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ladycatofwinterfell · 3 years

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Dealing with the consequences, part 1

Here it is, the long awaited sequel to “Consequences”. It’s been a while since I was last this excited to post something and I hope you share this feeling. I usually write happy married nedlyn, so just digging into the more complicated and messy relationship that is nedlyn in this little modern AU I created last year is quite fun. And if you were with me when I was writing “Consequences” you might remember that I posted a chapter every other day, it WON’T be like that this time

Summary: One day, six months after they move into their new house, Ned and Cat wake up to an unfortunate surprise. This small and seemingly insignificant event sets things into motion, and they try their best to repair what they can despite that they have messed up before. Because maybe, just maybe, they can do things a little bit better that time around. And you know what they say, third time’s the charm.

The baby had made her an incredibly light sleeper. So she was fully awake in a second when it knocked on her door. She looked at Sansa’s crib to make sure of that she was still sleeping. Waking her before she woke on her own was just a very bad idea. She had also already been awake once that night. So Catelyn wasn’t too happy about being woken for a reason that wasn’t to feed her daughter. Whatever it was that Ned had on his mind. She knew that it was Ned, Robb wouldn’t have knocked and Jon always avoided her as best as he could on the weeks when he was with them.

She wrapped a robe around herself and tiptoed through the room. Ned definitely had something on his mind. And he didn’t look happy about it.

“Who died?” she whispered.

He did not appreciate the joke. Had someone actually died?

“The dishwasher is broken” he said. “And there is a lot water in our kitchen.”

“Seven fucking hells.”

She wished so badly that it would have been a lie. Damnit. She had to close her eyes for a moment, take three calming breaths. And then she walked down the stairs, crossed the living room and found that Ned had not been lying. It had been very much true. There was water. A lot of it. On their floor.

She heard him come up behind her. She didn’t really know what to do. What could she do? There was so much water. What were they supposed to do with all the water?

“What time is it?” she asked, because that was all she could come up with.

“Around half past three, I think” Ned replied.

Half past three in the morning. What could they do? What the hell could they do when it was the middle of the night?

“We’ll have to do this ourselves, then” she sighed. “We need to turn off the water.”

“I already did that.”

“Of course you did. Now what?”

“We need to get the water away.”

“And how do we do that?”

She had never dealt with a flooded kitchen before. She had never dealt with any kind of flooded room before. And from the look of despair on Ned’s face she guessed he hadn’t either.

Right then Sansa seemed to have woken only to notice that she was alone. And she was screaming bloody murder.

“I’ll go get her.”

She half ran back up to her room, had some small hope of that if she was quick enough maybe there was a chance of that Robb and Jon would sleep through it. They wouldn’t be of any help, it was better if they slept until their alarms rang. But of course they didn’t.

She had just picked Sansa up and was bouncing the baby in her arms when Robb poked his sleepy little head into her room.

“Has something happened?” he asked, quite loudly so that she would be able to hear him over the screaming baby.

“No” she told him. “Everything is as it should be. Go back to bed.”

She could take that with him later. When things were a bit calmer.

“Are you hungry? Is that the problem?” she mumbled to Sansa. “Robb, please, go to bed.”

He muttered something and went back to the room that he shared with Jon. They got along quite well. Well enough to share a room, at least. Jon was still a bit shy around Robb though. Ned said that it would pass, but she was unsure. He was probably confused about the weird situation, the poor child. And that she was around didn’t make anything better for him.

She walked downstairs again once Sansa was done. Tried to hold onto what remained of her sanity. It wasn’t much. She couldn’t do much either. She didn’t know what to do. It was in moments like those she wondered how anyone managed to be an adult because it was very hard.

“Just why?”

Ned sounded very miserable. And Catelyn couldn’t even be some sort of moral support because she was just as miserable.

“I bet it’s because I’m living with a divorced man” she said. “This is the gods’ punishment. That is what my father would say.”

“Can your father tell the gods that we are parents and nothing more?” Ned muttered.

Her father did absolutely not believe that they only lived together to take care of the kids. In truth, it seemed like no one believed it. Especially Edmure. He wouldn’t shut up about it. But it was true. They had lived together for almost six months, and they had done very well. They had made it work. It had been a bit strained in the beginning, but as time passed it had gotten better and better. And there had been no relapses. Not even a kiss. She was proud of herself. If they had managed to see each other every day for so long without acting on a single little thought they could probably manage it all the way through. It would be empty though, when the kids were older and they could part again.

”Could you get some towels from upstairs?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She stopped and turned to look at him. He looked back at her, didn’t seem to realize what he had just said.

“Darling?” she asked, chuckling.

He sighed very deeply and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m very tired, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.”

She really didn’t mind. He could keep on slipping, she would enjoy every word. As long as it didn’t go further than that they were fine. Hopefully. She didn’t love Ned. She didn’t. She couldn’t after what had happened. But would that completely erase everything that had been before? No, it wouldn’t.

~*~

The floor was very water damaged. Gods, they had been living in that house for six months and they already had to deal with water damage in the kitchen. They would have to tear out the floor to check for further damage and replace it. And they needed a new dishwasher.

They had dried up as well as they could and carried out the table, the chairs and the carpet to the living room so that there wouldn’t be any mold. Once the time was reasonable they would have to call someone that could do the work needed in the kitchen.

But still all Ned could think of was the way she had smiled when he had accidentally called her darling. He really hadn’t meant it, it had been an honest mistake. They weren’t together, they definitely couldn’t call each other that. And still she had smiled. Damn her.

“So what are we gonna do while we can’t use the kitchen?”

Catelyn laid flat on her back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Her hair was like a fiery cloud around her head. None of them had been eager to go back to bed after that so they had just sat in the living room. There was still more than two hours until they had to get the boys up and get them ready for school. And he had to go to work. Catelyn was on maternity leave, but they would switch in two months so that she could go back to work.

“I’ll talk to Ashara, see if she can take Jon even though it’s not her week” he said. “I think being able to properly feed a kid is bare minimum and we currently can’t check that box.”

Ashara probably wouldn’t object to that. She wasn’t too happy about that Jon lived in the same house as Catelyn every other week. She was pretty pissed about it, actually. Understandably. Rightfully. Not that she really liked that Jon was with him every other week either, but that she had to agree to.

“If I ask I think Edmure could have Robb with him until we have it fixed. And if he can’t, my parents probably can. It shouldn’t take too long, should it?”

“I guess that depends on if the floor is the only damaged part.”

Catelyn closed her eyes and sighed.

“It better be. It better fucking be.”

A tired smile appeared on her lips when she opened her eyes again. Both Robb and Sansa had her eyes. A wonderful blue shade that wasn’t like anything else.

“I guess it will be just you, me and the little lady upstairs for a while then” she said as she rolled to her side so that she could look at him where he sat in his armchair.

And what exactly did she mean by that? It was a true, and maybe that was all she meant. But she could also mean something wildly different. Or maybe he was just overthinking it. That was most likely it. There was nothing.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, still smiling.

How breathtakingly beautiful you are, was what he wanted to say at first. That was not what he said. Because saying that was a bad idea. They lived together for the sake of the kids. Nothing else. But he could acknowledge that she was pretty, he wasn’t blind.

He had not forgotten what she had done. No, it still stung whenever he thought of it. And that was almost every time he looked at Robb. But a part of his mind was betraying him. And that part did backflips whenever she smiled at him. Did she feel the same? Was there some part of her mind that did the same? He couldn’t help but wonder. Wondering would do no harm to anyone.

“Nothing” was what he said in the end.

“Liar” she chuckled. “I know you, I could tell it wasn’t nothing.”

��Nothing of importance” Ned tried and he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

Though it was important. Very important. But he couldn’t let her know what it was.

“Oh it looked to be incredibly important. And don’t tell me it was about the kitchen, I know it was not!”

“Terribly nosy today, are we?” he asked and rolled his eyes.

“Every time you leave like that I want to get into your head and see what you’re thinking of. But I can’t so you need to tell me.”

Ashara had said the same half a million times.

“Do I now?”

“It would make me happy.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

She sat up, looked deeply into his eyes. All he could do was look back at her, trying to keep his heart from beating so fast. It was the lack of sleep, he decided. He didn’t need much sleep, but he had slept even less than usual that night. That was why his body reacted the way it did. He did not love Catelyn Tully. He couldn’t. His feelings for her were dead.

“No, you’re not” she said after a moment.

“No, I’m not.”

She got up on her feet and stretched. He wasn’t supposed to watch her the way he did and still he couldn’t turn his eyes away. He didn’t love her, but denying that there was some attraction still left wouldn’t help anything. She was pretty. And he knew way too much about her to not think of it sometimes.

“I think I’ll go back to bed, if I’m lucky Sansa will let me sleep a bit more.”

He wouldn’t have complained if the moment had lasted longer, but he couldn’t keep her there.

“You do that” he said.

Maybe it was good if he went back to bed too. He did have a day of work ahead of him, being as well rested as possible would probably be good.

As Catelyn walked past him she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. It was a quick motion, over in a second. But Ned was so startled by it that he didn’t know what to do.

“Goodnight” she said with a smile and then she walked upstairs.

~*~

Had she overstepped? Maybe. But she had wanted to kiss him so badly after their conversation that the thought of not touching him in some small way had felt unbearable. Just earlier that night Catelyn had told herself that as long as it didn’t go any longer than an accidental affective term here and there it would be fine. And then she had immediately initiated physical contact that was more than platonic. What was she doing? She didn’t love him, she couldn’t love him. It wasn’t good for anyone. It would be better if she just stopped feeling so much.

He was most likely still angry with her for what she had done. They had not talked about it yet, but she knew. And she did deserve that and pressuring him wouldn’t make it better. And she had told herself that it wouldn’t end well if they slept together. But what was actually the worst case scenario? He wasn’t married anymore, she had no secrets, they already had kids together. And the chance of getting into a fight was there even without the sex. They were basically living like a married couple already, sleeping with him wouldn’t really change anything.

“Self control, Catelyn Tully” she muttered to herself. “You said you wouldn’t so you won’t.”

She had gone so long without those feelings. Everything had gone so well. And then they put their claws into her once more. But she would resist. She had not acted upon it and it would continue that way. For everyone’s best. Because they had not talked about anything. Even though they were living peacefully they had really not solved anything. And she would not do that to him, she would not take another step forward until she was sure of that he was fine and they had all cards on the table. They probably would never have. And that had to be okay. Because she had fucked up in gigantic proportions, and she could not expect him to be okay with it. One reaps what one sows. And unfortunately she had sown some bad seeds.

But it was hard seeing him. She would not say it wasn’t. Though she kept up a good expression. Like the good person that she was. Or at least half decent person. Maybe calling herself a good person after she had slept with a man she knew was married was taking it a bit too far.

Edmure of course found it incredibly funny when she explained the situation to him in the morning. She probably would have called him a number of things if not Robb and Jon had been in the same room. Their unusable kitchen really wasn’t funny at all.

“Could Robb stay with you and Roslin while we get the kitchen fixed?” she asked, using all her energy to keep calm. “It really would help a lot.”

“Of course” Edmure said

She breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief passed a second later when Edmure kept on talking.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean? We’re gonna see if there’s more water damage and get the floor changed.”

“That was not what I meant.”

She could hear his smirk. Had he been there she would have smacked the back of his head, but she couldn’t do that.

“Then what did you mean?”

“Oh you know... if Robb is with me and Jon is with Ned’s ex-wife... the house will be almost empty except for you two.”

Catelyn was thoroughly tired of him and his remarks. But that one was at least partly on her, she had actually asked.

“If I murdered you no one would judge me” she hissed, in a voice that was low enough for Robb and Jon not to hear her.

“The law, sweet sister, would judge you.”

“I’d take twenty years in prison just to be rid of you.”

“Your man at home wouldn’t be very happy though, would he?”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“I’ll pick Robb up after work. Love you.”

“Idiot.”

And then she got the boys ready for school. Jon accepted her help without complaining but in his grey eyes she saw how he disliked that it wasn’t his mother helping him. Robb seemed oblivious of it though, he talked just as much as he always did. About most everything. Ned just chose to not acknowledge it.

He felt bad for what he had done, she knew that. He probably regretted it as well, but she didn’t allow herself to think too much about that. It was as it was. And dwelling upon whether Ned regretted it or not wouldn’t take her anywhere. They had their baby. So at least something good had come out of it.

Once Ned and the boys were out the house was oddly quiet. Sansa cooperated perfectly that day so she wasn’t too much trouble. Catelyn spent the calm hours looking into what would be best for their water damaged kitchen. Once that was done she packed Robb’s things so that it would be done when Edmure came to pick him up. She glanced at Jon’s side of the room. Could she pack his things too? Or would that be overstepping? She wasn’t trying to replace Ashara. Not in the least, she knew her place. It would just be easier if she packed for him too so that he was ready when Ned was going to drive him to Ashara. Surely no one could be too angry at that? In the end she decided to do it. No one could blame her for her intentions, could they?

“Thank you, Catelyn” was what Jon said when she handed him his bag.

At least he had stopped with calling her Ms. Tully. That was always something. And he didn’t seem to feel much about it at all.

“You’re welcome.”

“Has Sansa been nice today?” he asked.

Catelyn was surprised by that question. Not that Jon didn’t care for Sansa, he was very sweet with her. And he sounded very proud over it whenever he talked about her. But he very rarely talked more than strictly necessary to Catelyn.

“Yes, today she’s been very nice.”

“Good.”

“Then maybe she’ll sleep better tonight” Ned said.

“Let’s hope so.”

For the sake of Catelyn’s well-being. After she had gone back to bed she had barely slept a second because Sansa had decided that sleeping was overrated. Just then the doorbell rang and Robb practically came flying down the stairs. He reacted to the doorbell like a dog. So even though Catelyn, Ned and Jon were in the hall they let Robb open the door. It was Edmure, as expected.

“Hello everyone!” he said as he stepped inside, grinning like an idiot.

“Edmure” Ned muttered for a greeting.

Just as Jon usually avoided Catelyn when it was possible, Ned avoided Edmure when it was possible. He got very uncomfortable around her brother. And it wasn’t strange considering Edmure didn’t have any limits. She had just learned to live with it.

“Edmure. No” Catelyn said when he opened his mouth to answer.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“It’s better if you don’t say anything at all.”

“How do you stand living with her?” Edmure asked Ned.

Ned pretended not to hear that. Maybe he barely could stand living with her. It didn’t matter. As long as they were friendly for the children the rest didn’t really matter. But the thought of him disliking her felt worse than she wanted to admit.

Jon slipped past Edmure and went outside to wait for Ned while she made sure Robb had everything he needed.

“Give Uncle Edmure hell from me, will you?” she said as Robb picked up his bag.

“I promise” he smiled.

“That’s unfair!” Edmure exclaimed.

She pulled Robb into a hug.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

It wasn’t often she was separated from Robb more than a few days at a time. When she thought of it she couldn’t remember if it had ever happened. Surely it must have, but she still didn’t like it when he was with Edmure or her parents for too long. She had to keep reminding himself that he was getting big. There wouldn’t be many years until he no longer wanted to be with her. But he had been her only child for so long, it was hard.

She let go of Robb and expected him to run outside after Jon, but instead he turned to Ned.

“You take care of her” he said, serious as death. “And make sure of that she doesn’t worry so much.”

Both Catelyn and Ned stopped at that. He glanced at her for just a second, then he looked back at Robb. She wanted to say something to Robb, but nothing came out.

“I promise to do that” Ned responded, sounding just as serious as her son.

“Good.”

Then Robb walked out the door. The sweet boy.

“I shouldn’t be too long” Ned said. “And I’ll buy food on the way home.”

“Sounds good” she said. “Bye.”

And, seemingly without thinking of it, he leaned down and kissed her. It was just a peck, quick, as if it was a routine. Something they did every time one of them left the house. But it was a kiss all the same. And Catelyn didn’t know what to do.

She backed away a step, just to do something. Ned realized what he had done and she had never seen a more panicked face in her life. She didn’t really know how she felt. Mostly shocked. She had not imagined that their first kiss in over a year would be like that. She had not imagined there would be a first kiss at all. Or, well, she had imagined it more than a few times. But she hadn’t actually believed it would ever come true.

“What are you doing?” she asked, unsure of what else to say.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what I was doing” Ned apologized.

When he had apologized for calling her “darling” he had just sounded tired. At the moment all she could hear was pure panic. And she knew that he genuinely had no idea of why he had done it. He was just as shocked as she was.

“Cat, really, I have no idea of why I just did that. And I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to– oh my gods, Edmure, shut up!”

While all that had happened Edmure had been laughing hysterically in the background. But she had not really been aware of it until just then. Her attention had been directed towards Ned and the fact that he had kissed her.

“Do you really want me to believe that you two are not together?” he practically howled. “You don’t accidentally kiss someone, you do that often!

She really couldn’t deal with him at the moment.

“Get out.”

“You take good care of my sister now, Ned, give her everything you know she likes.”

“Shut your seven times damned mouth and get out!”

He actually did so, still laughing to himself, so that was a small relief.

“You know there’s nothing to forgive” she said to Ned once the door was closed. “But that was very... out of the blue. To say the least.”

She had thought of doing that about a hundred times since he came home, but she had never been even close to acting on it. And then he just kissed her out of nowhere. Was it because he wanted to kiss her?

“I know.”

~*~

He was undoubtedly the stupidest person he knew. He had not been aware of that he had done it at first. But then she had looked at him with wide eyes and asked him what he was doing. And Ned hadn’t even known what he had been doing. That was the second time that day he had done something like that. What was happening?

Despite the initial question she didn’t seem upset about it. Mostly confused. And he had to admit that he was confused as well. He had thought of kissing her before, but had never acted on it. It had only been a thought, safe deep in his mind, and never something that would be reality. Or that was what he had thought. And then he had kissed her.

“Go” Catelyn sighed. “We can talk more when you get home.”

“Are you sure it’s alright? I really didn’t mean to do that to you” he said.

He wouldn’t want her to think of him like that. And he would rather die than do something to her against her will.

That actually brought a smile to her face.

“Yes. No need to worry, it was a mistake. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

For some reason that thought made something twist in his chest. Pretending it never happened would probably be the best. But still. It had been a mistake but he knew that he wouldn’t have objected to it happening again. But that clearly wasn’t what she wanted. And they still had not figured anything out. Building things on top of a broken base was a terrible idea. But did he really want to fix that base? He didn’t know. If they fixed it the temptation would be even bigger. And more temptation really wasn’t what they needed. They needed to move on despite that the conditions for that were bad.

“Yeah.”

“Jon is waiting for you” she said.

“And so is Edmure, most likely.”

Edmure would never let them hear the end of it. As if though the rest hadn’t been enough. He had asked Ned how he could stand living with Catelyn. Living with Catelyn was quite easy, Ned’s biggest question was how Catelyn had managed to stand out with Edmure for so long.

“No offense, but I really don’t like your brother” he said.

Catelyn laughed.

“I assure you, no one finds my brother more annoying than I do.”

“I actually might beat you on that one.”

“You definitely don’t. Now go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sighed and almost pushed him towards the door when he turned to leave.

“You’re such a dork, I can’t take this.”

But she was smiling. That beautiful smile that made her shine. He had been afraid that he wouldn’t see that smile for a while after that mistake. But he did. And he loved that smile.

“Bye” he said as he stepped outside.

She only shook her head and closed the door behind him. To his great relief Edmure was not waiting for him. He had never been happier about being wrong.

The ride to Ashara’s went fine. Jon talked a little bit about how school had been, what he had learned and what they were going to do on Monday. Ned treasured those moments with his son. Because he knew that once he got older he wouldn’t be as happy anymore. He would most likely hate his father for what he had done.

Ashara had stayed in their house after the divorce. And despite that he had lived there for years it felt weird when he walked up to the door with Jon. The little boy bounced forward with his bag in one hand and rang the doorbell with the other. It only took Ashara a few seconds to open.

“Hey, sweetheart!” she said and pulled Jon into a tight hug which he happily returned.

“Hi, Mom!”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too!”

Before he would have been a part of that. Just a bit more than a year ago. But he wasn’t. Because of his own idiotic mistakes. Or could he really call it a mistake when he did not regret it? He had his daughter, Sansa. The most lovely little girl ever. He could not regret that. Even though he wished Ashara would not have been hurt. She deserved better than to be hurt in the way he had hurt her. But he had done it, he had gone to Catelyn knowing what it would do to his wife.

“Is Dad going to come inside?” Jon asked and looked up at his mother.

“No. Dad isn’t coming inside.”

That she could keep her face from going hard when she said that was a miracle. But no matter how much she wanted to kill him she would smile for their son. Just like he would smile for Robb no matter what his mother had done.

“You can go inside though, Jon” Ashara said and ran a hand through the boy’s hair. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Okay” Jon said and turned to Ned. “Bye, Dad!”

“Bye, Jon.”

Ashara waited for Jon to get inside and then she turned to him as well.

“How is your daughter?” she asked, her tone neutral, as if they were speaking about the weather.

“She’s fine. Healthy.”

“Good. And how is her mother?”

“She’s fine as well.”

Talking about it was hard. He had created all that on his own, but still talking about it was hard. He had hurt people for Cat, including Cat, and then she had hurt him as well in the process. It was so much hurt. So much pain that had been unnecessary and avoidable. But they were human, they did stupid things for all sorts of reasons. That was the only explanation he had, because it didn’t really make sense. He had tried to make sense of it all and had realized that he understood very little. He had loved Cat, he had loved Ashara, he loved his children. Had it all been for love? No, that wasn’t it. How could it have been for love if he hurt people he loved?

Ashara looked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and it hadn’t rained in days.

“Catelyn” she said after a moment of silence. “I wish I could like her. She seems very likable. Maybe we could have been friends if it had not been for that she decided to go for my husband. Or maybe you’ll be her husband soon.”

He could hear the question in her words.

“No” he sighed. “And it will stay that way.”

Ashara chuckled.

“You know, that kinda pisses me off. Fine if you had left me for someone you loved more, but now you just left me.”

“I asked for a divorce because you deserve better than someone who cheats on you. I didn’t leave you, I wanted you to have better than me. Staying in the marriage would have been unfair, I couldn’t do that to you. And when my daughter came into the picture I had to do it for her as well.”

He had loved them both, and because of that he had let Ashara down. She deserved so much better. He deserved someone who wasn’t weak for some old flame, who loved her and her alone.

“Then why even sleep with her in the first place? If you couldn’t do that to me?”

He had asked himself that question a thousand times. He had known that he would ruin his relationship with Ashara, and still he had done it. Why?

“Because I’m weak” he ended up saying. “Because sometimes I’m a bad person. I have no excuses and no good reasons for doing what I did. But I’m sorry.”

He had told Catelyn that as well, even though it felt like it had been ages since then. They were weak. They had always been. But they had to put an end to it.

“As you should be.”

“I am. Truly.”

Ned wasn’t the best at expressing things, he was well aware of that flaw, but he really was sorry for putting Ashara through that. Divorce had been the only reasonable thing to do, but they had not needed to get to that point if he had not cheated in the first place. But it had been Catelyn. And Catelyn was... Catelyn. His Cat.

“That’s always something, I suppose” Ashara said. “Well, good luck with the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

It was a relief when she followed Jon inside and closed the door. Ned had not expected to have that conversation, and it had been difficult. All of it was difficult. Oh how Ned wished it could have been different. In what way, he had no idea. Because the mess had given him his children, and he couldn’t regret that. Without Ashara he wouldn’t have had Jon, and without Cat he wouldn’t have had Sansa. And Robb.

He liked Robb. The boy was so much like his mother, there wasn’t a trace of Ned in him. And he wished he could have known Robb from the beginning, he wished he could have been a proper father to him. There probably would have been more of him in Robb if that had been the case. If Catelyn had let that happen.

He still couldn’t understand it at all. Why she had decided that keeping their son a secret was a good idea, and it made him both angry and sad. But some part of Cat had always been a mystery, some part of her he would never understand. She was human, she did illogical things all the time. And even though it was hard to accept that he had to, because what had been done had been done. Nothing could change it.

When he got back in the car he noticed that Catelyn had sent him a message.

My mom came here because Edmure told her about the kitchen

That didn’t exactly make Ned overjoyed, Cat’s family had no love for him. But her mother was probably the one he got along with best out of all of them. Her father didn’t even try to hide his dislike and her siblings either made jokes or just pursed their lips at him. Not that his family loved Catelyn particularly much, it was just Lyanna. The rest of them seemed weary.

Is she staying for dinner?

No but she’ll be here when you come home. Just thought you wanted to know

Thanks for the heads up

No problem

He sighed and leaned back in the seat, closed his eyes for a moment. It really wasn’t his day. But it couldn’t get any worse, right?

