”

“That we’ll keep loving each other, even through tough times.” She lowered the fork, already full. “That I’ll like my new job.” Letting go of him, she set the plate on the metal stairs, next to his ashtray. “That you’ll be healthy.”

He huffed. “You shouldn’t have wasted any on me.”

“You’re worth all of them.” She kissed his bicep, laid her head on his shoulder. The record playing in the background turned over, switched to a slower song, and she grinned. “Now,” she said, “may I have this dance?”

Delight in his eyes, he bowed. She giggled as he grabbed her around the middle and pulled her flush against his solid frame. He led beautifully, gazing at her as if she was the only woman in the world, guiding her to the beat she was deaf to. He even dared to raise her hand for a modest twirl, and she trusted him enough for it to work.

As they spun slowly, rotating in the lights of their living room and the city, he kissed her hairline. “Happy birthday. I hope you liked it.”

“I loved it.” She captured his thin lips with her own. “Promise you’ll be here for the next twenty.”

“The next forty.” He bumped their noses and lay his cheek on hers. Y/N cuddled deeper into his embrace, feeling more cherished than she had in years.

~~~~~

Hot Chocolate - You Sexy Thing

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @howdylilflower​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @mrscarnival​

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Halloween Coutdown - Burn

Summary: Hilda’s classmates are beginning to pick up on her witchcraft. She doesn’t care, but the librarian doesn’t like people talking about her apprentice behind her back. Family Fights Halloween themed ficlet

Notes: 4 days until Halloween!! This chapter takes place in the 5 month skip in Family Fights. If you haven’t read the fic and want to, the link is here. If you don’t feel like it, you just need to know that the librarian is training Hilda to be a witch.

(I dedicate this chapter to the awesome @mr-hyde-and-mr-seek, who unknowingly helped me pick the theme for ths fic and who just gives my writing and me more support than I could possibly hope for. Everyday is halloween when I’m with you, fren <3)

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: Burn The Witch by Queens of the Stone Age

It had been years since Maven had set foot on Trolberg’s Elementary School. Before her sister had complained about it and asked her to stop doing it, she’d often pick Myra up when her classes were over. The last time she’d been there, it had probably been to walk her home.

Her own memories of the place felt more like a haze. She did remember that she’d attended that school, and that she’d had few friends and so spent her recesses in the library, and she even had some weirdly specific recollections of sneaking out of physical education to write stories in a secluded corner of the dressing room. She wasn’t there for her sister, though, much less for the pleasure of remembering her childhood years. That day, she was there to pick her apprentice up.

Leaning against the grids that surrounded the school, the librarian watched a group of children walk by her, complaining about how unfair it was that they would have classes on Halloween, and she thought about how much easier this was for people for whom All Souls Night was just another holiday. Being a witch, she had much more ease sensing the things that lurked in the shadows at that time of the year, and they were more likely to target her as well. That was exactly the reason why she’d asked Hilda to allow her to accompany her home that day, even though it wouldn’t really be Halloween until midnight.

She was probably exaggerating on her worry, but a young witch with too much power and not enough control over it was the perfect target for all the dark creatures that arose when the veil got thinner. When she’d talked about this to her, Hilda had promised not to leave her house alone on Halloween, especially since there would be no fun in trick or treating alone, anyway. She did, however, reveal that she walked to her house alone after school, and Maven was not completely at ease with that.

When she asked Hilda if she’d allow her to pick her up at school, the girl hadn’t looked like she’d wanted to comply, though she tried to hide it. Even when she accepted, she didn’t act very happy about the prospect. Maven didn’t think it was anything she’d done that had upset Hilda, since they had been talking normally just seconds before, which left her to wonder about Hilda’s behaviour.

Walking side by side with her two closest friends, Maven noticed Hilda leaving her school’s main building when she waved enthusiastically at her, now acting as happy as ever, if a little nervous. After they said their goodbyes, the trio parted ways. The girl returned inside the school, the boy left for the school’s auditorium, and Hilda ran her way.

“Hey, Mave!” She greeted joyfully. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Hilda began walking, taking the lead since she knew the way to her house way better than Maven did. “What about you? Have you done anything interesting today?”

“If by interesting you mean magical, then no, That will only begin tomorrow.”

At the mention of magic, Hilda glanced around, which made Maven lift her eyebrows. She’d never seen Hilda being skittish before, and she didn’t even think the girl had it in her to be.

“Are you sure everything is fine, Hildie? You seem a little bit… off.”

“Me? Oh no, I’m fine!” She assured, clearly lying. Knowing she’d been caught, Hilda was about to come up with an excuse when they heard a gasp. They still hadn’t left the school’s block, and on the other side of the grids there was a playground for the children. Inside it, a boy was pointing at her.

“I knew it! I knew you were a witch! You’re with the witch librarian!”

Hilda sighed wearily, and Maven crossed her arms. Her apprentice had told her about the boy, and how his misadventures with the Great Raven had led him to believe she was a witch, a belief that had only gotten stronger when he heard her chanting a small good luck charm before an exam.

“Trevor.” Hilda groaned. “Can you please just leave me-”

“Little child, you shouldn’t go around saying things like that!” Maven whispered with fake alarm in her voice. Hilda’s face was confused as her mentor kneeled down to the ground to get on the boy’s level. She looked around, as if making sure no one could hear her, and after noticing this Trevor got closer, curious at the prospect of a secret.

“It is dangerous to speak the way you do. Especially at this time of the year! Do you know which day tomorrow is? The real witches might hear you.”

Apprehensively, he took a step back. “T- the real witches?”

“Oh, yes.” Maven widened her eyes, trying to give herself the appearance of a madwoman. “Has nobody ever told you? No, I suppose they wouldn’t tell this to a child. Trolberg was built upon the grounds in which witches were burnt in ancient times. And every year in All Souls’ Night, they come out for anyone who even vaguely reminds them of their persecutors!” 

It was clear that Maven had scared the boy. He was fidgeting nervously and stuttered when he spoke. Her apprentice, on the other hand, was watching her with curious eyes.

“They come… come out? To do what?”

Abruptly, Maven grasped the grids and and pulled her body forward, her face only inches from him.

“TO BURN THEM!”

Trevor began screaming and ran away with fright. Barely containing her laughter, the librarian stood up again and took Hilda’s hand.

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back with an adult and I get sued.”

They ran away to the next block playfully, Hilda’s giggles stopping Maven from regretting wasting her time on some ignorant kid. When they had left the school behind, they returned to their normal pace.

“Is that why you were worried?” The librarian asked, noticing Hilda looked much lighter now. Rubbing her neck, Hilda nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t really mind him calling me a witch. He’s a nasty person, really. I just didn’t want him to give you a hard time. I heard him calling you a witch too one day, you know, and his mother will believe anything he says. I was afraid he’d try and cause you some trouble, is all.”

Touched by Hilda’s worry for her, Maven put a hand on her shoulder affectionately.

“Don’t worry, Hildie, I don’t think there’s anything he can do against me. This sort of person already doesn’t go to the library, anyway.”

Hilda chuckled and smiled up at her.

“Yeah, they probably don’t. Was any of what you said true, by the way? About the witches?”

This time it was Maven who chuckled, thinking about the bunch of nonsense she’d come up with.

“No, I was just trying to scare the boy into being a little less unbearable. The city doesn’t really like us, but there were never witch burnings in this area. Plus, we are the real witches.”

Both relieved to know the city hadn’t, in fact, been built upon witch hunt grounds, and emboldened by Maven’s statement, the girl stood up straighter as she walked. They began trading stories about their days, the librarian listening eagerly as her apprentice told her about her classes and her friends. Eventually, though, when they were close to arriving in Hilda’s home, she restarted on their previous topic.

“I’m glad you came with me.” She said. “I’m not too worried about these creatures you mentioned, but… I did always find humans scarier.”

Looking up at her mentor, Hilda was somewhat surprised to find the utter empathy on her face.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Hilda nodded.

“I do too. Unfortunately I came to find there are humans much scarier than any monster that I have seen. There are monsters who resent witches, of course, since technically we’re humans. But to some humans, we fall in the same category as said monsters. At least magical creatures aren’t too selfishly scared of us to try and see past their prejudices.”

“That’s exactly it!” Hilda exclaimed. When she came to think of it, that was the first time in her life someone seemed to understand that part of her. “There are great humans, obviously. It’s just kind of scary to try to find out which type of human each one is.”

“And yet we keep on trying. That’s how brave we are.”

“Yeah!” As she raised her hand to high five Maven, she noticed that she didn’t seem too used to the gesture. Hilda hadn’t been either, since she grew up in the wilderness and learned about it with David and Frida, but it struck her as odd since the librarian had grown up in the city.

Soon they arrived at the building in which Hilda lived, and she opened the door.

“Do you want to come inside? Mum is home, we could have some tea.”

“Not today, but thank you.” She nodded discreetly, a small gesture that showed that she was indeed grateful for the invitation. When Hilda was stepping into the building, she spoke again.

“If anyone else gives you a hard time… please tell me about it. I don’t want you to suffer because of who you are.” Maven didn’t know what she’d do in case Hilda did tell her in the future about another mean kid. Past experience showed that she wasn’t apt to handle bullying of any sort, heaven knew. But the thought of Hilda being picked on, especially because of something that was in a way Maven’s fault, didn’t sit well with her.

“Don’t worry, Maven.” Bringing her hand to her forehead, Hilda made a signal which Maven thought was probably the Sparrow Scouts salutation. Never having been part of the group, she didn’t know for sure. “This witch won’t burn!”

They smiled one last time at each other and said their goodbyes. The girl closed the door behind her, but Maven spent a few seconds staring at the wood. Now that she was alone, she got an uncomfortable, sick feeling on her belly. It seemed that the encounter with the boy had affected her more than she had thought, and much more than it should have.

“No.” She whispered, even though there was no one around to hear her. “I will make sure you won’t.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Because my characters should never be happy.

The Hard Things--Original Ending.

Materlist (on a semi hiatus)

___________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her and then her phone chimes. She doesn’t halfway pay attention to it but her phone almost never makes a sound because she keeps it on vibrate. “Who knows what I’ve done now?” she mutters but doesn’t look. Whatever it was she should explain it away for sure. “Why wasn’t there a guarantee money back or some shit with love? It would make life a hell of lot easier for fuck sake. I mean the reward was a lot bigger if I did decide to date Calum. But the fucking risk. Where’s a genie or some fortune teller when you needed it?”

With the frustration dissipating with every shout, she finally lifts her hand and looks to see what caused the noise. Her fingers slip across the screen and she watches a message lift up before settling down with the delivered underneath it. “Whoops,” she mutters. And starts drafting a message in response. Sorry, didn’t mean to send that. Was just venting and must’ve hit something in my blind rage.

She sets the phone down without another thought and then goes back to sorting out her mail, though she glances down at the yellow page that Calum wrote his letter. She’d all her best friend in a bit to talk it out with them. A buzz sound--no doubt some sort of alert. She listens for how many buzzes. A text coming through.

Turning over her phone, Freya reads who the text is from. The name barely registers before her heart goes into a frenzy. Calum--New iMessage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he texting me?”

A warranty on love is definitely a new concept. I assume you got my letter. You made it clear that you still weren’t sure where the boundaries were, I just wanted to say thanks. Or Duke did, I should say. You said you cherished our honesty and I’m going to be honest. I wrote a lot of different letters before sending the one I did. I’ve drafted a text to you nearly every day but never sent it because I didn’t want to put you in a predicament. But maybe we’re both at a point where maybe the risk might not be all that bad.

Freya exhales reading the text. How do you feel about splitting a pizza at my place tonight?

The message lifts and then settles again. The moments stretch for minutes. The bubble pops up and she watches the dots cycle from light to dark gray. I would love to.

Her hands shake and for a moment she wishes she hadn’t quit cigarettes. They weren’t good for her and she knows that. But god, right now with the shakes, she needs something to bring her down from the edge. The picks at her pinkie nail, leg bouncing. A knock at the door sounds and Freya freezes. The pizza’s already delivered, arrived maybe two or three minutes before this knock.

Another moment, maybe two passes, and then another knock sounds. She pushes up from the couch and heads to the door.

“Hi,” Calum exhales.

“Hi,” Freya returns. “Oh, come-come in.” She steps aside and waves Calum further inside.

As he steps through, he turns, keeping his back away from her. The door closes and he unveils a tiny pot, a greenish-purple plant staring back up at Freya. “I know you’re sensitive to flowering plants--like sunflowers or carnations. So I went to a local nursery, one that my gardeners recommended and one of the workers recommended succulents. They told me the name and I have absolutely no memory of what it is. Echev-I don’t know.”

