#They and the other nice barista with the cool nails are my favorites and they were both there today

[chronomally]

The barista at my favorite coffee shop gave me a free coffee today so we will have a spring wedding

[marsbutterfly]

Hey ! How are you ? Can I request an imagine for Hanji x f!reader where they both get reincarnated in modern time ? They both died side by side during the rubbling and when they get reincarnated they both have memories of their past life (they were already lovers). Reader thought she was never going to see her girlfriend again but one day she finds her by chance.

Take care and have a nice day !

Note: Thank you so much for requesting this. I had fun writing it and the prompt was *chefs kiss* so I really hope you like it.

In Another Life

Summary: Reincarnation is the doctrine or belief that the soul reappears after death in another and different bodily form.

                               Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!                                                      |◁ II ▷|

Cold sweat drips down your face as you bolt awake, digging your nails into the bedsheets. The same nightmare has been waking you up in the middle of the night since you were a child.

In your dream, you are a soldier who battles to save humanity in the fight against titans. Somehow, you always manage to kill the gigantic beings and return safely to the world inside the walls.

Always by your side is a brown-haired woman with glasses, her left eye is missing in most of the dreams. In all honesty, you have never seen anyone so beautiful before and, somehow, you remember her name.

Hanji Zoe.

One day, you stood by her side as the world you’ve once known was being left behind, turned into dust. She held your face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks, the feeling of her lips against yours is vivid and you can even smell the apple she had earlier.

The scream of your comrades echoes through the plane and into your brain but all you can focus on is the image of Hanji’s body catching on fire as the same flames burn down your back.

She hits the ground seconds before you do and somehow you manage to land by her side, hand touching hand as her lifeless body begins to cool down. You don’t have much time to think before a titan’s massive foot squishes your bodies at the exact same time.

That’s usually when you wake up, when your lungs and heart explode inside your chest due to the pressure of the step. When every blood vessel in your body gives in to the pressure and bursts inside you.

You grab your phone, only to realize your alarm was about to go off anyway. So instead of trying to go back to sleep, you simply push the covers aside and begin to drag yourself to the bathroom in hopes of getting your day started.

Not every dream you have is a nightmare. Some of them are about a life you don’t remember living: The combination of joy and fear after joining the Survey Corps, the warmth of Hanji’s naked body against yours, the delicious smell of freshly made apple pie coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

At nights where you don’t dream about that life, you miss it. You miss being around your friends, being able to move around the trees as if you were flying, you miss her. Her deep, brown eyes are all you can think about and time slips away from you.

Once your morning routine is completed, you decide to go for a run in the park behind your house. Since the sun has been out for less than an hour, it shouldn’t be too busy and you’ll be able to enjoy some quiet time.

As the armband slides up your skin, a chilling sensation travels down your spine and nearly every particle of hair in your body rises, even though you can’t understand why. So you simply shake your head and push the feeling down.

Carefully, you select your favorite playlist and check to make sure your laces are tied but before you can actually look, your phone rings loudly in your ear nearly giving you a heart attack.

Without a second thought, you decline the call without even checking to see who it is and you make your way outside.

The cold breeze welcomes you and the sweet smell of the food cart in front of your house hits your nose. Usually after a run, you reward yourself with one of their delicious crepes and that is enough motivation for you to finish your jog.

At this time, the park is the most peaceful place in the city. No crying babies in their strollers or loud business men walking around on their phone, there is only you and maybe three more people.

Your favorite song comes on and you feel the energy pumping through your veins with every beat. It’s the perfect weather for a run and you silently enjoy the calm that washes over your body.

Your mind wanders back to your nightmares and you start to remember the better part of it. The times Hanji would take you to a secret picnic after she became commander or the makeout sessions in the janitors closet.

In some ways, you could even feel her warm skin against yours, her kiss-swollen lips attached to you by a string of saliva. It nearly feels as if you had lived throughout all of it, but it couldn’t be possible.

You’re so deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice the stick on the floor and, when you do, it’s too late and you’re already halfway towards the ground so all you can do is protect your face from the concrete.

The impact itself isn’t too painful but the humiliation is what stings the most. If only you hadn’t gotten that call before leaving your house, you would’ve remembered to tie your shoelaces and therefore they wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the stick on the floor.

This isn’t the first time the woman in your dreams has caused you trouble. In a few of your memories, she would make too much noise when you sneak out and the Commander would eventually catch you.

Ever since you were young and these dreams first started, you’ve been going to a therapist after the other in hopes of understanding what all of this means and why is it happening to you but all came to the same result: inconclusive.

No matter how many doctors you see, no one can understand why you have such vivid dreams about a war nobody has ever heard anything about or creatures that have never once been proven to exist.

With your ass on the ground, you notice you used the word “memories” instead of dreams and for a second you feel as if all air has been sucked out of your lungs by a massive vacuum.

You shake your head, pushing those feelings deep down inside of you and getting on your knee, preparing to tie your laces when a familiar perfume rushes by you.

It’s faint and quick, probably carried by the wind but enough for you to snap your head backwards. A comforting feeling settles in your chest, warm and fuzzy if you could describe it. That’s exactly how the woman from your dreams smelled like.

You notice a brunette in a bright yellow sports bra turning around a bush not too far away, but you can’t see if she’s wearing glasses or if she only has one eye, like Hanji did.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” You say to yourself, standing up and brushing away the dirt from your clothes, “Hanji is not a real person, she’s like an imaginary friend.”

Forgetting all about your fall, you decide to resume your run. The pain in your foot forces you to go a bit slower than you are used to but nothing too serious.

Once you are done running your laps around the park and begin to make your way back home, a few drops of rain begin to fall on your skin, forcing you to rush home.

As you are eagerly awaiting for the crepe you’ve been dreaming about for hours, the owner of the small cart has a sad expression on his face.

“I’m fresh out of batter. My husband just went to grab some more, it should take a little longer than 45 minutes, I am so sorry Y/N.” He says and you sigh, a compassionate smile on your lips and you nod.

“You will save me the first one you make when he’s back right?” You ask and the man eagerly nods.

“Of course. With banana, strawberry and chocolate, right?”

And you laugh, knowing that the only reason why he knows your order so well is because his crepes have been your breakfast each morning since you first moved into this apartment.

Once you are done with the conversation, you rush up the stairs and immediately into the shower. With a washcloth you gently brush the dirt out of your bruised knee, quietly hissing as the burning sensation takes over.

Even though you know you aren’t supposed to do so, you pour hydrogen peroxide on top of the wound and a scream leaves your throat at every step of the way.

“Today really isn’t my day.” You say to yourself as you begin to wash your hair. A few specs of dirt fall to the ground and a prolonged sigh escapes your lips. Everything just seems to be going wrong: rain, no crepe, fell during a run, what’s next? Waiting in line at the coffee shop for over an hour?

As you stand in line, you realize you should have kept your mouth shut. Even though you ordered online, the amount of people surrounding the pick up area was beyond ridiculous and you were definitely getting late for work.

Once your turn finally comes, you thank silently in hopes that you will be able to actually make it in time. So with your chest out and happiness on your face, you loudly say over the many other voices, “Order for Y/N!”

The guy behind the counter looks confused as he checks every cup individually and you watch over him as he does so. He shoots you a sadden and a little annoyed look and you realize that the “Order” button never got pushed.

Your eyes fill with tears of frustration but you brush them away and take your phone out, repeating your online order to the barista on the register and they write it down perfectly.

Your eyes are glued to your phone’s screen while you wait for a message from your boss but the same comforting sensation you felt this morning is back again. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee that reminded you of the trips to Marley or the crowds of different people around, much like eldians and marleyans.

“I have to get this shit out of my brain.” You say, shaking your head and focusing on typing out a message to your friend, complaining and hoping that you won’t get fired today. You worked too hard to get this job and if they let you go over some 20 minute wait, you’ll raise hell on Earth.

“Order for Y/N?” A familiar voice says but you can’t identify from where.

So you walk to the counter, finally putting your phone away and counting the coffees. Your eyes land on the barista’s hand, who carries your regular order. You reach for it and in a split of a second, your hands touch.

The world around you seems to stop and so does your breathing. When you look at her, you realize she is the part of you that has been missing all along. She’s a real person and not a dream. You look at her nametag, just making sure you aren’t going insane and there it is. “Hanji Zoe”

In that minimal touch, you are bombarded by the emotions of a lifetime ago. The first day you met, the first titan experiment you had done together, the first kiss, the first time you’ve had to kill a titan because she would always get too damn close to being eaten alive.

But you are also reminded of the last meal you both ate, the last nose rub, the last time her lips touched yours, the last hand holding, the last breath you both took before you woke up where you are now.

And just like that, feelings you didn’t know were possible for you to have emerged from deep within your chest as if a box that has been sitting deep inside the closet has now just been opened. It even seems like the world has just gotten a bit more colorful.

Tears shine in your eyes as the coffee you just waited so long for hits the ground. With a smile on your face, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her over the counter. It doesn’t take her more than a second to seal your lips together.

Her breath tastes like the hot chocolate she had earlier that day but it still manages to awaken butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach throughout your entire life. It’s not until your phone rings in your pocket that you are brought back to reality.

“I’m so late for work!” You smile at her and rush out of the store, the container with the other cups in your left hand.

“Wait!!” A voice screams from just outside the coffee shop and you immediately turn around to see Hanji, her hat in her hand as she comes closer to you. “I knew something was missing my entire life and….”

“And now I realize it was you.” You two say in perfect unison and she nods.

“Why don’t we start over? This time, without any titans around.” She asks and you smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand.

“I’m Hanji Zoe and I would love to take you on a date sometime.” Hanji meets you in the middle, shaking your hand.

“I really have to go.” You say and a frown appears on her face, you have to fight the will to quit your job and start a nice, little life in the woods with her. Something you’ve always talked about but sadly never got to have.

“I’ll wait for you right here then.” She says, letting go of your hand slowly and you immediately touch the back of her head and bring her in for a long kiss while still managing to keep the cups in your hand still.

This time it was not a goodbye kiss. It was simply the second first kiss you’ve ever had with Hanji and hopefully, it will not be the last.

[max-will-one-day-be-okay]

Ink On Skin Chapter One

Ethan walked into his little flower shop with a soft smile on his face. His leather jacket had done its job of keeping him warm in the harsh winter outside. He sat behind the desk, ready for another slow day.

Set up beside him were flower arragements he lovingly called the ‘Fuck You’ bouquets. While no one did much research into flowers much anymore, he had put together a bouquet full of flowers which gave the message of hatred. He was proud of how much research he had put into them, even if they weren’t his best sellers.

There were quite a few pre-arranged bouquets for his customers, but there were also lists of flowers and their meanings for those who wanted to make their own. Ethan had spent weeks making the list and fighting with auto-correct.

He sat behind the front desk and took his jacket off, the sleeve of tattoos on his arm now showing to the world. He looked at his forearm, where his favorites were. One of the biggest ones was of a spider standing over a dead cthulhu type. Under it in cursive was just the name ‘Webby’.

He traced the picture with his black nail and pictured who had the tattoo. He had only gone into a tattoo parlor once, to get his ear pierced. His uncle Hidgens had surprised him for his eighteenth birthday by paying for it.

He never wanted a tattoo for himself. He had dealt with enough pain back when he was living at home. Ethan just didn’t see the use of having someone stab ink into his skin. The worries of infection always crept in when he even considered the idea. He was glad that his soulmate liked them though, they were badass.

As the day went on, at around noon he heard loud rock music coming from the tattoo parlor next door. He didn’t mind it, as it was his type of music anyways. He just nodded his head along to the beat as he cleaned up.

Ethan looked up when a nervous looking man walked in. He was tall and had casual business attire on. He was slightly bug eyed, but not unattractive. Ethan moved to stand behind the counter to get the man’s order.

“Hey. What can I do for you?” He asked the nervous man, leaning slightly over the counter and resting on his forearms.

“I want to get some flowers for my girlfriend. Well- not girlfriend. I’m asking her to be my girlfriend. That’s why I’m getting her the flowers.” The man rambled.

“Alright, and what kind of flowers do you want to get her?” Ethan asked, looking for a notepad in the mess that was behind his desk.

“Well I was hoping that you could help me with that.” The man admitted. “I don’t know anything about flowers, and I don’t want to make her one of...well something like that.” He nodded twords the ‘Fuck You’ bouquets. “But, I also don’t want to say I love you to her yet. Since- well it’s not like I don’t love her, she’s my soulmate, of course I love her, bu-” The man looked so nervous he might explode.