~*~

this is so much fun to write and people were so engaged in it last time, so i hope i didn’t disappoint and that i can deliver on the same level as last time this was a thing on my blog

Thanks for reading <3

#ned stark #catelyn tully #catelyn stark #ned x cat #robb stark #jon snow #edmure tully #ashara dayne #consequences #dealing with the consequences #more memes might come when I'm not insanely tired because it's the middle of the night

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jerepars · 3 years

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Ape Dos Mil Extended Chapter Notes

6 / 9 Pure Love

Hyperlinks appear in blue (underlined on mobile and the dashboard). The story is posted here. Direct link to this chapter is here.

As it turned out, when James had to go dark for 48 hours, it pushed Teresa deeper into the cave. James sat in a hotel room on the other side of town while Teresa bought a hotel. James looked into Isidro Navarro while Teresa got ready to make her pitch to the guy and expand her business to Europe. While she dined, James was on the wrong side of the day.

When I first introduced lyrics from Glassjaw’s “Ape Dos Mil” into the story in the second chapter, I mentioned it was the lyrics and mood of the song overall that inspired the story. This paragraph is borrows from the main verse of the song:

Yeah, it's over You can bet in mid October I will still be ranting 'bout most early May Yeah, he's a winner He's a goddamn sinner While he dines I'm on the wrong side of the day And I said, "I don't understand why I'm fumbling after" You're the reason i cannot forget this season Or the letter when you first referred to it

She was going to go her own way, make all the deals, gain more more more. James had to be down for that not just because he was in love with her, but because he had a higher purpose—thanks to the universe—when it came to Teresa. But James wished she didn’t go around ignoring all the signs of danger. He wished she didn’t walk around like nobody was going to break her heart or like she could elude death. Hadn’t she learned, losing Tony, that the #1 special on the menu in the underworld was breaking hearts, one way or another?

There’s a Mac Miller song, “My Favorite Part” with these words: You walk around so clueless to it all. Like nobody gonna break your heart. It'll be alright babe, see, me, I got you covered. I'm gon' be your lover, you might be the one.

So the line in the paragraph about queenpin Teresa walking around like nobody was going to break her heart is a reference to that. There’s also a line in the song that goes, The universe couldn’t keep us apart--why would it even try? Very soulmate-y but different in that for Jeresa it is because of the universe they are soulmates.

But nothing moved Teresa. She didn’t let up. She wasn’t going to confess to using, since she was going out of her way to hide it. She didn’t own up to the responsibility of being targeted and putting them all in danger unnecessarily because she had to have Europe.

The first line of this paragraph is sort of a reference to the album Still Nothing Moves You by Ceremony.

Teresa was screaming, to feel the pressure in her throat, to drown out the noise in her head, when she took to the neatly pressed blazers along the back of the closet. She ripped as many off the hangers as would go, letting the different shades of white pool at her feet on the carpet. The jewelry station was next—earrings, necklaces, and rings ripping into her hands before she decided there were too many for a few handfuls, picking up the entire velvet drawer insert tray and dumping it to the side, fully enraged.

When she swung her arm around, Teresa caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length three-way mirror. Her breath caught in her throat. She saw herself, and there, over her shoulder, was herself—the girl from Culiacán.

“You forgot the most important thing is survival. You have to get out of here,” the girl pleaded. “You have to go. Run.”

So, uh, I changed a lot from canon. In 5x07, the scene cuts soon after Teresa yells “Fuuuuuuuuuck!” and throws her phone. In the next scene of Teresa, she’s in the sitting area of her room doing coke, and when she looks up at the mirror across from her, that’s when she seems old Teresa in flannel.

I had this scene planned out in my head before 5x07 aired and I always thought, when Teresa found out Boaz killed George, she would react violently and destroy her closet. So here in the story, Teresa is still inside her closet when old Teresa shows up.

“I’m not leaving without them,” Teresa told off the girl standing behind her in the too big flannel.

A reply never came but when Teresa looked back in the mirror, the girl was still standing there with terror in her eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” Teresa vowed.

The girl watched her. Teresa closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. It was the cocaine talking, the two big hits she’d taken while already upset. She knew that. But the girl remained, watching Teresa in silence.

In 5x07, Teresa has this conversation with Avi. But if she’s shut herself in her closet, then this conversation becomes a face-off with her former self. I think I like that better, actually.

It also eliminates the whole exchange with Avi saying James ordered for the plane to be ready and that Teresa should get out of the country immediately. After everything they’ve been through I don’t buy that James would take it upon himself to make that decision for her, regardless of how worried and protective he is. Sorry not sorry, canon, but that just doesn’t make sense for these characters.

Teresa wasn’t sure if she sat there for minutes or hours. She paid no attention to how much light was streaming in through the window. In silence, the tears flowed and brought her back down to earth. She only knew a significant amount of time had passed when the white noise stopped ringing in her ears and a familiar burning feeling took hold in her chest.

That was the universe’s doing. It meant James was back.

She heard indistinct chatter from outside the closet in the main room. She listened closer. There was James’ gravelly voice, then a pause, followed by Pote, low and gruff. They exchanged words and then came a third voice, higher in pitch with a familiar Texas Southern drawl—Kelly Anne.

Teresa sighed. They were back. She’d never been so thankful for the hurt in her chest.

More changes to canon. James gets to Kelly Anne and Pote before Boaz and makes sure they get back to the safe house.

Here’s the thing. I hate the whole kidnapping plot of 5x08 and think it’s unnecessary. Much of the episode is spent on Pote grunting and yelling nonsensically, making lame threats. And what happens? Pote doesn’t save the day. Kelly Anne saves herself. I haven’t even mentioned the fact that Teresa calls Boaz and tells him she’ll give him the business (and she was not bluffing, by the way) as long as he lets Kelly Anne go.

Omg. The action of 5x08 is fine. We get to see James in green. But the actual story...the plot of it...what the fuck is the point? The majority of the episode is wasted on Kote (the season is pretty much #Kote of the South at this point) when really it should focus on Teresa, and on the Castel/Devon/Kostya stuff.

So yeah. I said hell no, unlike canon I refuse to let Kote take over in my story. The queenpin storyline gets abandoned completely in canon with no proper resolution for how Teresa gets back to herself. It’s like she goes from the queenpin, caring about nothing but the business, then suddenly remembers her true personality and is the old Teresa again.

And for what? All because of the kidnapping plot? No. Just no. I couldn’t do it.

Eliminating the KA’s kidnapping doesn’t eliminate the Boaz problem or the Kostya problem or the Devon problem. So I axed it.

She’d said the same less than a week ago in Berlin, looking over the city skyline. But this time it had no bite and sting.

There’s a song by Defeater called “The Bite and Sting” and the phrase in the second sentence above comes from that title. If for whatever reason you decide to listen to it, there’s a line in the song that goes We ain’t seen no Germans for days, because Defeater’s music is conceptual and tells interrelated stories over the span of their albums. The EP that “The Bite and Sting” is on, Lost Ground, is about a black WWII veteran. The song is about being in the war and that’s why the line I mentioned is there. Kind of ironic, because I was not thinking about the fact that Teresa said to James “say it” while they were in Germany.

Anyway, that was a longwinded explanation just to say: the context of the reference and the way the phrase is used in the sentence are not related.

Self-preservation had always been key for James’ survival, and over and over he threw it away for her. So his words hurt because they were honest, because they pointed out the mistakes she’d made when it came to him. But Teresa admired James for standing up for himself and showing his backbone. He was there for her—they were in this together—but he wouldn’t allow himself to be used. She had to prove herself, to somehow make amends. And she loved him for it, to be given the opportunity.

Because beyond striking the balance with herself, Teresa knew that if she wanted the pure love only soulmates who were lucky enough to find each other and chose to be together could have—not just tough love—then the days of shutting James out had to come to an end as well.

In the notes for Good Luck/Bad Days (a completely separate and unrelated story) I mentioned that one of the songs I ended up referencing, “Pure Love” by Hayley Williams was actually meant to be used in this story. I think pieces of the song fit better lyrically in Good Luck/Bad Days, but conceptually (are those different? I feel like they are different) it fits better here. So. That’s where the chapter title comes from.

#je repars notes

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lysandratrevelyan · 3 years

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On making Momquisitor

It’s... really fucking hard to write about a family coming together when the story started from mine falling apart. In 2015, my husband was deploying back to Kuwait and Iraq. We were dealing with a child just starting school, and another facing an uncertain medical future, and I knew I couldn’t do it alone. I also knew there was no fucking way in this or any other plane of existence that I could move back in with my parents.

I love them, but I moved out when I was 19 for several reasons, not the least of which was space. Moving back in with two children in tow would be compounding that and many of the other issues that led to me leaving in the first place.

(Not that I don’t think my parents wouldn’t have taken us in a heartbeat IF IT HAD BEEN FEASIBLE, they absolutely would, and maybe my life wouldn’t have fallen apart the way it did if they had)

So I moved in with his parents, half a country away, because they had the space to take us. Which started two years of hell. My MIL would constantly undermine me as the parent. On my days off, she would hie out of there with the kids and not return until they were literally falling asleep. She would not stop this, even when I repeatedly told her my days off were dedicated to my kids, and I was not comfortable with her actions.

I’m pretty sure she’s a narcissist, looking back on it all.

Fast forward to 2017, when my husband - who I deliberately was not telling every single problem I had, because he was dealing with his own stresses including multiple soldiers dying in front of him, AGAIN - came back stateside. We had the savings, and so decided to buy a house.

And thus began the end of my marriage. My MIL refused to back off, now that the kids weren’t under her roof. She was constantly stepping in the middle of plans, racing to pick the kids up from school before I could get there, and refused to hand over the key to the door when I had enough and demanded it. She began harassing my friends who lived with us, and almost certainly was lying to my husband.

In the end, he took her side, and kidnapped the kids while I was served with divorce papers.

That was July of 2018. I started writing the first chapter of Felt the Sky Resting on Our Hands in May of 2018.

For the last several years, this story has been my comfort piece. A mother facing an uncertain world, finding the care she needs for her child and herself, a shelter for the storm her life had become.

Some days, it’s physically painful to even think about the characters, about their happiness and pains and trials. About the way religion absolutely has a hand in how the world treats them. About how nice it is that even when she has to leave her son behind, the person holding him will always, always hand him back, and help her to have as much time with him as she can.

Because my ex is constantly working to make sure I can’t. Because the divorce and custody arrangement has traumatized more than just myself and my kids, it’s traumatized my entire support system. Every person I see daily - my best fucking friends - has been dragged into my drama and I hate myself for it.

Sometimes it’s my brain hopping topics that keeps me from finishing it. I’ve come up with at least three other stories about Lysandra and Luca over the course of writing the nine chapters I’ve posted, and several other stories for other fandoms. Mass Effect took a huge chunk of my attention span for the better part of a year, between playing the original releases of the trilogy and then replaying them all several times in ME:LE.

So, please be patient while I continue. Even if (since they haven’t gone through several rewrites) newer chapters aren’t as captivating or polished as earlier ones. I haven’t given up on the story, or myself. Lysandra will get her happy ending, whether I do or not. Thank you for reading, and keeping up with the story as I can get through it. I hope you all are still invested, and stick with it.

#momquisitor #aster's fic #lysandra trevelyan #My writing #my ocs #aster's ocs

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shittyfandomimagines · 5 years

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that Queen shirt- S.M

Hi, I’ve been super absent and I’m so sorry. I’m starting to heal and move on with my life, so I’ve taken time off of writing, but a life without writing is not one I want. So, here’s a shitty imagine I wrote in like 30 minutes.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled to myself as my coffee hit the ground, my heart exploded with it.

“That’s not a very nice word to say.” A kids voice behind me states loudly, I could’ve jumped out of my skin. When I turn around, there was the cutest little girl standing there; her brown curls flowing down her shoulders.

“It wasn’t nice at all, I’m sorry. Where are your parents?” I ask and she frowns for a bit. “My mom had two boyfriends.” She states and I had to hide my laugh, I loved when kids overshared their parent's information.

“My daddy is somewhere, I can’t find him. I’m scared.” Her lip started to tremble and I crouched down to her level, engulfing her in a hug. “Do you know your dad's number, darling?” I ask and she nods. “He made me memorize it but I don’t have a phone.”

I handed her mine and she slowly typed in the numbers, I mean she did pretty well for a 5-year-old. I took the phone from her small hands and put it on speaker.

“Hello!” A voice frantically answered and I could tell from her eyes lighting up that it was her dad.

“Daddy!” Her little voice echoed and I heard a sigh of relief.

“Hi, this is y/n. I’m here with your daughter, she came up to me, she’s okay but a little scared. We’re on the corner of 5th Avenue, right by Joe’s Coffee Shack.” I explain while the little girl held on to my hand tightly.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll be there in like 2 minutes thank you.” The phone hung up quickly and I bent back down to her level.

“Your name is Y/n? That’s a pretty name.” She mumbled and I smiled. “What’s your name girly?” I ask while buttoning up her coat. “Millie.” She mumbles again and I grin. “Millie, what a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” I grin when she looks up hopefully.

“Really?” She asks and I nod quickly. “Of course! You’re a little superstar!” I lightly grab her hands.

I looked at my watch to see how long it’d been since the call, not even a minute yet.

“You’re a brave girl, asking for help. How’d you choose me?” I ask I was pretty curious about it.

“I was hiding over there and I saw you walking, you have the same shirt as my daddy.” She pointed to my Queen shirt. “Oh, so your dad is a music guy?” I ask and she giggles. “He’s famous and everything!” She yells and I smile. “Oh, I’m sure he is.” Seems like an adoring child who thinks their dad walks on water.

“Millie Alli Mendes, what in the world were you thinking?” We both look over, well fuck. She wasn’t lying about her dad being famous. I mean I hardly listen to newer music but everyone knew Shawn Mendes. He looks like a straight-up God. She also wasn’t lying about the shirts, we had on the exact same white T-shirt with the band's logo.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry. I saw a puppy on a leash and I followed it, it was so pretty and fluffy. I’m sorry.” Her eyes were watering and his face softened. “Don’t ever do that again, I almost had a heart attack.” He picks her up, finally taking a glance at me.

“Thank you so much —“ he waited for my name, Millie beat me to it. “Y/n. She has a pretty name, doesn’t she daddy?” She asks and he nods. “Very pretty name.” He grins widely. I had told him my name on the phone but I’m sure the adrenaline blocked it out.

“Looks like you dropped your drink, let us buy you a new one. You’ve helped me out today, it’s the least I could do.” He begs and I smile with a nod. “Sure, I can use another one.”

“When she dropped her drink, she used a very bad word daddy.” Millie giggled and I scrunch up slightly. “I did, in my defense, I was really looking forward to the drink before I spilled it.”

However, in my mind, I was thinking about how I wasn’t sure about this situation all, I was being taken to get a drink from a celebrity who lost their adorable child. But I’m not gonna be weird about it, I really wanted my marble frappe.

We ordered and sat down, Millie climbing into my lap a good 3 minutes in. “Millie, be polite and use your manners, maybe she doesn’t want you crawling over her.” He scolds and I shake my head, locking her into my arms. “No, she’s fine. I’ve grown quite fond of her.” I smile towards her, letting her eat a piece of my chocolate muffin.

“Well, you obviously have a great taste in music.” Shawn breaks the barrier, I nod. “I mean, what can I say, you do too apparently.” I joke and he shakes his head.

Time passed as we continued to talk about Millie, music, and stupid shit. It honestly felt so good, I felt like I was catching up with an old friend who I hadn’t seen in a while.

“Well, Millie has dance lessons. Maybe I can see you again soon?” He asks hopefully and I smile.

“As long as Millie is attended to when I first see her.” I joke and he rolls his eyes.

“So it's a hard yes, she’s not leaving my sights like that again.” He smiles

“Yeah? Then where is she right now?” I ask, knowing she was hiding under my legs, plus I heard her giggles.

His eyes widened in a complete panic, I almost felt bad for him but I grabbed his hand gently. I pointed toward the ground and his face relaxed dramatically. He squeezed my hand tightly before letting it go.

“I’ll see you soon. Millie get up here, now.” He sounded stern and I give him a look to be nice.

“I’m telling your grandma about what you did.” He threatens as he walks out of the door, I giggled at the goofiness between both of them. Something about them made my heart feel different, a good way but still different.

————— year & 1/2 later

“Can you please help me tonight baby? I know we’re supposed to go on our date but Mil has a fever and is sick. I can’t get ahold of the nanny, Millie won’t stop crying.” Shawn’s frantic voice filled my phone, my heart sad at the thought that he’s so stressed and that Mil was sick.

“I’ll come over, it’s gonna be alright babe. Bye.”

I stopped into the store to grab some soup before making my way to Shawn’s house, which was right down the road from my apartment.

“I’m here.” I sigh while dropping the soups onto the counter. “Thank you so much, I’m so sorry.” He pleads and I grasp the back of his neck. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m more than happy to stay in and watch Netflix. I can fix soup all night and give her Tylenol every 4 hours. I’m here.” I kiss his lips softly and he shakes his head. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know, but I also know you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” I wink and he shakes his head, small grin on his lips. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that before.”

“Maybe you should see her, she’d be glad to see your face instead of mine. She stopped crying 10 minutes ago when I told her you were on your way.” Shawn adds I nod. “Can you make some soup while I change, then I’ll take it to her,” I suggest and he nods. “Already laid out one of my shirts on my bed.” He smiles and I blushed slightly. “What a gentleman.”

I walked into his room, I’ve spent plenty of nights in here. It was such a beautiful space, the bed was huge and took up most of the room. Our pictures and pictures of Millie filled the halls leading to the room and the room itself.

I walked out of the room with his Queen shirt on, it fit better than mine did. I always insisted on wearing his instead, it smelled like him too, so it was a selling point.

I grab the bowl full of soup and a can of sprite, then head towards her room, her door was open and the tv slightly up.

“Y/n!” She hoarsely let out and it broke my heart. “Hey doll, I brought you something to eat. It’s so good, daddy and I had some in the kitchen.” I lied to make her feel better about eating it, Shawn had explained she didn’t want anything all day. He had to force some crackers.

She took a few bites before pushing it away, sipping on sprite slowly. Usually, this girl was like her dad, eating everything before you could blink. “I don’t feel good at all.” She groans and I take her hand into mine, other one combing through her damp curls.

“It’s gonna be alright. You’re such a tough girl and it’ll be okay.” I smile down at her, she half-heartedly smiles. “Are you staying with me? I don’t want you to get sick.” She whines and I chuckle. “You don’t have to worry about that, if I get sick I’ll just make your daddy take care of me.” I joke and send a small wink.

I could tell she was too tired to hold a full conversation, so I gave her some more Tylenol before heading out of her room with the bowl of leftover soup.

“She ate some of it, took some Tylenol and she looked almost out of it.”

“Thank you so much, I’m sorry again. I’ve just been here all day while she vomits or coughs herself to death. I mean it’s the first time I’ve seen her this sick since she was like 3.” He admits and I frown.

“Well, my years of working in a daycare where sickness spread like gossip are about to be handy.” I joke and he giggles.

“I’m so glad you’re here, you know how to make any mood better.” He groans in a delighted way.

“Well, I’m gonna eat that macaroni salad you had leftover and lay on the couch.” I grin and make my plate, taking it to the couch.

I played AGT while we ate, I heard Millie sneeze or cough occasionally.

—-

The sound of cries filled my ears, I shot up quickly and so did Shawn. “I’ve got it, rest,” I told him and I saw the hesitation in his eyes, but I pushed him back down and made my way to her room.

She was in the bathroom attached to her room, she had got sick again, luckily in the toilet. I stood over her to put her hair up in a bun, in case she did it again. I got a rag to put on her, but the feeling of her skin told me she needed a quick cold shower.

“Baby, let’s get in the shower,” I told her, she started whining and didn’t want to get in. So, I started the water and held her while we both stood underneath the cold water. I’m glad I like cold showers, or my ass would be frozen to death.

I got her out of the wet clothes, she was so whiny the whole time, as expected. Her fever was down and she went straight back to bed.

“Please don’t leave yet, I’m scared.” She called out and I nodded before sitting by her bed.

“It’s okay doll, I’m right here. It’s gonna be just fine. Let’s take some of this medicine and eat some crackers, it’ll help.”

She has finished a few saltines and took a kids NyQuil and Dramamine. By the time the medicine started to work, she was drowsy and ready to fall asleep again. “Goodnight doll.” I kiss her forehead, starting to leave the room.

“Night, mommy.” She mumbled and it stopped me in my tracks, a big smile played on my lips and I felt butterflies all over.

I made my way back to Shawn, shaking his body to wake him up. “Let’s go to bed Shawn, you’re gonna hurt your back.” I tug at his arms. “But, what if she needs us?” He asks and I continue to tug at him. “She took Dramamine and NyQuil, she’s gonna be okay.” I get him up and make our way to the bedroom.

“Why is your shirt wet?” He mumbles as he collapsed onto his bed. “She didn’t want to shower alone,” I explain shortly and he had a small grin on his face. “You’re the best girl I’ve ever had in my entire life.” He smiles up absentmindedly, I shake my head at his goofiness as I change into a different tee.

I lay beside him and he just stares at me warmly. “What?” I ask and he just shakes his head. “You’re just amazing.”

“She called me mom. I know it’s not that big of a deal because we’ve only been together for over a year and a half, plus she’s on drowsy medicine, but it warmed my soul.” His eyes widen and then went back to normal after I said it felt good.

“I mean you’re the most mom figure she’s ever had. I guess you should just move in with us.” He sounded like he was jokingly saying it. “Yeah, okay.” I laugh and he sits up a little to look over at me.

“I’m being serious now like you can move in with us. You won’t have to move that far, unlimited access to Mil and I. We love you and want you here.” He adds and my heart explodes.

“Shawn, are you sure? I’m always here or whatever, but this is different. I don’t want to rush you into this.” I brush out some of his curls, he sighed contently.

“What other girls our age, who isn’t already a mom, going to stay with someone else’s kid to make sure they make it through a virus? Or to jump in a cold shower with them? I don’t want to imagine any other good night or bad night with someone else, it’s gonna be you. I’m sure the mom role isn’t gonna be the easiest nor do I expect it from you because you’re my girlfriend, but someone like you in her life is the best I can get. You’re an outstanding woman and I don’t think I’ll ever be this close to perfection again. There’s no rushing this, it’s you.”

“Baby,” I mumbled with tears in my eyes. I mean he can’t just give me a speech like that and not expect me to want to marry him right now. “You’re the sweetest human on this earth. I just really love the two of you and I mean I love kids because I worked in a daycare, but my love for Millie is so much more. I literally just don’t want her to ever get hurt and I want to watch her grow. I love her most because she’s you, she lacks a mom but she has you and is just like you. You’re as amazingly wonderful and it’s like the tiny human form.”

“So, is that a yes to moving in or a big pretty speech before you crush my soul?” He asks and I chuckle.

“Yes I’ll move in with you, I don’t wanna do this without you guys.”

I watch his face light up more, he kisses all over my face and bear hugs me. “God, this means I get to wake up to your beautiful face every day.” He exclaimed while squeezing the life out of me.

“Can you believe that your daughter saw my Queen shirt and it led to this? Like this whole new life for us?” I ask and he chuckles into the crevice of my neck, the hot air tickling me some.

“Good thing she wasn’t scared off by your potty mouth.” He whispers and I slap his back lightly.

“Hey, don’t be a dick! I dropped my drink.” I pout even though he can’t see it.

He hums approval before nuzzling further into me, arms tight and patterns being traced.

It was calm and almost full silence before he broke it, in a quiet manner though.

“And if the mother role gets to be too much, just tell me. The last thing I want is to lose you from being pressured into it.” He whispers and I shake my head.

“It’s all gonna be alright, Freddie Mercury would believe it’s all gonna work itself out, so I will believe it too. We’re gonna be just fine, love.”

#mendes #shawn #shawn mendes #wow #imagines #shawnmendesimagines #shawnmendespreferences #shawnmendesmasterlist #shawn mendes masterlist #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes preference #shawnmendesblurb #shawnmendesangst #shawnmendesfluff #shawnmendesoneshot #shawnmendes #shawn mendes writing #shawnmendeswriting

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autumn-maple13 · 5 years

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Lost to Time - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Surprises

Their return to Lestallum had been met by their friends eagerly awaiting the story of their little adventure, though the excitement of finding the tomb was short live when Noctis and Amara fell victim to another round of earthquake-triggered visions. The woman chose to go ahead and retire for the night once her head had stopped pounding, with Ignis promising to come check on her before he and the guys started making plans to go check out the Disc for themselves. She all but threw herself into a hot shower, spending several minutes doing nothing but letting the water warm her up before washing away the grime from the trek and examining her new scar. Ignis kept his promise, joining her in the room with excellent timing – sitting on the edge of her bed as she slipped under the covers. His hand, warm on her cheek was all she felt as she fell straight-away to sleep.