Freya steps closer, gingerly taking the terracotta pot from him. It sits in the palm of her hand. “Echeveria. I think this one is a Black Prince.”

“Yeah, yeah, that.”

“Thank you.” It falls from her lips in a whisper. “Really, I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It shall live,” she says after a big exhale, “right here on the kitchen window sill.”

Calum grins a little watching her open the blinds to set the plant in. “How-how have you been?” He knows he came under the guise of pizza. But that’s not even close to the truth. So he closes the distance between them, crossing the kitchen. One hand settles on her hip.

Freya turns in the inch or two she has. His gaze is sincere but hesitant. Like there’s more he wants to say, but not sure if he can say it right now. His cheek is a little stubbly when she touches it, settles her palm into the warmth and squish of his face. She hadn’t expected seeing him in person would stir her gut like this. Maybe it’s because she was only giving excuses. Good ones, but still excuses. “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“When I asked you about what you say in your home 10 years into the future and you said wife, did you see me?”

It doesn’t shock him that she sussed it out. That even with his vague include of the term, Freya would still see between the lines. “Honestly?”

“I’m making you an honest man.”

“Yes.” He closes his eyes for a moment. Not out of shame or some need to hide from the truth. But to steel himself. “When I said wife, I pictured you. And two kids--who in my imagination definitely had your hair texture and that scared me.”

“Scared you?” Freya asks.

“I barely can do my own curls. Two daughters with your texture would feel like jumping into the deep end without a floaty.”

“But you, theoretically, wouldn’t have been in the deep end alone. Me, my hairstylist, my mom, and stepmom--a lot of Black women to teach you a thing or two. But specifically two daughters, huh?”

Calum nods, his second hand sliding up onto her right hip. He holds her waist and she holds onto his cheeks ever so gently. He smiles at her. “That’s not to say I didn’t ask to try for a son as a third. Now you tell me something.”

“Scouts honor.”

“Can you really give into the risk? If you can’t, I will walk out of here right now and I won’t bother you again. Because above everything, I want what’s best for you. As much as it’ll hurt not have you again, we can’t keep going back and forth. It’s not good for either one of us.”

Freya knows he’s right. Would she regret giving Calum up a second time? Was the universe trying to give her the ever elusive second chance? Getting into a defined relationship with Calum meant she would have to figure out what to do after graduation and if had to leave would he be able to handle that? Was the chance of heartbreak worth the moments of bliss?

“I want my PhD--and I don’t know where that’s going to take me. I might be leaving California and that would be years, Calum. Years of me in a different state. And I don’t know, California doesn't feel like the end game for me. And that could just be the now talking. Who knows? But a lot is in motion and uncertain right now, does that change how you feel? Because maybe--maybe I can take the risk for a few moments of bliss.”

Calum’s knees almost give up on him, but he squeezes her to keep himself steady. “When I said I wanted as much of you as I could have before you left, I meant it. I absolutely meant every word of it. I meant I would take days, hours, decades if I could with you.The last time I even thought about daydreaming about a girl was so fucking long ago. And when you asked me about my future, it shocked even me to see you. That’s when I knew. I knew I was a fucking goner.”

“But I don’t know if I can give all that to you.”

“I’ll take what I can get it, Freya. And I am sure that in the future one of two things is going to happen: it will either hurt like hell when you leave or we get more time. I don’t know how much more. But I do know that those are the two options. And I will gladly embrace whichever one of them comes our way.”

Freya doesn't miss the inclusion of the plural. “Our way,” she teases with a grin, stretching up just a little. “Our way, huh?”

“Yes, our way.” Calum watches just how close she gets before she pauses. Her breath tickles over his skin. “Now, either we’re kissing and then eating pizza, or we’re kissing and then--”

Freya’s lip sealing around his cuts off the sentence. They exhale into each other, Calum pressing in closer and pinning her to the edge of the counter. Freya slides up against his chest just a hair, hands sliding up and then tying her arms around his neck. As they part, Calum rests his forehead against hers. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Thursday. Why do you ask?”

“Because I wanted to gauge if I could keep you up until 3 AM again,” Calum giggles. “But not about a competition this time. Like possibly pissing off your neighbors.”

“But I have the 8 am shift at the office.”

“And homework that you’d kill me for keeping you from.”

“Not quite murder, but there is a paper I have about 5 pages left on and should submit because it is like a third of my grade.”

“But Friday night?”

“I’m free--I traded a Monday evening shift earlier this week to get Friday off.”

Calum kisses her, soft and slow. It makes his whole body electric, to feel her relax into his touch. “Friday night then.”

“Before a night of debauchery, do you think we should talk? What happens if it’s too much or not working?” Freya doesn’t want to be the barrier of bad news. But she does like having a plan, a clear path to follow.

Calum’s not way to think too hard about things, to worry about things until they come up. But he knows Freya’s not like him. Clearing his throat, Calum holds up his pinkie. “This a pinkie swear that on Friday when you come over to my place for a night of debauchery, we will talk all about contingency plans.”

“You make it sound--”

“No, I know. You want the air clear and you want it clear sooner rather than later. And though, I normally am very much against a lot of the feelings talk. But for fuck sake, I already admitted that I thought about marrying you, so I don’t think now is the moment to shy away from it.”

“When you put it like that.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Freya hooks her pinkie around his. “But it is Wednesday. So, pizza and then if you want to stay after you can, I’ll just be working on that paper.”

“If you don’t mind the company, I would love to stay.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Girl Next Door (Part 7) - Hunter’s Garage

Summary: Dean brings Jack to his first day of work and has a chat with his buddies about his new girlfriend...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 3,400ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

Dean’s POV

“Later, Eileen. Sam’s extra rascally today so I’d keep an eye on him,” teased Dean on the way out of the house the next morning.

“Oh but that just makes it more fun,” she said, laughing when she heard Sam shout for her inside. “Have a good day at work, Dean.”

“You too,” said Dean, hopping down the front steps. He glanced over, catching Jack sitting on Y/N’s front porch, looking over. “Well get over here. We got work.”

Jack was across the yard like that, sliding into the passenger seat of Baby quickly. Dean turned on a quiet rock station and backed out, heading for town.

“So, how’d last night go?” asked Dean. “At your sister’s.”

“Good,” said Jack, staring out the window. “I’m sorry for being rude the other morning.”

“S’all good,” said Dean. “You feeling any better?”

“In a way. Just…”

“Just…” said Dean.

“Y/N’s expecting a lot from me. I don’t want to screw it up,” he said.

“Jack, buddy. Your sister wants you to be happy again, trust me. She doesn’t want to stress you out. She wants to help. A job gives you some responsibility and independence and the whole curfew thing, I think that’s more so she knows you’re home safe at the end of the day,” said Dean.

“I’m not...I don’t want to hurt myself. I can’t believe I ever thought that way in the first place,” he said. “She’s the one that made me realize the mistake I was making.”

“Well it sounds like life was a bit rough for ya. You ever get feeling like that again though, talk to your sister. She ain’t around, come find me or Sammy or one of the guys from the shop once you get to know ‘em,” said Dean.

“You don’t even know me. Why would you even care?” asked Jack.

“I care about your sister. Probably more than I should for how short a time we’ve known each other. But your sister cares about our family too so we pay that back. She doesn’t have a lot out there so that means taking care of you is pretty important to me. You get that?” said Dean.

“You like her so you want me to be okay,” said Jack.

“Yeah but, I get what it’s like to have asshole parents, even if ours fixed their shit. It’s hard being the big brother.”

“You’ve never tried to off yourself,” he said.

“No. I haven’t. But I understand what it is to feel low, feel you’re less than other people. You’re not, Jack. Try, for your sister, and for me. She’s not trying to babysit you or control you. She wants you to be okay, that’s it.”

“You must really like her, huh?” said Jack, cracking a smile.

“Shut up,” said Dean, smiling in return. “Let’s go survive your first shift. You’ll have to get a ride in days I’m not working but-”

“That’s fine. I’ll manage,” said Jack. “Promise.”

“Pst,” said Dean, waving over Benny from where he was talking to Cas at the front desk. “How’s the new kid doing?”

“Kid barely knows what a steering wheel is,” deadpanned Benny.

“Come on, dude,” groaned Dean.

“I’m not gonna cut him loose. He’s a bit green is all. He’s your girl’s brother? As long as he shows up to work and learns, he’s more than welcome,” said Benny. “Unlike our suit wearing friends.”

“Really,” said Cas. “I work in a doctor’s office, Benjamin.”

“Oh. Benjamin,” said Dean with a smirk. Benny whacked him in the back of the head, leaning back against the counter. “Ass.”

“Aren’t you like, supposed to be helping people sort out their shit?” asked Benny. “I mean, we know you’re a lazy ass but golf don’t start this early in the day, hm?”

“You’re a little shit, Benny,” said Cas with a big smile.

“Love you too, kitten,” said Benny.

“We need a boys night,” said Cas. “Been a few weeks.”

“More like a month. Last one we had was before Sam had his accident, wasn’t it?” said Benny.

“I kind of got a date on Saturday,” said Dean. “At that music festival.”

“Oh, what a refined gentleman we have,” said Benny.

“I bet he bought supreme nachos, not just the basic kind,” said Cas.

“Fancy,” teased Benny.

“I really like Y/N, assholes, and I basically have zero time to actually be a good boyfriend and take her out and-”

“Dude. We’re fucking with you. Go hang with your girlfriend. We’ve only known you for like our whole lives,” said Cas. “We can handle a boys night without Dean Winchester.”

“Hey, you know what? Why don’t we have boys night at Sam’s place on Friday? Invite your girlfriend over and the new kid. We’ll keep it tamer than normal but we can keep an eye on ‘im, you know?” said Benny.

“Tamer than normal? We ain’t visiting Cas at college anymore,” teased Dean.

“I still do not remember what happened spring break my senior year,” said Cas.

“We do,” said Dean with a laugh. “If Sammy’s good with it then sure. Couple rules though.”

“Eh, we know Avy’s around. We’ll behave,” said Benny.

“No, I know. I mean...like no messing with Sam like normal, like taking his beanie off or something,” said Dean.

“Hey, we’re all for mentally scarring little Sam, been doing it since we were kids. We ain’t going to actually be cruel though. We like the pup.”

“Pup that turned out to be bigger than all three of us,” said Cas.

“Yeah, why you so short, Winchester?” asked Benny.

“Shut your face hole,” said Dean with a laugh. He saw Jack walk over a bit nervously, swallowing before he came to a stop. “What’s up, Jack?”

“I uh, I finished changing the oil,” said Jack. “What should I do now?”

Benny looked over to the wall and up at the clock.

“Take your break,” said Benny.

“But I’m only part time. I shouldn’t-”

“When boss man tells you to take a break, you take a break,” said Dean. “Besides, I got a buddy of ours I want you to meet. Jack, this horrifically ugly human being over here is Castiel. We call him Cas.”

“Sometimes I really wish I wasn’t your friend,” said Cas, turning and giving Jack a smile. “I’m sure you’ve learned the joys of working in a garage with a bunch of brutes already.”

“Oh, they’re great,” said Jack.

“Cas is just jealous cause he has to do office bullshit all day,” said Benny.

“And I get to work with three very attractive women,” said Cas. “Including my girlfriend.”

“Dammit,” muttered Benny.

“S’okay. You’ll get him next time,” said Dean, nodding Benny away. “Give us a minute?”

“Mhm,” hummed Benny, going to check out Jack’s work. Jack looked back and forth between Dean and Cas, Dean breaking out into a laugh.

“Relax, Jack. Cas works in the same office as the therapist that worked with my parents. Cas is the junior partner there. He deals more with younger folks or kids most of the time,” said Dean.

“Oh,” said Jack.

“Dean explained a little bit of your situation to me, Jack, without giving specifics. We spoke last night and after talking it over with my senior partners, I think maybe you and I should work together,” said Cas.

“Okay,” said Jack.

“Do you want to work with me, Jack?” asked Cas. “It’s important to find someone you feel comfortable with. We can go take a walk around the block and if you don’t think we’re a fit, that’s perfectly okay and I’ll help you find somebody that is, alright?”

“Why are you helping me?” asked Jack.

“Dean and I and Benny...we’re shits to each other because we’re best friends. We help each other. I almost dropped out of school when those two bozos drove for five hours in the middle of the night and stayed in my dorm and talked me out of it. It’s not easy to find people that care about you, Jack. It’s not. But they’re out there, sometimes right in front of your face and you just don’t know it yet. If you need help, I want to help,” said Cas. “That night is why I changed majors and went into therapy instead. I like helping people. If you’ll let me that is.”

“Do you think I’m nuts?” he asked.