“I’m going to cut you off, pal. Don’t want you having a panic attack. I’m thinking of a bouquet with purple delphinium flowers, pink carnations, and gardenias. Very romantic and pretty.” Ethan suggested lightly.

The nervous man seemed to calm down and nodded. When he looked up, Ethan swore that if he hadn’t have cut him off the other would have started crying. “Yeah. That sounds good.” His shoulders relaxed.

“When do you want to pick ‘em up?” Ethan asked.

“Is Thursday too early?” He asked.

“Not at all. They’ll be waiting for you on Thursday, and you can pay me the eighty bucks then. Is that cool?” Ethan raised his eyebrows.

“It is more than cool.”

“I’ll need a name for the order.”

“Paul.”

“Alright Paul. See you on Thursday.”

Ethan watched as Paul left his store and smiled fondly. It was always nice to see when someone really cared about their soulmate.

He took inventory and put aside the flowers he would need for the bouquet. After he had the flowers set aside, he went through his little shop and took care of the flowers that needed it. He took the wilting bouquets off of the shelves and put them with the other sad bouquets in the ‘sale’ portion.

He looked outside and watched as people left the tattoo parlor next door to him. People walked out, and he imagined some of them as his soulmate. Maybe it was the nerdy looking guy with the bowtie. Maybe the girl with short blonde hair and glasses. It was hard to tell when everyone was wearing long sleeves.

There wasn’t much else to do that day. A couple on a date came by. A large muscular man with dark eyes and a small red headed woman holding onto his arm. The man smiled and bought her a reasonably priced bouquet of roses. She had kissed him.

Ethan smiled as they left, the sun setting. He pulled his leather jacket on and took a few tens from the register to pay for his dinner. He didn’t feel like cooking that night (he didn’t have anything to cook), and knew of a shitty coffee place that was always open late. He always made sure to eat at least once a day.

He walked outside and the freezing air hit his face. He looked over to notice the woman who owned the tattoo parlor next door locking up as well. He gave her the obligatory smile as he turned the key to lock the door.

Occasionally they would lock up at the same time. Sometimes she would have her little sister next to her, tonight wasn’t one of those nights. He didn’t know much about the other woman, other than that in winter she wore a big black jacket.

He turned to start walking, then noticed the woman walking the same direction as him. Towards the edge of Hatchet Field. Everything was cheaper there. “Where are you headed?” He asked as he noticed her match his pace.

“Beanies.” Was her short reply.

“Me too!” Ethan gave her a slightly goofy smile, which in turn made her lips turn slightly up.

“Well that’s cool.” She said.

Both of them walked quietly, and Ethan was nervous that he had creeped her out, but she kept walking beside him.

Soon enough, they got to the small coffee shop. Ethan held the door open for her and soon they were both in line at the small counter.

Ethan eyed the numerous pastries behind the glass, thinking about what he would want. There were quite a few options, all of which could make his mouth water since he had skipped breakfast and lunch.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the woman in front of him swear.

“Shit. I’m a few bucks short.” She mumbled. She looked up at the barista who looked done with life apologetically.

“I guess I’ll just get the black coffee. Thanks.” She looked down and made a b-line to a table in the back corner.

Ethan stepped up and looked at the short barista “Um, whatever else she was trying to order, I’ll pay for it.” He said awkwardly, handing the other one of his ten dollar bills. This just meant that he would have a smaller dinner. “And I’ll get a large hot cocoa and a brownie.”

“That’ll be twenty five dollars.” She told him, giving him a quick and forced fake smile. Ethan nodded, giving her the rest of the money he had grabbed. He put the last five dollars into the tip jar.

He sat in an empty seat a few tables away from the woman who owned the tattoo shop. Her name was called first and she walked over to the counter. Ethan couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could hear a surprised tone coming from the woman who owned the parlor.

He looked back down at his phone until a hot cocoa was rather forcefully slammed onto the table. He looked up to see the woman holding her drink. It was labeled ‘Lex’.

“What the fuck man?” She asked, setting two plates down. One had his brownie and the other had the worst looking cinnamon roll he had ever seen. He took his brownie.

“I’m sorry?” He tilted his head.

“Why did you pay for the cinnamon role?” She asked.

Ethan wasn’t sure if she was angry, as she sat down at the seat in front of him and started eating. She still had her jacket on, as well as he did, but she had pulled her hair down. It was wavy and went just above her shoulders.

“I just wanted to be nice. And you look like you’ve had a long day.” He shrugged, taking a drink of his hot chocolate. It wasn’t good, as expected. He was pretty sure that they made it with water. Heathens.

“Oh. Well thanks.” Lex looked down, her shoulders relaxing.

“Where’s your sister?” He asked, just wanting to avoid silence for a bit longer.

“With her babysitter. I was booked solid today, and there wouldn’t be time to bring her out for lunch.” Lex told him, digging into her food.

“Want half of my brownie?” Ethan asked her, already cutting it in half. He was used to skipping meals.

“Thanks…” Lex eyed him suspiciously, taking the brownie.

“What?” Ethan asked.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, you know?” Her eyebrows went up.

“I didn’t think you were.” Ethan hated how squeaky his voice sounded.

“Alright then.”

“Alright.”

The two of them were quiet as they ate. Lex had a slight pink to her cheeks and Ethan didn’t know what to say.

They finished as the barista started closing up. Ethan made sure to thank her before leaving. He still held the door for Lex, who mumbled a ‘thanks’ as she walked past him.

He walked back to his tiny and shitty apartment and unlocked his door. He walked in and saw his cat, Greg, sitting next to his food bowl. As soon as Greg noticed Ethan, he walked up to him and started screaming.

Ethan chuckled and walked over to the beat up fridge, pulling a can of Greg’s food out. He pulled the lid off of the can and emptied it into Greg’s food bowl. Greg stopped wailing and began to eat, his fur going flat against his back. Ethan gave him a pat on his head.

When he was sure Greg was content, Ethan walked back to the fridge and pulled the only thing left out. He sniffed the expired milk before taking a long drink from the gallon. Greg looked over with a face of pure disgust before going back to his food.

“Don't judge me.” Ethan spat back. Greg did not respond.

He shrugged and walked back to the couch after he put the milk back into the fridge. It had a week left before he really had to throw it out based on the taste. He flipped on the lifetime channel and pulled his jacket off.

He smiled when Greg hopped onto the couch and into his lap. Greg was the ugliest cat Ethan had ever seen. He had been walking home from the auto shop when he heard meowing. He had searched for the noise, even though it was coming from an alley and pelting rain.

He found a cat with a flat face, mismatched fur, and mismatched cross eyes. He hid him under his jacket and brought him home. He promised himself that he would bring the cat to the shelter the next day, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, after a few vet visits, Ethan had a cat.

He fell asleep with the tv on and said cat in his lap. He woke up at around three in the morning with a start and sweat down his back. His stomach growled and flopped and Ethan took a second to calm himself down.

He didn’t have nightmares often, but they sucked when he did. He stood up, careful not to wake Greg, and walked into the bathroom. He looked into the mirror and admitted to himself that he looked like shit.

He turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stripped down. He stepped under the stream of hot water and closed his eyes as steam filled the shower.

He washed his hair first, using his favorite lemon scented shampoo. He kept his eyes closed the entire time, just enjoying the hot water that was no doubt turning his skin red.

Too soon for his liking, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked to his sink. He ignored the fogged up mirror and brushed his teeth.

He walked out and back to his bedroom where he swapped the towel out for a pair of red boxers and a shirt he was given by his uncle. It was bright blue and had the title ‘Workin’ Boys’ in large print. He wasn’t even sure what that was, but the shirt was comfortable.

He looked at his uncomfortable bed and sighed before climbing under the scratchy blanket. He rested his head on the flattened pillow and attempted to sleep.

When Ethan woke up the next morning, he looked to see a new piece of artwork on his shoulder. He walked into the bathroom to get a better look at it, and his breath was taken away by how beautiful it was.

There was a picture of a beach with palm trees. The colors were bright and the sunset in the photo looked real. Underneath was the word ‘California’ in cursive. Ethan wondered if his soulmate lived in California.

He hoped not. While he planned to leave the state one day, he had barely made it out of Hatchet Field. He was living in the shitty part of Clivesdale, and he was already tight on money. He couldn’t imagine moving to California on his own to find one of the millions of people there.

He threw on a white shirt and a green flannel with jeans before walking out. Greg was still sleeping on the couch and only woke up when he heard the can of cat food being opened. Ethan smiled as his cat sat by while waiting by for his food, his tail swishing slightly over the floor.

Ethan left, making sure to lock the door on his way out. He made sure to remind Greg to hold the fort while he was gone. Greg seemed to understand.

The weather was a bit colder than Ethan liked, but it wasn’t too cold to walk. He walked into his flower shop and turned the ‘open’ sign on.

He sat, watching as people passed his window. At noon he saw Lex and her little sister walk by. Not even a minute later, the little sister walked in.

Ethan smiled at the girl. She had to be no older than nine. “What can I do for you?” Ethan asked.

“Lex said to give this to you.” She told him, holding up a ten dollar bill. She avoided eye contact.

“Well, can you do something for me?” He asked, and when she nodded he continued, “Would you please bring her this?”

He gave her a small pot with hydrangeas planted. Lex’s sister nodded and left to go back to the tattoo parlor. Ethan watched out of the window to make sure she got there safely. He was proud of his choice in flower. Hydrangeas could show thankfulness. They were also prominent in his ‘fuck you’ bouquets because they could also symbolize heartlessness. From what he had seen, Lex’s personality was somewhere in the middle.

He sat back and pulled off the flannel to look back at his arm. Whoever his soulmate was had an amazing artist doing their tattoos. He pulled out a marker and wrote on the arm with less tattoos on it.

‘Hello.’ he added a poorly drawn stick figure waving.

‘Hi.’ A response came fairly quickly.

‘I like your tattoos.’ He told them.

‘Thanks. I haven’t talked to you in a while.’

‘Stuff happened.’ He wrote.

‘What kind of stuff? Got a new pet stuff or lost a family member stuff’

‘Actually both.’ Ethan replied, biting his lip. He wasn’t really lying.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Who did you lose?’

‘Parents.’

‘Oh. I’m so sorry.’ They told him.

‘Thanks.’

The two of them chatted idly until there was almost no room on his arm left to write anything. He pulled his flannel back on and looked at the time. It was about two and his stomach felt almost painfully empty.

Ethan stood up and turned the sign to ‘be back soon’ as he locked up. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and walked to a pizza joint nearby. He was surprised to see Lex and her sister sitting at a table.

He walked over with his large slice of cheese and sprite, sitting next to Lex. “Well hello ladies.”

“Who told you you could sit here?” Lex asked, giving a pointed and defensive look.

“Well when I paid for your meal you sat at my table, just returning the favor.” He replied, giving a cocky smirk.

When her sister didn’t seem to object, Lex let him stay at the table as they ate. Lex was eating hawiian pizza, making him wish he had a few extra dollars to do the same. Her sister had mushrooms and peppers littering her pizza slice.

Ethan talked to Lex’s sister a bit. He learned her name was Hannah and that she was ten. She was really into spiders and collecting buttons. He filed the information away for later, sure that he would find a way to use it.

They walked back to their shops together, all in a better mood than before because of the break for food. Before Ethan could walk back into his shop, Lex stopped him.

“Hey, um, thanks for last night. And the flowers. I guess.” She mumbled.

“No problem toots. Just what I do.” He smiled, walking back into his shop. Maybe if he didn’t meet his soulmate, he had options.