She could tell it was a deep sleep, something she hadn't had in years, when she awoke with heaviness still dragging her eyelids closed as she tried to burrow deeper into her blanket to escape the pain that was causing her body to stiffen up. However, a warm hand on her uncovered shoulder was gently shaking her awake, and when she looked up it was into the ridiculous grin Gladiolus had on his face.

"What do you want?"

"Sit up."

"Gladdy-"

"Come on! Up, up!" he gently slipped a hand under her back and made her sit up when she seemed more content to rub her eyes, but when she finally looked at the foot of her bed she was shocked to see Ignis and the guys standing there – each with something in their hands.

"Happy birthday!" the four men spoke in unison, all but Ignis closing in to give her a hug. Prompto and Noctis were quick to drop what they were holding (gifts, she realized) so Ignis could step over with the cake he held. Gladio handed her a cup of coffee, dropping a small bag next to her before he walked over to claim one of the rooms seats, letting the younger guys each claim a spot at her side while she felt herself tearing up.

"It's my birthday? With everything that's going on I completely forgot." She wiped away a small tear as she smiled at her friends. "Thanks, guys."

Noctis chuckled next to her, watching his advisor cut everyone a piece of cake. "Ignis sure didn't forget. He's been planning this since we hit Lestallum."

"Aww Iggy!"

"Consider it half-payment for helping me keep his highness in check." The man smirked, giving her a wink that went unnoticed by the others. "The other half I have yet to figure out though."

"I think I have an idea." Gladio grinned mischievously from where he sat, looking between the two. Prompto was the first to catch on to whatever the shield was trying to say, bursting out in a poorly contained giggle fit as Ignis started handing out cake. Amara smiled as she got her (huge) slice, and as soon as a single bite made clear it was his handiwork, she beamed at him.

"Where did you find a kitchen to make this?"

"The café we went to yesterday. The owner was quite happy to lend me what I needed, in exchange for helping a little – of course." He motioned to her coffee, which she picked up to drink. She couldn't quite pinpoint the exact flavors of her cake, but once the coffee hit her tongue she understood. Orange and a slight coffee taste erupted, with just the tiniest tinge of chocolate: this angel food cake he had made for her was her mother's recipe (improved, of course). Amara felt herself tearing up again and put her plate and coffee aside so she could wipe her eyes, unable to bear the sudden thoughts of her parents and her home in Insomnia as they burst forth after having been buried for the past several days.

"Thank you." She sniffled, and felt the guys get up from her side before a pair of arms, then three, wrapped around her. Prompto and Noctis held her by her shoulders while Ignis knelt before her, arms around her waist as he buried his face carefully in her neck, allowing her to do the same as she started to cry. It was a soft crying this time, one that she soon was able to calm down from with her friend's help, with Ignis gently wiping away her stray tears with his gloved hand. He gave her a smile before he stood, as did the others, prompting her to wipe her face once more before she returned it.

"Where did you get mom's recipe?"

"She made the cake for the Crownsguard once, and I just happened to be there when she did."

"So, what, you just asked?" Noctis was looking curious now, having started eating his own slice now that Amara had begun on hers once more.

"Well yes. It was a good cake."

"And it has nothing to do with Amara, hm?"

"I may have overheard Lieutenant Solis telling Ms. Rosemary Amara would be disappointed to not get any of the cake," Ignis smirked, earning a laugh from the redhead. She had finished her breakfast now and was working on her coffee as Noctis and Prompto gave their own empty plates to the Advisor. They looked at her expectantly, then at her lap when she seemed confused, making her remember the gifts they had dropped on her. Setting aside her empty cup she decided to go ahead and open them.

The guys had certainly taken a fair amount of time with their gifts, so soon she was looking over Prompto's small album of photos of all of them (although there were more than a few photos of her and Ignis taken from questionable angles) and Noct's Assassin's emblem (which got a few questioning looks from the others, though Amara was quick to jump in and prove she loved the series as much as her Kingly counterpart). Gladiolus's bag held a small Moogle charm from Iris and a blank journal from Talcott and Jared, as well as a small glass bottle that he wasn't shy to reveal was a bottle of Ignis's cologne, earning him an empty coffee-cup to the head from the blushing redhead.

Ignis scoffed, giving his friend a look as he retrieved a small box from the hotel dresser, moving Noctis aside so he could sit beside her as she opened it. The woman looked at the box for a moment before she opened it, and gasped when she laid eyes on the item inside.

It was the Sylleblossom necklace she had mentioned the day before, though he had clearly had someone professionally replace the sapphires it had once been adorned by with rubies. The sterling silver piece was carefully lifted from the box by the advisor and fastened around her neck before she could say a word about it. She looked down at it, tracing her fingertips carefully over the precious blooms before giving her friend a slightly amazed look that he returned with a smile.

"Do you pay attention to everything?"

"Some things more than others." Noctis teased, jumping away so neither of the duo could smack him.

"I know, he's always so busy being your baby sitter isn't he?" Amara gave him a look that made the raven-haired man scowl at her, the others laughing at the exchange. Ignis shook his head, standing to make quick work of the little bit of cleaning up required. The other guys each gave her another 'happy birthday' (and Prompto a brief hug) before leaving her and the taller blond there. She had just stood to help him when he turned away, walking briskly over to the door and locking it firmly.

"Uh, Iggy?"

"We need to talk."

"Oh, Six, what did I do?"

The man returned to her side, standing tall in front of her and making their five-inch height difference suddenly much more imposing than she remembered, having to look up at him more than usual. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her, and with her heart racing for more than one reason she was almost unprepared for him to speak again.

"Amara, is the name Aera familiar to you?"

"Aera?" it did ring a bell, one she couldn't help but feel hadn't been rung in a while. "It… I want to say yes, but I don't know."

"What about Aera Mils Fleuret?" the vision of the white dress she had envisioned when she looked at the white shirt her father had given her suddenly burst to the front of her mind again, this time accompanied by fields of Sylleblossoms in whites and reds. The gold headpiece also had a place in this vision, adorning the forehead of a petite blonde woman she couldn't make out the features of beyond a warm smile.

It took a moment for Amara to realize tears had begun to stream down her face and had it not been for Ignis's sudden scurry to grab a nearby box of tissues she might not have.

"Amara?"

"I don't know why, but that name makes me so sad…" she wiped away her tears, then looked at her friend. "Why do you ask?"

"I stayed in here with you again last night, in case you had another nightmare from the pain of Noctis getting another Arm. You didn't have one, but at one point you cried out for your mother, and in the same breath you called out to 'Oracle Aera'." The advisor was clearly showing his concern over the situation. "Knowing Noctis's connection to Lady Lunafreya, I asked him if he knew anything of Lady Aera while we were getting ready to surprise you, and he was able to tell me that Lunafreya had spoken of her to him once. She told him that Lady Aera had been "looking" for someone in our time, but because of Noctis, that person had been found."

"What, do you think I'm that person?" Amara's mind screamed, with a familiar laugh echoing somewhere in its deeper recesses.

"You did once tell Noctis and King Regis someone from the past had marked you, and there are also all the visions you had as a child that led to your joining the Glaive." He looked a bit more serious now and returned a hand to her shoulder. "Amara, if Lady Aera is the one who caused those visions, I think she may have something in store for you. Something that may even be triggering the pain in your connection when Noctis gathers the arms."

Tell him, child! A voice roared in her ear, making her look down. Your guilt will kill you at this rate and all will be for naught!

"Ignis, I need to show you something that you absolutely cannot tell anyone else about." She looked up at him again, locking eyes as she reached out to grab his hand that wasn't still on her shoulder and squeezing it until he flinched slightly. "Not even Noctis can know."

"I-"

"If you can't swear to it, I can't show you."

He seemed to consider it for a moment, even glancing at the wall that separated her hotel room from the guys'. Ignis sighed slightly but soon returned her steeled gaze with a soft one. "Alright, I swear."

Giving his hand another squeeze before she took a few steps back, she kept her gaze focused on him as she summoned one of the Royal Arms to her hand, then the rest to float around her in the reddish-purple glow of her warp clones. The man face fell straight into a disbelief she hadn't thought would be possible to see on him – and for a brief second, she almost thought he was going to turn and run straight to Noctis.

But he didn't. Ignis stayed locked in his place, finally wrenching his confused glance back to her deeply concerned face. "How?"

"I don't know. All I know is that every time we find a tomb, I start hearing the voices of whichever ruler is buried there. I've heard them since the day I first connected to Regis, and what happened that day was caused by one of the past rulers trying to kill me. I don't know which one, but I do know that the others are trying to prevent it from happening again. Every time, every time we find a tomb, they present their power to me in a way that is different from how Noct gains it. It's almost like the Arm itself is going to Noctis, but a kind of copy of it is being given to me." Amara willed the arms to disappear before she walked back over to her friend. "They're giving me knowledge more than anything. Because Noctis is now the King, the past ruler that tried to kill me before is trying to use our connection for a second attempt which is what causes the pain. I don't know what is preventing them from a strong attack like before – unless it's due to the other rulers helping me or my close friendship with Noctis."

The man took a moment to take in what she was telling him, examining her quietly as he tried to piece it together. "Knowledge of what?"

"I don't know yet; I haven't spoken to enough of them."

"And you haven't told us, why?"

"Because I didn't even know how to explain it to myself, at least not properly." She reached out and took Ignis's hands in her own, closing the distance between them with a single step and looking up at him so he could see closely the truth in her eyes. "If I couldn't even do that, I knew there would be no way to explain it to the people I care so much about."

The man didn't flinch away from the intensity of her gaze, or the heat building between them from how close together they stood now. "Do you think that may be why the Chancellor wants to keep you alive? With Tenebrae under the Empire's rule, there's no telling what Lady Lunafreya may have been forced to tell him."

"Maybe."

"If that's the case," he spoke as he finally took a step back from her, "we should tell the others."

She followed him step for step, not letting him distance himself. "Not yet. I need to learn more before I tell anyone else, or it could put all of us in danger."

"Then why tell me?"

"Ignis, I-" she was interrupted by banging on the door, followed by the door handle being jiggled violently.

"Guys c'mon! If we're going to the outlook, we need to go before it gets too crowded!" Noctis's voice cut through to them, gaining both of their attention and causing a shared glance.

"Just a minute!" Amara called harshly but gave her companion a smirk. "I still need to get dressed."

Now that seemed to knock something back into place, with the man giving her a quick once over before looking away, his ears turning red. "I should go make sure everything is ready to be packed away then."

The woman threw an arm up in front of him, making him pause just long enough for her to grab some clothes and a pair of boots from her bag. "Can you start with this then?"

He shot her a look, freezing momentarily when she leaned in close – whispering a soft 'please' in his ear before darting off to the bathroom to get dressed. When she re-emerged, she handed him her nightclothes to be put in her bag and set to fixing her headpiece, smirking at his slight blush all the while. The man dropped her bag beside her (neatly packed though!) and gently flicked her new necklace as he gave her another once-over through narrowed eyes, leaving her to lurch after him and drag him back to her side by his wrist.

"I told you because of how I feel. So, trust me to tell the others when I know more." She whispered in his ear, ignoring the look that crossed his face, before slipping around him to unlock her door. "Sorry for the wait Noct."

The King looked at her sage green halter top and dark brown pants with an arched brow, then at her also dark brown boots and the dark green straps of her shirt that ran across its cutout over her mid-section. "Showing off your abs today?"

"It's hot as hell outside. I'm sure you'd be showing off too if you actually had any muscle."

"Hey, I got muscle! You just can't see it..." he huffed, turning on his heel to stalk away as the duo shared a chuckle and followed after him – though Ignis returned her earlier favor with a soft brush of his lips across the scar on her cheek she had gained fleeing Insomnia. A whisper of 'our secret' was breathed against her ear before he walked quickly away, leaving her a blushing mess with no choice but to follow.

Gladio and Prompto were waiting in the lobby with the guys' bags, earning a brief check from Ignis before Iris made herself known.

"Happy birthday Amara. Did Gladdy actually give you the presents from Talcott and me?"

"Of course," the older woman motioned to the Moogle charm, which she had fastened to one of her holsters. "He can be trustworthy sometimes you know."

"Sometimes." Iris laughed, with Gladiolus only feigning a protest. "But hey, we should talk about it later. I hope you guys find out what's going on."

"Yeah, we'll let you know."

"Please? And be safe guys." She smiled and waved them off, leaving Prompto and Noctis to lead them to the outlook that was connected to the parking area. As soon as the older men had everything stowed away in the Regalia, they started the short walk towards the less crowded of the lookouts, not even noticing when Amara's expression changed completely.

'Are you shitting me?!'

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suddenrundown · 5 years

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All the Time in the World: Chapter 8

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In hindsight, she may have been a bit dramatic.

That wasn’t how Lup would generally describe herself; she could think of plenty of other things that fit her way better. Outspoken? Maybe, in a cool way. Outgoing? Absolutely. Confident? Hell yeah. Awesome? Always.

Hardly ever dramatic; that was Taako’s thing. But still, she could be. Occasionally.

About…some things.

Like that whole thing about being in love with Barry Bluejeans?

Dramatic as hell.

Continued under the cut, or you can read it on ao3

Beads of sweat slid down her forehead as she raced forward, occasionally kicking up loose dirt behind her as she ran. Panting, she reached up to wipe some of the sweat away, despite knowing how useless the effort was. Running around a hot desert in the afternoon heat wasn’t really a dry activity, nor was it a smart one. But sometimes you just gotta run your frustrations away.

Frustrated. That’s what she was.

Because okay, sure, she had feelings for Barry. Clearly. But was she in love with him? Of course not! That was ridiculous. That was crazy. That was…

Dramatic.

It was just a crush or something. No big deal. Nothing earth shattering, nothing life altering, nothing to freak the fuck out over. Just a crush. She’d had crushes before, she could deal with it. Except she didn’t really know how, not in this case. She knew how she would normally do it: get it out of her system. Make a move, act on it, get over it and get out. But she couldn’t exactly do that now, could she?

She worked with Barry. Every day. And not only that, but she would as long as the cycles continued. And it wasn’t like anyone knew how to stop them, so she was looking at forever, here. So if she did try and get it out of her system, there would be no escaping any resulting awkwardness for the rest of eternity.

There was also the fact that Barry wasn’t just some dude she had a crush on. He was her friend. Arguably her best friend, aside from Taako. She couldn’t imagine any sort of life without him at this point, and definitely didn’t want to try. And she absolutely didn’t want to mess anything up between them, either by acting impulsively or by treating him any differently. He wouldn’t want that either. Neither of them ever came right out and said so, but she knew that she was just as important to him as he was to her. Not in the same way, of course. Barry didn’t think of her as anything but a friend.

Which was fine, she was cool with that. Totally cool. At some point, this whole crush thing would go away, and everything would be back to normal.

Admittedly, things were a little less than that now. In the few months since they’d escaped from Jaden-Province and found themselves in this desert town, Lup hadn’t exactly been spending as much time with Barry. She wasn’t really avoiding him, definitely not, they saw each other every day. No, it was just that the amount of quality Lup and Barry time was often cut short by the fact that she kept getting…distracted. By him.

For as long as she could remember, Lup had thought Barry was more than a little cute. Big, goofy science nerd with an insatiable quest for information who blushed and stammered his way through most conversations? Come on, who wouldn’t find him adorable? She definitely did, and she was pretty open about thinking so.

And now? She still thought so. But she didn’t just think he was cute. She thought he was cute. Barry fucking Bluejeans made her heart stutter and, occasionally, made her nervous over incredibly minor things. She really hated not being able to say anything, and having those feelings at all made her frustrated as hell, in more ways than one. With all that pent-up energy, she needed an outlet, and running seemed to do the trick. Hey, at least it was healthy. And exhausting. Super inconvenient that her dumb feelings had to start now, when the only constructive thing she could do was run laps around a desert. Next cycle better have a swimming pool.

She slowed down to a walk as she neared the Starblaster, trying to slow her breathing. Sweat continued to drip down her forehead, and she was acutely aware of the hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail and now brushed her shoulders, making her itchy. God, this heat was annoying. Maybe she should just chop some of her hair off, give herself a style that didn’t add to the oppressive feeling she got every time she stepped outside.

Or, she could just get a grip and stop going for runs every time Barry smiled at her.

Yeah, that was a good idea, too.

With no one in sight, Lup made her way to the kitchen. She found a glass and filled it only halfway up before impatience got the best of her and she downed whatever she had. Shit, she was thirsty. She was halfway through another glass when Taako came into the room.

“Damn, you look a little damp there,” he said, giving her a once over.

Lup made a face at him as she filled up her cup again. “Hello to you, too.”

“Go on another run, did you?” he asked, coming up beside her and grabbing a glass as well.

She watched him fill it up. “What gave that away?”

“Well, you definitely don’t smell like you just took a shower.”

Ignoring the comment, Lup chugged the water as fast as she could. When she finished, Taako handed her his glass, and she gratefully took that one, as well. He said nothing, just studied her as she drank it, and when she emptied it, she set it down between them.

“What’s with the face?” she asked. “Got something on your mind?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he responded.

“I mean, I’m fine. Why are you asking?”

Taako continued to stare at her curiously. “That doesn’t really answer my question, Lup.”

“Okay then, there’s nothing on my mind,” she insisted. “Again, why are you asking?”

“I don’t know, you just seem a little…off.”

She tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible, hoping not to give him any indication that he might just be right. “Don’t feel off,” she said with a shrug. “Don’t think I’ve been acting off, either.”

“I mean, you don’t normally go running in a million-degree weather.”

“It’s also not normally a million degrees,” she laughed.

He didn’t. “Lup-”

“Taako, I promise I’m fine! Just picked up a hobby, is all. A girl can have hobbies, can’t she?”

Taako fell silent a moment, expression searching as he looked at her. Then he sighed. “Sure, but does it have to involve the possibility of you kicking the bucket from heat exhaustion or something?”

She smiled. “What if I promised to only go out in the evening when it’s slightly less than a million degrees? Would that make you feel better?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I can do that,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You worry too much, babe.”

“’Scuse me for trying to make sure you live,” he replied with a huff.

Lup softened at that. She put her arm around him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Poor choice of words. I think I meant thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, but he rested his head on top of hers, and she knew she was forgiven.

They stayed like that in silence, enjoying the comfort for a moment, but Lup couldn’t help the prick of guilt she felt. She hated not being completely truthful with Taako. Normally, the two had no secrets, there was no need, but she didn’t feel like sharing this with him. Or anyone else. The IPRE was basically a weird little family by circumstance, but they were, first and foremost, a group on a mission, and she wasn’t sure how acceptable romantic relationships between them were. Not that she was interested in that. She wasn’t.

And as for Taako? Why bother him with something neither of them could change? Nah, she’d keep this to herself. After all, it wasn’t a big deal.

She nuzzled into him a little. “I should go shower.”

“Mhm, I was about to say,” Taako said, giving her a small shove with his shoulder. “Still kinda smell.”

“Rude,” she gasped in mock offense, wrapping both arms around him.

He made no move to resist. “Gross.”

“What do you know about necromancy?”

Lup turned to stare at Barry, surprised at the sudden question. A moment ago, they’d been talking about what supplies they were going to bring back to the ship, which was hardly connected. “Pretty much nothing,” she told him, putting the scarf she’d been looking at back on the stand where she found it. She gave the attendant at the stall a smile, and then turned back to Barry. “It’s like, dark magic, right?”

“Essentially, that’s what it’s referred to as, yes. It’s the sect of magic dealing with power over death.”

“Does sound pretty dark, then.”

Barry hummed in agreement, but then fell silent, rubbing the back of his neck. His nervous tic. Clearly, he wanted to talk about this.

Lup smiled. “What about it? Why the sudden interest?”

“I guess I wouldn’t really say it’s a sudden interest,” he confessed, not entirely meeting her gaze. “I just haven’t really mentioned it before.”

“Go on,” she prompted.

“Just something that’s been in the back of my mind for a few cycles now. I mean, power over death seems like some far-fetched, creepy idea, right? But then again, we’ve basically had that for eighteen years now. We can die all we want, but we come back as soon as the year is up.”

“That’s true,” Lup agreed, intrigued now.

“We just don’t have control over it. I’m just curious what we could do if we did.”

This sounded like research, and she was so down for something cool to science the shit out of. “Now you’ve got me curious.”

Barry chuckled. “Well, like I said, it’s only been a passing interest for a while now, but I think it might be worth looking into. It’s not as if I don’t have the time.”

“Hell yeah, go for it!” She couldn’t help her excitement. Even if he was just looking for basic information now, at some point down the road, she’d probably be involved. And she did so love to be involved. For now, there was one more thing she needed to know. “Do you know where you can start?”

Barry rubbed the back of his neck again. “Well…”

“You do!”

“I guess I did hear about another town a few miles from here that supposedly has a shop whose owner dabbles in necromancy. They might have some sort of literature.”

“And you want to go there, right?”

“Whenever we have the time…”

“Barry,” she teased, drawing out his name.

“Fine, you caught me. I would really like to go there right this very second.” He finally made eye contact with her. “Please?”

Shit, how could she resist even if she wanted to? “Duh, of course we’re going!” She ignored the way her stomach seemed to be doing flip flops and turned him around by the shoulders, gently shoving him forwards. “What are we still here for? Get a move on!”

“Yes ma’am,” Barry said, laughing again.

It was really hard to concentrate.

She was trying, she really was, but it was hard when it was just so fucking hot. It probably didn’t help that she was willingly sitting outside in the sun, but the Starblaster somehow felt just as stifling, so what was the point? She could be outside if she wanted to; the heat could bite her.

There was something else, though, besides the heat that kept distracting her. Someone, actually.

A ways off, Barry sat in a wooden lounge chair, deeply engrossed in a huge book. He’d had his nose in that book for the past few weeks, ever since they found it in the neighboring town, and still didn’t seem halfway through it. Unlike herself, the heat didn’t seem to be bothering him; no, he looked pretty comfortable. Lup watched him adjust the wide hat that he was wearing to keep the sun from his face and then reach over to grab the fruity drink that was sitting next to him and take a small sip of it. Taako had made those for the crew not too long ago, and she had downed hers quickly, but Barry didn’t do anything all that fast. He took his time when he enjoyed things.

Ugh.

“Anyway, I was thinking that I’d shave my hair into a mohawk and die it purple.”

“Yep,” Lup responded, absentmindedly.

“Oh my god, Lup, you’re not even listening to me,” Taako whined.

She quickly turned from Barry to her brother across the table, embarrassed. “What? Yes, I am!”

Taako scoffed. “Then what was I talking about?”

“Uh…giving yourself a radically different hairstyle?” she asked, knowing that it definitely hadn’t been the real subject.

“Like I ever would,” Taako said, stroking his braided hair. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, I just wasn’t listening.”

“Then why are the tips of your ears red?”

She reached up to cover them, as if that would disprove what he’d already seen. “They are not.”

“They so are.” He leaned forward, eyeing her seriously. “Look, you’ve been acting weird ever since we got here. And you keep telling me it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing, and you and I both know that.”

“It’s nothing,” Lup sighed, “important.”

“But important enough that you don’t want to tell me.”

It wasn’t a question, and Lup felt guilty once again. “I wouldn’t even go so far as to say that.”

“You don’t have to tell me what it is, Lup,” he assured her, despite the hurt in his eyes. “I just don’t want to hear that nothing is up when it’s clear that something is, alright? But I’ll stop asking you about it.”

Lup leaned her head back, squinting irritably at the hot sun for a moment, then leaned forward and hid her face in her hands. What even was the point in keeping anything from Taako? She’d tell him absolutely anything, why not this? Especially when this was not! A big! Deal!

“I think I have a tiny little crush on Barry,” she confessed quickly from behind her hands.

A beat of silence, and then Taako spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Lup groaned and let her hands fall. “I said, I think I have a-”

“No, no, I heard you,” he interrupted, smirking. “I just meant I’m sorry you have a thing for the IPRE’s very own fantasy Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

“Shut up! You like Barry!”

“Yeah, natch, but apparently not as much as you,” Taako responded, sing song.

Lup groaned and hid her face in her hands again. “Remind me never to tell you anything ever again.”

“Will do,” he said, clearly amused. “So, when’s the wedding?”

She immediately looked up again. “Never! It’s just a crush, okay? It’s not anything to get excited about, it’s not a big deal.” She pointed a finger at him as threateningly as she could. “And for the love of all the gods that there possibly could be, don’t you ever say anything to him about it.”