“No. I think very few people are ‘nuts’ Jack. Those people, it’s very easy to see that there is something off and I believe it’s because they are missing something in them. It’s not their fault, it’s how they were born. But most of us, all of us, we all have issues and fear. You strike me as someone that needs a bit of love and compassion again is all. Certainly not nuts,” said Cas.

“But…” said Jack. Cas lifted his chin.

“I don’t care what other doctors said. Understand? We’ll start from scratch. Let’s go take that walk, alright?” he said. Jack nodded, following Cas outside the garage.

“Thank you,” mouthed Dean, Cas giving him a smile back.

“Cas gonna take care of the kid?” asked Benny when he wandered back over.

“Yeah. He’ll probably end up mayor or something now,” teased Dean. “How’d he do on the oil?”

“Pretty good. A little slow but better than I expected for a first time,” he said. “I think he used to work with his hands. They’re rougher than I was thinking they’d be.”

“I’m not sure what he used to do. He’s a little older than Y/N and it doesn’t sound like he went to college. I know he didn’t follow their parents plan for him so who knows,” said Dean.

“Speaking of your little gal,” said Benny, nodding across the street, Y/N carrying two pink boxes into a store. “She ain’t from around here, right?”

“No. We didn’t go to school with her. Probably wouldn’t have had a shot back then,” said Dean.

“What are you talking about? You dated pretty much every girl in school.”

“Exactly,” said Dean.

“When’s the last time you had a girlfriend Deano? Like a real one?” asked Benny.

“Lisa,” said Dean.

“So forever ago,” said Benny.

“I’ve been on plenty of dates since,” said Dean.

“You scared of this new girl, huh,” said Benny.

“The one’s I really liked...Cassie found problems with me. Jo did. Lisa did. Y/N will too I’m sure,” said Dean.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll hate the fact you’re helping out her brother so much. That’s a real asshole move,” said Benny, rolling his eyes.

“We’ve gone out by ourselves once. Once. Somebody’s going to the hospital every other day around here and she’ll find out I’m an idiot soon enough,” said Dean. Benny was quiet, wiping off the counter. “Benny…don’t. I’m shooting the shit is all.”

“You’ve been this way since we were kids. I never understood it,” said Benny. “You’re the smartest guy I know.”

“Sammy’s the smartest guy you know,” said Dean.

“Hey. I’m trying to compliment you here,” said Benny. Dean rolled his eyes, moving to go back to work when Benny tsked him. “If it makes you feel any better, your girl is fixing her ponytail in the window across the street and keeps glancing over here. Oh, now she’s taking it down, putting it up again...hm, now she’s just put a hat from her back pocket on. Looks like one of yours. Oh, she threw her head back, she’s pointing at her shirt. Looks like something pink on that white shirt of hers. Must be a stain.”

“Hey, Mr. DVD commentary. Your point?” said Dean.

“My point is Y/N’s fixing herself up and walking over here in a white little tee and short shorts and I should really start talking to my neighbors if you’re anything to go by,” teased Benny.

“Shut up,” said Dean, rolling his eyes, spinning around just in time to give her a smile.

Reader’s POV

“Hi, Dean,” you said, trying to keep your arm over the splotch of pink food dye on your shirt.

“Well hi, beautiful,” he said. Benny pretended to gag and walked away, Dean taking a deep breath. “Excuse the neanderthal.”

“Oh, I already like your friends,” you said, looking around. “I was making a delivery, wanted to see how Jack’s first day was going.”

“Good. He’s getting the hang of everything. He’ll do fine,” said Dean.

“Awesome. Thank you for getting him in here. I think getting him feeling normal and in a regular routine will be good for him,” you said. “Thank Benny for me too.”

“Ain’t no problem, cher,” said Benny, your face in a wince.

“It’s a garage. Voices tend to carry,” said Dean, stepping outside with you. “I really should get back to work. Been talking more than working today it seems.”

“Oh, sorry. I-”

“Still ain’t a problem, cher. Slow this morning anyways,” said Benny.

“Thank you, Benjamin,” said Dean, chuckling as he pulled you around the corner of the building. “Sorry. Yeah, Jack’s okay.”

“You too?” you asked. “You seem a little...stressed.”

“I worry about stuff,” said Dean.

“I’ve noticed,” you teased. “I actually did have a reason to stop by though. I hit a pothole this morning and my back wheel is making a weird noise now.”

“Weird nose huh. Those are my favorite,” he said. “Pull her in. We’ll take a look if you got time.”

“Sure thing.”

“Looks like you got a flat is all. Slow leak which is why you ain’t driving on the rim yet,” said Benny. “We can pop on a new one like that.”

“How much that gonna cost me?” you asked.

“Well small business to small business, maybe we can negotiate some kind of deal?” asked Benny.

“I’m listening,” you said, Benny smirking as Dean went to go look for a tire in the back.

“A box of your pastries every Friday morning through the summer, until September starts up. Jack can bring ‘em in,” he said. “Deal?”

“You realize you’re losing money, right?” you said.

“Yeah but we get fresh pastries every Friday. Plus you get the family discount,” he said. “So we got a deal?”

“Deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Hey, Jack,” called Benny. You looked behind you, Jack saying something to a man in a suit on the sidewalk before he took off. “You ever change a tire before?”

“No,” said Jack.

“Well you can learn on your sister’s car,” said Benny. “Dean’ll show ya.”

While Dean rolled out a tire, Jack explained who Cas was and that he had a timeslot from two to three o’clock everyday that would work perfect for him. He seemed excited but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. You were just happy he was willing to talk to someone.

Fifteen minutes later, you had a new tire on and Dean was patting Jack on the back for a job well done.

“Thanks. I gotta run home and do some more baking. I’ll see you guys later,” you said.

You were halfway home when you took a slight detour, hoping you had enough space in the back for it.

“Y/N, I’m home,” said Jack, walking into the kitchen about two hours later. “I brought home some carrots for you as requested.”

“Thank you. I wanted to make up a carrot cake tomorrow. That’s still your favorite, right?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, sitting down at the counter. “You’re very good at this. Baking, I mean.”

“Honestly, I started doing it because I couldn’t sit around sad anymore. We used to love doing it with grandma I remember,” you said.

“She’s the one that told me I didn’t have to be a doctor if I didn’t want to be,” he said.

“Grandma was awesome,” you said with a laugh. “I still got some of her recipes I’ve wanted to try but you know me and her handwriting.”

“You have the worst handwriting in the world. Totally had that part of being a doctor down,” he teased. “I can try to interpret for you if you want.”

“Yes please,” you said, grabbing a bag of frosting. “Hey, you want to help me decorate some of these? Good destressor.”

“I’m not any good. I don’t want to mess ‘em up,” he said.

“You won’t,” you said, handing him a bag. “Come here.”

He stood and walked around the counter, watching you show him how to hold it and squeeze the tip. He was pretty sloppy and you could see him getting anxious, shoulders stiffening up.

“You know when I was in med school, I accidentally gave the wrong dosage of medicine to a patient. I almost killed him,” you said. You felt his stare but you kept on working on your own cookies. “I was terrified to treat a patient again. But I did.”

“How?” he asked.

“My dorky big brother called me one night, he was venting about mom and dad. Apparently they called him a failure, again, which was a shitty thing of them I thought but he told me that it didn’t matter that he screwed up because he would just try again. I never told him but that really meant a lot to me,” you said, finishing up your sheet. You set down your frosting and grabbed one of his cookies, taking a bite out of it. “S’good.”

“Can I help out with the bakery in the afternoons after therapy? I don’t want to be paid. I’d like to...learn to destress,” he said.

“Yeah. I’d like the company,” you said. “Would you mind grabbing me a new bag of flour? I forgot it in the back of my car. In the garage.”

Jack thankfully didn’t pick up on the fact your car was parked in the driveway and headed outside, returning back through the door twenty seconds later with a cock of his head.

“Really?” he said. “A bike?”

“Well my car won’t always be available and exercise is good for you. Until you get your own wheels, you got a way to get into town at least if I’m not around,” you said.

“How much that cost ya?” he asked.

“Call it last year’s birthday present,” you said. “Wear your helmet too.”

“Seriously,” he said.

“I don’t know, maybe go talk to our neighbor with brain trauma, get his opinion on it,” you said.

“I missed you being a little shit,” he said with a smile.

“I missed you too. Go take it for a spin around the block, doofus,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, stopping halfway out the door. “Hey, can I cook dinner tonight? Like, I get to pick?”

“As long as it’s not revolting, sure,” you said. “Oh and as long as you’re living here, you’re doing your share of the chores, got it? So you’re making dinner at least three times a week, deal?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, stepping outside. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Have fun, Jack.”

A/N: Read Part 8 here!

[pitviperofdoom]

Fundraiser Commission #6

Thank you for donating $20!

Prompt: “Inko x Rei Todoroki, smth cute, canon(ish) verse (OR smth in an existing fic-verse if it calls?)”

Sorry it took so long for me to finish another commission! I’m hoping to have the last three out in the next week or so.

Inko found the restaurant without much difficulty.

It wasn’t far from the bustling train station, and Izuku gave very good directions—in between repeated apologies that he couldn’t pick her up himself. Of course she understood; the life of a hero was a turbulent thing, impossible to predict. And her poor boy sounded so distraught over the phone, she couldn’t possibly be upset with him for it.

The invitation had come somewhat out of the blue: Izuku called her one evening and asked her if she wanted to join him and Shouto for dinner on Saturday, and of course she had enthusiastically agreed. Inko would have been happy to have her son and his boyfriend over for a home-cooked meal, but Izuku had been adamant.

And so it was that Inko approached the restaurant her son had chosen. She had dressed for the occasion; this particular restaurant wasn’t fancy enough to be intimidating, but it was no hole-in-the-wall izakaya, either. Enough to warrant a little decorum on her part.

She found Izuku waiting outside for her, nicely dressed if a little rumpled. The only real sign that he had just come off of a patrol was the darkening red-purple mark over his cheekbone. He was quick to come in for a hug. Inko squeezed him tight, partly to express her love and partly to make sure that he was eating enough. Satisfied, she released him.

“Shouto and his mom are inside,” her son told her. His eyes were darting about, never settling on her for more than a few seconds.

Now that was a surprise. Inko didn’t remember Izuku mentioning Shouto’s mother. “Oh dear, am I late?”

“No, don’t worry! Our table’s reserved, you’re fine.”

Sure enough, when Izuku led her to the correct table, Shouto was already waiting there with a familiar white-haired woman that Inko had only met a few times before. The former Todoroki Rei gave her a smile as she approached, and Inko found herself returning it. The last time she saw the woman smile, it had seemed a delicate thing, as if a strong breeze would whip it away. It was firmer now; it would take a bit more to shake her happiness, it seemed.

The four of them exchanged pleasantries until the server came to take their order. Izuku sat with Shouto, which did little for his fidgeting. He seemed extra chatty today, especially next to Shouto, who Inko could swear was being quieter than usual.

It was only when the waitress took their orders and left that Izuku, after watching her retreat out of hearing range, finally settled. Inko watched as his arm shifted, in such a way that she was sure to mean he was holding his boyfriend’s hand.

Izuku waited until Shouto was finished answering a question from his mother before speaking.

“S-so, um. We had a reason for inviting you out. Which I guess is sort of obvious? N-not that we’d need a reason to spend time with you, of course! But we decided we wanted to have all four of us together this time, and there’s a reason for that.”

Inko’s heart stuttered and nearly halted in her chest.

No. Could it be? She shot a glance at Shouto’s mother, and found the woman’s gray eyes nearly glowing with anticipation.

“I asked Izuku to marry me,” Shouto continued, and Izuku squeaked softly beside him.

Inko gasped. “Ohh. Oh, Izuku.”

“Isaidyes,” her son blurted out, and Inko barely had time to reach for her napkin before the tears came.

Their little get-together dissolved into sniffling and congratulations and a few motherly hugs that stretched the bounds of restaurant etiquette, but Inko couldn’t bring herself to care. Her son was marrying the man he loved. Her precious boy had never looked happier, smiling from ear to ear with a bruise from work blooming on his cheek.

When the server came with their meals, Shouto’s mother caught her eye and winked. Inko beamed when she recognized the knowing smile of a fellow mother ready to scheme.

They had a wedding to plan, after all.

---

In the end, there was plenty for them to do. Izuku took to organizing everything with his usual gusto, filling up notebooks with lists, reminders, and contact information that might have made Inko’s head spin if her son weren’t so talented at organizing everything.