[ohmydcrling]

“ hi !! welcome to masters international, how can i help you today? oh, you have a meeting with __________? i’ll ring them right now. why don’t you have a seat? would you like some coffee while you wait? ”

when you walk into the glittering, towering skyscraper that’s designated to masters international, you’re greeted by clementine petrović. perfectly lined lips smile at you and a melodic voice rings out your name upon entrance. she’s the first person to say hello to you in the morning and the last person to wish you a good night as you leave the office. oh my darling, clementine leaves your lips, and she rolls her eyes at you but she’s still got that smile quirked onto her face. she asks you if the coffee place you always go to finally restocked the roast you liked. they didn’t. she offers you coffee from the special pot meant for the CEO as long as you tell her where you got your nails done, or where you got your suit tailored. you obviously agree and tell her. you didn’t think she really cared that much, but next time you come in with a new suit or a new manicure she asks you about it. is this what being cared about feels like?

name: clementine petrović fc: kristine froseth pronouns: she/her age: twenty-four sexuality: pansexual degree: linguistics, FSU occupation: receptionist @ masters international

spotify | pinterest

↳  positive/negative traits

+ approachable, talkative, open-minded, kind-hearted -  emotional, gossipy, self-indulgent, gullible

↳  likes/dislikes

+ pastels, silver jewelry, iced coffee, flowers -  rain, infomercials, hard liquor

↳  other

birthday: april 1st

sun sign: aries

↳ character inspiration

lottie la bouff, celia foote, karen smith, molly gunn, 

hi, sorry to disturb you, but can you tell me where the office for CLEMENTINE PETROVIĆ is? y’know, SHE’S the 24 YEAR OLD FEMALE EMPLOYEE here at Masters? kinda’ looks like EMILIJA BARANAC if you squint? one of the guys over at I.T. said SHE is APPROACHABLE and TALKATIVE but GOSSIPY and SELF-INDULGENT, does that ring a bell? i have HER coffee order right here.

clementine is sugar, spice, and everything nice. come say hello!

coming from a military father and an alcoholic mother, clementine is the second child of three and one of two girls.

she mostly grew up with her mother, but once her father returned from being deployed he took custody of both clementine and her younger brother lucas.

she grew up in sunny tampa, florida, and graduated from florida state university with a degree in linguistics.

she got an internship at masters international straight out of college and officially became a full-time employee a year after being hired. she’s got a pretty smile so they decided to keep her.

on her resume is; hotel receptionist, dorm room advisor, hostess, tutor, waitress, barista, campus tour guide, dog sitter, instagram model, as well as being self-employed.

the fastest way to her heart is to give her something she can sip or snack on at her desk.

one time during a party she got very close to stripping down during a karaoke performance of britney spears so she doesn’t really drink at company events anymore (if you wanna be the good sumaritan than grabbed her from the stage please lemme know lmao)

her favorite movies are 500 days of summer and uptown girls. her favorite artist is florence + the machine. her favorite song of all time is mr. brightside by the killers. her favorite mobile game is two dots. i dunno!

personality: 

probably the most starry-eyed optimistic person you’ll meet at masters, clem is definitely a glass half-full type. lost your job? now you can pursue your dream job! got splashed on your way into the office? here, you get to borrow the cool clothes from the fashion department! spilled your coffee? no worries, the interns will be doing a coffee run soon! consider it our treat! you know. 

a hopeless romantic. if you ask her on a date she’ll probably be like fuck h.r. and say yes. she’s very gullible, if you’ve got a lothario type (clem is pan so gender ain’t no thang) that wanted to play her they probs did it successfully, but now you get to watch her puppy-dog eyes greet you every morning so. at your own risk. 

she’s not the type to wish ill will on anyone. but that being said, if she’s seen you being an asshole and you get what karma you put into the world, she’ll be like heather duke from heathers during heather chandler’s funeral lmfao. praise jesus! 

she’s very much a believer in the american dream that if you work hard enough you’ll be rewarded (HA.) and so she’s a very hard worker. you won’t see her do her nails at work because they’re already done. you won’t see her fixing her makeup at work because it’s already flawless. you won’t see her taking personal calls when no one’s around because she’s professional and refuses to give people a reason to nitpick her. you really won’t catch her slipping while she’s at work. 

she’s a much more acoustic version of herself outside of the work environment. still very welcoming and still kind of a mom - just way more mellow and there’s way less of her customer service voice. 

anyway idk what else to say about her i feel like i had more to add but now i can’t think of it so~ here’s some ideas for connections but honestly i’m down to figure things out with you by just chatting c:

old college roommate: if your child would like an  ex-roommate from college my girl went to florida state and if you don’t know where your child is from but would like to give them a home c: let’s chat lol 

an ex-somebody: clem has been at masters for around 3 years now so i feel like she’s had to have some encounters with people~ 

[saiilorstars]

It Had To Be You

[Story Masterlist]

Pairings: Barry Allen x Original Female Character

Author’s Note: Hello and welcome to my first OC/Flash story! This story will cover the entire first season of the Flash, choosing scenes I deem important in order to tell the story. A note: for this story, I am choosing to omit the WestAllen storyline simply because I prefer not to make a jealous Iris and problematic relationship with the OC. So, in this story Barry just never had a crush on Iris - they are family.

Summary: Her focus has always been to graduate and stabilize her job - no where in there did that include becoming a metahuman. Left with a side Belén fears, she tries to make a life with Star Labs and Barry Allen. Despite the darkness, the secrets and the fear driving she and Barry apart, it never lasts...because in the end: "There can never be another. It had to be you," they say to each other.

Pronunciation of OC: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.

No real warnings for now!

Disclaimer: I only own my OCs Belén Palayta and Nina Clarke.

Belén‘s face claim: Lauren Conrad.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Ch. 1: Ready Or Not

2 Months after the Particle Accelerator.

A young man stood in the middle of an abandoned warehouse with hands extended on either side of him. He didn't seem very bothered by the seven people standing across him with guns aimed in his direction.

"You need to give it up," one of the men across moved forwards, intending on being threatening but his hand holding his gun shook.

The young man just smiled. "I'm done being used by you and your group, Harold." He flung a hand to the side and as he did the other man, Harold, was thrown to the side. Harold's body hit a metal machine and was effectively knocked out cold.

"Start shooting!" someone else in the group ordered.

The young man smirked and started flinging his hands to the sides repeatedly, deflecting the incoming bullets. He then started pushing the nearby tables against the group along with chairs and other movable pieces of furniture. In no time he had brought down the group of criminals without so much a sweat.

"Finally," he breathed in knowing this was the beginning of his freedom again. He turned calmly away and started for the office near the entrance of the warehouse. There he sat down at the desk and opened up a laptop. He started searching through the internet to see what he could find on a specific metahuman he had heard the band of criminals repeatedly talk about. He hadn't been allowed near any electronic devices unsupervised so he wasn't too sure about his suspicions.

"There you are," he stopped at a picture of a woman dressed in purple leather. Half of her face was covered in a purple mask but the young man recognized the woman nonetheless. "Sister," he smiled widely. "I'm coming for you."

2 Months Earlier: The Day of the Particle Accelerator.

In Central City Picture News, a young woman anxiously stood in front of a printer that was spewing out papers belonging to her mentor. Her long, caramel-colored hair with ombre-blonde tips bounced as she impatiently waited for the printer to be done.

"Are my papers done?" shouted Linda Park from her desk, tapping her fingers along her desk as she pretended to be heavily annoyed. She was actually very amused as she watched her favorite intern try to collect the papers - she always made the funniest faces!

The young woman whirled around to face Linda, looking frantic. "Just one more second, promise!"

Linda mumbled something under her breath then returned to her work on the computer. Though her eyes did flicker every now and then at the ombre-blonde intern just to see how things were going.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, already," the ombre-blonde chewed on her nail until the printer finished up. She cheered and gathered up the papers then ran for Linda's desk. "Done, ha!" she slammed the papers on the desk.

Linda looked up seeming unimpressed with the woman's blunt slam. "You are so lucky it's me and not Larkin or you'd be fired."

The woman widely smiled at the comment and twirled her fingers around her blonde tips, "Which is why I love you the most. You're cool, Linda."

Linda remained blank for a minute or two before she gave an unprofessional snort and laughed, "You are such a kiss ass, Belén."

The woman, Belén, blushed as she laughed too, "I'm an intern, it's kinda what we do."

"The new ones," Linda corrected her then turned her chair for her computer, "One more year and you'll be a reporter. But look, I've got an assignment for you right now that could win you some points."

Belén tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes in thought, "Would this assignment by any chance happen to be another paper that you didn't want to write so now you are going to tell me to do it instead? Because of it is, I'd rather go have another battle with the printer."

"Just do me this one okay? It's some paper that's not on sports and I frankly have a date I don't want to cancel on. Here, take a look," Linda motioned for Belén to look at her computer screen where she had a Star Labs page opened up, "We need a paper on the accelerator going off in some hours. There's some grand show tonight and we need something written," she turned her chair to Belén, "Preferably something fantastic if you could."

Belén blinked and quickly looked at Linda, "C'mon, Linda, I don't understand anything about that thing. I want to help but I don't know how."

"Ask your dad," Linda seemed not to care by the blank face she wore, "Or your brother. They're both freaky geniuses. Just do it. I'm letting you do this so that you can prove you have what it takes to become a real journalist. This is your chance, Belén Palayta. Will you take it?"

Belén's eyes flickered to the computer screen then to Linda, clearly indecisive. But in the end, as Linda suspected, Belén ended up nodding in agreement, "Okay, I'll do it."

Linda clapped and stood up from her chair to go retrieve necessary papers for Belén, "It'll be alright, you'll see."

Belén took a deep sigh as she sat down on Linda's chair, getting a closer look at the news on the screen. She knew very well what Star Labs was intending on doing and while she didn't understand a great deal of the purpose, she was curious to see it unfold.

~ 0 ~

Belén pulled the glass door of CC Jitters and stepped inside with an air of nervousness that was etched onto her face so clearly her friend, a barista, noticed with just one look. Iris West finished handing a customer a mug of coffee just as Belén reached the register.

"Alright," the young barista hurried behind the register, "What's the problem, Belén?" it wasn't often her friend had problems and when they did they were truly troubling ones. She'd learned that only a month after meeting Belén in college.

Belén released a sigh of distress as her eyes scanned the menu above them, "I got an important article to do for tonight."

Hearing that news, Iris smiled, "Congratulations," she knew Belén was closer to acquiring a full paying job and if she was being handed important articles it only meant she was one step closer.

"It's on Star Labs' Particle accelerator," Belén finally met Iris' eyes.

"Oh…" Iris' smile faded as she now understood the dilemma Belén was in, "...and your dad…?"

"Doesn't want me to do it," Belén confirmed her suspicions.

"And are you going to listen?"

"Hell no."

Iris nodded with understanding, "So there's more problems?"

"Oh yes," Belén sighed once more, letting her gaze temporarily fall to the counter, "He knows it's my job. I can't listen to him this time."

Iris reached to touch Belén's arm, having that warm, comforting smile on her face, "Hey, you do what you need to do. Besides, maybe if you come by tonight's show we can meet up."

Belén seemed to take that with a good mood, "Really? You're coming too?"

"Mhm, it's an assignment for class. I'm dragging my best friend to help me understand what the hell they're going to say."

Belén chuckled, "I wish I could do the same with Rayan. I don't understand anything of that science stuff."

"Ah, but you're his twin, make him," Iris pointed at her.

"Yeah, I sort of figured out I couldn't make him do everything I wanted," Belén dramatically sighed. "Besides," she got serious again, "even if I asked him, I know he couldn't come. He has some engineering event tonight at his college. He'll be out late."

"Well," Iris considered for a moment, "If worst comes to worst, you can always borrow Barry. He's such a pushover you can definitely get explanations from him."

Belén smiled and rolled her eyes, "That's abuse and I don't think I want to do that to a guy I've never even met. It's a bit rude don't you think?"

Iris feigned a thinking face for a minute or so before shaking her head. "No, not really."

Belén put on on a scolding look on her friend, "You're evil," she pointed, "And I want no part in it."

Iris rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Whatever you say, Belén. But the offer stands. We'll be there at Star Labs tonight as well if you want to meet up."

"See? Now that I can do," Belén nodded happily, something that made Iris laugh. "Now give me an espresso and I can be on my way."

"Sure thing," Iris nodded back and went to prepare her drink. Belén sighed her worried sigh while Iris left. She was still pretty worried over what her father would say when he learned that in order to do the paper she would have to visit Star Labs on the day the Particle Accelerator would go off.

That...would not be an easy discussion.

~ 0 ~

After her shift ended, Iris headed on over to the Central City Police Department, CCPD, to retrieve her best friend, almost brother really, Barry Allen. As she assumed before walking in, he was busy in his forensics work.

"Hey! I am ready to see this atom smasher smashing," she strode into the lab and stopped beside Barry's table, shooting him one of those nice smiles that really just said to hurry the hell up.

Feeling like he was going to get scolded anyways, Barry came out with the blatant truth, "There was a shooting today. Your dad needs me to process some evidence. Which means I don't know if we're gonna be able to make it to Star Labs."

"Seeing this thing turn on is like your dream," Iris tilted her head, mocking him, "Your sad little nerdy dream. Plus, I canceled a date for this," she made an 'o' when she saw Barry's fries sitting at the edge of the table, "Also-" she quickly grabbed some and started chewing on them, "-I may or may not have told a friend you'd help her with her article on that machine thing."

"First of all, hands off my fries," Barry tried taking back his lunch but Iris smirked and snatched the entire box before backtracking away. Seeing there was no winning with the woman, Barry huffed and plopped back on his stool.