“Oh no, this is your thing, Lulu. I’ll stay out of it completely.” He made finger guns at her. “Trust.”

“Wow, thanks so much,” she deadpanned.

Taako just giggled in response, and she slumped back in her seat, pouting. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it could have been worse. At least now, in some small way, it was off her chest.

As she tuned out her brother, she found herself sneaking another glance over at Barry who, none the wiser, flipped another page of his book.

There really didn’t seem to be a need for this impromptu crew meeting.

Lup shuffled her feet impatiently and tried not to zone out thinking about how she could be taking advantage of the evening hours by running. But clearly Davenport wanted to capitalize on the fact that everyone was around and not doing anything all that important just to get an update, even if none of them really had anything important to share.

“No one in my congregation has any idea what the hell I’m talking about when I ask if they’ve seen a big glowing Light,” Merle reported. “But some of them have told me they’d be willing to go out and help look for it if I asked.”

“Oh yeah, how is Merle’s Church of Pan 2.0 doing?” Magnus asked him.

Merle beamed. “Pretty great, actually! Everyone’s pretty committed, and it’s nice to have people to teach again.”

Lup wasn’t sure why it had taken him this long to start up another church like he had in the Mushroom Kingdom; he was clearly charismatic enough to get people involved. Maybe because he was just too busy dying.

“And they’re all real generous, which doesn’t hurt,” he added.

“Please do thank them for donating those supplies to us,” Lucretia requested. “We would’ve had a harder time trading for such high-quality goods with what we had from Jaden-Province.”

“Have already, but sure.”

Magnus raised his hand. “If Merle’s church dudes wanna go exploring for the Light, I’ll go too.”

“Didn’t you die last time you went with Merle’s ‘church dudes’ to chase after that thing?” Taako snickered.

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“We’ll keep that in mind, Magnus, thank you,” Davenport interrupted hurriedly. He then turned to Barry. “Bluejeans, have you heard anything?”

Barry’s face turned slightly red at the sudden attention. “Oh. I, um, no,” he replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been…distracted?”

Lup could definitely relate.

Davenport gave him a small smile. “I was only asking. Anyway,” he continued, turning to address everyone. “We still have a little over half a year left here, so we still have time. I just wanted to see where we’re at.”

And with that, he dismissed them and the team scattered to go about their business. Lup glanced out the window and noted the darkening sky, feeling suddenly irritated over the lost running opportunity. Damn it, she really needed it today. Maybe if she got up really early tomorrow—

“You alright, Lup?”

She turned to find Barry looking at her with mild concern. “Always, Barold,” she replied with a smile, hoping it masked the impatience she felt. “Why?”

“I don’t know, you just didn’t say anything during the meeting. Didn’t heckle Cap’n Port even once.”

“Oh shit, do you think he missed it?” she joked.

“Possibly,” he chuckled. Then he sobered. “So you’re fine?”

“Definitely. Think I’m just tired.”

It wasn’t really a lie. She was, in fact, tired of her own nonsense.

Barry smiled, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Because, well, I didn’t really want to add to it if anything was wrong, but I was going to ask you if we could take a rain check on using the telescope to study the sky tonight? I know we had tentative plans, and I honestly hate cancelling, I really do, but I’m trying to finish that book, and I’m almost done with it. Well, halfway, at least. I think. The one on necromancy, did I mention that? I don’t think I did. It’s the necromancy book I borrowed. I mean, I really want to get through it because, well, for one it’s rather fascinating, and also I don’t want to keep it from that guy too long, you know? He might—”

“Take a breath there, Barry,” Lup interrupted him, giggling. “I’m not mad. The sky will still be there after you finish that thing, so go read your heart out. But,” she added, “you better fill me in on every single detail when you’re done.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m taking copious notes.”

God, why was that so cute? She hoped that the warmth suddenly spreading from her chest wasn’t as blaringly obvious on her cheeks as she felt it was. “Hell yeah, can’t wait!”

He chuckled, thankfully unaware. “Same here.”

And with that, he was off, and with nothing else to do, Lup wandered towards the kitchen. She found Taako there, as she’d hoped she would, stirring something in a bowl.

“Whatcha making?”

“Don’t know yet,” he replied, looking up at her. “Where’d your boyfriend go?”

Lup rolled her eyes. “Barry had shit to do.”

Taako grabbed some sort of spice and added it to his bowl. “You know what I don’t get?” he asked with a smirk.

“Oh please, do tell,” Lup sighed, leaning against the counter.

“Why Barry? I mean, you could have a crush on anyone.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know. Magnus maybe?”

Lup raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer that?”

“Oh gods, no. I’m just saying, Magnus is like, a big tough dude. Or, he thinks he is, at least. That sounds like something you’d be into.”

“Really?” Lup snorted. “Why’s that?”

“Isn’t that the dream? Strong dude carrying you around? Magnus could like, sling you over his shoulder or something. Think Barry could do that?”

Lup made a show of pretending to picture that scenario. “Damn, I sure hope so,” she sighed dreamily.

“Too real!” Taako exclaimed, holding his hands up. “Didn’t actually wanna know, thanks.”

“You shouldn’t have asked, then,” she laughed, pushing herself off the counter and heading back out the door. “Have fun with that mental image.”

“You have fun with it,” Taako replied.

“Good one,” she called back over her shoulder, despite the fact that she could feel her cheeks grow hotter.

It occurred to her that Taako wasn’t necessarily wrong. She could remember having a thing for tough guys, way back when. But that clearly wasn’t something she was into now.

Now she got excited about sharing copious notes about necromancy with the biggest science nerd she’d ever met.

Was it getting hotter or was it just her?

Lup leaned over the railing of the ship’s deck as she stared across the dry land, feeling restless. No one else seemed that offended by the heat, so maybe it was just her. Either way, it was insufferable and she was over it. But she had made it this far without combusting, so there was no reason to think she couldn’t keep soldiering on. She just needed to distract herself, which couldn’t be all that difficult. It never was.

The first step was to stop moping. Lup gave herself a mental shake as she turned from the railing and went back down inside the ship. As she ambled down the hall, she spotted Lucretia walking hurriedly and ran to catch up to her.

“Lucretia dear,” Lup greeted, “where’re you off to?”

Lucretia turned at the sound of her name, looking preoccupied. “Oh, Lup, hello. I’m sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry. I need to get Merle some ice.”

“He ok?” Lup asked, worried.

“I’m sure he will be. A couple members of his church brought him back here saying he fainted. He must have gotten too hot or something.”

“Do you need help?”

“Actually, yes, if you don’t mind. I left him in the infirmary, if you could go and watch over him until I get there, that would be helpful. I won’t be too long.”

“Of course, no problem.”

Lucretia thanked her and Lup made her way to the infirmary where she found Merle lying on a bed, not totally unconscious.

“What’s up, old man?” Lup said gently, pulling up a stool.

“S’ hot,” Merle replied, eyes closed.

“You can say that again.”

“Hot.”

She stifled a giggle, unsure whether or not he meant to be funny. Her best guess was not so much.

Merle fell silent again, and Lup followed suit, unsure what else to do. She stared at the clock on the wall, and wondered how long Lucretia would be.

"Am I gonna die?”

Now Lup did allow herself a small chuckle. “Don’t think so this time.”

“What don’t you think?” Lucretia asked, coming into the room with a tray.

“He was asking if he was gonna croak.” Lup answered.

“Oh dear, not today, Merle,” the woman said. She then gave a small smile. “I am terribly sorry to deliver the news.”

Lup laughed a little louder at that. Lucretia didn’t often try to be funny, but Lup found it adorable when she did.

Lucretia set the tray down on the counter and picked up a bag of ice off of it and a rag. She wrapped the bag and then sat down next to Lup as she rested it on Merle’s forehead, holding it in place. “Is it too cold?” she asked him.

“Feel’s good,” he mumbled.

Lucretia smiled again and then turned to Lup. “There is a cup of tea on the tray for you, if you would like some. I was later than I meant to be because I was making it. My apologies.”

“You’re a gem and should be sorry for nothing,” Lup assured her with a wink as she grabbed the cup. She took a sip. “It’s awesome, thanks!”

“Thank you for your help.”

The two sat in silence, Lup sipping her tea and Lucretia tending to Merle. After a few minutes, Lucretia turned to her again.

“How are you doing, Lup?”

Lup took a long sip of her tea, thinking over her answer. “Could be better, could be worse,” she finally said.

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Heat’s getting to me a little.”

“That does seem to be going around.” Lucretia adjusted the bag of ice for emphasis.

“I guess I could definitely be worse,” Lup replied sheepishly.

“There is always that possibility. But that doesn’t mean you can’t express your feelings if something is going on.”

“Is that your way of asking if I’m okay?” Lup asked with a chuckle.

“Not necessarily.”

“No?”

“No, mostly because you tend to speak your mind no matter the circumstance, so I would assume that if you had something to say, you would say it.”

Normally she did. Lately, though, the thing that was on her mind the most was something that she wanted to keep to herself as much as possible. She was still waiting for this whole crush on Barry thing to disappear, and talking about it made it seem like a bigger deal than it was. And it was hardly any sort of deal at all.

Lup laughed. “You saying I talk too much?”

“Never too much, Lup.” Lucretia smiled at her sincerely. “Never too much.”

How thick was that necromancy book?

Lup sighed as she watched Taako’s magic missile crash into a sand dune, making the darkness glow a little brighter than it already was in the moonlight as sand flew in all directions. She hadn’t seen much of Barry all week, but last she saw him, he’d said he was almost done reading and was excited to tell her everything he’d been learning. That was yesterday morning.

Taako tipped the front of his hat and whistled. “See that one, Lup?”

“Rad,” she replied, attempting to muster up some enthusiasm.

It clearly didn’t work. “No need to sound so impressed.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just not in the mood.”

“I can see that. We can call it a night, if you want.”

Lup wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “We did just get here, though.”

“Yeah, but no point in being out here if you don’t want to be.”

By way of an answer, Lup extended her arm and produced a fireball in her hand, searching for the perfect sand dune to aim it at.

“Probably wouldn’t be so grumpy if Barry hadn’t been a hermit all week,” Taako joked.

Lup groaned in frustration and turned and tossed the fireball just passed her brother. “Well now I’m leaving.”

She turned and stalked back towards the Starblaster off in the distance, hearing Taako’s footsteps as he trailed after her.

“Lup,” Taako called, sing-song, “where you going?”

She didn’t respond as she continued walking.

“Lup, I didn’t mean to imply that your boyfriend was ignoring you,” he giggled.

She rolled her eyes and stopped in her tracks, turning to face her brother. “Oh my god, Taako, please.”

He stopped in front of her. “What?” he asked, smiling innocently. “You know, I still don’t get it.”

“Get what, exactly?”

“What it is about Barry.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, irritated.

“I mean, he’s like, not at all your type.”

“So?”

“So, what gives?”

“I don’t know, Taako,” Lup snapped, louder than she meant to. “Is that actually something anyone can explain? It’s not the easiest thing to do! I could just list things off about him, like how he’s sweet, and quiet, and how hard he works to figure things out. And how he’s funny.”

Taako cocked his head. “You think he’s funny?” he asked.

“I guess! I sure laugh a lot when I’m around him! He’s a huge-ass nerd and he gets embarrassed so easily, it’s ridiculously cute, and he has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. And he doesn’t seem to own a single pair of pants that isn’t jeans. How does that happen?”

“I don’t—”

“And,” Lup interrupted, on a roll now. “Every time we solve some sort of cosmic mystery after hours and hours of work, he always looks like he’s on cloud nine! Just so damn happy about it, and it makes me happy just looking at him. And even before I liked him, it made me happy just to be around him. So I don’t know what it is about Barry Bluejeans, but apparently it’s something!”

She took a deep breath, deflated. “But I guess lately it’s not the same because this stupid crush is distracting me. I can’t just enjoy being around him like I usually do, because I’m too busy trying not to say or do something dumb. And for some reason that’s really fucking hard? Like, I know that he doesn’t have feelings for me, which I’m tota-lly—”

Lup felt the lump in her throat and heard the crack in her voice, and snapped her mouth shut immediately. She stared up at Taako who she knew from his expression had heard it, too. Her face flushed, and she cleared her throat.

“I-I’m totally cool w-with—”

She felt the first tear hit her cheek at the same moment as Taako reached out and pulled her close. Pressed up against his chest, she felt more tears fall as Taako rubbed her back soothingly.

“Lup, hey, I’m sorry” he said, gently and sincerely. “I was teasing.”

Lup sniffed. “It’s not because of you,” she told him.

“I really didn’t know you felt that strongly about him.”

“It’s alright,” she replied, taking a shaky breath. “Neither did I.”

Neither spoke again as he continued to hold her while her tears subsided. After a moment, Lup let out a watery little laugh.

“Shit, I’m sorry for being such a mess.”

“I’m sorry for being an ass.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “You weren’t trying to be.”

Taako squeezed her back. “It’s gonna be alright, Lup.”

“I know. It’s just a crush. It’ll go away.”

“You…sure it’s just a crush?” he asked hesitantly.

Lup sighed shakily. “Nope.”

“Then—”

“Shhh,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Don’t say it.”

A long moment passed while he stared down at her. Then he gave her a small smile. “You got it.”

“All in all, necromancy sounds useful, but I can definitely understand why it’s regarded as a rather taboo subject. It’s definitely dark, no doubt about that.”

Lup looked up from her notes and watched him adjust the telescope he was setting up. “Still cool as hell, though.” She looked back down and found the line she’d left off on. “Most of it, at least. This lich thing sounds pretty spooky.”

Barry bent to peer through the telescope. “Bounding your soul to magic? Definitely.”

She flipped the page back and forth, scanning. “Doesn’t say how that happens.”

“I know,” Barry groaned, looking back down at her. “You’d think whoever wrote that book would have spent a little more time on the subject with how long they’d already made it, but I guess not. And I tried to ask the shop owner, but he refused to talk about it, so that’s a dead end.”

“Maybe that’s for the best?”

“Perhaps.”

Lup could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced that was true, but he didn’t say as much, so she let the subject drop.

“Well, now you have some cool new shit to look into when you get the opportunity. Maybe next cycle is full of necromancers. Or at least more books.”

Barry chuckled. “One can hope.” He then paused and looked down at the ground, nervous. “Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted lately.”

Distracted? If anyone had been distracted, it had been her. “What do you mean? You haven’t been at all!”

“I’m just saying,” he replied, sitting down next to her, “I tend to get engrossed in things to an extreme. And I feel like I put this particular subject ahead of everything else, which wasn’t my intention.”

“I didn’t think it was, Barry. And I don’t think you did that, either.”

“If you say so,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“For real, Barold,” she smiled, “you’re good.”

He blushed as he returned her smile, and she felt an urge to reach over and rub his head affectionately. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked up and pretended to be distracted by the night sky.

Lup couldn’t help the small nag of guilt she felt over Barry’s own worry that he’d been distant; she knew that she’d been the distant one. Distant and irritable, and that just wasn’t her. But she was done with all of that. She didn’t have time for it, and it was exhausting. Lying to herself was exhausting. Apparently, you can’t run away from your feelings, who knew?

You can refuse to label them, though. She wouldn’t let Taako, and she wouldn’t do it herself. Feelings were complicated little shits, and there was no point agonizing over trying to figure them out. So fuck it, she liked Barry. More than she ever really planned to.

A small breeze whispered by, making her hair tickle her cheek, and Lup let out a relieved sigh. Maybe she’d like Barry for a cycle or two, maybe she’d like him for twenty. Maybe it would suck sometimes. Either way, she’d learn how to deal. She’d be fine.

“Are you good?” Barry asked her, looking up at the sky as well.

“Who, me? Please, you forget who you’re talking to.”

She looked over at him and gave him a playful shove, then stuck out her hand.

“I’m Lup. I’m awesome.”

Barry took it and gave it a shake as he laughed. “Always.”

#the adventure zone #taz balance #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup #taz fic #barry x lup #lup x barry #all the time in the world

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dracosollicitus · 6 years

Note

I loved "Damerey 35+41". Broke my heart. PLEASE, tell me that you'll write a sequence where those two make up (after Rey punches him)!.

Ahhhhh here we go! @raissapl

also tagging @melanoradrood @therebeccaw @d4m3r0n @vegan-vulcan @dragonfodder44 @roguecompanion1812 @supremequeenofthenerds and @realmandamanda (who in some way asked for part two)

Part One (Where Poe Messes Up Big Time)

Word Count: 3783 words

In the following weeks, which bled into months, Finn didn’t speak to Poe. He understood, rationally, why his friend refused to make eye contact with him, why he got up from the table when Poe sat down - it just didn’t make it hurt any less. Poe was already lying awake at night in his bunk, clutching his mother’s necklace, unable to breathe from grief, begging the Force to bring Rey back, to let him find her - Finn’s patented “Pretend Poe Dameron Doesn’t Exist” campaign wasn’t helping matters.

Rose, at least, had more sympathy. “You’re a kriffing idiot,” she’d told him ferociously the day after Rey left.

“I know,” Poe said miserably, clanging his head against the side of the X-Wing they were both stationed at. He’d almost skipped his duties today, but Beebee had adamantly zapped him until he got out of bed. He didn’t pick his head up from the durasteel hull, and a warm hand wrapped around his arm. He looked over to see Rose smiling up at him, her eyes still angry, but the anger was combined with kindness.

“Now, how are we going to bring her back?” Rose asked. Poe smiled back at her weakly, his first smile since Rey had told him she was pregnant, and let his small friend lead him over to a holo-screen where she’d already begun calculations.

Ten weeks later, and no sign of Rey - no stations they’d checked with had taken in a new member recently (”But wouldn��t they lie and tell us she wasn’t there, anyway?” Poe had pointed out. Rose had calmly answered, “If she hears you’re looking for her, she’ll contact us. Dummy.” Poe didn’t want to question the confidence in Rose’s response - half out of fear of Rose Tico, and half out of hope that it was true), no whispers of Jedi activity, and absolutely no budging by Leia Organa, the only person who did know where Rey had gone.

She found him one day, curled up in the little utility closet Rey had converted into a scavenging station, ten miserable weeks after the Jedi had left. He was trying to catch even the slightest hint of Rey - the smell of her hair, an echo of her laugh - and he was crying well before the general walked in. He wiped his face hastily and stood at attention, well aware tears were still leaking out of his eyes.

Leia sat down on a crate near the door, and rested her cane in front of her. She regarded him heavily, but Poe waited for her to speak, his eyes boring a hole into the wall in front of him. “At ease, Commander,” she sighed, and Poe relaxed slightly. She patted the crate next to her, and he tripped over himself on his way to sit. Poe wiped his face one more time, and Leia’s wrinkled hand gripped his shoulder. It was like she’d cut something loose inside him, and he sobbed, a harsh, angry sound. The older woman rested her hand in his hair and gently guided his head down to her shoulder, where he cried, brokenly, for minutes.

When his breathing had quieted down, he could feel her expectantly waiting for him to say something. Poe wiped his nose hastily and sat up. Leia raised her eyebrows at him, and he fidgeted with his hands, unsure of where to start.

“You have one question,” she said calmly. “And I’ll give you one answer, but only if it doesn’t betray her trust.”

Poe reeled for a second - the obvious question was where is she? but that wouldn’t meet the terms Leia had just given him. “Is-” he croaked, and cleared his throat quickly. “Is she okay? Is she healthy?” Is she happy went unsaid.

Leia gave him an appraising look but then nodded curtly, tapping her cane on the floor. “I talked to her two days ago. She’s healthy. They both are.” Poe wept again, his face buried in his hands. Rey was okay - their baby was okay. She hated him, but she was alive, and their her baby was okay. He could - he could live with that. He’d have to live with that.

She’d said one question, but he pushed his luck because that’s what he did. As Leia was moving to stand, he gripped her sleeve the way a child would; when she looked down, her expression wasn’t unkind. “How far along is she?” He asked breathlessly. Leia’s eyes softened, and she reached out to cup his cheek.

“Twenty-four weeks,” she answered, her hand soft and warm on his face. “And that’s enough questions, Commander.” Leia left him then in the closet that had belonged to Rey, to think about the woman he loved and his child, out in the galaxy somewhere far, far away from him.

Twenty-four weeks. The number slammed into Poe over and over again while he walked to his station later that day. He counted meticulously backward in his head - he and Rey had only made love seven times - more if you counted stolen, quiet, happy moments in his bunk that ended with her sighing his name, her nails digging into his wrist or scalp - no, don’t think about that, not if you want to be useful at all today - he counted over and over again even though he knew the second Leia had given him the number, he knew when it had been. The second to last time they’d managed to fall together completely was -

Fourteen weeks - two, short months - before Rey had left. It was right before she’d taken off on an mission, and he had caught her by the hand after dinner, whispered in her ear, led her to his bunk, and pressed her into the mattress, trying to demonstrate with his body all of the things his voice couldn’t quite say, yet, the things he was too afraid to say in the grip of a war that threatened constantly to take both of their lives, to steal the future he so desperately wanted for them.

He didn’t have to wrack his brain to know what was different about twenty four weeks ago - something almost … mystical had happened, when they both cried out at the same time. Objects in the room had levitated, a golden, soft glow emanated from both of them, and a sense of intense purpose had washed over him as he gazed down at the woman he loved. “Is that you?” he had breathed, as the galaxy slid into place, locked, around them.

“It’s us,” Rey had answered, laughing lightly and leaning up to kiss over his heart, and then along his throat. Poe had surrendered with a groan, kissing her passionately, their breath intermingling, his body refusing to leave hers, even though it’d done its job admirably already.

Twenty-four weeks ago, they’d made a child - and fourteen weeks after that, he’d ruined their chance at making a family.

He’d never forgive himself.

A week after his conversation with Leia, Poe was standing in Central Command. He’d managed to shave this morning, after Rose steadfastly refused to call him anything but “Chewbacca,” for the last two days, and even bathed - with water, not sonic. Finn had actually looked at him during breakfast, and hadn’t gotten up from the table when he sat down, which made Rose beam and kiss her boyfriend on the cheek. Hopefully one day, Finn wouldn’t have to be coerced by the love of his life into being in Poe’s vicinity, but it was a step in the right direction.

He was chatting idly with Snap about mods to the new set of X-Wings they’d managed to get from a sympathetic Core World supplier when the transmission came in.

“Distress signal,” Connix announced, her fingers already flying over her holo-pad. “Projecting now. It’s from Designation Bravo - Papa - Romeo.”

Leia paled and raised her hand to silence a gaggle of junior officers in the corner who hadn’t heard Connix. Poe straightened up and listened to the transmission, the grainy quality interspersed with the distant sound of explosions.

“This is –tenant Rels– of the Resistance. Our base is — attack. First Order —gies spotted thr—ntes ago. Attack commenced imm–tely. This is not a mil—-ase. We informe—em that we are refugees, mostly women and childr— but they proceed–to–tack. Requesting immediate back—–ay the Force be with —-” A longer, horrible sound of static filled the transmission.

Leia turned from the screen, and Poe saw she was fidgeting with the golden dice she kept in her pocket. “Gold, Black, and Red Squadrons, you will assist immediately. Your astromechs will receive the coordinates to prepare you for the jump.” Connnix moved to alert the droids, and Snap and Poe nodded; they turned to leave. “Commander Dameron, report to me first.”

Poe walked over to Leia, his heart already hammering with typical pre-battle adrenaline. He itched to get in his bird, to do some kirffing good for once, to help-

Leia was terrified, and his world narrowed down to that fact. “What is it, General?” Poe asked, his legs screaming at him to run to the hangar, now. His squadron was waiting for him.

“Base Designation Bravo - Papa - Romeo,” Leia tensed her mouth for less than a millisecond before shattering what was left of Poe Dameron’s carefully constructed control. “It’s the base Rey went to, Poe. Kylo must know where she is.” Poe staggered, and Leia grabbed his elbow. “You needed to know. When you get there and if it’s clear enough - extract her. If it’s not too-” She stopped herself, but Poe knew what she meant. If it’s not too late.

He refused to accept that it could be too late. Poe nodded before sprinting for the door, ignoring the twinge in his back that he accrued the last time he’d sprinted like this for his X-Wing, the time a plume of fire had snatched away the lives of dozens of his friends, had destroyed the Resistance’s fleet - no. Today wasn’t going to go that way.

He made it to the hangar the same time Snap did, despite his near-minute head start. “Power up those engines, Beebee,” he called to his droid. It chirped in affirmation, and he felt Black One hum to life. “Alright, Black Squadron, we gotta clear the air, and then I need to retrieve something on the ground. Cover me as much as you can when I’m down there, but what I’m getting is more important than me.” Poe flipped the sequence of switches to engage his primary ion thrusters, and his squadron called back to confirm they were ready to fly. None of them asked what he had meant - they’d followed stranger commands from him.