A few things were set in stone. They already had an officiant chosen from among their friends, as well as a photographer and a DJ—no less than Earphone Jack herself. Other than that, the guest list was the quickest to finish: classmates, co-workers, friends and former teachers, as well as immediate family on both sides. It was to be a small, private ceremony, with only family, close friends, and trusted acquaintances invited.

Endeavor was, naturally, not on that list. As far as Inko knew, his name was not even mentioned.

(Good, she thought with no small amount of satisfaction. The last thing this wedding needed was a pair of unfriendly eyes in the audience. She had tried to ignore the media’s unwelcome comments on her son’s nuptials, but the former Flame Hero insisted on making himself and his displeasure oh so very noticeable.)

Hisashi was also never mentioned, not by Izuku nor by Inko. And why should he be? He had hardly been mentioned in passing in their household for twenty years now.

Of course, there were a few things that escaped the grooms-to-be: tiny details that made little difference, areas outside their expertise and comfort zones. Those very details were what brought the two women to Inko’s couch, to confer over catalogs while the boys visited possible venues.

“Hmm,” Inko frowned over a booklet of floral samples. “Todoroki-san, what do you think of these as table settings? Very small, but tasteful, I think.”

“Oh, those look lovely,” she agreed. “And, there’s no need for formality between us. Please, call me ‘Rei’.”

“Oh! Are you sure?” Inko knew she was blushing, because her surprise and embarrassment were overwhelming and blushing was inevitable (Izuku had to get it from somewhere, after all).

“It’s a personal preference of mine,” Rei said with a small smile. “I go by my maiden name in public, and with strangers. But I would like us to be friends, if that’s all right.”

“Oh, well, yes! Of course!” Inko tried not to stammer. “And you may call me Inko, as well.”

“Are you certain? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

“Ah, believe me,” Inko chuckled. “If I called you Rei while you called me Midoriya, it would feel off-balance. Inko is fine.” She cleared her throat. “Do you know if your son has a favorite flower? Izuku likes marigolds. Anything yellow, actually. Though he’s shown a fondness for roses, in recent years.” She paused, hoping this was delicate. “Red and white, of course.”

This drew a laugh from her new friend. “I think Shouto would rather defer to his fiance’s preferences in flowers.” After a moment of thought she added, “Truth be told, I think he’d be happy with following Izuku’s lead on everything.”

“Yes, he seemed a bit overwhelmed with all the details,” Inko mused. “Poor dear. And Izuku! I’ve heard him change his mind on things five times each. Shouto wants what Izuku wants and Izuku doesn’t know what he wants because he also wants what Shouto wants.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for, I suppose,” said Rei, smiling again. “I have to confess, I’ve been so excited! I wanted to badly to help Fuyumi with her wedding, but that was…” Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat. “Anyhow, the boys should be out for another hour or so, so we may as well narrow down more of the choices they have ahead of them…”

Inko watched as the other woman flipped distractedly through the catalog pages. She knew only what Izuku had told her, which wasn’t much, but she did know that Shouto’s sister’s wedding was a hushed, hurried thing, in the midst of the Endeavor court case. Rei had still been in the hospital then, hadn’t she?

She pushed those thoughts aside. There was a reason Endeavor wasn’t welcome, several even. “I think the menu is next on their list,” Inko said, keeping her voice light and brisk. “Why don’t we look up caterers for them to choose from?” The thought brought another at its heel, and she popped her forehead. “Oh! And a baker! How could I forget—it’s no wedding without a proper cake.”

Rei looked a little relieved at the shift in topic. “Right, of course. Izuku didn’t happen to leave any notes on menus, did he?”

“You know, I believe he did—where did I put it down…?” Inko pushed aside a book of font samples and another catalog before she found the notebook that Izuku had left her. “Ah, here we are! Just a moment… yes, here’s the page!” Inko passed it over. “It looks like the cake is settled—Izuku wrote down ‘Sugarman Confections’ and circled it three times.”

“Oh yes, Sugarman!” A smile broke out over Rei’s face. “He’s on the guest list with the rest of their old classmates, isn’t he? I heard Shouto talking about that—Izuku wasn’t sure if it was right to hire him for his services when he was also a guest, but Shouto pointed out that they would be ordering from one of his bakeries and not necessarily hiring him, specifically. That seemed to alleviate the worries.”

“And Earphone Jack is handling music, I know Izuku was very insistent about that,” Inko said with a smile. “Or… rather, I think it was Earphone Jack who was insistent, and Izuku was mostly resigned to it.”

“They’re all very keen,” Rei remarked. “I think they’ll all be looking for ways to help when the day actually comes, guests or not.”

“Heroes, all of them,” Inko sighed, and her mood promptly flipped over on its head.

She couldn’t be sure what caused it. Maybe nothing; it was always so frustrating when these things came out of nowhere, especially in front of someone who didn’t know her well and might mistake it for something else. But at that precise moment, sitting on her battered old couch surrounded by evidence of frantic wedding planning, Inko was overtaken by another flood of tears.

“Oh! Oh, dear…” And now she was embarrassed again, weeping as she searched about for a box of tissues and found none within reach. It was far too late to try to turn back the tears or try to hide them. She was crying, and that was all there was to it. “I-I’m terribly so-orry, I don’t know… what came over me…” A soft bit of cloth was pressed into her hand—a handkerchief?—and Inko jammed it into her eyes, partly to stem the flow and mostly to avoid looking at whatever expression Rei was wearing at the moment.

“How embarrassing!” she exclaimed, once she could speak again without her voice wobbling too severely to be understood. “Forgive me, Rei-san, I haven’t any idea what’s wrong with me—” She tried to swallow another sob, and was only partially successful.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Rei said gently, as she took back the sopping-wet handkerchief and replaced it with a fresh one. “What’s a wedding without panicking and tears?”

Inko choked on a laugh. She couldn’t laugh now, or it would come out in undignified squeaks. As it was, it took her a few tries to compose herself fully. “It’s not panic, don’t worry,” she said, wiping her eyes for the umpteenth time. “I’m just… overwhelmed. It’s all so much—and it’s not as if it’s come out of nowhere, but… sometimes I just look around, and that’s all it takes.”

Rei watched her carefully, neither interrupting nor answering, even to ask for her handkerchief back.

“It’s just, for the longest time it was only the two of us, you know?” Inko went on, still mopping at her cheeks, though it was more for restless energy than necessity. “Izuku and I… it’s just been the two of us and the rest of the world, for years, and then… and now…” She coughed. “I’m sorry, I must not be making any sense.”

“Take your time,” Rei assured her.

Inko did so, allowing herself a few more deep breaths before speaking again. “He was so lonely before,” she whispered hoarsely. “I did my best, but it never felt like enough—with Hisashi gone, and all his peers… I knew that he was lonely, and there were so many times that I could see he wasn’t happy, but I just didn’t know what to do, and then… and then he turned fifteen, and everything changed. And now he’s—now we’re here, and he’s found someone, he’s found so many people and they love him and he’s getting married and he’s never going to be alone again.” It all left her in a rush, thankfully with only a few more tears slipping free.

Rei was silent for a while. Her hand rested on the couch cushion between them, not reaching but offering. “It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it,” she said quietly. “Seeing him so bright. Happy.” Inko looked over just in time to see the other woman’s throat bob. “After being afraid that… that he lost his chance at happiness forever, because of something you did. Or didn’t do.”

“Oh, Rei…” Inko’s heart gave a painful twist.

“You’re right,” Rei went on, smiling softly at nothing in particular. “He’s the one who did all the finding. He found my Shouto’s smile, for one. I still wish I knew how to thank him for that. But I suppose helping plan his wedding is a step in the right direction.”

Inko couldn’t think of the words to answer her—and who knew if she could speak without crying all over again even if she could—so she simply clasped the offered hand warmly.

By the time their sons returned, the two women were cooing over flower arrangements, with not a single tear, tissue, or handkerchief in sight.

---

There were no seating sections, nor was there a need for them. The aisle was a necessity, but ultimately meant nothing. The two grooms shared friends, and the point of this ceremony was to come away sharing family, so what was the point of dividing them at the start?

In the front row, Inko wept unashamedly. Beside her, Rei clasped her hand and let loose a few joyful tears of her own.

[imgaygremlin]

Left in disrepair

Chapter 1- The one where hearts are broken

A golden bunny- well- an anthropomorphic one, shoved a girl- no more than 4, into a small back room, with no witnesses and nothing to protect her. Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, the newest place kids loved to go to, had several back rooms not mapped on the robot's sensors, or the cameras, making the perfect place to hurt- or worse, kill- someone.

The small girl breathed heavily, scrambling against the wall as a first resort. She whimpered, and decided using her voice would be the best way to ensure her safety. “What are you doing?” Her voice was shaky, and cloaked in a thick lisp, making her almost inaudible. She heard her friends running around outside, looking for her. “Gabriel?” She called, but to no avail. Nobody heard her.

“Shush, Susie. Just give up, they’re not coming to help, and you’ll soon be dead, too" he laughed, it soon turning maniacal and evil, and pulled a knife out from somewhere inside his suit. There were no pockets that Susie could see, so it had to have been on the person inside it.

“You aren’t really a robot, are you?” Upon seeing his reaction, a nod, her eyes flashed between almost every single emotion- sad, that she was alone; happy, that the robots weren’t trying to kill her; anger, that she was letting herself die like this. Her eyes eventually settled on a emotion that was particularly hard to describe, but to put it simply, was betrayal. Betrayal of the adults she thought she could trust. Betrayal that she couldn’t put up a strong fight.

“Good job, kid, you aren’t completely useless.” He chuckled, putting on different voices. Even though they were already almost pitch black, the man- the human’s eyes- seemed to grow darker with bloodlust and he lunged towards the girl, knife swinging outward. It missed her, by a fraction of an inch, and while he was distracted by the recoil and pressure on his arm, his breathing getting heavier- a bad sign- she threw a punch towards his face, and hit him square in the nose. His head got pushed backwards, not by much though. He stood back upright, his smile showing through his gapped teeth.

“That’s the best you can do? You’re weak.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, and made a split second decision to get rid of the Bonnie head, leaving it discarded on the floor. He could no longer act like someone he wasn’t, or rather, something he wasn’t. He smiled, a sweet, sadistic smile which had no traces of regret, or remorse, or really any emotions.

“I’m not the weak one, you are. I might be young, but you’re the stupid one, for attacking me. Don’t get me wrong, I love a fight, but only if it’s fair.” She managed to distract him with her mini speech, and took her chance to duck out behind him, only to find the door locked. Tears growing in her eyes, she fumbled with the door handle, trying to force it open. Eventually, she gave up, sinking back to the ground, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, I’ve failed you...” her voice trailed off.

All the while, the man was just staring, knowing she couldn’t escape, and if she could, he would take the defeat. He took his chance, stabbing her in the side while she was crying, her eyes widening in pain. “You can’t get out that easily, Susie. I won’t let you.”

She screamed in pain, one hand holding onto the door handle weakly. The other hand moved towards her side, and she curled in on herself. He simply laughed, watching her futile attempts to save herself. “Welcome to the Afton family, Susie" his smile widened.

“Y-you won’t get away with this, William” she got stabbed in the neck and could not ignore the pain. She collapsed on the floor and bled out.

William climbed out of The suit and stepped over Susie’s body. He dropped his knife, his purple ponytail bouncing behind him. Snapping back into character, he went over to Henry Emily, the person he’s worked with for several years, and faked some tears.

“Henry- I just went into the backroom for some storage and- there was a girl in there- she- she was dead-" he got cut off by Henry dragging him into a private room, alone. He looked almost impressed.

“You can’t lie to me William, you can’t.” That last phrase- you can’t- was one that Henry said a lot, in different tones, but it was always the same phrase. “I know you killed her. Tell me who it was and I’ll tell her parents she went missing.” He smiled, not meaning anything malicious by it, he was just a bit messed up after his daughter died. Henry got on his tiptoes and kissed William, quickly.

“Susie Chirah. She’s strong" Afton laughed slightly, before going on to explain his reasoning. “ You know how Elizabeth, and Chris, and Michael- all either died or left me, right? And for you it’s Charlie? I was thinking-" His face shifted, his eyebrows going down and his smile fading. “We can make a new family, one that’ll never leave us.” He pushed his hair out of his face.

Henry stared up at the 6”2 man, his eyes wide. His oversized sweater had gotten even more oversized as he lost the weight, almost unhealthily, and his hands were covered in ink and oil. Despite this, William loved him. For Henry, William was his only comfort after everyone in his life had left him- not even his sister stayed in contact with him. “Does that mean- Charlie- could come back? In the same way these new children will?”

“In theory, yes.” He paused. “But it might not, as we don’t know what happened to Charlie.” When Charlie- and Sammy- were around, William saw them as his children, and he looked after them like he was their father, but then they started taking too much of his time, so they had to go.