"Was there a second of all somewhere in there?" Iris asked after swallowing down.

"You know I'm okay with helping people but I would prefer if you didn't promise me off to someone without telling me first."

Iris cheekily smiled and returned with only half of his fries, "But that's what you're all about, isn't it? Helping people? She needed help - I found a solution. She's like me, normal, and she doesn't quite understand what's so important about this particle accelerator nor the people who run it."

Barry looked almost offended by that last statement, "People who run it? Harrison Wells' work in quantum theory is light-years ahead of anything they're doing at CERN."

Iris gave him a pointed look, "You're doing that thing where you're not speaking English."

"Okay," Barry got up from his stool again and walked over to a white board. He picked up a marker and drew a dot on it, "Just imagine that that dot is everything the human race has ever learned until this moment."

"Does that include twerking?"

Barry then made a motion to the rest of the space on the board, "That is everything we could learn from the particle accelerator. It's a whole new way of looking at physics. It will literally change the way that we think about everything."

Iris stared long and hard at the board but in the end she made a face and stated, "You gotta get yourself a girlfriend."

Behind them came in Iris' father, Joe West, who promptly warned his daughter, "Hey, leave him alone, he's working."

Iris mocked a sigh and turned to Joe, wearing a smile on her face, "Hi, Dad. Your testing is done," she gestured to the tubes Barry had been working on when she came in.

Barry nodded in agreement, "I think the Mardon brothers are hiding on a farm. The fecal matter I found on the street, it was cow manure, which contains traces of oxytetracycline. It's an antibiotic. There are only four farms in the area that still use it in their feed. I bet you find a very sweet Shelby parked at one of them."

And while Iris didn't completely understand all that Barry had said she did get the most important thing out of it, "Dad, seeing as how Barry solved your poop problem, how about letting him go to Star Labs tonight?"

Joe made a motion for them to leave, "Fine, go."

"Yes!" Iris cheered and gestured for Barry to get going.

"Thank you, Joe," Barry had barely any time to say before Iris dragged him out of the lab.

~ 0 ~

In the popular Star Labs everything was bustling with energy and impatience for the great reveal of the Particle Accelerator. Iris and Barry walked in calmly conversing over Barry's abrupt decision to take a trip to the next city over, Starling City, in secrecy and under lies.

"Did you find proof of the impossible in Starling City, or did you just make my dad mad for no reason?" Iris couldn't help chuckle as she thought back to her father and how angry he was after discovering Barry's trip. He shot out all the punishments Barry would get despite Barry not even living with them anymore.

"Quite…" Barry blinked in surprise, not quite over what he had found in the next city over. But of course to his misfortune, he couldn't tell his best friend any of it.

Iris didn't guess anything else was going on in his mind. She only smiled and kept looking forwards, until she found Belén across them. Giddy to see someone who could understand how confusing all the sciency parts were, Iris promptly dragged Barry towards her friend.

Belén seemed to be intently listening to another, slightly older, woman standing in front of her. The woman was talking rather quick much to Belén's dismay but even that didn't make her interrupt.

"Now, do you think you got that for your paper?" the woman asked after she'd finished her long lecture.

Belén gave a nod but after resigning to her lack of knowledge she shook her head, "Nope, sorry, did not get that."

The woman sighed and looked away. "Belén!"

Belén scrunched her nose and made a frantic gesture with her hands. "I'm sorry, Nina! What do you want me to do? I am way out of my element here!"

"No kidding," Nina laughed.

"Where have I heard a conversation like this before?" Iris teasingly asked upon joining the two women. She looked up at Barry with an almost scolding gaze.

"It's not my fault you can't understand such a simple concept," Barry gave a nonchalant shrug, only irritating Iris.

"It's a bit difficult to do so when you're talking at a lightning speed!"

"I do not!"

"You want to bet?"

"Funny, now it feels like a conversation I've had before," Belén spoke up with a rather amused look on her face, "Isn't that right Nina?" she looked to her friend beside her.

"Right," Nina she nodded, smiling in amusement.

Iris shook her head, sharing Belén's same irritation with their friends. She decided to skip disagreements and go to the happy introduction stage instead, "Barry, this is Belén - she's the one that needed more help on her paper."

Embarrassed Iris had actually gone to Barry with the story, Belén blushed and quickly clarified, "Which I already took care of as you can sorta see," she gestured to Nina, "I also have a smarter friend unwilling to help - wait!" she realized how that sounded badder than she thought it would have and quickly tried mending it, "Not that, not that I knew you would be unwilling to help or anything. I just...I just figured you wouldn't wanna help someone you haven't even met properly. I considered it was a hell of a lot of rudeness…"

Nina liked watching Belén ramble on her in her quirky fits but she decided this moment was not a good one and promptly stepped in to save her. With a hand placed over Belén's mouth, Nina smiled at Barry, "She means it's nice to meet you and would have thanked you for your help."

Belén pushed Nina's hand off her and agreed with a nod, "Yes, that's what I wanted to say. Sorry I couldn't say that in a shorter way."

Barry had found himself rather amused by the ombre-haired woman. He knew what it felt like to ramble on and on yet not be able to make a point. He made a motion it was all fine and added, "I'm glad you found someone to help you. Iris always makes a fuss when her assignments are, and I quote," he raised his fingers and made air quotations with them, "Sciency and complicated," while Belén laughed, Iris smacked him on the arm.

"I don't say that!" Iris nearly shouted.

"It's okay, Iris. I hate them too," Belén said before they would start another banter, "I didn't choose this topic though - my mentor Linda assigned me this paper for next week's newspaper. Says it's my big chance and all."

"You work at CC Pictures?" Barry questioned her, curiously.

"Well, it's kinda a job but not really but kind of," Belén shook her head, "Nope, that didn't make sense did it? I'm an intern," she said before more words found their way out of her mouth.

"And she's almost a full paid journalist," Iris remarked afterwards, "Kind of jealous, Belén."

"Well you know, they hire almost every year. I could ask Linda and see if she would be willing to get you a spot."

Iris' mouth fell open at the offer, "Really!? You think you could do that!?"

"Maybe you can start as an intern or something," Belén smiled at her friend's excitement, "And maybe I can even take a crack at it and torture you as an intern...but you know not really. I don't like being mean."

"Nope," agreed Nina, "She just likes to talk a lot."

Belén mocked a glare but said nothing back. There was nothing wrong with talking a lot. She just sometimes had a tendency to say more than what was needed. And sometimes, that caused some problems with people who didn't know that's how she was.

"C'mon, Belén, if you're going to use me you'll need to be finished before ten," Nina warned then elaborated for Iris and Barry, "I have a night shift at the hospital tonight and I cannot be late. Belén has a tendency to forget things so I can be here far longer than I can."

Disappointed, Belén pouted, "Can we not discredit me in front of someone new?" she looked to Barry, "I do not forget everything."

"Ah, it's okay," Iris spoke before he did, "Barry's late for everything."

"I agree with her," Barry pointed to Belén, "Don't discredit me in front of new people."

"It makes you sound like a flake," Belén blurted what she thought had been a silent thought. She gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes half widened in horror, "I am so sorry…"

Barry didn't look so offended as he laughed. Nina decided it was once again time to save her friend, "We'll see you guys later," she linked arms with Belén, "It was nice meeting you, Barry. And good to see you again Iris."

"Nice seeing you too," Iris waved.

"Bye," Belén waved back but added, "And you're not a flake," she told Barry who struggled not to laugh again, "At least...I don't think you are...are you?"

"Belén!" Nina scolded her.

Belén deeply sighed and resigned to her first bad impression, "I'm just going to leave now. Sorry," she gave an honest, apologetic smile as she left with Nina.

Iris chuckled and looked at Barry, "So, what you think of her? Fairly amusing, right? Nina's a bit more serious but she has her fun side too."

Barry wanted to come up with words that didn't insult Belén but he supposed his laugh was insulting enough, "She's...she's something."

"She's definitely fit to be a journalist," Iris continued, "Some of us - not me," she quickly clarified before she was thought rude, "used to call her motor-mouth Belén. Not me though!"

Barry couldn't help the third laugh that escaped his mouth, "Why? She's...okay, she talks a lot, but it's - it's cute."

Iris' eyebrows shot upwards in suspicion, "You think my friend is cute?"

"I said the way she talks is cute," Barry quickly corrected but knowing Iris it wouldn't be easy to convince her otherwise.

"Barry…" Iris broke out one of her teasing smiles, even tilting her head for effect.

"Iris, don't," Barry stepped away in mild annoyance.

"What? I didn't say anything, you did!"

"I complemented!"

"But you said she was cute!"

"The way she talks!"

Iris pursed her lips together, refusing to leave it alone. Barry shook his head knowing things wouldn't be forgotten if he didn't move away.

"Barry, come back!" Iris whined as he started walking away, "I still need your help!" she rushed after him.

~ 0 ~

After Iris caught up and apologized for her teases, she and Barry got together over the refreshments table and gathered up some drinks. They were really just waiting for the head of Star Labs, Dr. Harrison Wells, to commence the event. In the meantime, Barry tried giving tips to Iris on what to write for her assignment.

"This is far too much for my understanding," Iris finally cut him off and drank from her glass, "Why, oh why, did I ever think this was a good idea?"

"I ask myself the same question," Barry remarked back with a clean smirk on his face.

Iris rolled her eyes as she took another sip of her drink. There was no use in arguing over something she completely agreed on. Instead, she focus on the nice event laid out before them. While she didn't understand much of the Accelerator, it apparently was a monumental step towards the future. At least that's what she got from the chattering she could over hear from other guests. However, one particular conversation began to carry over to her ears and immediately she was disgusted.

Not very far from her and Barry, stood Belén and a young man similar in age. He was just a bit taller than her, his shaggy black hair matching his dark eyes that were laid on Belén with such fury it almost scared Iris if she wasn't more angry with him. She hated him, absolutely hated him. Barry, who had been helping himself to another drink, noticed Iris staring with her angry look and wondered who could have earned one of those at an event she didn't know people in. He followed her gaze to Belén and the young man and of course saw what Iris was frowning at - the guy was almost shouting at Belén.

"Who's that?" he asked Iris after a minute of listening on the conversation.

"Eugh," Iris made a face, "Carlton, Belén's boyfriend."

"That's her boyfriend?" Barry almost gaped at the sight. The previously 'motor-mouth Belén' was silently listening to whatever shouts Carlton was giving her with no trace of that infectious smile she had on earlier.

Iris was glad he saw the waste and sighed, "Unfortunately, yes."

"But he's…"

"Rude? Verbally abusive? Controlling?" Iris plastered on a wide, fake smile, "Yeah, he is. Belén's been trying to break up with him for months now but she doesn't know how."

"Maybe she can try 'I'm breaking up with you'? I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure that could do it."

"How do you do that when the guy has complete support from the girl's dad because he doesn't really know who his daughter has for a boyfriend? Not to mention he doesn't even let Belén speak much."

Barry didn't like seeing someone take advantage of someone else's kindness and especially when the victim looked like she couldn't even hurt a fly. That's the way Belén looked at the moment. It appeared she was trying to put in a word but every time her mouth opened up Carlton had something else to say and shut her right up.

Iris panicked when Barry took a couple steps towards the pair, "What are you doing!?" she latched her hand onto his arm.

"Iris, that's your friend over there," Barry gestured with his other hand, "You're not gonna let her suffer are you?"

"You think I haven't tried intervening?" Iris raised an eyebrow and let got of his arm, "Of course I have! But Belén says to let her handle it."

"Iris, she's being mauled over there," Barry insisted, "That's not like you."

"Ultimately it's her choice," Iris said as much as it pained her. Of course she wanted to rip Belén away from Carlton but even if she did it wouldn't make much use if Belén would return minutes later.

"Maybe she just needs persuasion," Barry refused to let that happen, "Who better than us, right?"

Iris did like the idea of someone else helping her against Belén's 'boyfriend' and who better than her best friend. They worked well together and she was sure she could make some serious progress on Belén.

"Fine," she huffed in the end but quickly pulled out a warning finger at him, "But if you get hurt I won't be held responsible."

That only made Barry more irritated, "He hits too?"

"Well, no, I just meant if you happen to get punched for being nosy then…"

"Right, I'm nosy," Barry gave her a look that told her to reevaluate her statement. Iris rolled her eyes and went towards Belén instead, prompting him to follow.

Belén was in the middle of inputting a response to something Carlton was saying when he shouted again and shut her right up, "You're an idiot! You really think you could hide it from your own father?"