They shot off from the hangar, and the second they broke atmo, Poe ordered, “Punch it, Beebee!” The streak of blue in Hyperspace wrapped around them, and Poe breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, willing himself to calm down, refusing to conceive an image in his mind of Rey, pregnant and trapped below a First Order assault - “How much longer, BB-8?” Poe called back, and his droid squawked in indignation. Soon enough, apparently.

With a lurching kick, they dropped out of Hyperspace, and his squadron appeared behind him. “Going down. Keep tight to the surface, Black Two and Three, and clear any activity near the base. Black Four and Five, keep high, knock out any on our tail.”

“Wilco, Black One,” Jess shouted. “We’ve got your back.”

Poe gripped his controls and dived down into atmo, praying to the Force to give him luck just one more time, to get him through this at least until he knew Rey was safe, to -

They reached the coordinates of the base, and all around were the scattered remains of TIE-fighters.

“Did Gold Squadron beat us here?” Kare called out uncertainly. Poe shook his head, forgetting oddly that she couldn’t see him.

“Incoming!” Snap shouted. Two TIEs screamed towards them - but they weren’t heading for them, they were heading for -

A T-65, which performed a perfect barrel roll, and shot back towards them with frightening speed, not changing course.

“They’re going to run right into them!” Snap shouted. Poe engaged his cannon and pointed it at the TIEs, but the T-65 banked a hard left and blew them out of the sky before they could do anything. The ancient X-Wing did a lap, and he could see the helmeted figure looking around, searching for any more enemies.

Seeing none, the X-Wing headed for the ground. “Does any one else feel…unnecessary?” Jess asked. Poe snorted and guided his X-Wing to follow the T-65. As he got closer, his landing gear extended, he spotted an R2 unit in the back.

That was…weird. He didn’t think they made…R2s….anymore. And it looked awfully familiar -

He disengaged the lock on his canopy and climbed out of Black One. “Stay here, BB-8,” he ordered, a command his droid promptly ignored, dropping down and rolling after him. Poe rolled his eyes, checked his blaster in case any more unfriendlies showed up, and walked towards the T-65, whose canopy was currently opening. Black Squadron touched down behind him. “Stay in your ships,” Poe ordered. “We might have more company.”

“Roger that,” Snap said. Poe kept walking until he was right in front of the other X-Wing.

“Great flying,” he complimented. “We didn’t think this was a military operation.”

The pilot muttered a curse, and Poe frowned up at them. They hadn’t taken their helmet off yet, and they weren’t moving.

“Why don’t you come down,” he suggested. “Do a debrief, and then we can make sure your people are okay.” The pilot grumbled something else before shrugging. They smacked the release on their belt and rose fluidly. The jumpsuit they wore was loose in the shoulders, obviously borrowed, but it hugged their curves. A woman, then, and she raised her hands to her helmet and lifted it, shaking her hair out.

Poe stared in shock.

“Rey?” He said, tripping forward. “Rey, what are you –”

“Oh shit,” Jess whispered into the comms. “Oh shit.”

“This is awkward,” Snap muttered.

Poe ignored them and raised his hand up to help Rey down. She swatted it away and climbed the ladder on her own, standing before him with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I had everything under control,” she said coldly. “No need for you all to waste your time.”

“We didn’t-” Poe couldn’t stop staring. “You-” A thousand emotions rippled through him, and he didn’t know which one to focus on.

Rey rolled her eyes and unzipped her flight suit, stepping out of it. She was wearing a soft tunic and leggings, the fabric around her abdomen revealing an undeniable bump.

“You’re so big,” Poe breathed, his hands lifting unconsciously.

“I beg your pardon?” Rey snapped.

Black Squadron groaned in unison over the comms.

“I thought the commander was supposed to be a player?” Kare snorted. “Legendary silvertongue, they said.”

“Beautiful-” Poe corrected himself hastily. “You’re so beautiful.” Rey shook her head and stormed away, and Poe stumbled after her. “Rey, wait -”

“I need to make sure everyone in the base is fine,” Rey snapped, waving her hand at him like he was a pesky insect. “Go away, Dameron, I’ll send my debrief to the general later.”

“No, Rey, please, talk to me,” Poe begged. The surface of the planet was muddy, and he lost his footing, tripped, landing on his knees. The sound got Rey to turn around, and well, he was in the best position to do this already. “Please, sweetheart, please talk to me. I made the biggest fucking mistake of my life, letting you go, please, you gotta-”

“Gotta what?” Rey snapped. “I don’t need to do anything, Dameron. You made your sentiments very clear. You want nothing to do with me, and I don’t need you to apologize about it now.” Poe gaped at her, and to his horror he saw tears in her eyes. “Just go back to central, and leave me alone.” She turned again, and he scrambled to his feet, now covered in mud.

“Baby, please,” Poe slid forward another few feet, and Rey froze, not looking at him. “I missed you, every fucking second of every kriffing day you were gone. You left before I could get to you, I - I misunderstood, sweetheart. I thought - I thought-”

“You thought I’d cheated on you with the Supreme Leader, and that he’d knocked me up?” Rey pivoted while she said this, her voice pitching upwards into a scream by the end.

“Ohhhhhh shit,” Jess muttered. “Oh fuck, Commander, what did you do?”

“That’s enough,” Poe barked. Rey stiffened in anger, and he held his hands out. “No, no, no, not you, sweetheart, please -” Rey made to turn around again, and Poe lurched forward, hands raised in supplication. He fell to his knees again - what the fuck is wrong with this planet? why doesn’t anyone else seem to be tripping? - and clasped his hands together beggingly. “I - I don’t think that anymore - “

“Oh, how generous of you,” Rey sneered, her hand covering her stomach protectively. Poe swallowed, tried not to stare at it, at the life she was growing inside of her. “How absolutely forgiving of you.”

“I fucked up,” Poe said, dragging muddy hands through his hair, tearing at his roots. “Please, Rey - I - I shouldn’t have let you go, but I thought it’s what you wanted, thought you didn’t want me around, especially not if you were-”

“Pregnant with a Sith Lord’s Force-Baby?” Rey scoffed.

“I didn’t care about that,” Poe said, his breath catching. Rey stared down at him, her hazel eyes angry and hurt, and he dropped his head, unable to look at her anymore, his shoulders sagging. “I didn’t - I wouldn’t care if it were true, Rey, and I wouldn’t care if you had slept with him. I was always so shocked that you’d settled for me at all, that you’d given any time at all to me. It was your body, and your life, and I had no right to dictate any of it, and I just wanted to support you.”

“You pushed me away,” Rey said, her voice breaking. Poe looked up, and saw that she was crying to match his own tears. “You - you made me think you didn’t trust me, that you didn’t care about me.”

“That’s just not true,” Poe insisted. “Kriff, Rey, I care about you more than anything else in the galaxy. You and - and our little - your -” He sagged again. “I love you both so much, Rey, and I need you to know that, I can’t have you living your life thinking that I didn’t- that I wouldn’t - I love you, and I loved you before we made that baby, and I loved you for all the days in between, and I loved you when I thought it wasn’t my baby - I love you, and…and I’m sorry that I fucked this all up, and I…” he trailed off, his throat closing from the knowledge that this was probably the last time he’d ever see her again.

“Does anyone have bang-corn?” Snap whispered. Four voices hissed at him to shut the kriff up.

“Stand up,” Rey said. Poe nodded miserably and complied, his feet slipping a little more. He had no idea what he looked like - probably frightful, mud-splattered from head to toe, wild eyed, panting - and Rey stared at him with an unfathomable expression in her eyes.

“I’ll go now,” he said softly, tears burning at the back of his throat. “I’ll go, and I’ll leave you alone. Just - I’m sorry, and I love you, and could you please tell him or her that I love them too?”

Poe began to turn, but Rey grabbed his arm. “If you walk away from me right now, every horrible thing I’ve thought about you for the last fifty-seven days, twelve hours, and six minutes will have been true.”

Poe faced her, disbelief blooming in his stomach. Rey lifted her eyebrows at him, her hand on her hip. “Well?” She demanded. “Were they true? Or are you the man I thought you were before you let me go? Because you’re going to have to stick around and convince me of that, now. If you’re up for it.” Her eyes flashed in defiance, but also in hurt and insecurity and fear, and all the awful things that were his fault.

“Wild rancors couldn’t drag me away,” Poe said, eyes wide as he took her in, this perfect, beautiful woman who was offering him - maybe not a second chance, but a way to earn a second chance. “Maker, Rey -”

“C’mere, flyboy.” Rey held her arms out, and Poe staggered forward into them, holding her tightly, marveling at the way her stomach pressed against his, the evidence of how much he loved her -

Black Squadron cheered loudly into the comms, wolf-whistling and hollering. Poe flicked them off behind his back before pulling Rey closer to him, one of his hands drifting to hover over her stomach. She nodded in consent, and Poe stroked his thumb over the side of her belly, and he laughed shakily.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair. He kissed the side of her head and wrapped her up even more tightly in his arms. “Thank you, Sunshine.”

“Don’t ever let me go again,” Rey threatened. “Or I will kick your ass to the Hosnian system.”

“Deal,” Poe laughed again, burying his face in her shoulder.

Suddenly, a thought dawned on him, and his spine stiffened.

“Rey,” he growled, straightening up. She quirked her brow at him. “Rey - what the fuck were you doing flying like that? You could have died!”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Rey shouted back. “You don’t get to skip out on my life for months and then swoop back in and tell me how I should be-”

They argued back and forth for another ten minutes, Black Squadron ooh-ing and aah-ing like it was a Limmie match, before they settled the fight as a draw.

(Okay. Rey won.)

#damerey #jedipilot #poe dameron x rey #poe dameron human disaster #angst #sequel #prompt #happy ending

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pengychan · 6 years

Text

[Coco] The Bedside Ghost, Ch. 3

Title: The Bedside Ghost Summary: The bell falls but, instead of waking up in the Land of the Dead, Ernesto de la Cruz finds himself with a broken spine - and an unwanted guest at his bedside who claims he can let him have the sweet release of death, if he gives back what he took from him… Characters: Ernesto de la Cruz, Coco Rivera, Héctor Rivera, Julio Rivera, Imelda Rivera. Rating: T Status: in progress [This is the fic’s tag for all chapters up.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: Ernesto is salty, Héctor's 'ghost' is made of pure salt, and Coco is mostly confused.

ALSO THERE IS ART by @eurazba look guys look.

***

Ernesto knew that the bell was about to fall moments before it did, and ran away from beneath it as though he had the devil at his heels.

If that surprised the public, the dancers and the stagehand that had just taken-- Héctor’s -- his guitar from him, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t care. He was aware of nothing but the sense of impending doom, his own pounding heart as he struggled to get away. It wasn’t easy, the escalator was working against him and trying to bring him back under that accursed bell, but he was faster, already halfway down the steps.

The bell would fall, but he wouldn’t be beneath it. All would be well. He’d talk about how close it had been, laugh about it, joke that he was never going to have bell props on stage ever again. Maybe it would become a running joke, and years down the road he would still be telling that funny story of how a bell had almost turned him into a tortilla.

The thought made him laugh even now, but it died in his throat when something suddenly seized his shoulder and pulled him back, when a familiar voice rang out and caused him to still as though blood had turned to ice in his veins.

“Hola, amigo,” Héctor said somewhere behind him, just as his arm latched around his throat. His voice was impossibly cheerful. “Remember me?”

All strength went out of his legs, and Ernesto was unable to take another step. Héctor’s grip tightened, but not enough to strangle him as Ernesto had half-expected him to. He had a split second to feel relieved before he realized that something much, much worse was going on: the escalator was still moving, and them with it. Back up to the top.

Back up towards the bell.

“No, no, no, no! Héctor, stop! Por favor! Por favor!”

Ernesto tried to struggle, to break free, but it felt like he was moving underwater and Héctor’s grip was impossibly strong, keeping him still as the escalator brought them further up, where the bell awaited. It was swinging slowly back and forth, ringing in a funeral toll, ready to fall down on him the moment he found himself beneath it. And it would fall, he knew it, as he knew what kind of hell would follow.

“Trying to get away from me, mi hermano? Trying to leave me behind? That won’t do, it won’t do at all,” Héctor said, clicking his tongue as though disappointed. His voice was gravelly, and he could smell earth and alcohol in his breath, and something else he dared not name. “I didn’t get to go anywhere, and neither will you.”

“No! Let me go! Someone help me!” Ernesto cried out, trying to stretch out an arm towards the public, the dancers, security, anyone. He couldn’t move it at all. Héctor’s fingers dug into his shoulder like knives, cold as ice.

“I tried so hard to go home, but I fell and you didn’t help me up. Now it’s your turn.”

“Ayúdenme!”

No one lifted a finger, no one said anything. The dancers were still and silent, looking at him with expressionless, identical faces. Because they all had the same face, now, God, they all looked like… like…

“Imelda! Please! Put to stop to this! I beg of you! I--”

Too little, too late, and Imelda didn’t take a single step to help. She didn’t even change expression: she just turned away - all of them turned away - and then Héctor laughed, and the bell came crashing down on him. That final toll covered his old friend’s laugh, but not his own scream.

That kept ringing in his ears even after he woke up.

***

By the time the train stopped at Mexico City, Coco had had enough time to regret leaving without making up with her mother, regret leaving at all, convince herself all over again she was doing the right thing, think up at least seventeen things she should have told Julio to do, and feed everyone in the coach she was in with the lunch Rosita had insisted to pack for her.

Even if she hadn’t been feeling slightly nauseous - had she eaten something that had gone bad recently? She didn’t think so - the sheer amount of food Rosita had dropped on her went well beyond what she could reasonably eat on her own during the journey.

“Nonsense, nonsense! You never know when your next chance to have a good meal is going to be!” she’d said, waving off her protests. To be fair, her tamales were absolutely delicious, so Coco hadn’t complained too much. She was nowhere as good at cooking as her sister-in-law; sometimes Julio joked that his sister’s cooking was the greatest asset he’d brought into the family with their wedding. Coco didn’t quite agree, but she had the distinct sensation that her uncles sort of did.

Tío Óscar and Tíó Felipe were the only ones among them who had been to Mexico City before, too. They had tried to give her suggestions on how to navigate it, but they had only been there for a couple of days and nearly two decades earlier; in the end, all that they could suggest was that she got into a cab as soon as she left the station, gave the driver the address, and let him do the rest. It was exactly what she’d done, and it had been easy; the cab driver seemed more than slightly unhinged when it came to driving, but he was up for a chat and that helped her ignore the stabs of nervousness in her stomach.

“So, Ernesto de la Cruz’s mansion! You know him?”

“Sort of. He used to be a family friend.”

“I see. Dreadful accident he had, huh? Never seen him in public after that. A shame, I loved his songs. Well, who doesn’t-- watch where you’re going, hijo de la mil putas! Er… sorry about that, señorita.”

Coco, who had stopped being a señorita about six years earlier, smiled a bit. “Mexico City is far busier than my hometown. A car is still a sight to behold, there.”

“Hah! This might sound funny coming from a guy who drives for a living, but lucky you,” the man laughed, then glanced into the mirror. “Hey, are you all right?”

Truth be told, she was still feeling a bit nauseous and the man’s driving was not helping matters, but dismissed it as her nerves playing tricks on her.

He has something to tell me about papá. His best friend - there must be so much he can tell me, all the things my mother won’t say. I remember so little. I remember a song, and smiles and warmth and being picked up, but not much else.

“I am fine, yes. Only a bit nervous. I haven’t met Tío Ne-- de la Cruz in a long time.”

In the mirror, she could see the man making a face. “Before the accident?”

“Long before then, yes. I was a child last time I saw him.”

Him, and my papá. They left together. Neither came back, but only Ernesto is accounted for.

“Then get ready for some unpleasantness, señorita. I know a guy who knows a guy whose brother worked in the mansion, and he says he’d be better off dead.”

The notion caused something in Coco’s stomach to clench. Through the journey, she had done her best to dig up all memories she had of Ernesto de la Cruz, as well as those of her father. The man she remembered, ever so vaguely, looked well and healthy, often laughing, with a mustache she’d found almost as funny as her papá’s goatee. It seemed that she would find herself looking at a very different man, after all.

“Is it… that bad?”

“Oh, yes. Can’t move his legs, can’t move his arms, can’t move a thing except his head. Needs help with everything, and I do mean everything if you get what I mean. I’d prefer to die, too. He had a dog, I think - he always had dogs, but that one was the last. It died a couple of years ago. Word is that he almost went insane with grief over that thing. Being stuck in bed does funny things to one’s head, huh?”

There was that sense of nausea in the pit of Coco’s stomach again, and she knew that it had nothing to do with anything she may have eaten. Far from noticing, the driver kept going.

“I guess some folks get used to being stuck in bed for the rest of their lives, but he never did. They say that he tried to bribe carers to… you know, speed things up.”

The thought was so awful it took Coco’s breath away for a moment. “Did he really...?”

“That’s what my friend’s friend swears by. A blasphemy against God, of course, but Hell can’t seem that scary when you’re living it already," he added, taking both hands off the wheel for a moment to quicky cross himself. "I for one can’t blame him.”

Neither could Coco, really. It was almost unbearably sad to think of, but not surprising, given what she’d heard so far. She felt yet another pang of pity for a man she hardly remembered.

“He used to have visitors, but not anymore,” the driver went on. “He gets gifts, sure enough, from fans all over Mexico, but I’m sure he would trade it all for just being able to get up and walk. Maybe getting a visit is going to help. Look, that’s the mansion - we’re almost there.”

Coco glanced through the windshield to the road ahead. The drive had taken them to the outskirts of the city; they were now going through a long path with fruit groves on both sides and, ahead of them, there was a massive gate.

Nervousness tried to make a comeback, but Coco forced herself to ignore it. Why should she be nervous? He had written, asking - pleading - for her mother to get in touch. She was not her mother, but she was the next best thing, surely. He had something to tell her, and no reason to turn her away.

Telling as much to the man who came at the gate, however, wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped.

“I am telling you, he wrote to us!”

“Señorita--”

“Señora Rivera-Martinez, if you will.”

“However you’re called. El señor de la Cruz doesn’t receive guests--”

“Which part of he wrote to us eludes you?” Coco snapped, holding up the letter. For a moment, he could almost hear her mother’s voice rather than her own. “If you can’t read, it’s not my problem. Find me someone who can and let me talk to them.”

“De la Cruz cannot write on his own--”

“So someone wrote it for him, doesn’t that seem likely to you?”

The man hesitated and Coco drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down. She rarely, if ever, snapped at anybody - but she was tired from the journey, eaten up by questions that wouldn’t let her rest and very close to losing her patience. She hadn’t come all the way from Santa Cecilia to be held up at a gate by someone too thick to understand plain Spanish.

“Listen. Ernesto de la Cruz is an old friend of my family. He asked for our visit, and urgently as well. I figure my godfather wouldn’t be pleased at all to learn you’ve kept me waiting here,” she added, and that finally got the man to recoil, the stubborn frown on his face turning into doubt. He opened his mouth to speak, but someone else got there first.

“Juan, what's going on?” The woman approaching looked about as formidable as Rosita, if at least a couple of decades older. Her graying hair was tied back in a bun, and she carried a small basket filled with tangerines. She looked at her somewhat warily.

Coco held out the letter through the bars of the gate. “I am here to see Ernesto de la Cruz.”

The woman stared at her for a moment, then held out her free hand to take the letter and read through it quickly, her eyebrows rising slightly. After what felt like a long time, she glanced back at her. “Are you Imelda?”

She shook her head. “No, she… she couldn't come. My name is Socorro. I’m her daughter.”

“I heard you saying that he is your godfather. Is that true?”

Truth be told, Coco wasn’t entirely sure; her memories were too few and distant… but she was almost certain of it, almost certain of having heard as much a long, long time ago.

“Ay, don’t you want to give a hug to your favorite goddaughter?” “She’s my only goddaughter, pendejo.” “Hey! Watch your language in front of my girl!”

“Yes,” she finally said. “He was… he is a family friend,” Coco said. “He’d known my father since childhood, in Santa Cecilia. There is something he needs to tell us about him.”

The woman nodded, staring down at the letter. “Héctor,” she muttered. “He does call out that name, sometimes. In his sleep,” she added, and that was when Coco knew she had been convinced that the letter had truly come from de la Cruz. She turned to the man called Juan. “Let her through. And carry her luggage inside, where are your manners?”

The gate was opened, and she stepped in. The woman, who introduced herself as Griselda Lopez, guided her through a large garden - there were groves of various fruit trees, shrubbery, flower beds, lawns, a fountain, and Coco was almost sure she could see a pool at the far end - and towards the main entrance of an impression mansion.

“This place is emptier than it used to be. We have the gardener and his helper, then Juan, myself and a couple more carers. We do have security, too, but there isn’t much for them to do nowadays,” Griselda explained. “We got crazed fans trying to get in, the first year or two after the accident, but not in a long time. The ‘security’ is off somewhere, I suppose, drinking lemonade. Absolutely useless, but señor de la Cruz’s manager insists to pay for them.”

A few minutes were spent talking about her journey from Santa Lucia, what time she had left, how long it took; Coco asked a few polite questions about the fruit groves and the mansion. It was only as they stepped through the front door that the conversation turned to the reason for her visit. “He is not well,” Griselda said, and her feature twisted in a sorrowful expression. “God only knows what plagued him last night - it was a difficult one. He’s sleeping now, and peacefully. I’d rather not disturb him yet. I am sure you understand.”

Despite the need to know gnawing at her, Coco understood perfectly. “Of course.”

“I’ll make sure he knows you’re arrived as soon as he’s awake and aware. Meanwhile, do get some rest. We always keep a few guest rooms ready, just in case. I trust you’ll be staying at least for the night.”

“Oh, I… I wouldn’t want to impose,” Coco said, feeling more than slightly uncomfortable. Truth be told, she had been fully prepared to check into a hotel; the main reason why she’d gone straight to the address on the envelope, suitcase at all, was simple impatience. She wanted to know, and she wanted to know right away. Now, however, it looked like there would be some waiting to do regardless.

“You’re not imposing at all,” Griselda was replying, waving her hand. She put the basked with the tangerines down on a table, took Coco’s suitcase from Juan’s hands - if she noticed her stretching out her hand to take it herself, she pretended not to - and guided her up a huge staircase. “This place feels dreadfully empty, and a change is more than welcome.”

As far as Coco was concerned, that place didn’t feel just dreadfully empty: he it felt dreadful, full stop. It was spotless and luxurious beyond anything she had seen, but it made her think of an empty carcass, like bones picked clean of flesh. Still, she had been offered hospitality and that was a kindness she had no logical reason to refuse. “Thank you,” she said, then, “you said that he mentioned my father’s name before.”

“Never when awake,” Griselda replied, preceding her through a long corridor. There was a sudden defensive note to her voice, and Coco regretted bringing it up. “I never pried. It is not what I’m here for. El señor de la Cruz has little left in the way of privacy, you understand. At least what goes on in his mind should remain his business, unless he decides otherwise.”

“Of course. I apologize for asking. I didn’t mean to--” Coco began, only to fall quiet when Griselda waved a hand and stopped in front of a door.

“It is alright, dear. I am certain he will answer your questions in due time. After all, this is why he wrote to your mother,” she said, and sighed. “I do hope that telling you whatever is troubling him will ease his mind as well as yours.”

“Is he restless?”

“Oh, he has always been since the incident. We all bear our cross in life, but some are heavier than most. And, God forgive me for even thinking this, even His son’s path to Golgotha did not last years,” Griselda said with a shake of her head, and pushed the door open, setting down Coco’s suitcase. “Here, do make yourself comfortable. If there is anything more you need, don’t hesitate to let me know. You’ll have word as soon as Señor de la Cruz is ready to see you.”

Despite the sense of dread that had taken hold of her, Coco managed a smile. “Thank you,” she said, taking suitcase - only to stagger back when her head spun and her stomach turned, as though she’d just made a terrible effort rather than just picking up a relatively light suitcase. There was an arm behind her back steadying her, and she didn’t fall.

“Oh my, this may not have been the best time to undertake a journey,” Griselda said, some sternness in her voice. Head still spinning a bit, Coco blinked at her.

“I supposed it would be a good time as any. I must be more tired than I thought. Thanks for--”

“How far along are you, dear?”

Coco blinked at her. “... Qué?” she asked, causing the woman to pause and shrug.