“Oh, speaking of Charlie, come with me!” Henry grabbed William's hand, and dragged him into one of the other back rooms- the safe room, to be specific- and showed him the work-in-progress robot he made, which was almost indistinguishable from how Charlie looked when she was alive. “I haven’t made the ai yet, but it looks like Charlie, doesn’t it?”

“Yes-" he paused, “it looks just like her.” He seemed to rock on his feet, his usually confident facade broken down into- admiration? Love? Jealousy? All of William's emotions were a jumble right now, he couldn’t tell what was ‘William Afton, the businessman’ or ‘William Afton, the broken man’.

“Are you okay? You look upset.” Henry reached towards his hand, but he pulled away.

“I’m fine- I’m sorry- I just remembered something” William quickly looked around the room, before looking back towards Henry. “You’re really beautiful...”

“Should we go back outside?” Henry reached for his hand again, and this time, William didn’t pull away. He gently nodded, and began to leave the safe room. “So.. Susie Chirah?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Have you ever seen a 3 year old so strong? It’s unreal.” William chuckled, sounding more human than he ever had done.

“We’re getting a new night guard tonight, right?” Henry looked around. “’Cause we both have stuff to do, right?”

“I believe so. I think his name is Warlock...”

“Odd name" Henry got the phone he always used, the cheap one. “Wanna help me record a tutorial message for him? This place isn’t too easy to navigate on those cameras.”

“But that means we have to do 5 nights worth of tutorials for one person.”

“Not necessarily. What if something happened to ‘phone guy’ on night 4? Like, being attacked by the robots?” Henry began to chew his nail, out of anxiety, or a whole load of different emotions.

“Or, just let Warlock make them. We can give him extra pay.”

“You’re a genius, William.”

“No, I’m William.” He giggled slightly.

“You need sleep, sweetie.” Henry, being surprisingly strong, picked him up, and walked around the back way, avoiding Susie’s parents, and only put him down when they were in the office. “Go to sleep, and I’ll sort out Susie’s parents"

“I love you, Henry...” And like that, William was asleep.

“I love you too...” Henry left the room, a smile on his face.

He walked towards the main room, where he could see Mrs and Mrs Chirah “Uh- excuse me- you’re the mothers of Susie, right?”

“Yeah...?” One, with a short, half-shaved pixie cut spoke with a thick Japanese accent

“I-I’m so sorry, but... your daughter has gone missing... Me and William can’t find her anywhere... I’m sorry..”

The two wives almost burst into tears, and they left the pizzeria quickly.

Henry sat down, and zoned out.

Meanwhile, William soon woke up, and got to work on increasing the size of his new family. He found his trusty suit, and lured a couple kids into the backroom with their own drawings. “Come here, kids, I found your missing drawings, and I even made them better!”

The oldest child, Cassidy, being almost 6, was the hardest to get trust from, and so he relied on blackmail. Since William had known them all for basically their whole life, he knew what to say to get her to behave. “If you don’t come here, your brother won’t love you anymore.”

“G-Gabriel wouldn’t do that, I know... I think...” She began to question what she knew. Without knowing what she was doing, she began to walk towards William, where her brother, and the Styke siblings were- that is, Fritz and Jeremy.

“That’s right, I won’t hurt you..” He lied. As Cassidy approached him, he grabbed her by one of her short ponytails and dragged her backwards into the safe room with everyone else. William locked the door behind her.

“What are you doing? Why did you lie?” Cassidy started crying, but tried to stay strong.

By this time, Gabriel and Fritz were already dead, on the floor. Jeremy had blood running out of the back of his head, and appeared dead. “You’ll soon be my new children, poor Cassidy. But that’s not a bad thing, you’ll forever be, well, young.”

“I won’t let you hurt anyone else! You’re the reason Susie is missing, aren’t you?” Cassidy almost screamed, her voice sore in the back of her throat.

“Oh, stupid girl, Susie isn’t gone, she’s right here!” He waved his hand and the figure of Susie’s ghost formed next to him.

“That isn’t Susie! That’s just a trick you’re using to kill me!” Cassidy was in tears at this point, and sunk down to the floor, hugging her knees.

Afton took the chance, stabbing her in the chest. He missed, but swung again, and hit her head.

Her hands fell to her side, and her head lolled open, her mouth slightly open. William went to step over her.

Jeremy, unknown to everyone else, was still alive, and went to chase after William. Unfortunate for him, he collapsed over Cassidy's body, his spirit giving up.

William returned, with the suits from the stage. Susie in Chica, Gabriel in Freddy, Fritz in Foxy, and Jeremy in Bonnie.

“Dammit, I need another suit...” he thought for a second, before running off and returning. He then stuffed Cassidy's body into the Golden Freddy suit, more comfortably fitting than the others, as there was no endoskeleton in Golden Freddy.

William, satisfied, left the room.

[gethighithefloor]

He couldn’t tumble out of the cart fast enough into her arms, foot nearly catching on the threshold. It was his mother, his real mother, the one who had held him in his very first moments, choking a breath and a cry through a film of afterbirth. Of course she recognized him right away, wouldn’t any mother? Even her hold felt warm and familiar, like everything he ever wanted. And his father, overwhelmed with relief, wrapped around them both, the warmth of his body seeping into Nalla’s own.

“Oh honey, you’re home...” He heard her whisper so sweetly into his ear, and a weight that had hung his heart so heavy for so long seemed to disappear.

Nalla immediately closed shop, and though he knew an extra night of his horse tucked in a stall would cost extra, he didn’t mind at all. Nothing else mattered, not now, that he had his family back. Everything would be alright now.

At least, Nalla thought that, he did, from the bottom of his heart.

Stepping into the small house, he was surprised to hear them call into the hall ‘We’re home!’. Who else was there? His grandmother or grandfather? Maybe an aunt or an uncle? Even the prospect of meeting more family so soon excited Nalla so much, and his silvery eyes blinked in surprise when he saw a young girl come into the hall instead.

She looked startlingly like him, wild brown hair (albeit more tamed into braids) and gleaming grey eyes. She was so much younger than him, by ten years or more, but... there was no way that could be his sister. Perhaps a cousin, or a family friend! They wouldn’t have just--,

“Come meet your brother, Arleigh! He’s home! Cynn is home!” Her mother-- their mother called out. Yet, instead of greeting him with a warm smile and a hug like their parents anticipated, both siblings simply... stared at each other in a mix of confusion and apprehension. There was a long stretch of silence, long enough that it felt like hours to Nalla, before a strong hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Come on Cynn, dinner will be ready in no time! Our first dinner together as a family!” A family, right. Right. He was home, wasn’t he? God, his lips and throat felt so dry, and his tongue like a dry sponge in his mouth. No words could come out, so instead he gave a nod, and walked further into the house-- no, his home. His home.

Except, it didn’t feel like home. Suddenly, as he roamed the halls and stairs, the feeling of being lost hit him like a speeding horse. There was no room for him here that was saved for the say he would return, no smell of lembas baking, or moss threatening to grow past the window sill. No elvish spoken down the hall, in gentle murmurs, or the soft noise of the chimes he’d made as a child ringing in the night air. Where was he? Where the hell was he?

A soft rustling around the corner caught his attention, and turning quickly, Cynn could only catch the end of a braid and the hem of a skirt before hearing the pattering of footsteps getting softer and farther away. So there he stood, in the living room with the fireplace crackling and snapping away, feeling a chill that the flames could not warm. Cynn heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes until he felt them ache and they danced with stars, trying to remember that this is what he’d wanted all along.

Right?

“Dinner’s ready!” His head lifted from the heels of his hands then, and unsure of which way the dining room was, Cynn simply followed his nose towards the rich scents of meat and bread. The house was small, so there was no trouble finding it, almost easy enough that he could tell himself he knew all along, that it was natural like it should have been. There, his father sat at the head of the modest table, Arleigh to his left. A wonderful dinner had been made, a roast sitting in the middle gleaming with juices and a reddish sauce. There were potatoes and roasted and buttered vegetables for sides, and a three glasses of a deep red wine sat before Cynn and his parents seat-- Arleigh given some sort of fruit juice instead.

Instead of his stomach growling in hunger, it churned with a familiar nausea.

Once they were all seated, the three of them said a soft prayer, leaving Cynn to glance around awkwardly. Was he-- supposed to join? Who were they praying to? Before he could clasp his hands as well, the three of them were already finished, and his father raised a glass to toast.

“To Cynn’s return! We waited so long for this day!” He said warmly, his grin wide and sure. Forcing a small one of his own, Cynn toasted to... his own arrival, which they had waited for. Did they only just wait? Didn’t they look for him like he had for them? 

The wine was bitter and deep, and burned the back of his throat. It sat strangely in his stomach. The beef, rich and dripping with succulent juices, tasted... bland, muted to him, and the potatoes that looked so creamy felt more like sand on his tongue. The food was far too heavy for his stomach, and his tongue missed the bright notes of freshly caught fish seasoned with herbs from Edoras and a lemon from the neighbor down the road. Of grilled vegetables with just a bit of salt, and fresh fruits afterward. Cynn felt a headache coming on, so instead of sipping on wine, he drank glass after glass of water. His mother took notice with a small gasp.

“Oh-- Cynn honey, I’m so sorry, you’re probably used to much lighter, Elvish foods, aren’t you?” She tsked at herself lightly, and Cynn felt a small sense of relief before... wondering why. Why did she know that, so specifically? Why? Why?!

“Why?” The words spilled from his mouth without him realizing, and it was his mothers surprised expression that told him he had spoken aloud. “I-I mean, how did you know that?” Cynn tried to play it off with a crooked smile and a soft laugh, but the air was already still and awkward, the question begging to be answered.

“Well, of course, we had... Left you near Mirkwood, all those years ago.” His father answered instead, earning a quick snap of Cynn’s head toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, Arleigh sunk down a bit more into her chair, pushing around a piece of meat with no intention of eating it. There must have been a look of confusion upon his face, for his father explained further.

“It was a curse placed upon our family, that our firstborn would be plagued with sleep, but forever without rest. Your mother and I, we didn’t want anything else to befall you, Cynn, we wanted to protect you... So we let you roam one day, near the edge of the forest where we knew an Elf would find you, and take you in.”

Cynn opened his mouth to speak, yet when he needed words the most they seemed to fly away. They had... left him there, intentionally, and had known all along. All those years, they knew he was in Mirkwood, growing up faster than any of his peers, unable to make truly lasting friendships due to their difference in life span. Cynn could feel himself shake, could hear the fork in his hand gently tapping the porcelain of the plate with each tremor, so he set it down instead. The first home cooked meal with his birth parents that he craved so badly threatened to come up for a second, more acrid taste.

“Cynn, honey, we... We know its hard to hear, but we hope you’ll understand. We didn’t want something even worse to plague you, and then we had Arleigh, and...” His mother spoke, adding guilt on top of the anger on top of the sadness on top of the bitterness. He glanced over at his sister, only a young girl, and was almost startled to meet her eyes. Arleigh, much to his surprise, did not break their gaze. Her’s was set in an expression... much more grave than he thought a girl her age should have. Perhaps she understood what he was feeling, somehow. Cynn opened his mouth, but a fuzziness tugged at the back of his head. His breath choked, voice trying to form any sort of warning, before everything went black.

And then, he was back again, like nothing had happened. Except, while he knew he was fine, while everyone who knew him would know it was just a small hiccup in his life, these people... Didn’t. His mother and father stood beside him, one hand on each shoulder, while Arleigh looked aghast, pale like she had seen Cynn die before her eyes before coming back to life. Despite he words of concern going on around him, asking if he was alright, if he felt okay, it all sounded so... muted. He wasn’t home. He wasn’t with his parents. He wasn’t Cynn.

Nalla let out a soft sigh before standing, causing everyone else to watch him rise from his seat. They all looked upon him with varying expressions-- surprise, worry, horror, the same way a stranger or a customer would look at him if his curse took over while he was somewhere unfamiliar. And that’s where he was, somewhere unfamiliar, in a house full of strangers. Nalla looked over at all of them before forcing one last small smile.

“I’m fine, thank you. Thank you for dinner. I think... I’m going to go now. Thank you again.” He felt like a broken record. He just wanted to leave, wanted to go home to Mirkwood and see his friends in Rivendell. To see Thindthórod and fall asleep in his arms. This place-- this wasn’t home at all. This was... a family that he had grown apart from, the moment he stepped foot in that meadow near the forests edge, cooing in curiosity.

“Cynn, please don’t leave, we have so much we want to talk to you about!” The woman protested, and Nalla realized he never even caught her name. He had so hastily called these people ‘mother’ and ‘father’ that he didn’t... actually know who they were. And they didn’t know who he was either. Bitter bile rose in the back of his throat, burning up his chest from his stomach and-- no, that wasn’t vomit, it was anger.