Belén had flinched under his loud tone and desperately wished she could quiet him down. This was exactly why she hadn't mentioned she was coming to Star Labs to him. She knew when he learned he was coming to his job's rival laboratory he would go ballistic. But unfortunately, he had come out of his own accord to check out the competition and happened to have spotted her. Now he was threatening to take her home and tell her father as well, something she had planned to do on her own...but much later.

"I wasn't trying to hide it," she quietly clarified but it was enough to set Carlton up for another shout.

"Then you would have told me or him! You're not a great liar, Belén! Did you think I would be stupid enough to buy one of your pathetic excuses?" he harshly grabbed her by the arm, meaning to pull her towards the door when Belén pushed him off, growing irritated herself.

"I wasn't going to lie to you! I was simply going to wait a bit before I told your or my Dad. And I don't understand what's the big deal, frankly," she crossed her arms, "I'm only doing my job here. Besides, apparently this Accelerator thing is going to do good for us-"

Carlton loudly scoffed, "Don't be stupid, Belén! The only thing that's gonna do is cause trouble. Do yourself a favor and stop being an idiot."

Before Belén could reply, Iris and Barry reached their location and of course intervened on Belén's behalf.

"That's no way to talk to her," it was Barry who spoke first, though Iris was right beside him ready to go next.

Belén was surprised to find the pair of friends with her, especially since she hadn't seen them anymore over the course of the night.

Carlton glared at them, only growing further irritated, "This is between her and me so-"

Iris took her turn at him and cut him off, "You make it our business when we can hear your shouts from across the room. Besides, Belén's our friend and if someone is being rude to her we're definitely going to step up."

Carlton took a step towards them but Barry cut in and blocked any way towards Iris, and in the process Belén. His stern face warned Carlton there was no joke behind his words, "Back off. There's nothing that should ever make you talk to someone the way you are."

When Belén saw Carlton stepping towards Barry she knew she had to end things, "Please, just stop!" she cut in between Carlton and Barry, begging them with words and eyes, "I didn't want any problems!"

"Should've thought of that before you came here, Belén!" Carlton snapped and reached for her arm when Barry put out an arm to block her.

"Leave her alone," he warned Carlton, gently pulling Belén to Iris' spot behind. Before Carlton opened his mouth Barry added, "And leave if you don't want security called on."

Carlton shot a look at Belén who took it with silence, "You know this is far from over," he told her, "Your father is going to want to hear about this."

"Ooh…" was all Belén said as Carlton started leaving, clearly afraid of what would come next.

Iris rubbed Belén's arm comfortingly, "Hey, don't worry."

Belén sighed and ran a hand down her face, "I cannot believe this happened. I really thought I could just get through this and then tell my Dad on my own terms."

Barry turned around wearing a confused, yet surprised, look on his face, "Is your Dad really with this guy?" he knew he had no business asking something like that but with the small moment he met Belén he knew that was not the guy that would fit her best.

Belén sheepishly looked at him, feeling embarrassed he had to witness something like that, "My Dad doesn't really know how aggressive Carlton can get. And," knowing Iris would have something to say about that, Belén looked pointedly at her friend, "I would really appreciate if no one mentioned anything to him - Iris."

Iris rolled her eyes and looked to the side, "I mean, I'm a journalist - I'm supposed to shed the truth!"

"Yeah, on the public not my Dad," Belén gently pushed her then looked back to Barry, "And I'm really sorry you had to witness this, and get rude behavior in the process. Believe me, it won't happen again."

"Can you make that a promise so I at least know my new friend won't be in harm's way?"

"I'm sorry," Belén said quietly before sighing again. The last thing she wanted was to drag people in her own problems, especially people she literally just met.

"What are you apologizing for?" Iris scolded her and earned a look from Barry, "What?" she told him next.

"Clearly, Iris needs to work on her comforting skills," Barry announced and got a small smile out of Belén, something he quickly noticed.

While Iris mockingly glared at him, Belén started fixing herself up from Carlton's aggressive movements, "It's fine, guys, really. It's nothing new to me."

"Belén, why was he so threatening with your Dad?" Barry curiously asked, hoping to change the topic from the bad moment.

"Um, well," Belén twirled one of her blonde tips, "my dad sort of works for the big rival science lab of this…" she gestured to their current spot, "...place."

"Mercury Labs," Barry realized the problem and assumed her father was against his daughter stepping foot into the rivalry lab.

Belén nodded, "Mhm. I mentioned that I this assignment and he went ballistic. He said I couldn't come...so then I kind of snuck out. He's working later than usual so I thought I could get away with it for a while. I just didn't count that Carlton would be here - he works at Mercury Labs too."

"Well then I assume you must really want to write this piece if you went through all this trouble."

At the assumption of Barry's, Iris laughed and looked at Belén, "No she doesn't. She hates the science stuff, like me!"

Belén chewed on her bottom lip while trying to form a small smile, "Well...I mean, I don't understand a lot of stuff but I know this is supposed to help people. Plus, you have to admit the pretty lights are cool."

Iris made a noise and shook her head, "Typical. The one moment I have someone on my side and she sways."

Belén chuckled and sobered up rather fast, "Thank you," she told both kind best friends, "I'm really only used to thanking Iris," she added afterwards, "So extra thank you to you, Barry."

"Well that's Barry for you," Iris gave a light shrug, "Always trying to help people."

Before Barry could remark on his embarrassment thanks to Iris, the head of the event, Dr. Harrison Wells himself, began walking up the platform at the center of the room to address the crowd. Immediately there was some applause from the crowd as all attention turned to him.

"Thank you," Wells addressed the cheering, "My name is Harrison Wells. Tonight, the future begins. The work my team and I will do here will change our understanding of physics. Will bring about advancements in power, advancements in medicine, and trust me that future will be here faster than you think-"

Unfortunately, someone decided to pickpocket Iris' bag at that moment and snatched it right off her shoulder. Iris barely felt the blow before she realized her bag was gone, "Hey!" she cried, "My laptop! It's got my dissertation."

Without a second thought, Barry ran after the thief in hopes to get the bag back. While Iris was in distress, Belén was stunned at the quick action Barry had taken on.

"Wow, he really does like to help," she said before Iris took off in the direction of the thief and Barry, "Iris, stop!" she went after the woman.

But by the time the two caught up with Barry and the thief, the thief had run off only to be arrested by a police officer. Barry, in the meanwhile, had received a good punch across the face.

"Barry, are you okay?" Iris asked for the tenth time after the whole fiasco. The three stood not too far from where the teen thief was being pushed into a police car by an overexcited cop.

"Who is that?" Belén wondered as the blonde man happily chattered with a fellow companion over what she assumed was his arrest.

"And why is he so excited over catching a mugger?" Iris crossed her arms, scrunching her nose in dislike.

"He's a transfer from Keystone," Barry told the two women, "Started a few weeks ago. Eddie Thawne."

"Oh, that's Detective Pretty Boy," Iris realized from the stories her father had told him not too long ago, "That's what my Dad calls him. Says he actually keeps score when it comes to arrests."

"He is pretty though," Belén blurted and flushed as she looked at the two beside her, "I mean, not that you guys aren't...or…" but she then thought that last 'or' made it seem like she was lying and of course she wanted to clarify, "And by the 'or' I simply meant - or thought - that maybe you guys don't go by 'pretty' and maybe…" she knew she was only rambling on and it wouldn't get better from there. With a big sigh, she made a motion with her hands she was going to stop, "I think it's time for me to go home before I say something more stupid."

"I'd rather have you say more stupid stuff than have to defend you from some guy," Iris gave her a side hug.

"I think Barry's right, you're not very good at comforting people," Belén made a face that made Barry laugh.

Iris wasn't very amused and simply huffed, "Go home, Belén."

"I will," Belén raised a hand in solemn promise, "I have to go finish writing this paper for Linda anyways."

"Linda Park?" Barry recalled the name from the several sports articles the woman wrote. "That's your boss?" the more he learned about Belén the more impressed he was of her.

Belén nodded, "Yup! Good ole, sometimes flaky, Linda. She got me into the internship years ago and she's set to be my mentor when I start on the job for real. Anyways, I really have to go. Thank you both, and it was nice meeting you, Barry."

"Likewise," Barry nodded and gave her a polite shake of hands. Belén smiled back and started off on her way home.

~ 0 ~

Arriving at home and seeing her father wasn't back yet was a big relief for Belén. She would have some time coming up with an excuse as to why she was at Star Labs. Though it wouldn't make much of a difference and her Dad would still be upset, Belén figured it was better if she came up with things to say.

"Rayan?" she called as she dropped her bag over the kitchen table, "Rayan? Are you back yet?" she called for her twin brother numerous times until she concluded he was not home either. She wasn't very surprised since he had told her earlier in the day he would be arriving later that day. Still, she'd had hope he would've came back so he could give her a final edit on her paper when she finished.

After grabbing her laptop from her room upstairs, Belén settled down at the kitchen table to write up her paper, using things she'd gotten from Nina before she left and her own thoughts. She just hoped Linda wouldn't be so picky with the final version.

~ 0 ~

Barry had arrived back to his lab in the precinct to continue with some more assignments he'd left behind. Upon arriving, he turned on his television to follow the particle accelerator's progress. He left the television to go to his wheeled-pinboard where all the information he had gathered anything he could from his mother's murder case. Every day or so he would revisit the information he had, hoping to find something he had missed.

But every day, it was the same - there was nothing new on the closed case.

~ 0 ~

Belén flinched when raging thunder crackled up in the sky. She got up from her chair in the kitchen and walked to the glass backdoor to peer outside. It was pouring rain yet she wasn't too concerned with that. Her eyes had settled on the 'pretty lights' of the Accelerator she could manage see. Curious to see just how beautiful the lights were in reality, Belén slid the glass door open and stepped out. She shivered under the cold water hitting her skin but that didn't stop her from walking further through the backyard. She only stopped to pick up one of her prized Azalea flowers that had fallen from her Azalea bushes. She couldn't risk her young nephew coming by and picking up one of the fallen poisonous flowers.

"Blasted rain," she muttered and glanced to her the Azalea's she planted long ago. She loved her flowers but specifically the Azalea for its hot pink appearance - her favorite color may or may not have been pink.

Belén placed the flower in her blouse's front pocket and came to a stop in front of the big tree at the center of the yard. She knew it was stupid, and childish, but she began climbing it.

"Oh, if Dad could see me right now," she made a face as she wondered how irritated her father would be upon seeing her drenched and up a tree simply for lights in the sky. She would be sure to get down before he returned, she promised herself.

~ 0 ~

Barry was still looking over his mother's case information on the board when he heard alarming news from the television.

'Wait, we are now being told to evacuate the facility. The storm may have caused a malfunction to the primary cooling system. Officials are now trying to shut down the particle accelerator. But so far have been unable to regain…'

Barry looked back at the television only to witness the power being cut off. He went to go close the canopy as soon as he heard a loud, violent explosion from across the city - assuming it to be Star Labs. Though he tried to remain calm it went to hell the moment he saw all the chemical liquids around the room begin to rise from their containers...just like it had happened when he was a child only minutes before his mother was murdered. By staring at the liquids in almost awe, he missed the shock-wave from the Accelerator coming towards him. At the same time, lightning struck down on him. He was thrown across the room, hitting a shelf and coming to a drop on the floor.

That was the last thing he would be seeing, or remembering, for the next nine months.

~ 0 ~

Belén had missed the calls her father was leaving for her in both the house phone and her cellphone due to the fact she was sight seeing. She took out her flower from her pocket and tried re-assorting its crushed petals. She hated when the petals would get crumpled. She took great care of them for a reason yet mother nature seemed to be against her. However, at the loud explosion she snapped her gaze back up and was horrified to see the burst of energy. Even more horrified, and now terrified, she felt when she saw the shock-wave coming straight towards her.

"N-n-n-n-n-n-n-no!" she cried as she tried to beat the shock-wave and get down from the tree. It was, of course, impossible and so the only thing she did was scream when the shock-wave pushed her off the tree. Her back violently hit the grass but by that time she was had passed out. Her lonesome azalea had landed on her palm.

There was no one to see it make contact with the grass bits underneath between her opened fingers which then merged together on her skin.

~ 0 ~

Dr. Nina Clarke was overwhelmed with all the incoming patients coming into the ER thanks to the outcome of the Particle Accelerator. She was barely getting a breather when the doors flung open and two of her co-workers urgently pushed in a new patient over a gurney.

"Oh my God…" her eyes went wider when the patient's best friend came in seconds later, "Iris?" she rushed to keep the woman from entering the bloc where the other workers were bringing Barry in.