“My apologies, I assumed… oh, never mind. Do lie down for a bit, though,” she said, and left before Coco could say anything - leaving her to stare at her retreating back in silence, a hand reaching to rest on her stomach.

***

“Oh, you’re awake, finally. I was starting to get bored here. Stop keeping your eyes closed, I know you’re not asleep. Hey, want to hear something funny?”

Ernesto clenched his teeth, refusing to answer, and kept his eyes screwed shut. Of course, his ghost kept going regardless. He always did. There was nothing Ernesto could do to shut him up, to stop hearing him.

“If you hadn’t killed me to become famous, chances are you would have never found yourself under that bell. I figured it would be a nice thought to start they day with. Sort of. You know it’s probably afternoon, right? Whatever they gave you to put you back to sleep when you so rudely woke up screaming must have been some powerful stuff. Knocked you off your feet, so to speak.”

He did remember screaming, but very vaguely. With the nightmare still clinging to him, so dreadfully real, everything else had seemed very far away. He had screamed, and someone had come in. He’d heard a voice - Griselda’s? - and felt a hand brushing back his hair, pressing on his forehead to keep his head down on the pillow. He hadn’t felt the prick of a needle, but of course she must have injected something because he’d fallen into unconsciousness moments later. It had been a deep, dreamless sleep. For a time, he’d been dead to the world. But he was still alive, and all too soon the illusion was gone.

“Señor de la Cruz?”

Ernesto opened his eyes and turned to the door. There was someone standing there, some handyman who usually worked in the garden called Juan. Or was it José? Hell if he knew and hell if he cared. It was some nobody who probably didn’t even know how to read, but he could still walk, scratch his own nose and wipe his own ass, and Ernesto hated him for it.

“What do you want?” he asked, pointedly ignoring Héctor, who was grinning at him while sitting at the end of the bed. He looked, once again, like a corpse just out of its grave. If he had been able to turn in his dream, Ernesto had no doubt that was the face he’d have seen.

The man took a step inside, not sparing a single glance in Héctor’s direction. Seeing him was the one thing Ernesto could do that no one else could; a privilege he would gladly trade for death, really. “A lady has come to see you, earlier this afternoon.”

Ernesto blinked, his heart seemingly leaping into his throat. He was aware, distantly, of the fact Héctor’s grin had faded into an expressionless mask. “A lady,” he repeated slowly. Could it be that Imelda had come, after all? That she had decided against settling the matter by letter or phone, and had come there in person instead?

Ernesto found himself hoping so more than he’d ever hoped for anything, or almost. He almost felt like he could cry if it turned out to be her. Maybe he would: if that would be enough to sate Héctor’s ghost, enough to finally allow it all to end, then he’d weep with joy.

“Yes,” Juan, or José, was saying. “She said her name is Socorro Rivera-Martinez, and that you wrote to her family.

For a split second, not hearing the name he’d been hoping for made his heart sink - but then his memory caught up and he knew that not all was lost. “Socorro, you said?” Ernesto asked slowly. So Imelda had never written back, but her daughter had come. Héctor’s daughter. He remembered a child; she must be a woman now, older than her father got to be before he-- was murdered you murdered me and left me to rot and now you will rot too -- died.

Ernesto’s eyes flickered to where the ghost - Héctor, or a very convincing hallucination - was sitting. He said nothing, did nothing; he only stared at the man with blank, milky-white eyes. And to think that those eyes would sparkle so much when he talked about his little girl; Ernesto had found it amusing, until he’d come to find it annoying and, by the end, plainly infuriating. Now, however, he was none of those things. He was just scared, hardly daring to let himself hope that the end may be within sight, out of fear that hope would be crushed.

Whatever you are, are you happy now? I will tell her, will it be enough to sate you? God, please, let it be enough.

“Sí,” Juan or José or whatever was saying, and Ernesto turned his gaze back on him. He was standing near the door, a hand still on the doorknob. “She says she received a letter from you, and has travelled here from Santa Cecilia. She had a letter to show, but none of us can recall assisting you write--”

“You’re not the only ones here who can write down what I say,” Ernesto cut him off. “She’s telling the truth. I wrote to her family. Where is he? She better not have left! You should have come immediately!”

“No, no, she hasn’t left. She--”

“Good for you. She is my guest, so see that she’s treated as one.”

“Of course. Griselda gave her a room. Shall we tell her you can meet her once you’ve rest--”

“I have had enough bed rest to last me a lifetime,” Ernesto scoffed. A sense of dread threatened to choke him - how much would he need to tell her for Héctor to be sated? How much of it would the world know? Even now, he found that thought terrified him - but he forced himself to ignore it. “Let her in the living room--”

“Which living room?”

“Whichever is closest, whichever is cleanest, whichever you like the most, I don’t care. Send someone to get me on the wheelchair. I’ll see her right awa--"

“Juan! What did I say about letting him rest?”

Griselda’s voice caused José - no, wait, it was Juan - to wince, and turn back towards the hallway. “I was just checking… he was awake, Griselda, I didn’t wake him up!”

“I certainly hope so,” she huffed, pushing past him. Her expression was stony as she watched Juan leave, and immediately softened when she turned to the bed. She passed right by the spot there Héctor had been, and now had disappeared from. “Good afternoon, señor. How are you feeling?”

Ernesto ignored the question. After all, it was a stupid one to begin with when asked to someone who felt absolutely nothing from neck down. “He said Socorro Rivera is here. I have to see her at once.”

“Of course. I have brought you some tangerines, just picked.”

“I don’t want--”

“You need to eat something.”

“I want to see--”

“Not in these conditions, you don’t. You need to get cleaned up and dressed.”

Somehow, that statement made Ernesto laugh. He could taste bile. “Hah! Like anything you do is going to make me a better sight. She’s in for a shock. Or two,” he muttered, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Your back looks like Swiss cheese, for the record, Héctor has said. Smells worse, though.

Did it? Yes, he probably reeked of decaying flesh; the only reason why he couldn’t smell it, just like he couldn’t smell the ointments and disinfectant, was that he lived in it.

“How bad are the ulcers?”

“I will change the dressings in a minute. I think your hair needs some washing and--”

“That is not what I asked.”

There was a brief silence, and it was the only answer Ernesto needed.

You’re pretty much rotting alive. I would be amazed that you haven’t died of sepsis yet, antibiotics and all, if l didn’t know you’re just not allowed to die until...

Until. There was that, if anything. That until he could cling to, in hopes it would be now.

Move Heaven and Earth if you must, but give me what I want. And then you can die.

“Get on with it,” he finally heard himself saying, very quietly. “And then take me downstairs.”

“... Sí, señor.”

***

The living room she was accompanied into was large and immaculately clean, with white furniture and walls and even a very expensive-looking piano on the far side. A huge window let in sunlight, allowing a view of the garden outside as the sun began to set, setting the sky aflame. It was beautiful, and yet it felt all the world like she was sitting inside a tomb.

Sitting on an armchair so immaculate she was afraid of staining it by just touching it, Coco drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, and kept her hands tightly folded on her lap. No matter how much she told herself that she had every right and reason to be there - he’d written to her mother, pleading for her to get in touch - she still couldn’t entirely shake off the feeling she was not where she was supposed to be.

Home, that’s where I should be. With my family, Julio and Victoria, not here chasing ghosts.

Something I need to tell you about Héctor that you should have known many years ago.

I didn’t bother to read it and neither should you!

It cannot be worse than knowing nothing.

Get ready for some unpleasantness, señorita.

You’re coming back soon, mamá?

Is papá coming home soon?

How far along are you, dear?

Coco’s stomach clenched, and she had to fight back another wave of nausea. Maybe it was all her nerves. It had to be, she had plenty to be nervous about. She didn’t want to think that Griselda may have guessed right - she wanted another child, she and Julio had been trying for a couple of years, but now that she was so far away from her family the thought scared her. And if it was true it felt so wrong, being unable to share it with Julio right awa--

The sound of a door opening snapped her from her thoughts. Coco looked up without thinking - only to recoil when her eyes fell on the man who was being wheeled in on a wheelchair by a silent, somber Griselda.

She had expected to see a ruin, but nothing could have prepared her for it. Her memories, few and vague as they were, were of a broad-shouldered man, younger than she was now, who looked fit enough to lift a grown man over his shoulders and take him for stroll. Actually, she was almost positive he’d done as much with her papá once, causing him to protest while wheezing with laughter. She had laughed, too, while her mother watched on with a half-smile on her face as Coco sat on her knees.

What she saw now was a world away from the man she remembered. He was thin in a way that the house vest on him and the blanket on his lap couldn’t hide, all muscle in his limbs having wasted away. The hands on the armrests of the wheelchair looked like a bird’s talons, and she could have easily closed her fingers around his wrist with room to spare.

There was a strap across his chest, holding him upright against the armchair’s backrest, but she hardly noticed that: what her gaze paused on was his face. It was gaunt and of an unhealthy ashen color, but she still recognized those features; even the mustache had stayed the same, and his hair didn’t look that different. And the eyes - those hadn’t changed at all, perfectly clear and alert. They fickered somewhere over her shoulder for a moment, and he seemed to clench his jaw before he turned his gaze back on her, saying nothing.

Coco opened her mouth to speak, but she found herself speechless, and it didn’t seem to come as a surprise; Ernesto de la Cruz’s lips twitched for a moment in what could have been a sneer. Griselda stopped, leaving the wheelchair in front of her across a small table. That was when Coco smelled it: the scent of iodine and ointments and, beneath it all, the sickly sweet smell of corruption. She knew, there and then, that she was looking at a dying man - and that she had made the right choice by visiting, seizing what could be her only chance to know what had become of her father.

“I will leave you alone. If you need me, you only need to call,” Griselda said before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind herself. It did feel like being locked inside a tomb, too, but this time it didn’t unnerve her.

Right there and then, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

***

Héctor was there because of course he was, standing silently right behind the woman, looking just as he had the night he had died. She was older now than he’d been then; it was a jarring sight, a reminder that more than a quarter of a century had passed.

He remembered, distantly, how she’d looked at him back when she’d call him tío, laughing and reaching up for his face - his mustache specifically, she seemed really keen to find out if she could rip it off - whenever Héctor decided to put her in his arms for whatever reason. She certainly wasn’t laughing now, her horror at seeing him plain as day, her pity barely concealed. It would have bothered him if his mind hadn’t been taken by something else that he could see so very clearly, with the two of them right next to each other across time.

“You look like Héctor.”

He only realized he’d spoken as much aloud when the words reached his own ears, and from behind her Héctor’s ghost gave the closest thing to a real smile Ernesto had seen on him in a long time, if ever. “She does! Muy guapa, eh?”

“... Thank God Imelda was able to spare you his nose,” Ernesto added, causing her to blink and Héctor’s grin to turn into an unimpressed glare. It gave him no small amount of childish satisfaction, to be entirely honest.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing! You get one chance to roast me back, so of course you had grab it with both hands and run with-- ooh wait, no you can’t,” the ghost muttered, but Ernesto ignored him. Unaware of her father’s presence, if he was indeed present, Socorro Rivera brought a hand to her mouth and gave a small laugh, some of the tension in her frame melting away.

“Haha! I suppose… I’m sorry, I must have come across so rude, just staring and saying nothing,” she said, and pulled her hand away from her face, the smile still lingering. Ernesto half-dreaded to hear her say it was good to see him, or any other equally fake nicety he’d heard far too many times, but she did not. “I’m sorry it took so long for any of us to get here. Your letter was… misplaced.”

“Bet you fifty pesos that Imelda tried to burn it,” Héctor muttered from behind her. Again, Ernesto ignored him and gave her a wry smile.

“I’m happy enough that you made it here, Socorro,” he said, like each single day hadn’t been torture. But she was there, and speak out was all he needed to do, or so he hoped. She would know, Héctor would be sated, and he’d be allowed to die. It’d only take a few words; he could speak them now, and be done with it… yet something in him balked at the prospect.

Maybe I won’t have to tell her everything. Maybe she doesn’t need to know. Maybe the world won’t need to know.

“Please, call me Coco,” she was saying, entirely unaware of his thoughts. “Everyone does.”

“Of course. Coco. Is your mother well?”

“She is, thank you. She’s sorry she couldn’t come - she was needed to run the business.”

Héctor snorted. “So sorry she couldn’t come, sure. You don’t believe that, do you, Ernestito?”

No, not for one second, but it wasn’t important. “She runs a business?”

“Yes. We make shoes - she started it on her own when I was little, with my uncles helping.”

“The Bobos?”

“What?” Coco blinked at him in clear confusion, and the laugh that left Ernesto sounded somewhat genuine. He thought back of two young boys looking at him with identical frowns.

“Your uncles. When they were kids, they used to pull this trick on everyone - pretending to be each other. I solved the problem by just calling them both ‘Bobo’. They were not very amused,” he added, and her confusion melted into a smile.

“Oh! They did that to me, too, when I was little. And my husband fell for it the first few times.”

“You’re married?”

“And with a daughter,” Coco replied, and suddenly her face lit up. She looked even more like Héctor now, nose or not, and there was a pang of something painful somewhere in his head, making him suddenly think that he would have rather faced Imelda and all of her grudge. As Coco reached for the locket around her neck to show him a picture, Ernesto glanced over her shoulder. Héctor was looking back at him, his expression somber.

“A granddaughter,” he said, flatly. “Imagine how much I would have loved her.”

I don’t want to, Ernesto almost said, but he kept his mouth shut and turned his gaze on Coco’s locket instead. There was a small picture inside, that of a man he did not know looking at the camera with a smile, a solemn-eyed little girl on his knees. He stared at her for a few moments. “... She looks like Imelda,” he found himself saying, and Coco laughed.

“She does! More than I ever did. She’s a lot like her, all serious and proper. And she can always tell her uncles apart. They could never trick her,” she said, and closed the locket, putting it back around her neck. “Her name is Victoria.”

“It’s a beautiful name.”

“How many Victorias did you bed back when everything downstairs was still functioning?” the ghost wondered aloud.

“Four,” Ernesto said without thinking, causing Coco to blink in confusion and Héctor to guwaff. “I mean-- she looks like she might be four?”

“Oh! Yes, she’s almost five,” she said, and paused. There were a few moments of silence, and he broke it before it became uncomfortable.

“It must have been a long journey. I trust the staff has treated you well.”

“Oh, yes. Griselda was very helpful.”

“You were offered something to eat, I hope. I should have asked before dismissing her - would you like a drink, or…?”

“Hey! HEY! No tricks with her, pendejo! Mija, don’t drink anything he-- oh wait, you can’t actually pour the drinks yourself. Never mind. False alarm. Do carry on.”

Ernesto kept ignoring the ghost’s antics, though he could have sworn he had felt his left eye twitching a little. If so, she didn’t notice.

“I am fine, no worries. Thank you for letting me stay, señor de la Cruz.”

“Ernesto.”

“Right. I… used to call you Tío Neto, didn’t I?”

She did. He was amazed she even remembered. “Yes. Your father used to call me that as well, when we were children and he couldn’t pronounce my name properly.”

“I see. You... grew up together, didn’t you?” Coco was asking, but before Ernesto could answer, Héctor’s ghost smiled. It wasn’t one of his usual grins. It was a small, wistful smile.

“I wasn’t even three years old yet, and your name was a mouthful. You liked it better than when your mother called you Tito, though. You said you’d always wanted a little brother. I wished I had a big brother. I thought I was so lucky to have found you.”

You were, Ernesto thought, and something in his skull hurt. We were lucky. We could have had it all but then you had to go and decide that I wasn’t enough, we weren’t enough, everything we’d always wanted and dreamed about suddenly meant nothing.

Héctor shook his head. “Oh, no, mi hermano, don’t you get it? I told you, it was your dream.”

“Seño-- Ernesto?” Coco’s voice caused Ernesto to recoil and turn back to her. She looked concerned now, the earlier smile gone from her face.

“I… my apologies. Yes, we… we grew up together. He was my best friend.”

“... I’m picking up a past tense,” Coco said, and drew in a deep breath, as though to brace herself. “He died, didn’t he?”

Ernesto nodded. “Yes. I am sorry,” he said, fully expecting the ghost to say something scathing, but he remained silent. He kept her eyes fixed on Coco, who nodded.

There was a faraway cast to her gaze, but no tears just yet. “Years ago?”

“Sí,” Ernesto said, bracing himself for the next question he ought to expect - namely when, precisely, had he died. He should have dreaded it, but he found he didn’t. If she asked, he would tell her he’d died only months after leaving Santa Cecilia. If she asked why hadn’t he told them then, he would admit to taking his songs. Perhaps she would rage and then, well, she may very well guess the entire truth. Or maybe he would tell her first, anything to sate her. Anything to sate Héctor, and make him go away when she did.

But she didn’t ask. She closed her eyes, drawing in another deep breath, and brought her hands up to her face. She stayed still only for a few moments before she breathed out, and and pulled her hands away. Again, no tears; only that distant gaze again. “Why tell us now?”

“I’m not long for this world,” Ernesto found himself saying, fervently hoping that was the truth. He half-expected a remark from the ghost, but again he said nothing. He remained still and silent, his own gaze fixed on the floor. “It was now or never, I suppose.”

“I see,” Coco said, and looked down at her hands. They were folded tightly on her lap. “I remember so little. I have… good memories of him, but few. And I was so young, I am not even sure I can trust them. My mother never speaks of him - no one in the family does. She hasn’t been anything but amazing, but...”

“It was a sore spot, being left behind,” he said, his voice dull to his own ears. “I understand.”

“No,” Héctor snarled, suddenly looking up. “You don’t. I wanted to go home and you wrote me off musical history, wrote me off my own family. Take your pity party somewhere else.”

Coco was nodding, and suddenly she looked up from her hands to glance at him. “You knew him well. Will you tell me about him?”

For a moment, Ernesto wasn’t sure he had heard right. “What?”

“Tell me about him. You must have so many stories to share,” she replied, and for the first time her voice shook, like that of a pleading child. “It’s the only way I can have him back, I suppose. I want to know about him. So that I can actually be sad that he’s gone. Or angry. Or both,” she added, and gave a painfully forced laugh. “I know it makes no sense, but--”

“It makes perfect sense,” Ernesto cut her off, looking down at his own motionless hands. Having no feeling whatsoever below his neck had been the hardest thing to get used to - so hard, in fact, that he didn’t think he ever truly had. He would welcome the most excruciating pain over that horrifying nothingness.

“Tell her.” Héctor’s voice rang out suddenly, quieter than before, sadder, younger, pleading. Ernesto glanced down to see the young boy he’d been standing by the armchair Coco was on, a small hand with fingernails bitten to the quick resting on her arm. She gave no sign of being aware of that. “Please, Neto. Tell her about me.”

“Yes,” Ernesto said, not knowing who he was talking to anymore. “I’ll tell all I remember.”

If this is what you want, I will. And then allow me to die. For the love of God, let me go.

He looked back at Coco, who smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and then she fell quiet to listen, hanging to his every word.

Ernesto couldn’t tell for how long she listened in silence: in a way, he wasn’t there at all. For the first time in over a quarter of a century he was back in Santa Cecilia, where the sun beat down mercilessly and two laughing boys ran amok through fruit groves, splashed in the stream and made music with whatever they could find, dreaming of the wide world outside.

***

A/N: Coco will, eventually, know when Héctor died. But at the moment she wants more than anything to know about her missing father's life rather than his death, and she has no reason to suspect foul play. Yet.

***

[Back to Chapter 2]

[On to Chapter 4]

#coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #coco rivera #pixar coco #bedside ghost

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authormitchel-blog · 6 years

Text

GOF: Part 3

The dorm looked the same as ever. It was nice to be back at Hogwarts. It was home, more than Pivet Drive had ever been even if he still had to share sleeping arrangements with less than savory characters. But, Harry would take Malfoy’s bragging over Aunt Petunia’s twittering laugh any day.

Harry was currently unpacking some of his things to the rhythmic drawl of Malfoy telling Crabbe and Goyle what he did this summer for what looked like, judging by Goyle’s face, the five hundredth time. Odds are they were right there with him for most of it anyway.

Blaise, Harry noticed, somehow got even more attractive since last year. His dark skin seemed to glow as if he were on a beach enjoying the sun instead of in a dungeon lounging on his canopy bed.

“You really must go to France one day, Potter,” said Blaise.

“Not all of us have a new stepfather with a villa,” replied Harry.

“Yes, but I did invite you to join me, several times I might add.”

Harry shrugged, that was true. Blaise had sent him plenty of letters detailing his mother’s whirlwind romance with a wealthy French wizard and her decision to move them at least semi-permanently to the South of France. Blaise and his two younger sisters were now living in the lap of luxury, and letters that started out as “won’t you come down, Potter? Get yourself a taste of the good life?” And “Potter, the man has a yacht. I’ve already bought you a first mate cap.” Quickly became “Ariella and Jasmine are becoming quite overwhelming. Must every woman in my family be blinded by pretty things? Thank Merlin, I am immune to such flights of fancy. Come and assure me that I am the prettiest flower or my self-esteem my never recover.” Then “We’ll take care of the Muggles, don’t worry. Mother performs a wicked memory charm. Lockhart has nothing on what my mother can do when faced with someone’s very angry wife.” “Save me Potter,” the last one said simply, with a p.s. for levity, “I’m getting wrinkles.”

Harry had gotten the point plainly enough. But as much as he would have liked to physically be there for his friend, there was no way that even Lockhart level memory charms would be enough to make the Dursleys forget their personal life mission of torturing Harry at every possible moment.

“We’ve been all abuzz at the Manor. Father was quite envious that I would be attending Hogwarts this year with well….you know,” Malfoy said to Crabbe and Goyle, clearly begging for Harry to ask him what he was talking about. But Harry was used to hearing plans that didn’t involve him so he had learned to not to give a Hippogriff’s booty about things like that.

“How were Jasmine and Ariella when you left?” Harry asked Blaise. From everything Blaise had ever told him about his sister’s it seemed as if the two girls, the twins were really quite something. Blaise launched into a rather complicated story about the girls, a summer dance recital they put on, and Blaise totally pulling off the tights he was forced to wear when Theo got out the newest issue of Quidditch weekly and let the other boys devour his older issues which he always seemed to have on hand. Harry drew Slytherin in the draw they had so he picked last months issue all about the World Cup.

He opened and hoped probably in vain to see a picture of himself in its pages.

***

Harry was asleep the next morning at breakfast. Millicent kept having to nudge his side so he wouldn’t fall into his porridge. The dreams had abated somewhat while he was back at the Burrow, but last night with Quidditch Weekly open on his chest dark dreams had haunted him. Dreams of graveyards, headstones, and the feeling of anticipation.

Harry kept waking, feeling as if someone stood ready to curse him just beyond his curtains. He thought about opening them, but the fact that Crabbe and Goyle slept with their curtains open quickly derailed that thought. So, he merely slept with his wand in his hand.

Space was always at a premium on the first morning back as nearly everyone misses the food at Hogwarts and are eager to catch up with old friends so Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were forced to sit on the opposite side of the table as Harry, Millicent, and Blaise. Malfoy may have grown taller this summer, but Crabbe and Goyle grew in every direction. The two boys nearly blocked all the space between them as they took a spot, leaving Malfoy with an open spot beside him. Harry wondered vaguely if Pansy had gotten what she wanted after how much she had unwittingly helped him and Sirius last year. It would only serve Malfoy right if he had to actually marry Pansy.

But as Malfoy wasn’t wearing a collar emblazoned with P.A.N.S.Y on it, then he doubted the blonde had gotten that far yet. He’d have to ask Millicent later what on Earth she had done to poor Malfoy to turn him into such a commitmentphobe. He’d likely get hexed for his trouble, but it would be worth it.

The typical series of forgotten items rained down on the students at breakfast time and Malfoy got his usual deposit of sweets and cakes, but Harry wasn’t disappointed as he got a rather long letter from Sirius as he described a rather funny story of he and Remus trying to fix the kitchen sink. He also provided a brief update on his case, saying that he was still trudging along and that he had gotten someone, an American lawyer to take a look at his case. He also sent him something about his father. James favorite color was red.

An unfamiliar owl dropped something onto Millicent’s plate.

“Isn’t that a school owl?” asked Blaise, eyeing Millicent’s correspondence with the same look Harry was giving it.

“From your betrothed?” asked Blaise. Millicent went to shake her head, no….when Goyle with a mouth full of food grabbed his heart as if he were having pains, and said, “So does this mean you’re rejecting my offer?”

“What offer?” Malfoy demanded to know.

Goyle straightened a little in his seat. “Well, you know, Draco….Mom’s always quite liked Mil, and dad didn’t think it’d be a bad idea….”