“My name is Nalla.” Not that they asked. Not that they knew. As quickly as he could without breaking into a run, Nalla turned and headed toward the door, hearing a chair scrape behind him as the man and woman followed him with protests to his departure. He couldn’t hear them, he could barely feel the door handle beneath his hand, but falling asleep for brief moments in his life had lent his body and mind the ability to be able to run automatically, even if he felt he was elsewhere. Heading toward the stable, Nalla was relieved to find Bethril straight away, and still hearing the muffled protests of the couple, Nalla turned around to face them.

“Please.” His voice bordered on desperate, quivering. He was always such a crybaby. “Please, just... It’s fine. I found you. I’m glad.” That was a lie, but he continued on. “I just... need time. I need time.” He breathed out, busying his hands with Bethril’s bridle. Before he could see the womans tears, Nalla turned away and quickly put the piece onto his horse, clutching at the lead like a lifeline. Bringing Bethril out from the box, Nalla gave one last glance toward the couple, who held each other as if they were threatening to fall apart.

“We love you, Cynn.” The man called out, and Nalla could only stare back before clenching his jaw. Wordlessly, he turned away, and started back toward his cart. His question was answered-- he knew why he was found by the Mirkwood forest, he knew where his ‘parents’ were, he knew what they had been doing the past twenty-four years. Yet none of the answers satisfied him, none of them. He just wanted to see someone familiar again.

Upon arriving at his cart, harnessing Bethril was easy and mechanical, second nature. The familiarity of it brought Nalla a small sense of calm, one that was erased as soon as he turned around. Silvery eyes looked up at him, just a few feet away, braids in a messy fray like his own ponytail often was. Arleigh panted heavily, obviously having run quite far from home in her search for his cart. Her parents must have mentioned it to her while Nalla was wandering their halls like a ghost trying to find its place. The siblings stayed quiet, save the small pants coming from Arleigh, and Nalla couldn’t help but... feel sympathy for her. None of this was her fault, yet her mere existence was what crashed into him the hardest. She... didn’t deserve any of this.

Climbing into his cart, Nalla searched his wares for something small enough before glancing at a thin, golden bracelet. The chain itself was delicate and the gems embedded in the charm formed the constellation Remmirath, one he had seen many autumn nights living in the forest. Stepping out, Nalla was both surprised and pleased to find Arleigh was still there, though she had caught her breath. Quietly, Nalla approached her, and slowly knelt before his younger sister before taking one of her hands with care. She let him, never letting her eyes break from his actions, and letting out a soft gasp when he pooled the delicate bracelet in her tiny palm.

“Keep it. Please.” Nalla choked out, gently curling the young girls fingers around the piece. Looking up at her, Nalla’s eyebrows raised as he watched Arleigh’s eyes well before tears spilled onto her freckled cheeks. It seemed being a crybaby ran in his blood after all, and at the thought, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. Reaching up, Nalla gently wiped the tears from Arleigh’s cheeks.

“I never want you to blame yourself for this.” Their eyes met, and his words were firm now. Understanding, both of his plight and of her role in it, Arleigh hesitated before nodding, and gave a strained smile of her own. Before her brother could stand, the girl threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging Nalla as tightly as she could. The young Man was hesitant, but gingerly returned the hug before pulling away. 

“Thank you.” She finally spoke, the first words Nalla had heard her speak the whole night, and they were ones of gratitude. He could only wish that some part of himself was as selfless as Arleigh was in that moment. In return, Nalla could only nod, finally standing and, after a beat, heading back to his wagon. He climbed onto the drivers seat, and without another word from either of them, Nalla departed from the town.

Arleigh watched it go down the street, toward the small stone gate that ended the town she lived in. She watched the cart get smaller and smaller, barely lit by the moons silvery light, listening to the small chiming of the jewelry inside and committing the sound to memory. 

They said no goodbyes.

[nellynee]

Together alone lore bits

In the fresh aftermath of Together alone, we’re getting a lot of YAY Pink Pearl and all that, but there’s a few things I’ve noticed that no one else has pointed out yet. 

Ok so this first point I have seen pointed out so it’s important to remember, that Steven’s dream is not a play by play of Pink and her Pearl, the presence of Steven specific things (his bear, chaps, guitar) confirm this, even if Yellow Diamond’s neck had not

Pink Pearl is the cutest thing I love her

Also the way Steven carries himself when he floats. We’ve known it was a callback to Rose for a while now but is it like, legit PinkD muscle memory?

Some pointing out that the smooch might have been a hint to why PD and her Pearl were separated good eye everyone. It immediately makes me think of the episode “Now we’re only falling apart” and Pink’s openness, awkwardness, and attempts to build a rapport with our Pearl

Yellow’s happy face in Steven’s dream made me happy. There’s goodness in that relationship, even if it’s in his subconsciousness

Dreams of coughing up hair are actually usually attributed to physical discomfort rather than having some sort of meaning. That being said, such dreams usually have to do with being in stressful situations, and wanting to get rid of the thing causing discomfort immediately 

I have to wonder, whether or not Pink Pearl’s presence was Steven’s subconscious. Her disappearance, followed by White’s immediate appearance, might be indicative of her being White’s patsy in Steven’s dream.  

I do, truly believe that thanks to the color scheme, the dream sequence, if indeed influenced by memories, was a confirmation of Pink Pearl. But taking into account what I stated above, there is a chance that the memory was of OUR Pearl, and White inserted her own (think Connie’s mom replacing Yellow in Jungle Moon). Just throwing ideas out. Not likely. Don’t think that’s the case. but there it is

I also do 100% think this was a dream, not a memory. Other than the mirror they were preening before, there was nothing new in that dream. Yellow’s expressions, the Pearl present, juggling, Rose and Pearl flirting, White in that pose, are all things Steven is aware of, mostly was recently introduced to, and could be attributed to him

ALSO, and most important. Steven calls it a dream. In the other two instances we’ve seen of him reliving Pink’s memories, he’s been aware of it on some degree. Even when he didn’t know what was happening on Jungle moon, he could recognize what he was seeing was something that happened, that the emotions were not his own, and how that pertained to his powers. He knows when he’s living a memory. Steven experience that dream as a dream, not a memory.

Confirmation that the pebbles aren’t isolated from other gems (ie, they aren’t hiding from Steven’s friends). I’ve seen thoughts on how the pebbles might be to Pink what the comb and walls were to the other Diamonds, semi sentient byproducts of their extractions. Their little society thrived on Pink’s good will, it was simply how she applied these not quite gems.

That they are so quick to declare Era 3 on Pink’s return further supports the theory that the resource crisis came not from the lack of acquisition of Planets, but from whatever Pink was able to provide (ala extraction)

Which brings the question, how old was Pink? We usually assume, based on how they treat her, that she was significantly younger than her diamond sisters. But if all four of their extraction liquid is needed to make viable, full strength gems, then we should, at the very least, be in era 3 already. There should have been an era before Pink and her contribution, before she was made

Meaning she may have been just as old as her sisters

It’s just, the being treated as a child because she was younger never sat well with me, because we are being continuously smashed in the face that a newborn gem knows exactly what it’s made to do, how to do it, and how to fit in. The outlier gems we know and love are just that, outliers. That they would have to coddle Pink while she learned the ropes as a young gem is ridiculous. That they had to coddle Pink because she showed repeated incompetence as a ruler in the style the Diamonds are accustomed to makes more sense. 

Pink, as Rose, often lamented her inability to change and her deep belief in a gem not changing their purpose. Not something she’d be so set in if she herself was able to change.

So basically, Pink might be just as old as Yellow and Blue, but her incompetence and childishness has nothing to do with inexperience, and all to do with how she acts and how she’s treated in kind. She Emerged childish, and remained so, not expected to change.

Between Yellow’s jealousy of Steven getting to talk to White, and Blue’s eagerness to please her and comparing that need to please White with their own Court’s requirement to please their Diamonds, I’m leaning pretty heavy into the ‘White existed before all, and made the others’ theory.

YELLOW PEARL WALKING EN POINTE MY BALLERINA WEAK ASS CAN NOT HANDLE

“You can accept or reject the members of your court at your leisure” What happens if they’re rejected?

Like, this is such a stressful situation for Steven. Good on him for double checking tradition and protocol and trying to impress he knows this is important and needs to get his foot in the door. Breaking the mold is not what he needs, and this is so hard for him my poor boy.

I’ve been sitting on this for a long time. But I feel like dancing and singing for gems is a lot more than demonstrative. Between the dancing having some sort of correlation for gems getting into the mindset and harmonizing for fusion, the Pearls being requested to sing to make Blue feel better, the idea that a Diamond should never need to dance, the corruption being a song, I feel like there’s something physiological going on here. I’ve been hovering on the headcanon that song can artificially boost a gem’s mentality (as sung by say, a servant, like a comb or Pearl), but I’m starting to wonder if the foundation is there for canon

Based on her mouth, Yellow Pearl is actually making that smug AF face when she says “my feelings are irrelevant” and like... I can see her thinking that way based on the proud demeanor she puts on and the expectations of a Pearl. It’s a good thing she’s recognizes and is ok with that fact.

Blue Pearl speaking up! We all like to characterize her as shy but like, she buts in when Blue is needed, went exploring while Blue grieved on earth and found Greg, has somehow arranged with her Diamond the allowance to draw during court...Heck the way she glances down when Yellow is talking and then inputs that she likes to draw looks more like contemplation than hesitance. She’s not shy, she’s soft spoken, like her Diamond!

Really all this Pearl interaction is so good I could watch it forever

Yellow Pearl your aesthetic is on point and I love you (pun intended)

Even after explaining to Yellow and Blue, the idea that they don’t really comprehend what he is, and thus can’t change out of his “prefered shape” to something more pleasing to White is a hard hitter, but expected. Their comprehension of what’s going on with Steven/Pink is a delicate, complicated thing, and explains a lot about why they think of him as Pink, because they don’t really understand what he is.

Though Blue changing the subject to the Earth gems feels like the show writers desperately trying to acknowledge this without talking through the logistics or consequence, yet, since there’s a lot to cram into an episode. I feel like they might be saving that comprehension by the Diamonds for an emotional climax

Blue Pearl hiding her drawing like. She knows when that’s allowed and now aint it

Like, being immersed in homeworld and seeing how stifling it is, you can almost physically see Blue making allowances for subpar gems for Pink’s sake. Their reluctance, even in the face of obtaining usable gems, to work towards Earth makes a lot of sense this way. If they’re struggling to deal mentally with four outliers, then why would they want to waste effort on a planet of traitors and off colors, even with a few usable loyal gems to sweeten the pot? It’s just a few lowley gems and they’ve been gone this long already. It’s bellow their notice. They are making allowances for Pink, because this is her little project and she’s doing something productive. But it’s more cute than anything

We now have our homeworld Garnet spectrum! We already knew about Hessonite, but we now have the Demantoids and the Pyropes as well. Of course, the Demantoids are a green spectrum, and Pyropes are red, giving us the core three colors

The way Blue says “I’ll take care of it, I’ll take care of everything” when asking Steven if he’ll ring in the ball is very telling. When she arrives latter, she congratulates Steven on how well he’s done, but this right here, after she’s gotten fed up with his attitude, his lack of understanding, ect, is very similar to her dismissiveness of Pink in Steven’s dream on the moon base. Gem society is one that expects perfection from the second you are made. It makes sense that eons of picking up any slack that Pink left behind as a leader in a society that doesn’t need to learn has made them unwilling to teach and quick to frustrate and jump in

The way Garnet says “She’s not going to listen to me, but she may listen to Pink” makes me wonder if she saw something. It would explain why she showed up anyways.

The wall statue that sings is the creepiest thing ever. It also might indicate that there are no gems whose purpose is music

Lets talk for a moment about this

Over the course of the episode, we get a pretty good idea of what the whole room looks like. This point in time is before the arrival of the guard. Rubies will stand on the left side, with the yellow spectrum gems, and the sapphires on the right side (this is debatable, as we see them in both directions when the dancing breaks up, but they are at the very front), with the quartz, made up mostly of Amethysts with a sprinkling of Jasper, taking up a row between this crowd and the Ruby/Sapphire line. There is a Sprinkling of Aquamarines in the back attending the curtains. 

So here’s what I want to talk about. 

Who’s gems are these?

I kept an eagle eye out, and of all the gems, only the Amethysts (like the famethyst, blue) and the Rubies (like the Ruby gang, yellow) have designation diamonds. So there are a few possibilities. None of these possibilities necessarily excludes the others. It could be all, none, or a combination of these.

That higher ranking gems do not need disgnational diamonds. If you’re a court gem, then you should be recognizable by your diamond by sight. 