Iris was in tears and almost incoherent but she still managed to explain a little to Nina, "Lightning! Explosion and Barry, he, he was...lightning!"

Nina blinked and put herself in front of Iris, "Okay, I'll go in and I promise we'll do our best. Stay with your dad and I'll be back, okay?"

Iris tried controlling her radical breathing and sobs as best she could but it was almost impossible. She had been terrified to receive the call from the CCPD telling her of Barry's accident. Her father had been taking care of a case and was offline for a bit so the dilemma fell on her. She thought perhaps things would get better knowing that Belén's good friend was helping out in Barry's case. Of course her tremors skyrocketed all over again when she saw none other than Belén being hurried off into the bloc as well. Her father came running afterwards, also hysterical.

Iris dropped dropped her hands from her face and rushed towards the man, "Mr. Palayta? What's going on!?"

"Iris," Belén's father was somewhat relieved to see a familiar face, "Belén...she, she was, I don't know what she was doing but she was injured from this Accelerator. Now she's off in there," he motioned to the closed doors of the bloc, "in danger of paralysis, head trauma, coma - I don't know!"

Iris' lip quivered as she turned away from Belén's father. In the same night her best friend and her college friend had been harmed and pushed to the same borderline of life and death.

~ 0 ~

3 Months after the Particle Accelerator explosion.

In a liquor store, a woman in purple leather, with a mask covering half her face, was in the middle of threatening a cashier. "Hand over the money unless you wanna die in a really nasty way."

The poor cashier shook as he reached for the register. At the same time however, the door of the liquor store was flung open, off its hinges actually.

"What the!?" the woman in purple turned to the threshold with both palms extended.

A young man walked in with a mask over his face. He raised his hands and flicked his fingers to the sides, knocking down the security cameras from the ceiling. The woman in purple shot forwards a purple mass from her palms but the man deflected the masses to the sides with another flick of his hands.

"Come now, sister, is that the way to greet me?"

The woman in purple was in horror to see after the young man threw the mask off his face. "Y-you're...you're supposed to be dead..."

The young man smirked. "And you're not supposed to be a criminal but here we are...Plasticine?"

[synthfolks]

well babe u asked for it!!!! Do them All!!!

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?prolly jude2. Are you outgoing or shy?depends on context3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?gf when break starts4. Are you easy to get along with?on some level but i dont think im easy to be friends w5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?6. What kind of people are you attracted to?creative ppl w curly hair who make me laugh7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?idk8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?hh. my friend nick9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?not rly honestly, i just worry about making others uncomfortable10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?jude11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?“I can’t decide whether to tell you to do odds or evens12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?get innocuous- lcd soundsystem, american guilt- unknown mortal orchestra, fear o the light- katie dey, kaputt- destroyer, nervous young inhumans- car seat headrest13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?yess14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?on some level15. What good thing happened this summer?spent a lot of time w friends and gf16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?ye17. Do you think there is life on other planets?somewhere yeah, not necessarily intelligent life tho18. Do you still talk to your first crush?first real crush occasionally yeah19. Do you like bubble baths?yeah20. Do you like your neighbors?i live in a dorm but yeah21. What are you bad habits?biting nails, talk too much, messy22. Where would you like to travel?south america23. Do you have trust issues?lol24. Favorite part of your daily routine?coffee25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?thighs26. What do you do when you wake up?lay in bed forever, then get some coffee27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?idc28. Who are you most comfortable around?jude rn29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?yeah30. Do you ever want to get married?it’s not like a goal but it’d be nice31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?ya32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?beck (not rly)33. Spell your name with your chin.not gonna do this w my roommate sitting here34. Do you play sports? What sports?climbing obvs35. Would you rather live without TV or music?tv36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?usually37. What do you say during awkward silences?idk fucking ramble or complain about something38. Describe your dream girl/guy?idk kind funny patient w me 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?thrift stores, in terms of brands i like prana40. What do you want to do after high school?im in college!41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?no42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?im bothered by smth, or im just chilling, or im out of it43. Do you smile at strangers?ya44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?ocean45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?who knows46. What are you paranoid about?lol!47. Have you ever been high?ya48. Have you ever been drunk?ya49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?i dont think so 50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?no idea51. Ever wished you were someone else?always52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?i wanna be better at making and having friends53. Favourite makeup brand?nyx dude idk54. Favourite store?idk55. Favourite blog?climbsbian56. Favourite colour?blue57. Favourite food?idk but i rly fucking love thai food ive eaten it 4 days this week58. Last thing you ate?chocolate59. First thing you ate this morning?some weird bougie candy 60. Ever won a competition? For what?climbing comps!61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?both for self harm62. Been arrested? For what?nah63. Ever been in love?yeah64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?rly liked this girl in 8th grade, spilled that i liked her during truth or dare, we both went to another friend’s house for a sleepover and in the middl of the night she kissed me and we made out for lke 30 min while our other friend was 6 inches away from us. we thought she was asleep but she wasnt65. Are you hungry right now?sorta66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?sometimes67. Facebook or Twitter?neither but i use twitter even less than fb68. Twitter or Tumblr?tumblr69. Are you watching tv right now?no70. Names of your bestfriends?hanae, i’d say jude71. Craving something? What?titty72. What colour are your towels?white72. How many pillows do you sleep with?1 but i have a ton more on my bed73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?no74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?idk maybe 20 somewhere back home75. Favourite animal?dogs?76. What colour is your underwear?blue77. Chocolate or Vanilla?chocolate78. Favourite ice cream flavour?any sorta chocolate79. What colour shirt are you wearing?gray80. What colour pants?navy pajama pants81. Favourite tv show?idk probs the good place atm82. Favourite movie?idk83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?mean girls84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?ive only seen mean girls85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?the goth lesbian86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?um87. First person you talked to today?barista88. Last person you talked to today?some person in the common room, texting jude tho89. Name a person you hate?zach90. Name a person you love?jude91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?honestly would love to punch my friend/boss. but then be cool after92. In a fight with someone?no93. How many sweatpants do you have??94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have??95. Last movie you watched?i literally can’t even remember96. Favourite actress?idk man97. Favourite actor?“98. Do you tan a lot?not rly99. Have any pets?dog bodhie!100. How are you feeling?kinda overwhelmed101. Do you type fast?yeah102. Do you regret anything from your past?so many things!103. Can you spell well?yeah104. Do you miss anyone from your past?yeah105. Ever been to a bonfire party?yeah106. Ever broken someone’s heart?yeah107. Have you ever been on a horse?yeah108. What should you be doing?school project109. Is something irritating you right now?my relationship w 2 of my friends110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?ya111. Do you have trust issues?ya112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?jude? almost cried in front of a psychiatrist today113. What was your childhood nickname?emenator or em114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?ya115. Do you play the Wii?used to116. Are you listening to music right now?yeah117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?yeah118. Do you like Chinese food?yeah119. Favourite book?hard question!120. Are you afraid of the dark?not rly121. Are you mean?sometimes122. Is cheating ever okay?sometimes123. Can you keep white shoes clean?no124. Do you believe in love at first sight?not rly125. Do you believe in true love?idk!126. Are you currently bored?kinda127. What makes you happy?climbing128. Would you change your name?mm idk129. What your zodiac sign?gemini130. Do you like subway?it’s fine131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? im lesbian and lets not get into this132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?prolly jude133. Favourite lyrics right now? h134. Can you count to one million?hypothetically bruh it takes literally days135. Dumbest lie you ever told?idk136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?closed137. How tall are you?5′6.5″138. Curly or Straight hair?wavy139. Brunette or Blonde?in between140. Summer or Winter?summer141. Night or Day?night142. Favourite month?june143. Are you a vegetarian?no144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?dark145. Tea or Coffee?coffee146. Was today a good day?it was fine147. Mars or Snickers?snickers148. What’s your favourite quote?idk it’s all the hard questions ig149. Do you believe in ghosts?sort of150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? an unfamiliar city and get home through the wilderness, in case

[musikat18]

Follow Your Arrow: Valentine’s Special! (Cupid x Reader)

Pairing: Cupid/Reader

Summary:

Warnings: Myth jokes, language, brief mention insinuating intimacy, pining, mother-son frustration, dates gone sideways

A/N: This was a joy to write! I’m really glad with how it turned out, and I hope you all enjoy today, even if Cupid is your date today. Enjoy~

You closed your umbrella with a huff as you ducked in the door of your favorite cafe. Ambrosian Delight wasn’t a big chain like Starbucks, but you appreciated the homey feel of the place and the kindness of the employees. You stayed out of their drama (whatever the fuck was going on behind that counter), and they stayed out of your work space in the corner of the cafe.

You frowned up at the menu, trying to decide what to order for that afternoon. The rain had made it rather chilly, though it was still not really the best season for warm drinks. You made your decision and looked back in front of you, expecting your usual barista with the pretty pink ombre in her hair and the lovely, shifting eyes, but you were instead greeted by an unfamiliar face.

He was taller than you, with blond hair that fell just so around his temples and warm, hazel eyes that contrasted his broad shoulders and slight stubble. He must have been new, you decided upon seeing his nametag-- it looked like it had been quickly changed, and all you could read on it was what you decided looked like ‘Ross.’

“Y/N!” your usual barista grinned, poking into the man’s sides with her pretty golden nails, making him lurch with surprise and mild disdain. “I see you’ve met my son~”

This was Rose’s son? That was impossible. She looked so young and full, not even that much older than this man. You tried to look as non-judging as possible as you nodded at her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. “Do you normally work here?”

“Not really,” he said, shooting his mother a look that screamed beat it. “This is my first day here.”

You smiled, but you were oblivious to the look of betrayed realization that passed Ross to Rose, and the proud smirk that she shot back at him.

“Well, I come here, a lot,” you said. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.”

“That sounds great,” he grinned. “Like, you’re all normal and stuff. My mom can be a little overbearing.”

“Don’t worry, I’m an easy customer,” you laughed. “Just a green tea latte and a croissant.”

He charged you for the beverage and snack, and you felt honey eyes on your back as you ventured into your corner and opened your laptop.

Your fingers moved delicately across the keyboard as you weighed every word in front of you as you typed; writing wasn’t easy, after all, and you wanted everything to be just right for this sample chapter for your boss.

“Green tea latte and croissant?” Ross had a blindingly charming smile as he brought you your order; your stomach felt warm at the attention.

“Thanks,” you returned his kind expression and went back to your typing. The blond man hovered just a ways away, not quite looking to head back behind the counter, yet. He was about to ask you about your clacking keyboard when your phone buzzed in your bag-- it was your sister.

“Hello?”

“I think I got one for you,” she said, sounding excited on the other end. You had to stifle the tired huff in your breath.

“And, pray tell, who exactly are you trying to set me up with this time?”

“Listen, we’ve been friends for a really long time, and he says he’s always wanted to meet you.”

“I’m not going on another blind date,” you crossed one leg over the other under your table. “Those have literally never gone well for me.”

“This one could, though!”

“I’m walking decent-human repellant,” you frowned. “It’s going to be another mess.”

“How do you know until you try?”

You sighed.

“Look, I’ll think about it. Can we just not do this now? I’m trying to focus.”

“Sorry, sorry. Fine. Just let me know, okay?”

You hung up your phone, and it was that moment that you realized that the apparent newest employee was still lingering in your corner.

“I take it your friend’s just as pushy as my mom,” he chuckled. In any other circumstance, you would have scolded him for eavesdropping, but there was something about this guy’s aura...something that made you feel comfortable.

“Sister, but I guess they’re not that different,” you laughed. “She’s been trying to get me on blind dates...she fancies herself quite the matchmaker.”

He didn’t seem quite all there as he mused, “Yeah...Mom’s the same way...though I’ve set up way more happy couples. It’s an art, kind of.”

“Impressive,” you complimented. “You must have a real Cupid touch.”

He let out a hearty laugh; it made you smile, knowing that someone appreciated your sense of humor.

“I...guess that’s a good way of putting it,” he said once he caught his breath. There was a silence between you two, though not an uncomfortable one. It felt full and warm, though that might have just been the way his pretty eyes were giving you that admiring look.

“Anyway…” he snapped himself out of it, “enjoy your… drink and stuff.”

You gave him a tiny smile and a nod as you returned to your work, and he nearly felt guilty accepting it. This was something he was going to have to take up with his mother….

-

He didn’t want it to look like he was looking specifically for you, though he couldn’t disguise the way he straightened his posture when you walked in the door.

“Hi,” you waved, walking up to the counter. A month had passed, and ever since Ross started serving you at the cafe, things had totally turned around for you, in spite of your underlying state of stress a few weeks earlier.