“To do her a favor,” Pansy said, finally taking her place by Malfoy’s side. She looked the same as ever though perhaps there was something different about her nose? More uppity? Harry wondered. Or perhaps it was just the way she was staring down at Millicent that made her look so pugish.

“She broke a serious engagement with a prominent family. No pureblood in their right mind would give her an offer now. The only reason Goyle’s mother offered is because Bulstrode here has hips like a bull and Goyle children come out that size.” She motioned to Goyle who was steadily eating his eggs and bacon.

“So, you do the math on why that was on offer. And besides my mother told me that your father talked some sense into her.” Pansy smiled ruefully. “Can’t have a blood traitor marry into the family. Wouldn’t want her staining the furniture. Though it appears mutts of the same street corner run together.”

Pansy turned her gaze to Harry.

“How is Black doing by the way?” Pansy asked.

“My godfather,” said Harry standing and holding out his hand for Millicent. “Is probably making out with Professor Lupin right about now. You do remember him right?” Harry eyed Nott who had been laughing quietly until then.

“About yeah high,” said Harry, motioning. “Werewolf.”

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“He’s quite happy too, now that my godfather is about to be freed completely and a real traitor is in jail. Who knows,” said Harry, grabbing a piece of treacle tart to go.

“Maybe soon the Ministry and the rest of the wizarding world will pull their heads out of their arses and allow people to marry whoever the heck they want. Two men. A werewolf.”

“A tainted pureblood witch,” Millicent kicked in.

“Hear! Hear!” said Blaise as Harry and Millicent walked away.

Hermione stopped them as they were leaving to head to classes together, telling them of her brief hunger strike and the new war she was raging herself.

#Harry Potte #Harry Potter rewrite #Slytherin!Harry #Slytherin Harry #Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire #gofp3

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stephspurs · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

BESTIES!! PART 10 IS A HOT ONE!! Enjoy reading it as much as I did while writing it (and re-reading it because its probs one of my fav parts of the whole series) Love Always, Steph xx

Part 10 | parte dieci

warnings; heavy-petting, almost-smut, and a hot jack grealish - read at your own risk ;) word count; 2469. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Monday 16/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Longing glances and shy smiles. That was how Amelia and Ben both spent the next morning at Cobham together, prior to travelling to Stamford Bridge for the fourth match of the season against Aston Villa. The two had spent the rest of the evening relaxing on the couch; no additional kisses were shared between them as they had both agreed to keep things friendly, and no matter how hard Ben tried, Amelia had no intentions of going any further just yet. She had admitted to him something that she had never uttered out loud before: she still needed to work out how to exist without Fede.

While their situationship had been as unconventional as it was, it was still something that Amelia had grown to live with and love. Fede’s personality was unlike no other she had come across, perhaps closest to that of Jack Grealish. Friendly, flirtatious, charming, to the point where she found herself blushing sometimes - not many people had been able to make her shy enough to blush, but Fede had, and now Jack was too.

hot boy grealish

mornin mils, can’t wait to see ya today.

I’ll be the hot one with the good hair and even better ass.

hot gal mils

morning my dear jacky, looking forward to seeing you too.

Is Tyrone not playing?

His bum has always been my fav bum to stare at.

hot boy grealish

cut it out, you.

Banter-filled texts had been a constant stream of entertainment throughout the days leading up to the match. Jack has been preparing Amelia for the possibility of her losing, constantly picking on the girl for being an overachiever and saying that she needs to be brought down a few pegs, having been quite some time since her team had lost a match. Amelia however, with enough self-confidence to rival that of the villa boy, wouldn’t even let him finish his sentences. Far too superstitious for that to happen.

The girl believed in superstitions, and she was not about to tempt her fate. She even went so far as to have her family name and a small Italian flag embroidered onto the inside of her collar of every polo shirt she would wear for match days. She did it at Juventus and organised for it to be done to her new Chelsea uniform. It was a personal choice, something that happened to run in her family also, her father and brother also having the White family name stitched to the inside of their kit. It was a way of keeping them all tied together, no matter what side of the pitch they were on. The Italian flag was there to remind her of all that the country had given her: her grandparents and a chance to be brilliant at what she loves most.

Arriving at Stamford Bridge off of the team bus, Jorgi had insisted she sitwith him and they spoke exclusively in Italian for the 30-odd minute drive from Cobham. Despite Amelia purchasing a new car a few days prior, Jorgi insisted they continue to carpool. It worked out well because now Amelia wouldn’t have to catch the team bus back to the training ground after the match. She had spent the better part of an hour out on the pitch with some of the boys, running through the plays she had in mind before she ushered them back into the changeroom, allowing the Aston Villa men to have their time out on the grass.

______________________________________________________________

“I would know that bum anywhere.”

“Hello Jack, nice to see you too. I’ve been well thanks, so has my bum. I’ll let my face know you said hello, too,” I spoke as I stood up from my crouched position, where I had been tying my laces.

“Just kiddin love, actually no I'm not - I love your bum. But I am happy to see your beautiful face too!” Jack spoke, as he pulled me into a hug - wrapping both of his arms around my head, effectively pushing me further into his chest.

“You saw my face a couple days ago when we were on FaceTime!”

“I saw your bum a few days ago on FaceTimetoo, doesn’t mean I'm not happy to see it!”

“So that's why you like helping me do my laundry, so you can see my backside as I reach into the machine!”

“Now I’m not a religious man, but I have prayed to God a few times that you drop a sock or two riiiiiiight in front of the camera.” He laughed back at my shocked expression.

“Jack! You are ridiculous! Stop being such a perv! No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend” I play-shouted at him as I smacked him with my rolled up matchday program.

“I’m holding out for you, my love.”

“Always the joker, Jack. Get out there and prepare for the worst match of your season.”

“Dream on Mils, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Sure thing Jacky, sure thing.”

I walked further up the tunnel towards the changeroom, getting ready to deliver my strategy talk to the boys.

“Stop looking at my ass, Grealish!” I shouted without turning around. The boisterous laugh that followed my exclamation was enough to know that I was correct. I didn’t need to turn around to be able to predict what the laddish lad was already doing.

60 minutes of football later.

Amelia was correct in saying that Chelsea were going to win the match, her quiet confidence only getting louder and louder as each premier league match went on. She was apprehensive at first to see if her tactics were going to work in the Prem, or if there was to be some compromise on skill due to the fast-paced nature of the game. So far, however, the Chelsea men were quick learners and even quicker to execute.

One thing she wasn’t prepared for, however, was the absolute worldie that Jack had scored just before half-time at the Bridge. There was an element of familiarity in his goal, recognising the play as one of her own. A small smile crossed her face after he scored, running to celebrate with the away fans before jogging down past the bench and mouthing a quick “all you baby” at her as he moved back into position. She must have told him about it back when she was in Italy, knowing that there was no chance she would have exchanged her trade secrets to an enemy in the same league. It warmed her to know he paid enough attention to her to be able to practice that on his own with his team and execute it flawlessly in a live game.

What Amelia also wasn’t prepared for was for anyone else to recognise the play. Behind her on the bench sat an oddly-inquisitive Ben. He saw the tactic as it was playing out, recognising the run that Jack had to make to put himself in the box at the exact moment that John McGinn crossed the ball. Better yet, he saw Jack run down the sideline, nowhere near where he should have been, and mouth those words to Amelia. He wanted to know what was going on, was that why she wasn’t ready to commit to him?

Later that same evening.

After a hot shower, Amelia was curled up on the couch, ready to continue the docuseries she was watching the night before when she had an unexpected visitor pop round and confess his feelings to her. Thinking back on the night prior, she was happy that things ended up working out the way they did. Of course she wasn’t exactly thrilled with just how they happened but she could forgive the sweet boy. His intentions were pure and that's not something she was used to. It made her giddy to think about him, and about where things may go in the future.

A ring of her doorbell, almost to the exact hour that it had the night prior, made her get off her couch and walk down the small hall to the front door with a smirk on her face. Expecting to see the same brown-haired, blue-eyed boy that seemed to enjoy ringing her bell after hours. What she saw on the other side, however, was not what she was expecting.

“Jack, what on bloody God’s earth are you doing here?! You should be halfway back to Birmingham by now!”

“Are you gonna let me in love, it’s bloody cold out ‘ere tonight. Come on, shove over,” The slightly-less-than-6-foot-tall footballer commandeered her hallway, shutting the door behind him and locking it. This, coupled with his overnight duffle bag hanging off his shoulder let Amelia know that he had no other plans but to stay with her.

“Sure, Jack, I suppose you can come in and spend the night crashing in my spare room.”

“Now now, don’t pretend that you’re not happy to see me, love. And a spare room? I believe you promised me a cuddle.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help but smile at the charming young man. Feeling the blush start to spread from her chest up her neck and across her cheeks, she quickly turned and walked into her kitchen, calling out over her shoulder to ask if he wanted a cup of tea. Feeling a sense of deja vu from the night before, she shook her head and reminded herself that this is nothing like the night before. How could it have been - there was no kissing involved.

“Was that a blush I saw? Do I make you nervous, Amelia?” Somehow, Jack had moved to be right behind the girl at her kitchen counter. Hands on her hips, chest to her back, lips to her ear. Amelia felt herself freeze, and then relax into his hands.

“Jack, please, I don’t think we should do this.”

“Why not, Mils? You can feel it, too. The tension through the screen’s enough to force me into a cold shower most nights.”

And just like the night before, the whistle of the kettle was the only piercing sound resonating around the townhouse. Whilst all she saw was truth behind Ben’s eyes, Jack's eyes were clouded with lust and affection. Just once, she could give in, right?

Leaning her head back to rest on his right shoulder, he attached his lips to the left side of her neck. Hands rolling from the side of her hips, to underneath her shirt, feeling the small navel piercing between his fingers and smirking.

“Didn’t take you for being the kind of girl to have a piercing, Mils,” He spoke into her collarbone, a small nip to the sensitive skin as the girl continued to focus on her breathing.

“Piercings, Jack. I have more than one” She breathlessly spoke, knowing exactly what she was doing now. The admission of having more than one piercing that he could not see was all of the consent Jack needed to continue his exploration of her body.

“Are you going to let me see them, darling?”

“If you’re lucky.”

“I’d say I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now, especially in this position.”

She was unsure how it had happened, but Jack had pressed her further into the countertop. With her back still to his chest, his waist was at the perfect height to press into the small of her back. His leg had settled between both of her own and his hands had found the bottom of her bralette and were gently caressing her rib cage, desperate to get closer to where he presumed her other piercing was.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Jack,” she breathed out into the air, hot air escaping her lungs to resemble what she felt brewing in the pit of her stomach. Desire.

“Why the bloody hell not?” he mumbled into her sweet spot, where her jaw met her neck.

“Because I've been here before. This is bad.” With her eyes shut, he continued his way down her neck. The fabric of her top shifted so he could slide one of her straps down her arm.

“If it's bad, why does it feel so good? '' Whilst his lips got to work on her collarbone, and his hand was busy toying with the elastic line of her bralette, his other hand began to fiddle with her fingers. Entwining them with his own, the kind of strength she needed to feel to make her next decisions.

Pushing back off of the counter, meaning her ass had pushed right into the part of his body where he wanted her most, Amelia turned around and faced Jack. The two stood there, slightly panting, staring at each other. Amelia being the kind of girl that she is, decided that she wanted to have a little slice of the dominance pie. Maintaining eye contact, she lifted the bottom of her t-shirt over her head and dropped in on the floor, that second piercing now very clearly visible through the sheer fabric of her bralette.

“Come on Jack, aren’t you an athlete? What’s got you so out of breath? I thought you’d be able to last a little longer than some heavy petting.” She taunted at the smirking man, wanting nothing more than to mess up his hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. That's exactly the position that they found themselves in not more than 5 minutes later, this time upstairs in her bedroom.

Throughout the multiple rounds of passion that the two so-called friends shared that night, not once had their lips touched. Of course, her lips had touched parts of him and he had definitely been all over a completely different set of lips a few times (and from a few different positions), but face to face, eye to eye, nose to nose - their lips had never met. That told Amelia enough to set her anxiety on fire. Had she just gotten involved with a carbon-copy of the man she left behind in Italy?

The regret seeped through her bones and settled into her heart by the time that the Villa boy had fallen asleep next to her. What had she done? This was not the girl Amelia wanted to be anymore. She was done being the girl that was loved only when the lights went out. She wanted love under the sun, she wanted breakfast by the river, double dates, family parties. She wanted the kind of love that you could never try and hide even if you wanted to. She knew that this wasn’t what Jack was able to offer her. She was grateful for their friendship, she truly was, he made her laugh more than most people but for the first time in a very long time, she was certain that that's all she wanted from him.

Part 11. | parte undicesima

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crazypulchritude · 5 years

Text

Haze, 29°C

Concord Apartments, Guru Nanak Rd, Gulmohar Road, Gulmohar Colony, Vile Parle West, Mumbai, Maharashtra 400058, India

Today what to do I see when I look in the mirror.

I see a small girl who was scared of failure coz she was beaten by her father when her parents tried to put into 1st STD after just having completed nursery earlier.

She saw her parents fighting all the time and her mom struggling. Her sister was born and she was asked to grow up and take care of her sister. A 7 yr old girl became a her younger sisters shield. She used to close her sisters ears so that she would not be affected by them. She was asked not to cry or what would her younger sister think of her. All her life she heard her mother saying if u hadn't been there I would left your father and gone. She was beaten if she didnt study hard she was told marks were everything. She was scolded when her mom was called to school. She remembers crying in when her head was been stitched and only local anaesthetis was the only option. She remembers her boy touching her private parts and her mom scolding him and protecting her however never explaining to her what was happening.

She remembers going for a school trip in 9th inspite of no one taking to her and being all alone why coz she wanted to see the world. She remembers facing torments from her friends when she was in 10th all of a sudden being cut off from every person she knew. She remembers going thru emotional trauma while studying for 10th. Not having do anything during the vacations studied ms office and cleared with flying colors. Somehow managing to pass in late 60% I wanted to get into science to pursue computer engineering actually animation. However it had still not picked up and computer engineering was suggested. Parents were scared abt me being an introvert and low marks sent me to sndt. Topped 11th and 12th not so great. Got into engineering but didnt complete the admission process since someone old me that it involved hardware and I didnt like the hardware.

Took up pcm in mithibai. After what had happened during school year for studies. My entire collegeToday what to do I see when I look in the mirror.

I see a small girl who was scared of failure coz she was beaten by her father when her parents tried to put into 1st STD after just having completed nursery earlier.

Took up PCM in mithibai. After what had happened during school year for studies. Her entire college life be it the 11th or 12th she only slogged scared that if she got less marks again she would be scolded and beaten up. Came last year of B Sc and after 2 attempts professors were dumb founded that why the best student in the class never managed to clear the exams. However, by then she already had a job in call centre. People ask her why call centre? her answer she ever had anyone to tell me what is wrong and what is right. she was too naive and just went with the flow. Desperate to start a job and start earning so she took the first option that came along; so took it. I even excelled there. OH forgot, while doing her B Sc she was also doing advanced computer programming and topped that also. However, by the time she finished that she already had a call centre job. Somewhere here she got attracted to a guy for the first time and she still knows why, Carving for the love she never got at home. the first guy who showed that he cared. However things changed their friendship was very beautiful when into a relationship they just moved apart and after trying for quite some time, she decided to give up and start on again. She couldn't cry since she was taught not to cry in front of anyone. And all the pain was contained in her. first loves are never easy to forget.

Somwhere here in between came back the passion of learning animation and started my journey with maac. An animation course where she worked 9 hrs. went for the course for 4 hrs and also paid from her own salary. couldn't manage to give it the time it needed. Though still managed to get on to OJT with an awesome company. Worked as an intern for 9 hrs and then still doing a regular job for another 9 hrs and somewhere catching some sleep. This went on for two months. during this time she had started dating someone else with whom it was getting into a marriage scene. The job offered to her was paying less than her current job and was in hyderabad. She shared this with her mom and the same reply that she got for her programming she got here. Y do u want to do this when they are paying less? Not once was she told just go follow ur dreams. She let it go and then marriage happened after a lot of tension. Money was scarce even for him and hence being enterprising as she was she took all the arrangements in her hand and for the entire wedding was worried about all the preparations and things happening on time.

Even before the marriage when she had been dating this guy he had two timed her twice she had ditched him both the times and he had come back to her crying. after that she has taken the case of the girl that he had been taking and finally they had stopped dating. she dated him for about 3 yrs more after that scene and thinking he had changed his ways and they decided to get married.

the honeymoon was planned entirely by her on her savings and after that started the ill management of funds. after marriage money was scarce and she was running the house and her FIL was the only person who accepted and adored her. tensions in the family she returned the jewellery that she had got from her in-laws. she patched her husbands and her MIL's relation that was very strained initially. however, shortly after the marriage her FIL expired and her husband was blamed for the same. everyone crying she didn't cry till the 4th day. However she had to get herself back together to hold the family together.

Here started another phase, an extremely old fashioned brother in law with an uneducated wife. fights all the time. then came hassles of running the house and finally somehow division of funds and finally buying a new house away from everyone. Thenn came the death of MIL followed by fights and broken relations. now she assumed things would get batter and they did a little. finances had always been an issue. however a car was both and he changed jobs from a call cneter to a media company for 9-5 and low package. she was happy that he was happy they could manage with her pay. theyy started planning on having a kid. however conceiving seemed problematic with her PCOD and weight. Gynac was consulted to start treatment. however she was not ready and things were not meant to be. distances came in and 18 days later the first fight happened. apologies were exchanged and the next sunday he told her that he had met someone 6 months back and wanted to marry her. That night her mom was scared that she might attempt suicide {she had always hurt herself multiple times in the past and this definitely would have been a possibility} and her younger sis was sent to pick her up. at 2 am in the night she walked out not knowing that she would never return to this life and being this person ever again.

#zaavsa

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xanadontit · 7 years

Text

I swear this is almost over

Yep, we’re still on Friday. I realize I’m giving lots of details and context that probably doesn’t mean much when read. But the slow burn of MIL/MIL’s Shitty Husband (SH) freakout went from “normal weird” to “crying in public” at such a weird rate that I need to write it all down. Feel free to skip! Or commiserate if you also have shitty family members who insist on ruining lovely occasions.

Also forgot this random weird tidbit, but Niece1′s crappy ex-boyfriend (aka Josh Chan) showed up at the ceremony unannounced. He was invited, told Niece1 he couldn’t make it, and then showed up anyway? We had no seats in our row and it was weird. He’s weird. I don’t like him.

Somewhere in between the open house and dinner, most of us changed clothes and freshened up. MIL’s SH decided that a tshirt and sneakers were appropriate after seeing the rest of us in dresses and heels but whatever, dude. E had left his clothes for dinner at our hotel, so he headed over and said he would meet us at the restaurant (this detail will factor in later) later. I reminded him the reservation was for 6, so as long as he was there at 6, it was fine.

Niece1 suddenly develops a horrible tummy ache and is camped out in the bathroom while everyone else gets ready. SIL and I decide to run the centerpieces, wine, and cake to the restaurant, and tell Niece2 to be ready when we get back. I deputize her to make sure her grandparents and boyfriend are also ready. E starts texting me, SIL, and Niece2 asking if we’re at the restaurant, verifying the address, etc. He then complains to me that no one is responding to his texts.

I lost it, sort of. I texted back that it’s pretty fucking hard for me to help set up, wrangle everyone, and answer his messages. In the future, he is welcome to take on any of these tasks, which would free me up to chat with him but until then he can just calm down and I’ll be in touch when I can. But for now he had ditched me with his family and left me to have to organize a group of people who move at a glacial pace so maybe have several seats. E quickly responded that was sorry and didn’t mean to add to my stress and thanked me for not murdering everyone. Yet.

Upon our return, Niece1 seems to be feeling better and I figure that if you’re hosting a dinner at 6pm, you should be there BEFORE 6pm to greet guests. This notion is met with confusion and I wonder if this has contributed to E’s chronic worries about being late? Anyway, everyone is milling around the doorway and MIL’s SH keeps poking Niece1 in the ear (?) and she snaps at him to stop it. MIL then announces that she (Niece1) must be “over tired.” Or, she doesn’t appreciate this gross old man touching her.

At this point, MIL nervously asks SIL what time we’ll be done with dinner. Translation: she knows her SH will not want to hang out and she wants to be able to bail out early. In a shocking twist, my SIL straight up told her, “We’ll be done when we’re done. I’m not leaving early to being you back here. Take your own car and I’ll give you a key to let yourself in.” This is HUGE, people. My SIL is a big pushover, especially with her mom, and will normally inconvenience herself to make things easier for her mom. MIL looked taken aback but agreed that would work. Then she continues to stop and chat about pointless shit; I’m looking at the clock and realizing at this rate we’re never going to get out the door. I finally snap: “We can’t get in the car unless we walk out of the house. One foot in front of the other, people! LET’S GO.” Everyone visibly flinches. I do not care.

Everyone arrives and is seated around the lovely table, and E and I pick spots near his mom and her SH. He’s having a hard time reading the menu and complaining about the options (it was an Italian restaurant and also served steak, which this guy would live off of if given his choice) so he finally told MIL to “just order something for me” and sat there pouting until his salad arrived. He ate most of it, then declared it “smelled bad” and shoved the plate away. MIL looks stressed and agitated as E and I focus on the other people seated near us. This goes on throughout the meal and then he finally stomps outside to smoke. MIL looks at us and says, “You can cancel your hotel room at stay at SIL’s. We’re leaving tomorrow. I can’t do this. I’m too tired of being wrong and walking on glass [pretty sure she meant eggshells] all the time.” E and I tell her she has to do what’s best for her. Shortly after some family photos are taken. He is included but I’m not (I think MIL was just trying to keep him appeased and not paying attention but who knows), and my MIL heads over to my SIL and bursts into tears. She asks for the house key and said they had to leave, and that she would leave early Saturday instead of Sunday (a fact E and I both called - we knew he wouldn’t last 3 days with us). She proceeds to start a minor scene as family friends notice what’s happening. E and I distract the nieces and do our best to compensate by being super social and chatting with everyone. We pose for more photos and head home to SIL’s to make sure all is well. MIL and SH are sound asleep.

They left early Saturday without saying goodbye to us; MIL has not reached out to E at all, but has spoken to her daughter a few times, which sounds about right. I mean, she doesn’t owe us anything, but the courtesy of a “Sorry we didn’t say goodbye. It was nice seeing you” might be nice? SIL, E, and I spoke at length about our concerns about MIL and what has come to light in terms of their marriage. It’s not great, Bob, to say the least.

#in laws are great

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sleepymarmot · 7 years

Text

MEA liveblog #7

Spoilers!

Multiplayer

This interface is a mess. I move my mouse onto "exit lobby" and it turns into "kick player". Buttons just jump around and transform all the time.

And the APEX mission shit needs to be fixed. When you select a mission to play, don't direct me to lobbies who play the same enemy/map/difficulty but not as the mission! Join lobby, see "custom", exit lobby, select "custom game", re-select mission, join, end up in the same lobby, rinse, repeat...

At least I can end up second when I join on wave 5 as a human vanguard lol

F Human Vanguard card!

Tempest

Non-custom weapons of different rank shouldn't exist as separate items in the inventory! Unlocking a higher rank should upgrade the old item like in ME3! This stupid inventory system exists solely because of crafting! If you need inventory limits so much, let them apply only to the crafted items! I've already complained about rewards being lost with no warning if the inventory is full and it's still bullshit!

I crafted the N7 chestpiece! 25% shield on kill (of course), 5% damage resistance, 2% shield restoration, 2% health&shield regen speed, 2% max shield. I called it "N7 Slayer X". And turns out, it was dad's armor...

Oh right, it needs a new color scheme!

Havarl

I like this ex-STG, he's talking properly.

I don't like the sound effect from Annihilation -- it's like water in my ears!

Hey Peebs, how do you immediately know where the next piece is as soon as we pick the current one?

Kadara

Here's the bar fight. Animation is not bad but has no energy.

Told the asari dancer that I'm done here and she needs to talk to the dude herself, but the quest still sends me back to him -_-

Tempest

So, Kesh was adopted?

Okay, Kalinda is 100% Marjolaine. Peebee's personal storyline is even more copy-pasted from Leliana than Drack's is copypasted from Wrex.

Aya

So many sidequests again!

The Moshae's words about the definition of victory! That's the smartest thing I've heard in this game in hours.

It's really weird to hear her talk so sweetly to me... When we first met she didn’t seem to like me.

When Vetra said people were staring at her, I couldn't resist suggesting they're just all in love...

I suggested taking people who sold their Aya slots onto the Nexus. That's not even charity -- the same ambassador gave me a task to convince angara to come there anyway! So this would kill two birds with one stone.