The primary group of gems here are shapeshifted. Blue Diamond mentions that the court gems should be putting their best gem forward for their diamond, and the dancing for this particular group of gems seems oldy specific to their shape. Steven universe puts a lot into the little aesthetical details for worldbuilding. That most of these gems are homogenous in clothing design, the odd leg mass, lack of businesslike diamond insignia when they’re on the guards... A lot of people are disappointed that the diamonds didn’t dress up, but the diamonds are perfect as they are, why should they? This might be a court gem’s idea o dressing up. I went back through The Answer, to see if I could find any cases of these gems silhouettes in the crowd, and a few of them actually do show up! Some in the form of round skirts, but a lot of the clockwork gear skirts have waist and up matches in the crowd of Blue’s court.

These were the only, very specific type of gem allowed to even attend. Despite listing Garnets, none are apparent in any way in the crowd. The cut of gems are also very suspiciously homogenous for a show so focused on detail. Even Shadow puppet flashbacks had differentiating gem cut. But, this is Pink’s first debut, and Blue does mention taking over everything right before this. She may have dictated which gems were allowed, or expected to attend. Hence, we get this homogenous bunch, a gentle and easy to please group, a kids glove version of court for Pink, amethyst and like quartz, sapphires, and rubies, so Pink’s earth friends can blend in, and Aquamarines, to guard the door and not ruin this for Pink.

these are bulk gems designed without thought. But again, with all the detail and worldbuilding that Sugar has been painstakingly slotting together for years before the show was even approved, this seems not at all the case

So what does that have to do with who’s gems these are?

I think there are two possibilities. One is that the entire group is Pink’s. As of the arrival of Blue and Yellow, Steven is already going through the process of greeting the clockwork skirted gems, and Pearl says they are nearly complete. We are then (before the Diamonds) given the arrival of Amethyst, who we know must arrive with the other quartz. All the Quartz have Blue Diamond’s yes, but the quartz crowd is made of of Amethysts and some Jaspers. We know that (Despite our main Jasper being Yellow’s) Blue took on a majority of Pink’s quartz soldiers, and up till now, Amethyst and Jasper have been associated with Pink specifically. 

Then, the arrival of our Ruby and Sapphire, with a group of their own kind, all presenting themselves specifically to Steven. The Rubies all have Yellow diamonds on them (and we know there were Rubies taken in by Yellow) but present themselves to Steven anyways, meaning these may have been Pink’s warriors.

We know, from Yellow Pearl, that the Diamond’s all worry about acknowledging the presence of their own Courts. Steven would be presented with his, to approve or reject at his leisure, as would Yellow, and Blue. Now there’s no guarantee that all of these gems have been acknowledged, but the fact that the Sapphires, all blue, presenting themselves to Steven means that colors outside his spectrum are not automatically excluded from his court. (And are these all his sapphires! OR are these ALL the Sapphires there are? Either way, that is incredibly rare compared to the sheer numbers coming out of kindergartens. No wonder Blue recognized our Sapphire.)

We also see none of the Garnets that Blue listed as attending, nore Agates, which Zircon (during the Trial) mentioned should be in Pink’s Entourage, despite the fact that their purpose is to keep grunt gems in line, and there are Amethysts in attendance. This could indicate there there are more gems due to arrive after their Diamonds.

Alternatively, and more likely, the group of pastels on the right are Pink’s, and the group of greens and yellows on the left are Blue and Yellow’s. Following the idea that these gems were hand picked to either let Pink’s friends blend in, or to be so passive and simpering and forgiving that they are basically Baby’s First Court, we also see a Yellow and Green gem (the outliers who later fuse) reacting to Yellow and Blue specifically, and their fusion has yellow and blue diamonds on it. Finally, of all the silhouettes I found in The Answer, all of them belonged to the group on the left, which makes sense, if both have examples of Blue’s court.

TLDR: Pink’s gems on the right, Blue and Yellow’s on the left, Amethysts and Rubies are Pink’s, Saphire’s like, 70% sure Pinks, and the entire group was demanded, and the only ones allowed, to come. Also the skirts are not every day attire.

The first time I saw Amethyst in the limb enhancers, I thought for sure that she would be wearing them all of Diamond days and that she’d be taking them back to Peridot. I was legit disappointed by Opal fusion because of this.

Also was 100% sure Amethyst’s trick was gonna be picking her nose.

Notice, that on little notice, Sapphire, Ruby, and Amethyst all know the dance they are supposed to do. Sapphire and Ruby make sense, if said dance never changes, but Amethyst seems to be failing more from the unfamiliarity of limb enhancers than lack of knowledge. Gems don’t learn or get taught things on homeworld, so I wonder if it’s something Amethyst just knew, if Pearl or Garnet taught her, or if it’s something to do with the music. I really just want an episode dedicated to her obtaining her limb enhancers. 

Steven batting away the floating finger is precious.

so.many.sapphires

Sapphires are such an ascetic I love them all

Our Saphire is still most babe

But seriously, they present themselves to Steven, are they all Steven’s Sapphires, or just ALL the Sapphires that exist?

again, Padparadscha, so I think there’s more Sapphires. So these are all Steven’s Sapphires?

Everything about the Diamond entrance is so extra. but understandable. It’s a poshed up, showy event for the sake of the lower gems. It’s SUPPOSED to be extra

But them striking their mural poses are ESPECIALLY EXTRA

dat blue diamond hip sway. It’s ok random crowd gem, I’d cry too.

Not sure when to mention this but the circle cut gems with nose placement baby girls I’m so sorry. 

That Aquamarine with the nose like wow

Jasper.... she made out good

two screens of interaction an I had already shipped the future fusion gems

White Diamond’s (Through her Pearl) reiteration of era 3, and her creepy, almost approving stare, says a lot about how she’d feeling about Pink. I’m starting to buy more and more that that her performance at the end of “Legs from here to homeworld” were the dredges of 6000 years of denial in the face of Pink shattering and her current mood is pushing Steven as hard into that niche as possible. I’m really getting the feeling that she might actually help with corruption, on the condition that Pink Diamond never leave homeworld again. Heck, that might have been her plan all along, in giving Pink the kind of colony she did and with corruption. 

Really, the way that it cuts from White Pearl’s stare, down to Steven looking up, is in such a way that insinuates that she’s staring at Steven.

The way the cog wheel skirts bend, and knowing Sapphire has legs, is what inspired the “shapeshifted for the occasion” bit

regardless, I think there’s legs in there

For serious though. That these gems have such flat looking clothing, when we see such variance in other gems before, that they all have the same cut of gem and hair makes it look like just simplified crowd building. No to say that we don’t see examples of recolors and copy pastes in the crowd. But there’s such variance in the facial expressions and we’ve seen some of these silhouettes before. SOMETHING is up with this weird group of gems, especially with such detail everywhere else. I would bet REAL ACTUAL MONEY these gems were hand picked to be the most appealing to White Diamond for Pink’s benefit by Blue

People are already ragging on Connie for being super dumb about dragging Steven on the Dance floor but like. This is the first real exposure gem culture too, and no one is focusing on her to manhandle all these rules and manners into her. There was an entire episode dedicated to him experiencing Gem Stuff on a much more intense level than her and all the trouble that caused in their relationship. But even understanding the gravity of the situation. She’s right, White isn’t there, and the Diamonds so far seem really lenient with Steven, and they weren’t intending to fuse. On top of that, this is obviously a callback to Alone Together. She’s trying to cheer him up the same way he cheered her. She’s trying to be emotionally supportive to a friend who’s so emotionally worn out and exhausted. She has no reason to believe a few moments of dancing wouldn’t be forgiven, and the payoff of cheering Steven is way bigger than that risk. Her perception of the situation is different than our, and that was the smart, kind, thing for a friend to do at the time.

Sapphire notices Steven and Connie, but SO DOES RUBY. I wonder, based on their IMMEDIATE reaction of fusing, what they saw before the ball? Did they see this possibility and come because of that, keeping their eyes peeled just in case?

Buuuuut based on her dialog, I do wonder if Connie intended to fuse? Like, you know what happens when you dance girl? Again, White isn’t there, Yellow and Blue are lenient, Steven is a diamond, and she hasn’t really had the taboo of fusion bashed into her head with the same context Steven has. Steven is tired, and tired of being Pink. The line “Im here” is such a loaded one with a lot of history in fusion for them, especially after the episode Mindful Education. She might have been outright asking if he needed to fuse for a while.

Stevonnie’s fusion twirl is just... so cute and dynamic and so reminiscent of Garnet’s second fusion I love it

Why do we get Amethyst and Pearl’s reaction here but not Ruby and Sapphire’s GARNET WHAT DID YOU SEEEEEEE?

Pearl’s reaction to seeing Garnet too. They know that fusions have no chance against the diamonds. What does this stand do other than paint targets on them? Did Garnet warn them beforehand? like “If I fuse during the ball shits going down form Opal”? What’s going to happen to them now? What. has. Garnet. seen?

Honey I don’t know who you are, but you’re a mess and I love you unconditionally. She’s just so happy to be here

Also Everyone else is shocked and then there’s this disgusted bitch. That being said, this does confirm these gems to be different types, despite having such similar cuts

But Opal and Stevonnie both looking at Garnet and Garnet just being like IDK. Just a hard, solid reminder that Garnet can only predict when someone acts typical to themselves, and two court gems fusing in secret is not predictable at all

It makes me wonder, under what circumstances does this sort of thing occur? What is it exactly about cross fusion that fulfills some sort of need in gems? We know it tends to happen when gems are of similar mind and emotional state, so I can see it happening accidentally, but it happens so rarely, and seems almost addictive to the gems in question. What are gems fundamentally lacking that fusion gives them?

That this girl, this candy apple, seaweed, grass in the wind mess of a girl, is 100% on board after like two seconds cause she’s just so happy to see another cross gem fusion just, don’t hurt her please.

That being said, the through the teeth kind of anger we are seeing from Yellow and Blue speaks a lot more of embarrassment than true fury directly at what they see. White’s influence is a mighty thing.

What I’m saying is, how different would it would have gone, if Stevonnie hadn’t happened at the ball?

Stevonnie in Pink Diamond’s outfit is everything I possibly could have wanted. I still want to see them with their hair down post Connie hair cut though.

And that’s... it, that’s the end of the episode. We don’t see the end of the ball, or what happens to the Crystal gems, or where Stevonnie was taken. We know they unfuse next episode, and that it’s the last episode before the special, but this one got me really thinking

[ughseoks-main]

Snapshot - [Chapter 1]

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: A mysterious girl with a special power ends up on the Avengers’ front doorstep after running from Hydra. A boy with chocolate brown eyes and a heart of gold vows to protect her at all costs.

Prologue - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Series Masterlist

Word count: 3.1k

a/n: it’s finally here!! the beginning is kinda shitty but i promise it gets better. leave me some feedback & hope y’all enjoy!

“So, you’re the person that Fury told me about?” Tony asked you, taking off his blue tinted glasses and setting them on the coffee table in front of him and Peter with a clink.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said quietly from across the table. The three of you had taken a seat on the couches in the living room after your wounds had been treated and you were given dry clothes.

“I didn’t expect you to be so young,” he gestured towards you, “Based on what Fury told me, you’ve been through a lot.”

Instead of answering, you simply shrugged. You couldn’t deny that what you’d gone through was difficult, but it was what you signed up for. Just because you were a teenager didn’t mean you couldn’t handle it.

“Well, we can talk more about this in the morning once you’ve gotten some rest,” he sighed and stood up from the couch, “Peter, can you show this young lady to her room? No funny business.”

Peter nodded furiously, his voice squeaking slightly as he spared a glance in your direction. “Of course, Mr. Stark.” 

With a quick “Thanks, Pete,” he stood up and left the room. Peter looked around awkwardly for a few moments before speaking up, “S-so, um, your room should be, uh, this way, if you’ll follow me…” he trailed off, his thumb pointing to the hallway behind him. You nodded at him and stood, only to double over as a stabbing pain cut into your side. Peter didn’t hesitate to run over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay? If you need help walking-” he was interrupted as you held your hand up in front of you, signaling that you were fine on your own. He cleared his throat and slowly stood up and away from you, giving you an unsure glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Just- just give me a second,” you coughed and stood up all the way, taking slow steps down the hallway right behind Peter.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, unsure of what to say or do around each other. Since your side still burned, you had to walk at an extremely slow pace, which dragged out the walk to your room by several extra minutes.

“So, um,” Peter glanced towards you nervously, “If you don’t mind me asking, why exactly are you here? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Instead of immediately answering, you took a moment to decide whether or not to elaborate. On one hand, you had absolutely no idea who Peter was; but on the other, he’d trusted you when you showed up at the tower, so you supposed that you owed him a bit of that trust in return.