“So, Mom said your blind date didn’t go so hot,” Ross leaned on the counter. “What...happened, exactly?”

“Well,” you recounted, scrunching your face as you tried to recall the events of the attempted date the week before, “I wasn’t going to go...I told my sister I...wasn’t really feeling it, anyway. But I went, since it was one of her friends. You’re never going to believe what he said to me.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he never wanted to try the date in the first place and walked out on me as soon as I sat down!”

He made a face that looked shocked enough but had just an edge of guilt, “That’s disgusting! I can’t believe he’d do that to you.”

“It made my sister back off on the blind dates entirely, and it was more time to work on my sample packet,” you shrugged, adding with a beaming smile. “Which, my boss loved, by the way.”

“That’s great,” he congratulated.

You felt shy, “Yeah...normally I hate writing romance...but I’ve had a lot of inspiration pushing me that way, lately. I guess it’s just the season.”

You swore you saw a gentle flush on his cheeks as he quickly diverted the topic, “So...can I interest you in one of our seasonal sugar arrow cookies?”

You followed his gaze to the pastry case, where in between the muffins and croissants, there were two neat rows of delicious-looking cookies. They were simple enough cut-outs in the shape of stylized arrows, with a heart-like tip and artistic indents along the tail that looked as wispy as real fletching. A thin layer of icing coated the sweets, airbrushed with gold and tinted with luster dust. They did look well-made and good enough to eat, but your restraint was stronger than your sweet tooth.

“No thanks,” you said politely. “I’m just here for a drink and a sandwich. They look great, though, did you make them?”

He tried to hide the slumping of his shoulders, “I designed them. My mom’s the baker...she’s got a lot more kitchen magic than me.”

“They’re beautiful. It’s a really unique design,” you said, transitioning to your order. He rung you up as usual, watching you retreat to your corner, as always.

He felt a little foolish at his disappointment over your lack of interest in his cookies. This is all Mom’s fault.

Though, he had to admit, if it hadn’t been for his mother, he probably would have enjoyed his time working at the cafe a great deal less. He never would have noticed your sweet smile, or thought about your cute concentrative expression as you typed, or have spoken to you enough to appreciate your genuine concern for people.

He suddenly thought, though, if he was going to pursue you in a relationship, he should probably be honest with you about...well, about a great deal of things.

...Only if he couldn’t ensnare you, first. After all, he did enjoy a good challenge.

-

He frowned as his energetic uncle grabbed his espresso, grumbled about the lack of preparation speed, and dashed out the door.

“Keep your cool,” his mother smirked knowingly. “I can feel her headed this way.”

He felt his heart skip in his chest, but he gave his mother an annoyed look, “This is your fault in the first place! Why can’t you keep out of my life and just focus on meddling with mortals?! Do you know how many times I’ve nearly looked like a moron over her?”

“Because it’s my job to know,” she looked sly and prideful. “And I always know. I was just speeding up the inevitable. Don’t look now, lovebug, but she’s crossing the street~”

He snapped his attention to the window; sure enough, your figure was standing at the stopped crosswalk. His mother laughed to herself as he began brewing your normal order. An idea popped into his head; he grabbed a golden pen and scribbled a sketch on the cardboard slide, before he attached it to the cup and poured the drink in, just as you walked through the door. Your arms were full of books and papers and a handful of red pens, but you didn’t look as stressed or rushed as you had on other days.

“I assume this is what you’re here for?” he held up the cup with the drink abbreviation facing out towards you.

“I guess I do come here a lot,” you laughed to yourself.  You maneuvered a $10 out of your pocket and slid it delicately across the counter. “Can you just put that on top of my stylebook?”

The blond man across the counter took a moment to respond, so you peeked your head around your uppermost book to get a better look at him.

“Are...you sure it won’t fall?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want you to drop it all over your stuff. I could carry some of that stuff-”

“It’s okay,” you winked, completely oblivious. “I’m an old pro at balancing acts.”

He carefully topped your stack with the cup, frowning a little as you walked to your usual corner table and set the cup on the table by the top rim.

He had worked rather hard on that little arrow drawing. You could have at least said something about it.

-

“Y/N?”

You looked up from your work over at Ross, who was standing just under a large sign in the shape of a golden arrow, pointing at the farthest right side of the menu.

“I know you don’t work here, but I could really use a hand getting this sign straight.”

Your eyebrows quirked at his odd request.

Actually, he had been acting a lot stranger, lately. Between the cookies and your drink the other day and now the sign, you were starting to wonder if something was going on with him.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why?” you asked, closing your computer and walking over to him.

“Well…” he looked to the side as he fished for an excuse. “You’re taller than my mom. And there’s not really anyone else back there, right now.”

“But it’s already hanging and it looks fine,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve been acting really weird.”

“Weird? Me?” he laughed. “No, I’m good. Been good. Always...good.”

You frowned to the side at his clear lie.

“You know that if something’s going on...you can tell me anything,” you gently insisted. “We’re friends, Ross.”

He gave you a confused, indignant look that seemed laced with jealousy, “Who’s Ross?”

“Well, your nametag...I just assumed,” you said awkwardly. “Did you just get stuck with an old employee’s tag?”

The wheels clicked in his head, and he suddenly felt foolish.

“Shit...dammit, ugh, I probably should tell you...everything, I guess.”

You had absolutely no idea what he could possibly mean and were getting a little scared that he was going to admit to being a secret government agent or something, but instead, he tenderly took both of your hands, and you gasped as the image of the cafe disappeared around you.

Instead, you were standing in a gleaming temple, made of polished stone and metallic accents. There were several provocative statues and a large statue of Rose in full nudity, standing in a shell. Ross-- or whoever he was-- was no longer in a casual button-down, fabric straining across his chest, but he seemed to have eschewed a shirt entirely, instead wearing a kind of gilded leather harness that supported a quiver that sat between two cotton-like white wings, matching leather wrist gauntlets, and hardy sandals. You were almost embarrassed by your staring and gaped jaw.

“My name’s not Ross, and I’m not a barista...but I guess you kind of noticed it, now,” he said, not knowing where to cast his gaze. “I mean, my birth name is Eros, but Mom always insisted on calling me Cupid.”

You wanted to ask something intelligent, but instead your brain spit out, “Why the hell does this temple look like a coffee shop?!”

He rolled his warm, honey eyes, “I don’t know, it’s based on whatever humans see as romantic at the moment. Lots of people like the idea of falling in love at a coffee shop, now, so that’s what it turned into...Mom, can you give us a moment, please?!? This is kind of a lot for a mortal!”

The statue of Rose-- Aphrodite, you now assumed-- had been replaced by Rose herself in a revealing, sheer, airy pink gown. The goddess in question was smirking.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she teased in a singsong-y voice.

Cupid was blushing and glaring at his mother, but you were carefully analyzing the events of the last few weeks.

“Wait, so...arrow cookies? An arrow sketch on my cup? That sign?” you suddenly felt kind of offended, “Were you trying to get me to fall in love with you?”

He suddenly looked flustered for a different reason.

“I...I mean...I might have…” he didn’t seem to know how to explain himself, so he turned to his mother instead. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t interfered!”

“You really do have a lot to learn about our magic, don’t you?” Aphrodite shook her head. “I told you, you two were already supposed to be together. I can feel those things a mile away, you know. I just sped up the process. You know I can never pass up a chance to set up a cute couple. Just ask Helen!”

“Helen never talks to us anymore, and you know EXACTLY why!”

“I was trying to do her a favor, you know that.”

“THAT FAVOR WAS LITERALLY THE WORST IDEA. THAT WASN’T EVEN A FAVOR FOR HELEN. IT WAS FOR PARIS. I WAS THERE, MOM. DO NOT TRY TO LIE TO ME ABOUT THAT.”

“Troy wasn’t my fault, stop acting like it was!”

“Everyone knows it was your-”

“HEY!” you snapped at the quarreling love gods, squeezing Cupid’s hands to regain his attention, “I’m still right here! Doesn’t anyone want to know what I have to say about this?”

Cupid’s shoulders heaved in a sigh as he calmed himself. He took one of his large hands back and scrubbed it over his face.

“Look, if you don’t want to be together...I’m sorry for all of this,” he said, avoiding your gaze. “I can take you back to the cafe, and you don’t have to remember any of this...I can even leave you alone entirely, if you want. This hasn’t all been me, I really do apologize if you were bummed about your blind date going sideways or you’re offended by me pursuing you. I do actually like you...not just because my mom wants me to. I think you’re beautiful and kind and special...so if you want someone else, I’m happy to find a nice, normal person for you.”

A small smile appeared on your face at his endearing sincerity. For someone so dramatic and larger than life, he was remarkably human.

“I...should probably be a little honest with you, too,” you said shyly. “I...kind of like you, too. A lot. How do you think I’ve been finding inspiration for my book?”

Surprise and then realization and then bliss took turns taking over his expression, and he smiled a blindingly charming smile.

“And that’s you talking? Not anything I’ve tried? Or anything my mother tried?”

“I’m pretty sure your awesome drinks weren’t the only thing bringing me back after you started at...whatever that cafe is.”

“Does this mean you wanna...you know, kiss and date and...stuff?” he asked.

“I’d be happy to,” you bounced, unable to contain your excitement. “Do you think...is Valentine’s Day too busy for you? Considering the whole...you thing?”

Cupid frowned in thought, but Aphrodite waved her hand.

“I can take care of one little day for my boy,” she said, looking awfully pleased with herself. “You kids have fun, but gods, be careful, Cupid. You know what happened to your grandfather when-”

“NO ONE ASKED FOR A ZEUS STORY, MOM.”

He was distracted by his mother’s coyness enough for you to surprise him with a kiss. Cupid was quick to respond, pulling your closer by the waist and burying a hand in your hair.

You hadn’t been looking for a fairy tale or a coffee shop romance, but a romantic myth certainly seemed like the better option, anyway.

Tagging: @annathewitch @taylorjacksonandtheolympians @bsotstory @lauuerodz

[mosylufanfic]

All-Nighter

Reaction for a throwaway line and something I felt was missing in Run Iris Run

ETA: I don’t know what’s happening with the quotation marks, I swear when you click thru to the whole thing it’s normal. *glares at Tumblr*

All-Nighter

It being five in the AM, Cisco thought he'd be the first one in. But when he swung into the cortex, the light in Caitlin's lab was on. Her terrible hunched-over position and scowl of concentration told him she was ears-deep in something complicated and frustrating, and there was a fifty-fifty chance she would snarl like a bobcat if he interrupted her.

“Heyyyy,” he said, because he liked to live dangerously. “You're here early. When did you go home last night?” She'd still been working when he'd left.

She lifted her head. “Hmm?”

“Uh,” he said, taking in her Star Labs sweatshirt and yoga pants, swapped from Iris last night, the raccoon-smudginess of her eye makeup, and the four mugs scattered around her lab with varying levels of stone-cold coffee. “No. I'm wrong. You're here way too fucking late. You didn't go home at all, did you?”

“Time'zit,” she mumbled.

“Time for Cait to go to sleep,” he said, going over and trying to pull her up by her elbows.

"Noooooo," she muttered, resisting. "I've got to keep going, I -"

"Need sleep," he said.

"Coffee," she said, looking around. "I just - coffee. I'll be good."

He shifted his morning latte out of her reach. "No. Coffee will prolong the altered state of consciousness that's killing your brain cells one by one. Sleep will be good."

She looked up at him. Her lip trembled. "Nothing works," she said piteously. "I keep trying different things, modeling them in the computer, and I can't figure out how to replicate what Melting Point did or-or-or how to reverse it - "

He hugged her around her shoulders. "You'll figure it out," he said, grabbing the back of her chair and steering her away from her computer. "After you sleep. You want to sleep up here or use Ralph's sweaty futon?"

She made a face. "Disgusting. Up here, please."

"Okay." He wheeled her chair next to the hospital bed. While she kicked off her shoes and pulled herself up into the bed, he pulled the curtains and sang under his breath. "Rock-a-bye Caitlin, in the med lab - "

She snorted, and he turned to see her burrito'd up in the blankets. "You're very sneaky," she informed him.

"Me? I am nothing but open and honest at all times."

"Sneaky," she yawned. "Pretending like it was already a foregone conclusion and I just had to choose which way to do it. The nurses used that technique when I did a rotation in pediatrics."

"Act like a toddler who doesn't want to go to bed . . . "

She growled into the pillow, yawned again, and snuggled further into the blankets. "Wake me up in two hours."

"What was that you said? Four hours? I'm thinking more like six."