For the visitor who wanted contact with his family, I had to reload. The options didn't even seem too different... Got it right for the other two: gave an honest professional answer about health issues, and a confident casual answer about finding work.

Great, now I have to head back into the city to buy stuff... This is literally a fetch quest lol

Eos

Omg, the Architect is in orbit now!

The Roekaar fight in an old settlement was very chaotic and fun with Flamethrower/ED/Lance, though it'd probably be easier to just charge

Tempest

Aaaand Jaal gives me his loyalty mission. It's funny that I'm going to do my own love interest's mission last...

Jaal's LM

I continue to be unimpressed with the Roekaar being pure antagonists. :/

Didn't shoot the guy, told Jaal he was badass.

Why are loyalty missions so short?

BTW Ryder just looks wrong in N7 armor... She's not Shepard, that's not her allegiance or her story.

Tempest

Jaal, just as we're leaving Havarl you decided to invite me for a visit down there?

Turian ark

Avitus has very stylish armor

For fuck's sake, Bioware, why do you hate gay men so much?

I convinced Avitus to take the mantle. It was a very sentimental decision for Ryder -- because her situation is very similar. Her SAM and the connection he had with her father are unique, but she didn't think of that in that moment.

Nexus

"Better to find your wings as you fly" Easy for you to say, Sarissa, your predecessor wasn't a loved one

Tempest

I'd agree with Peebee about relationship and baggage, but of course I felt obligated to take the romantic option

(I don’t think there’s an option to agree with her, though, so it’s only for the best)

Voeld

Liam, Vetra, don't fight!

Whoops, sorry for leaving you to die in the purification field, Vetra

...I liked the old color scheme better. Green light looks more alien, but less pretty.

Nexus

Final memory -- here we go!

My theory was that the Archon was somehow Ellen, but that made so little sense I didn't even write it down :D This is simpler.

BTW there's finally Shepard's gender we had to select in the beginning -- in translated subtitles :D Didn't hear it even once in the audio -- could it be Bioware actually took their foreign audience into consideration? :O

Honestly, it's weird that the Reapers info is so secret... From the OT I got the impression that Shepard was yelling about it to everyone at every opportunity...

Fine, fine, you made me emotional with Liara's message.

Shit, I was expecting this decision...

I feel pretty sad now. That's all?

Peebee's LM

Oh, so that's why she lives in an escape pod :D I thought this was only a characterization thing, not a Chekhov's gun!

I said I wasn't mad, though I was a bit. But I mean Ryder *is* mad but also having the time of her life so...

Shit I just shot Kalinda instinctively lmao

Ok I replayed the entire sequence and Idk. This is really the hardest choice in the game...

I'm tempted to say "Yes, literally" :D

Since it's so hard to reaload, it's fair game to watch videos before deciding for myself. Okay, "Yes, literally" is way too harsh.

Alright, this Ryder is not going to make Peebee sad, but I've already planned a Renegade-ish playthrough with a Ryder who values knowledge over everything, so... :D

(Btw, I love that MEA's brand of a more ruthless protagonist is not "uncontrollable brute" but "intellectual snob". As tedious as this game is, I'm already super eager to play character who has those values & takes urgency of tasks seriously.)

This mission is enjoyable and the choice feels maybe the most meaningful... But it has all the classic Mass Effect problems. Kalinda sends a shitload of people to murder us, we murder them, but when she's helpless and we have a finger on the trigger all of that suddenly doesn't matter. Sidonis all over again. Sure, murdering people begging for help is bad in a lot of ways, but she did just try to kill us, a lot of times... Plus, why the fuck can't Ryder jump over and catch the Remnant thing?! That needed to be a second, Paragon interrupt after the Renegade "shoot her." And Ryder is a goddamn biotic, as is Peebee, as is Kalinda! Peebee, Pull is your first goddamn skill! It'd actually be completely plausible if the artifact had shields and/or armor and therefore immune to Pull or Singularity -- but not giving the characters even an idea to try is just stupid!

Tempest

Inviting Peebee to live with together made me revisit my room and inspired me to make some changes. You know what, I'm going to play music in my quarters and change into the short-sleeved pajamas. It's my own ship, why do I walk around it in street clothes? The jacket is stylish but too much to wear at home. I wish we had a "formal" outift for Nexus/Aya/other hubs in addition to the "casual" clothes we wear on the ship.

Shit I went to read someone's post about Peebee's LM and caught a spoilers about the romance post-LM

Addison is right, getting pregnant in that situation was irresponsible

Ah the continuity in this game. "Found more outposts"? I have every possible outpost and all planets at 100%!

"On hold: Place an outpost" bitch where

Voeld

What, there's still a cold hazard?! What was the point of the vault, then?!

Whoa, so the angara believe exaltation not just kills their people but destroys their immortal souls? Wow! That should have been said by a major character during the main story, not by an easily missed NPC!

Oh great, I died and the game refuses to load the last autosave

Dear game. Why did you create four autosaves for the same second. All glitched. Half hour of gameplay lost... God please let the last manual save work. I was sure I saved in between, but just now my PC decided that we still have daylight savings clock change when we do not, and the timestamps on all recent saves are messed up. This especially sucks because I'm trying to rush Peebee's romance because I don't know when the sex scene comes up but I want to make sure it's not when my mom is home while I play it on her PC lol

Tempest

Fuck, that was cute! And Peebee did tackle Ryder, as promised! :D I wonder what she says through Zap in the platonic version...

Addison please don't say the baby screams "like a banshee". I fucking jumped.

"Before you say anything: no PDAs" :D

Level 50! Time to craft myself a powerful new Dhan. I've been running with rank three all this time...

I love that whenever you ask about Kalinda and then return to the general dialogue tree you say "Let's talk about something else" and Peebee responds "YES. Please."

Voeld

Alright, so: the kett leaders are dissatisfied with the Archon because he hasn't reported to them recently, the communication with the kett homeworld(?) might be disrupted in general and the Scourge might be to blame.

Tempest

Damn, SAM has a pretty insightful speech about death! The only thing that can't be rationalized after experiencing it, which is why it fascinates. I actually haven't heard it explained this way before.

My movie night quest hasn't progressed since I brought Jaal his device...

Eos

Ryder watching and playing football with two giant guns floating near her hips... omg

Elaaden/Kadara

What? I'm completely confused by all these identical salarians.

I don't understand this choice. He promises to give us the intel if we let him go... what proof do we have besides his word? And how would arresting him stop us from getting intel from his computer etc?

Reloaded to see both options, chose to arrest him

Havarl

I'm not hugging Jaal's mother wtf

Ryder has surprisingly good facial animation when Jaal shows his mementos

In theory Ryder should like Jaal for being such a nerd but the only thing he makes me feel is mild irritation. His interest in "taking things apart" is an informed quality just like his supposed emotional openness. It's not reflected in his dialogue or storyline at all.

And now I'm finished with all quests in the ally category. I wanted to finish the game asap, but now that we know the patch is coming on Thursday, I'll wait for it.

Multiplayer

Extracted from Silver for the first time as Human Vanguard (level 8, rank IV)! It was against Remnant, so Observers and Destroyers were the only problem. Nullifiers are ridiculously easy for a melee character -- like Ravagers, but without acid.

Got Krogan Vanguard from a pack. Will I have to tolerate the Rage overlay?

The first game with Kroguard was going well, he's got a stong melee even though he's slow... and then wave 6/upload/Kett killed us all :(

Completely unrelated to anything, but I just realized that if you pick the romantic option in the escape pod with Peebee, they don't actually have sex. Call me stupid because that's what Peebee's initial condition is, but I thought Ryder's response changed her mind! When Ryder said "Let's not rush things" I interpreted and meant it in the emotional sense, as "It'd be dishonest to hide that I have a crush on you, but you don't owe me anything, and if you don't ready for a Serious Relationship and Grand Romance yet that's fine because I'm not either, so let's just hook up and leave reflection for later" -- which I thought was pretty sweet and interesting? Because this whole relationship to me was built on the fascinating contrast between Peebee's emotional reservations and casual/flirty attitude, and conversely, on Ryder very consciously respecting Peebee's emotional space. Maybe I just fundamentally don't understand sex and romance lmao. But if character A propositions character B, character B says they have feelings for character A, and the scene promptly fades to black, I assume they do the do because that's how these things are filmed? Only in comparison with the other option, which is actually pretty explicit, it became obvious to me that's not what the director meant. I'm pretty disappointed because I thought it was a good subversion of Jack's "either sex or romance" thing in ME2. And it messes with my headcanon/characterization... I guess I'll have to retcon it into one of the two options. I'll probably go with casual, not romantic in that case. But I just read that Peebee will tell you she's glad you said no, so... :/

Multiplayer

Failed a Silver APEX mission agains the Remnant as a human vanguard :(

Got an asari sentinel!

The patch is here, but I can't launch the game now :( This needs some work.

Ugh, I stop playing for two days and have no motivation to pick the game up again...

#mass effect #mea spoilers #blah blah blah

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initiala · 7 years

Text

this idea hit me while driving to work. I blame weird logos for unrelated businesses and binging on Brooklyn 99. an Outlaw Queen surprise for @idoltina

A chime sounded somewhere in the back of the store, breaking the otherwise silent gun range. Regina took a breath to calm her nerves, then squared her shoulders and marched to the counter. No one seemed to be manning the desk, but she figured -- hoped -- that the door alarm had signaled whichever slacker was working today to take her business.

“Sorry, sorry --” A British accent cut through her thoughts, somewhere in a back room. “Be right there!”

Regina allowed herself to drum her nails against the glass case once before distracting herself by inspecting the guns for rent. She didn’t bring her own -- wasn’t allowed to have hers back until she passed the requalification -- and it irked her to have to borrow one that would likely be too... unpolished. Battered. Uncared for.

Having a firearm was not a particular favorite of being a detective, but the one she did have was regularly cleaned, adjusted, and fit in her hand like an extension of herself.

She looked up as a man came out of the back room, apologizing all the while. She took him in as she might a suspect in a case -- medium height for a man, sandy brown hair, blue eyes, scruffy beard, dressed for the outdoors -- and waited for him to stop speaking. “I need to rent time on the range,” she said shortly. “Nine mil should be fine for now. And I need a spotter. I’m on limited time, so I don’t need someone chatty or who thinks they know how to fire a weapon better than me. Are we clear?”

The man raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look before nodding once and picking out a Smith & Wesson for her, slapping a box of ammo down next to the case, and then beckoning her to the unusually quiet range.

Regina had deliberately picked mid-morning on a Tuesday for this, knowing the range would be decently, if not completely, empty. People worked, after all. And since she was practically being ordered to start preparing herself for a return to field work, this counted as working.

Even if it was the last thing she wanted to be doing right now.

She stalled for time, inspecting every inch of the handgun and doing everything short of taking the damn thing apart and reassembling it herself to get a feel for how it was put together. She was careful loading the magazine, careful putting her protective goggles and earmuffs on.

She was careful as she took the proper stance, gun pointed downrange at her target, and did nothing.

Panic did not claw its way up her back the way it had six months ago when she’d tried this last. She did not have flashes of memory, didn’t see Henry’s face in place of the unfamiliar children she’d been trying to recover from their estranged father a year ago. She didn’t smell smoke from the dumpster fire the man had started as a distraction, she didn’t have any of the signs of the post-traumatic stress that had kept her from being shifted from desk duty back to field work.

But she couldn’t fire the gun.

She didn’t know how long she stood there before she abruptly flicked the safety back on, discharged the magazine, and set both handgun and ammo on the shelf. She stepped back over the line as she took off the earmuffs and slid the safety goggles up on top of her head, taking several breaths.

Why couldn’t she do this?

She didn’t say anything as she packed everything back up, and blessedly neither did the range master, even as she paid him for something she didn’t use. He almost refused her money -- she saw it in his eyes -- but she silently insisted and he took it without a word, handing her a receipt.

The only thing he said was “Have a good afternoon, ma’am,” as she left, her back still straight and her shoulders still square.

Still, something compelled her to go back there the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that.

She’d gone to a few different ranges over the last year, every venture a failed attempt at regaining her right to own a firearm and her ability to use one for her job, but something about the quiet acceptance at On Target made the whole harrowing experience less embarrassing. The range master said nothing, offered no judgments, as she returned week after week and basically threw her money in his face to stand in a bunker like an idiot for thirty minutes. Lucky this was work-related and the station counted it as work expenses to compensate, but part of her scolded herself for throwing away hundreds of dollars every month that could otherwise be used for her son’s school supplies or replacing the school uniform that she swore he grew out of every other week.

But something about this place made it easy to return to, even as she failed to discover why exactly she couldn’t accomplish what she’d come to do.

One Tuesday, about six weeks into this futile exercise, the range master was waiting for her at the counter. “I have something I want you to try,” he said, beckoning her to follow.

It was the first thing he’d said to her in weeks. Curious, Regina followed him to the outside range; curiouser was the fact that he handed her a bow and indicated a case full of arrows. “I’ve been pondering this for some time,” the range master said. “Perhaps the key is not to keep beating yourself against the wall in hopes of breaking it down, but learning how the wall is built, brick-by-brick.”

Regina raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his analogy and annoyed that he was putting her off track. “What, exactly, does playing Cowboys and Indians have to do with walls and gunfire?”

The range master grinned. “Well, I would have you start with throwing spears or slingshots, but neither are weapons I am qualified to teach. Instead, we start with another primitive firearm. From what I’ve observed, you’re quite comfortable with the weapon in your hand, but it’s the act of firing that’s causing you to freeze up.”

“I do not freeze up,” Regina snapped. Her patience was almost gone, thin already from the shoddy police work her beat cops were doing on a case. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but I am not paying you to teach me how to play with twigs and string, nor lecture me on how I’m supposed to figure out my own idiocy. I am paying you to let me try and fire a damn gun.”

“My name is Robin, Detective Mills, and with all due respect you’re paying me to waste both of our time when we both could be doing more valuable things with it.” At her stunned look, he nodded at her belt. “Badge, ma’am, and you answered your phone once on the way out the door with your name and rank. And you pay with a credit card. I may run a simple shooting range, but I work with a lot of police officers and I am not simple.”

Regina closed her mouth, staring at him hard for a long moment. Something in her shifted, as if a puzzle she’d been trying to piece together was shifted and suddenly the pieces started to fit. It had never occurred to her to ask his name, though he was there every week and had done as she asked every time. It did occur to her, however, that she should probably feel ashamed of her behavior, but at this point in her life she could only summon a small amount of contrition. “Fine,” she said, her voice softer in concession. “Robin.”

He nodded, one corner of his mouth quirking up, then proceeded to explain. Apparently, his line of thinking was that she needed to get comfortable with shooting projectiles first. Arrows were not nearly as expensive as bullets and were reusable; they were also more finicky than bullets, requiring more concentration and easily taken off-track by the wind.

It was enormously frustrating.

Robin was trying not to laugh, she knew it, but his voice was calm as he stepped in close. “May I correct your form?”

He was warm, practically radiating heat along her back as he placed his hands on hers to fix her grip. Regina was aware of his breath on her ear as he quietly explained why her hand needed to grip here and how she should pinch the arrow between her fingers like this. She stepped with him when he nudged her feet, correcting her stance, and stood with her as she drew the string back, letting him bring the string to rest against her cheek.

Everywhere their bodies touched tingled with warmth and awareness.

They loosed. The arrow flew. It struck one of the middle rings.

Regina laughed, a gusty whoosh of air from her lungs that felt like the first time she’d laughed in a year. Giddy with the success, she forgot about the warmth and the tingling awareness of bodies too close, and she turned to find Robin’s face too close to hers. She was warm again, her cheeks this time, and her eyes flicked from his down to his lips and back up again, but he apparently paid no notice to their close proximity. Instead, he grinned and told her to do it again, this time without his help.

It got easier, even as she found her back suddenly cold even on this balmy spring day. Robin fixed her stance or her grip here and there, but never again in such an intimate way.

At the end of their time, Robin declared her sufficiently competent. “I won’t be giving you a bow hunting license anytime soon, particularly as moving targets are quite difficult, but you’re a fair shot.”

Regina ducked her head, tucking her hair behind her ear to hide her smile.

They did bow work for another week before Robin presented her with a new challenge: crossbow. “Packs a punch to the target, so we’ll give you a longer range to work on. There’s a slight kick when you pull the trigger, so that should be familiar to you.”

It was, in a startling sort of way. He only had to show her once how to load and how to hold the crossbow for her to understand. Between her old familiarity with guns and her new familiarity with arrows, it wasn’t difficult at all to pick it up. Robin moved her to longer ranges and she felt his eyes on her as she slowly mastered each target. Once, she looked up and caught his gaze; it was startling enough to see him smiling at her so softly that she didn’t hesitate to return it.

“So what’s next?” Regina asked when all of her bolts had been fired downrange. The archery butts had an employee to collect the arrows from the targets, leaving Robin and Regina free to pack up the crossbow and head back inside. “Another week on this, or are you moving me to muskets and bayonets next?”

Robin chuckled and Regina found it interesting how he found her comments funny rather than irritating; all of her partners at work had made pointed comments about it at one point or another, her brothers dealt with it by trying to out-snark her until they all hated one another, and her son was entirely too sweet-natured for her to be particularly snippy at -- unless he left his shoes on the stairs again. “No, unless you want to pay for double the time and extra for unpacked gunpowder. It takes bloody ages to load those. No, we’ll go for a shotgun or rifle next, reacquaint you with gunpowder and bullets, and after that we’ll see how you adjust to handguns again.”

Regina nodded, vowing to ignore the sudden return of anxious gnawing in her gut. Robin hesitated a moment, then put his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Detective. I promise.”

She resolutely refused to rub the spot his hand had touched as she left.

It was not fine.

Well, not at first. Regina loaded the shotgun, familiar with the two-barrel system and the need to reload often, but when it came time to actually fire...

She didn’t freeze, no matter what Robin said. She just didn’t pull the trigger.

However, it shocked her that he just up and left the range. Shocked, and a little hurt if she was being honest with herself for once. It felt like he was giving up on her, like he’d finally decided that she wasn’t enough, that she wasn’t worth seeing through to the end -- Regina shook her head. No, she was allowing herself to be fanciful. She was paying him to let her use this space, to practice and hone her skills. Robin had taken on more of an active role than a passive one, and she was grateful for the help he’d offered, but she didn’t need him to babysit her. Though she’d asked for a spotter, he’d likely send in another employee -- he was decent as a range master in that way.

She resettled her stance and stared down the barrel at the target, trying to use her conflicting emotions as fuel to pull the trigger. Her finger settled on the metal and she willed herself to pull...

Regina dropped her stance in disgust, hating herself for being unable to jump over this hurdle.

Movement caught her eye and she looked over at the door -- shock returned, and a warmth in her chest she couldn’t put a name to. Robin held a shotgun in the crook of one arm and a box of ammo in the other. She moved the earmuffs off of one ear to hear him say, “We’ll do a few rounds -- first one to fire twenty shots into the target wins. Second round will be clusters, a challenge with these guns. Third will be timed kill shots. Come on, Detective, where’s your competitive spirit?”

Regina barely got her earmuffs back on in time before Robin got into position and fired downrange. He glanced over at her, giving her a clear, challenging look, and fired again.

Well, Regina was hardly one to back down from a challenge.

He graciously allowed her two shots, and from there it was a race to finish. Regina let herself fall into a familiar, comfortable competitive mindset, focusing on nothing else but the goal at hand -- beat this man who somehow knew every trick in the book to get her over herself.

Even her brothers couldn’t get into her head this much, and Liam was her twin.

Robin still won the first round, but Regina took the second. She prided herself on her ability to cluster-fire. The third they had to declare a tie; they had another employee in with a stopwatch and they went one at a time to see how quickly they could fire six rounds into the head and chest of the target, but the time was so close that the fractions of fractions a second were too minuscule to really matter.

Regina felt better than she had in ages. She wasn’t sure how the handgun would go, but just being able to say she’d come this far exhilarated her. Her shoulder would ache from the shotgun’s kick and it was absolutely worth it. “I’d say I should buy you a drink in thanks, but with all the money I’ve given you I probably can’t afford it,” she said as they walked back to the front.

Robin looked at her with a raised eyebrow, that lopsided smile on his face. “And considering you’re paying me for a service, it’s likely inappropriate, but the sentiment is appreciated anyway, Detective.”

She inclined her head, a concession to that bit of truth. “Still, I’d probably still be standing there like an imbecile if it wasn’t for you. I don’t give thanks or praise easily, so I would cherish this if I were you.”

“You just needed the proper motivation, that’s all. I find that appealing to one’s baser instincts often helps.”

His words tripped her up slightly -- a slight hesitation in her step, allowing his longer strides to propel him to the door faster and giving her a moment to watch the way his vest hiked up and showed the plaid shirt underneath twisting its way to freedom from his well-worn jeans as he pulled open the door. “Indeed it does,” Regina murmured, following him inside.

“You’re not taking the qualifications here then, are you?” Robin asked on her second week with the .9mm.

Regina shook her head. Last week had been difficult, but he’d insisted on competing with her again to get her used to the feeling again. She’d gone three rounds with him before asking if she could take some shots by herself.

This week, she’d begin and end alone.

“We have a facility,” she explained. “It’s too... much, though. For this. I like the space to practice, to get used to things again.”

“No one watching too closely,” Robin suggested.

“Present company excepted.”

He chuckled at that and Regina slid the earmuffs on. The weight of the gun in her hand felt more comfortable now, the knowledge of what came next less unsettling than it had been in previous weeks.

But though her finger tightened on the trigger, she couldn’t pull.

Hot fury burned through her, angry at herself and her choices and her lack of conviction. Though she fumed, trying to psych herself up for it, she felt Robin’s presence behind her and didn’t jump when he laid a hand on her shoulder. She set the gun on the ledge and removed the earmuffs. “What?” she asked, her voice quiet in self-defeat.

“Deep breaths, Detective. You don’t have to prove anything today. You haven’t signed up for a test. It’s just practice.”

“But I do,” she said. “If nothing else, I have to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can get past--” She broke off. She hadn’t told him -- anyone, save for her captain and the precinct’s shrink -- why she’d been pulled from field work. She took a breath. “A year ago, a man kidnapped his own children. He didn’t have custody. I had the lead on the case, tracked him down. He got violent -- with us, not the children, but used them as human shields. The boy was my own son’s age, so pale and scared... I froze up. Someone else took the shot, took out the father, and they got the kids out relatively unharmed. I don’t... generally my line of work doesn’t deal with many children. Special Victims gets the brunt of it. This was a special circumstance, and I think realizing that my son is just as likely to be hurt, or that I could leave him an orphan again...”

“It got to you,” Robin said.

Regina nodded. “I adopted Henry when he was just a few days old. It’s been just me, though my brothers help when they can. It’s good for him to have male role models in his life, though I question Killian sometimes. I know they’d care for him if something happened to me, but I’d rather not have to put my son through the loss of a third parent.”

Robin’s hand was warm on her shoulder. “I understand. My wife died in childbirth several years ago, complications. I would do anything -- fight my way back from the seventh layer of Hell -- to ensure my own son isn’t left alone in the world. It’s commendable that you’re even trying this. I’m not sure I’d be able to.”

“I’m practically being forced,” she admitted. “But I admit that I’ve been getting bored sitting at a desk all day. I’d do a lot more good by being in the field again, and I wouldn’t have to threaten junior officers every other hour for missing steps in policy and procedure.”

She felt Robin’s soft chuckle more than she heard it, a soft vibration just behind her. He was close enough that she could easily detect his woodsy scent. “Funny, you seem the type to enjoy threatening someone.”

Regina smiled wryly. “On occasion. Though it loses its enjoyment after too much use.”

“I see. Well, then to preserve what good is left in the world, I suggest you buck up, Detective Mills. The bad guys won’t arrest themselves, and perhaps after this I’ll let you buy me that drink,” Robin said, and he stepped back.

Regina looked behind her, raising an eyebrow. “After I arrest someone, or after I empty this magazine?”

He gave her what could only be described as a cheeky grin. “Whichever happens to come first, Detective.”

Her other eyebrow went up and she couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, if I’m going to be buying drinks, you’d better start calling me Regina.”

She settled the earmuffs over her ears once again and hefted the gun. She raised it, lining up the sight with her target at the far end of the range.

She took a deep breath, and fired.

#outlaw queen #oq ff #oq fanfic #outlaw queen ff #outlaw queen fanfiction #ouat ff #idoltina #amanda writes #gun cw #i don't knowwwwwwwww #you ever just have a scene in your brain and then you're like 'well yeah gotta write that now #that was this #just a scene blooming in my brain

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