“Well, I guess I should start off by saying that I have a photographic memory,” you began, causing Peter to look up at you, slightly shocked that you were really going to tell him, “Along with remembering everything, I can also wipe specific memories of others. I’ve been able to do it for as long as I can remember.”

“Do you like being able to do what you do?” Peter asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, the ability to remember everything is both a blessing and a curse. When I was about seven, some agents from HYDRA came to my house and slaughtered my entire family. I was hiding, but I saw everything. I remember every little detail. I still don’t know why they did it.”

You took a moment to compose yourself. It’d been years since it happened, but the image of your parents and sister dead on the ground in front of you always appeared in your mind when you spoke of that day. Peter gave you a sympathetic look, prompting you to continue.

“I was, uh, on the street for a while. Nobody would take me in and I had no extended family. I was all alone, barely even living, until Nick Fury came to me and told me that he had a job for me. Since I had no other reason to be alive, I agreed and came with him to his office. That was where he told me that he knew of my special abilities and that I could use them to help prevent others from the same fate as my family.” you sniffled at the memories. It’d been a very, very long time since you’d told anybody your whole story.

“Basically, they put me into HYDRA when I was old enough to take care of myself. At HYDRA, they were planning this huge attack and it all revolved around one specific thing: a weapon. Since I can remember everything, they made me work with their scientists to create untraceable plans for this weapon. Nobody can hack into the system and see the plans, because they’re inside of my head,” you tapped your temple, “Once they plans for the weapon were completed, I wiped the memories of all the scientists, destroyed any remaining data, and ran for my life.”

“And then you came here,” Peter thought out loud, putting the pieces together, “Because Fury told Mr. Stark about all of this.”

You nodded, “He knew that Tony would know how to analyze all of the data and help protect me at the same time. Those people from HYDRA are looking for me, and they’ll never stop until they extract the plans from my memory and kill me. I’ll never have a normal life, but I know what I signed up for.”

Peter was silent for a moment, taking in all of the information you’d just divulged. Suddenly he looked up at you, his gaze filled with determination as he promised, “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“You don’t even know me,” you gave him a lopsided smile, “Why would you risk your life like that?”

“Because it’s what friends do,” he stated, stopping at a door to his left, “This is your room. Feel, uh, feel free to let me know if you have any questions.”

He stepped out of the way, allowing you to enter your doorway. You paused for a moment to turn around and face him, giving him a soft smile. “Thank you, Peter.”

“Goodnight!” he waved and you shut the door quietly, taking a deep breath as heat pooled in your cheeks.

“Get it together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself as you laid down on your bed, “You have a big day tomorrow; try to get at least a little sleep.”

________

Bruce was surprised to find you already awake when he entered your room that morning, holding a cup of coffee.

“Hey kiddo,” he smiled kindly, “We haven’t met yet, but I’m Bruce.”

You smiled back, replying, “I assumed so. Fury’s told me all about everyone at the tower.”

“Of course he did…” Bruce trailed off for a moment before turning his attention back to you, “Why’re you up so early? I would’ve assumed that you’d want to sleep in after a day like you had yesterday.”

“I, uh, couldn’t really sleep,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “And I’ve never really been allowed to sleep in, so I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

Bruce cast you a sympathetic look before holding out the coffee to you. “I didn’t know if you drink coffee, so I brought some up anyways.”

“Thank you so much,” you took the mug from his hands cautiously, taking a sip before asking, “So what’s the plan for today?”

“Well, Tony and I need to talk with you about the basic information you have so we can lay some groundwork for the data collection. After you do that, I think Tony’s gonna send you off with Pepper to get some clothes. I’m gonna leave you so you can take a moment to get ready; Tony and I will be waiting in the living room.” he smiled before shutting the door carefully, leaving you alone again.

You stood up slowly and walked into the bathroom so you could brush your hair and teeth. Other than that, there wasn’t much more “getting ready” to do considering the fact that you had no other clothes and you’d never even worn makeup.

As you were brushing your teeth, you took a moment to gaze into your own reflection in the mirror. You could see where the bandaged cut on your forehead and your almost-purple dark circles. It was obvious that you were exhausted, but there was nothing you could do to fix that. After you’d brushed your teeth and combed through your hair a few times, you left your room to head downstairs.

You noticed Tony and Bruce sitting by each other on the couch once you entered the room. They seemed to be in deep conversation, both looking over a tablet.

“Um, hi,” you said awkwardly, attempting to get their attention. Bruce glanced up at you and gave you a kind smile, gesturing for you to sit down next to them.

“Morning, kid,” Tony chirped, looking up at you, “You ready to get started?”

Seeing you nod your head, Tony opened up some sort of program on the tablet as Bruce pulled out his own. “We’re just gonna go over the basics of what you know today, so it shouldn’t take long. Try to answer our questions in as much detail as possible,” Tony instructed you. You nodded your head and prepared to let out everything that you’d collected over the past six years.

Some time later, Tony and Bruce had finally finished asking questions for the day. You could feel your eyes drooping due to the combination of the amount of energy you’d spent thinking and your lack of sleep. Luckily, Bruce noticed your fatigue and spoke up so you wouldn’t have to.

“You seem tired, Y/N. We’ve got it from here for the rest of the day, so you can go ahead and find Pepper,” he smiled, “We’ll need your help again tomorrow, so try to get some sleep tonight.”

“Her office is down the hallway and on the left!” Tony shouted after you as you exited the room.

Once you reached the large doors, you knocked lightly before entering the office. Pepper was typing on her computer when she looked up at you and smiled, gesturing for you to come around the desk.

“Hey! You’re Y/N, right?” she smiled and continued when you nodded, “Nice to meet you! Go ahead and swing a chair around to this side.”

You did as she asked, sitting next to her and glancing around her office. There were large ceiling-to-floor windows behind her neat desk; various paintings and pictures hanging on the walls. A shiny, silver kinetic sculpture sat on the edge of her desk, catching your eye as it moved in the sunlight.

“So, obviously you can buy any clothes you want. I’m just here to help you since shopping is always more fun with a friend, even if it’s just online shopping.” she gave you a wink and you giggled, leaning over to take control of the computer as she scooted away.

The two of you spent the next few hours choosing outfits and accessories for you to wear. You’d picked out mostly jeans, big t-shirts, and athletic shorts to wear around the tower. Pepper had convinced you to pick out a few nice outfits to wear in case of any fancy events (or ‘cute dates,’ as she’d so kindly suggested). After you’d finished picking out clothes, Pepper reached into her desk and pulled out a brand new phone, handing it to you.

“Here, Tony and I thought it would be a good idea for you to have an alternate way to communicate with us in case you ever need it. Our numbers should already be in there, and I included Bruce and Peter’s numbers as well.”

Taking the phone out of the box, you held it up carefully. You could tell that this was probably the most expensive phone on the market. “Ms. Potts, you really didn’t have to do this,” you turned your head to give her a nervous look. Nobody had ever bought anything this nice for you before.

“It’s really nothing,” she assured you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “After all, you’re family now.”

After chatting with Pepper for a few more minutes, you noticed that it was already late into the evening and decided to go back to your room and get ready for bed. Pepper sent you off with a hug and a smile, telling you that you needed to go to lunch with her soon.

Once you showered, you plopped down in your bed, phone open and in your hands. You’d never had a phone before, so you didn’t really know what to do with it. Social media was off the table since you needed to keep a low profile, so pretty much all you could do was play games and text.

Bored out of your mind, you decided to try out texting somebody. You tapped on the ‘contacts’ icon, scrolling through your four new friends. It didn’t take you long to decide that the person who was most likely to engage in a normal, teenage conversation with you was Peter.

Me: hey peter! it’s y/n.

Peter: hey! how’d you get my number?

Me: pepper put you into my contacts before she gave me the phone

Peter: oh, makes sense

Peter: so, what’s up?

Despite Bruce telling you to get some sleep, you stayed up all night texting Peter, only falling asleep when you were unable to keep your eyes open a second longer.

________

Over the next two months, you spent time working with Tony and Bruce in the lab whenever they required your assistance. It was tiring, using your abilities so often, but it kept you busy. Not being able to leave the tower could make life pretty boring, but you always had Peter to keep you company whenever you felt lonely. The two of you formed a friendship extremely quickly, constantly texting and hanging out. You spent as much time as you could together and it before you knew it, you were inseparable.

Almost as quickly as you became friends, you soon developed feelings for each other. You found yourself blushing more than you ever had at Peter’s comments, daydreaming about him whenever you should’ve been paying attention to Bruce and Tony. Butterflies filled your stomach every time he smiled at you and every small touch sent shivers up your body. It was obvious to everyone around you that you and Peter both shared these feelings, but the two of you were as oblivious as two people in love could be. Neither of you wanted to risk confessing to the other; it could ruin your entire friendship.

One late night in the tower, you and Peter had decided to try line dancing. You had absolutely no idea how it happened, but honestly? Doing odd things like line dancing wasn’t very unusual for the two of you. Currently, you were working on learning footloose. (It was safe to say that you were just a bit better at learning the dances than Peter, but he’d never admit it.)

“Peter! Watch out,” you laughed as he almost bumped into you for what seemed like the hundredth time, “I’m TRYING to line dance over hereeee!”

“Hey! I’m trying,” he laughed back, reach out to push you over. You dodged his arms, retaliating by attempting to push him back. Easily jumping out of the way, Peter stuck out his foot, tripping you while you were executing your attack. It felt like you were falling in slow motion as you lost your balance and landed on top of Peter, bring both of you to the ground with a thump.

As soon as you pushed off of Peter’s chest, you locked eyes, faces mere inches from each other. Something inside of you was pulling you towards him, urging you to kiss him. Everything was muffled around you as you began to lean forward slightly. His eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips and back was all the confirmation you needed before you leaned down all the way, pressing your lips to his gently. Peter froze for a moment before kissing you back softly, breaking apart after a few seconds. His eyes were blown wide, cheeks flushed and a huge smile on his face.

Once you realized what had just happened, you jumped off of him, apologizing profusely. “Oh god, Pete, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me-”

“Y/N.”

“You probably hate me now, jesus I really fucked up didn’t I-” you stopped as Peter put a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N. You don’t have to apologize for that.” he smiled kindly, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze.

“I-I don’t?”

“No. You see, I-I, uh, I actually like you a lot, too,” he glanced down at the floor before looking up at you, “I’ve kinda been wanting to do that for a long time.”

You threw him a quick smile before asking, “Wanna do it again?”

Instead of answering, he placed two hands on the sides of your face, pressing your lips to his once again. The kiss was still innocent, but it was definitely more confident than the previous one. You wish that it would have lasted longer, but the two of you were startled apart by the sound of your phone dinging.

You confusedly grabbed your phone, sliding it open to view the text message.

Unknown: We’re coming. There’s nowhere you can run to where we won’t find you.

Tears filled your eyes as you read the message over and over again. You were frozen in place; you didn’t even notice Peter asking you what was wrong multiple times, growing more worried by the second. Finally, he took the phone out of your hands gently, reading over the message that was on the screen. You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes before he wrapped you into a tight hug, telling FRIDAY to get Tony in there as quickly as possible. Everything was muffled as tears fell down your face, soaking into Peter’s soft shirt.

“I promise that they won’t hurt you,” he whispered into your hair, “I won’t let them hurt you.”

As much as you wanted to believe his words, you knew that if HYDRA really did want you, not even Peter would be able to stop them. You were already as good as dead.

Permanent tags:

@minnie-marvel @greekdemigodwannabe @lokis-sunflower-anna @cynicallystiles @laurfangirl424 @misslunala @secondsineternity @peter-prkers @sighspidey @signed-potato @lokiislowkeyhot @highlady-ofthe-summercourt @0captain-marvel0 @delicately-written @thefallenbibliophilequote @tohollandback @buck-ets @ironspiderguy @newtimewriter @thelonelyhufflepunk @lordofblamo @thedaughterofdawn @lltrashll

Snapshot tags:

@supernaturalpllfan1 @pinkprincepeterparker @tangle-of-ivy @keshuasd @imayormaynothaveanaddiction @writing-at-dawn-until-dark @superbdonutgirl @adventurousbooknerd @quietmarvel @emilyfm21 @prancingdestiel @hyacintho-luscus @zon-chan @djjffkd @farfromjustordinary @emmabagle @tomshufflepuff @peterfuckingbenjaminparker @tessseractt @a66iegirl @excuse-you-dickwad @the-rightful-king-of-jotunheim @thanosismybitxh @whenaprincessisahero @lilbandit15 @raylan-c @fandom-fangirl07 @happyxcactus @kat-alisha @spnsoap @uhholyhazza @cordelia-sagewright @plethoraofpuppies

strikethrough = tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you!