"Two hours!" she yelled after him as he shut the door behind him.

He wasn't planning to go in and wake her up, but he also wasn't surprised when the door to the lab clicked open exactly two hours later and she padded out in bare feet, hair a frizzy mess and eyes heavy. They'd seen each other in worse states, so he just double-checked that Ralph was at the other end of the building and didn't know Caitlin was about to get in the shower.

Killer Frost would probably freeze Ralph's gonads if he tried to "accidentally" walk in on Caitlin, but they didn't have time to kick his rubbery ass today. They all had shit to do.

She came back in twenty minutes, in one of the spare Star Labs sweatpants and shirt from the locker by the showers, with her hair all wrapped up in a towel. For a moment, he hoped she was planning to get some more sleep, but she said, "Is that coffee for me?"

"No, they just put your name on it for some reason," he said, passing it over. It was hot enough to toast his fingertips through the cup. When he'd walked in and said, "I need Caitlin's usual, the biggest size you have," the barista had rung him up for a giant latte with two shots of hazelnut without even having to think about it. There were advantages to being such regulars.

"Thank you so much," she said, sinking into his extra chair. She took a deep drink, closing her eyes and visibly letting the caffeine seep through her veins. Without makeup, she looked even more tired and worn down.

He turned back to his project on the screen. "Hey, I had a look at what you were working on last night." It had been in her open server, which meant it was fine if he looky-looed.

"Any thoughts?"

"We have a deal," he said, making some adjustments to his design and considering the effect. "When it gets into high level DNA and whatnot, my main contribution is fixing your centrifuge. But it looks like you're exploring a bunch of options."

She sighed and took another deep drink of coffee. "I don't think I can do it," she said, staring at the lid, flicking her nail across the little notch in the lid.

"You just need some more - " Time. Data. Miracles.

"I was running ideas through the modeling software all night. Nothing. I can't do it. I can't reverse it." Her hand clenched around the coffee cup, her nails digging into the cardboard sleeve. "I said I could and I can't."

He leaned back in his chair. "Are you going to start howling and throwing things and calling yourself too stupid to live because you couldn't replicate a DNA swapping meta's powers overnight?"

She gave him a long, cool look. "No."

"Good. Because we put up with enough of that nonsense from Harry."

She set her cup down. "True." She eyed him. "Although two heads are better than one, and yours is the best one I know, so if you were to help Harry - "

"Flattery will get you everywhere except there," he said. "Not happening. I've told you this."

"Then maybe I should help."

"Are you out of your mind?" She was working herself to the bone trying to figure out Melting Point's powers, and she wanted to add more on top? No way. Not on his watch.

Plus, Cisco could handle the sneering, condescending way Harry talked in the lab, because he'd refined the art of snapping back. Caitlin acted like she could take it, but it got to her. He knew it did.

She still looked like she was about to go downstairs and offer her help, so he said, "You've been working your ass off this year to prove you're a good little teammate and you're valuable enough to keep around even with Killer Frost in the mix. Stop it. You don't need to prove anything."

Her jaw worked. This was the closest they'd ever come  to acknowledging the load of guilt she carried around with her. Her suspicion that nobody had really forgiven her for last May, not really. Her conviction that they were all just waiting for her to betray them, or disagree with someone too vehemently, or simply not pull twice her weight for a split second, and she would be out, gone, booted from Star Labs.

Cisco waited for her to respond.

"I need more information," she said. "More data points. Is Frye in Iron Heights? If I study his DNA and compare it with Barry's - "

Okay. They weren't going to do it today.

"Or," he said. "We could find Matthew Kim and ask him to swap them back himself."

"Do you think he can?"

"If he can't, you'll still have him here to study."

"That's true," she said, but she still looked doubtful. "Cisco . . . "

"Mmm."

"What if he can't? And I can't. And this swap is permanent?"

The idea fell down between them like a stone - an irreversible change to the fabric of Star Labs. To who pushed and who pulled, who ran out into danger and who stayed behind, keeping a cool head and considering the big picture.

It had been weird yesterday, with Barry here during a situation. Cisco didn't know whether that was a weirdness he could get used to or not.

"I don't know," he said, fiddling with a few details. "Iris seems to be doing okay. She trained hard and she jumped into the field even if she wobbled some." He changed a panel's shape, looked at it, changed it back. "Did she say anything to you when you were patching her up?"

"We talked," Caitlin acknowledged. "She was pretty shaken by what happened up there. I think she's enjoying the speed in some ways, but sort of like a vacation, you know? Something new and novel. I don't know if she'd want to do it forever."

"Poor Barry," Cisco said, thinking of Barry's face as he watched Iris run, purple lightning crackling around her. "Sucks to be him right now."

"Yes, it must be hard," Caitlin said. "Disorienting."

He considered her, remembering that the few times she'd pushed back or said no this year had mostly been related to letting Killer Frost out. "Hey," he said. "If we get Kim in here - would you want him to take Frost off your hands?"

"No," she said immediately, without hesitation.

He blinked. "Really."

"You thought I'd say yes?"

"Frosting up still isn't your favorite thing ever, you have to admit that." She was stepping up more easily these days, but he still saw her setting her jaw as she did.

She turned her cup on the table. "First of all," she said carefully, "Killer Frost has never worked quite like any other meta. So I don't know if Melting Point's powers would even work on me. Her. Whatever."

"Okay, say they did."

"Then the issue is different. It's not like the powers dissolve or something when Melting Point takes them away," she said. "They get transferred to the next person he touches. What if you suddenly got an evil alter ego? Or Harry?"

Reverb, Cisco thought, and pushed that away. "Alter-ego Meta Harry might actually be nice."

"Or even meaner." She sipped her coffee again and shook her head. "No," she said. "I don't like having her here, exactly. But I'm learning how to handle her." She grimaced. "And getting to this point has been bad enough. Someone else would start right at the beginning. So no. I wouldn't want Melting Point to give Killer Frost to someone else."

Interesting way of putting it, he thought, but said aloud, "Fair. Very fair."

"What are you working on?" she said.

Subject: changed. "So I got to thinking this morning. Iris is going to need a suit of her own if this keeps up for very long."

She made a mournful face. "My sweater was trashed, it's true. All smokey and torn - Iris felt so bad."

"Yep. So I pulled up Jesse’s basic Flash suit, made a few adjustments and - " He turned his monitor so she could see.

"Purple!" Caitlin exclaimed.

"Cuz of the color of her lightning," Cisco said. "You like?"

"Yes," she said. "Oh. That's a great color on Iris."

"It'll do for a Version 1.0," he said, sending some of the components to the 3-D printer and hitting a few buttons to whip up some dye for the suit material.

She tipped up her coffee and drank the last few drops. "Okay," she said. "I need to do my hair and makeup, and then get back to work."

He leaned down and grabbed a plastic bag. "Hey, I grabbed you an outfit."

"From where?" she asked, taking it. "I've worn all the extra outfits I have stored here."

"Your place. You remember when you gave me your key so I could water your plants?"

"Did you really use the key?"

"No," he said. "But I figured it was carte blanche to breach in when you needed something. Was that okay?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "I'll answer that when I gauge the cuteness of the outfit you picked."

"I think it's very cute," he said cheerfully. "But hey, you could hang around all day in Star Labs sweats if you want." He started to reach for the bag.

She clutched it to herself. "I'll make it work," she said, and headed for the bathroom. "Thank you!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Anytime!" he yelled back, already pulling out the suit material and his faithful dress form.

As he pinned and tacked the Iris suit together, he wondered what Caitlin would do if there was ever a chance to lose her Killer Frost side for good.

FINIS

[terresdebrumestories]

Chapter 2/22: Demon

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: The Shadowhunters Chronicles RATING: Mature. WORDCOUNT: 6 281 words PAIRING(S): Clary Fray/Izzy Lightwood, other pairings to be revealed as the story goes. CHARACTER(S): Clary Fray/Fairchild/Morgenstern, Alec Lightwood, Izzy Lightwood, Jace Wayland/Morgenstern, Magnus Bane, Maryse Lightwood, Robert Lightwood, Jocelyn Fray, Luke Garroway, and most of the other canon characters. GENRE: Urban fantasy with a dash of coming of age and lesbian romance. TRIGGER WARNING(S): - NOTE(S): - SUMMARY: Clary’s life plan from her eighteenth birthday onward is fairly simple: do her internship with her mother at Moonlight Tattoos, become a world-renowed tatoo artist, and find herself a girl she can spend the rest of her life with, pretty much in that order.

The part where she tries to save a girl from a would-be rapist and ends up having to fight demons kinds of throws a wrench into that, though.

(Or: This is what I wish we’d had in City of Bones.)

[Also available on AO3]

“Going out already?”

Clary stops on her way to the front hall, and answers her mother’s worried look with a reassuring smile.

“I’m up for it,” she promises with a gesture at her face and general demeanor, “see? All rested. Besides, you know Aminata’s going to kill me if I miss her first reading.”

Clary has been following her friend to Java Jones’ poetry readings for almost as long as she’s known her, mostly because words are as essential to Aminata’s well-being as pictures are to her own. That spot at the microphone is too much of an accomplishment to let it pass now, especially when the entire country is about to wedge itself between them.

“You only woke up two hours ago,” Jo points out, “are you sure you don’t want to stay here and rest some more?”

Dismissal is Clary’s first reflex—she has, after all, slept more than long enough to feel completely refreshed—but the frown on her mother’s face, when she actually pays attention, is far too deep to be only about that. Clary’s eyebrows rise with understanding, and she makes herself smile again:

“It’s the middle of the day, mom, and it’s not like Pandemonium is right next door. I’ll be fine. ‘Sides, if I stay here I’ll just be in your way—you’ve been on the phone ever since I woke up.”

“With Cat and Luke,” Jo admits with an odd little smile, “I took a day off. More importantly, Luke and I were talking about what happened to you. We think it’d be a good idea to set up an appointment with Dr. Neba.”

“Today?” Clary protests—almost whines, really—before she can think better of it, “But I—”

“No, he’s out of town until Monday,” Jo says in a tone of voice that leaves very little doubt as to her feelings on the matter, “and we wouldn’t book it behind your back, anyway. I just wanted to know if that was alright with you?”

“Oh! Sure,” Clary says with a breath of relief, “no problem. The EMTs said I should get my wrist checked anyway.”

“Thank you. You should also talk to Luke soon. He’s—worried.”

Clary frowns a bit at her mother’s pause, but Jo smiles and, well. It’s hardly the first time she stumbles over English after using Canti with Luke for a while.

(Clary tried to research the language on the web once, but it has to be the most obscure dialect in the world because she never could find anything about it, even after several hours and getting two different librarians involved. Sometimes it almost feels like Luke and Jo made it up between them.)

“Okay,” Clary agrees, mouth stretching over a surprise yawn, “I’ll call him as soon as the poetry meeting is over. Can I go now? I’m already late.”

“Fine, abandon me, you ungrateful child!” Jo mock-whines with a dramatic hand to her chest.

Clary rolls her eyes with a chuckle, checks her purse—keys, water, aspirin and her sketchbook, useless though it’ll be today—and hurries down the steps and through the front door, so focused on getting to Java’s before Ami’s poem she doesn’t even pause for her customary eye roll when her mother yells ‘I love you’ at her from the parlor window.

{ooo}

Running, as it turns out, makes Clary’s wrist throb with pain. It’s not a pleasant sensation, and she ends up walking to Java Jones, the only upside of that being that she gets there mostly sweat free, and she can slip into the cool micro-climate of the coffee-shop with a contented sigh rather than a shiver.

Aminata may be the one who dragged her to the poetry readings, but Clary practically grew up in Java Jones. This is where her mother would take her for treats on the weekend: they’d hole-up in the age-worn couch next to the toilets’ door and Clary would spend entire afternoons alternating between playing with her toys and watching her mother sketch out customers, sometimes adding antlers and wings and scale just to make Clary laugh. Clary’s first subjects, when she started learning to draw, were found here, whether they were customers, the chalk frescoes her mother created for the giant blackboard, or the soft lines of flower-shaped lamps.

Java Jones has a decidedly Art Nouveau feel about it. Curving greens and flowering yellows fill the space above earth-colored wood panel and hardwood floor, and even with minimal furniture it’s impossible not to pretend the place is some sort of liminal space, the entryway to a magical fairy realm.

The difference being, of course, that no one has ever been trapped into the shop after eating their food, but aside from that Clary is pretty confident in the comparison.

She gives Aminata a quick wave when she spots her—nervously biting her nails on the same couch Clary learned to draw on—and walks up to her favorite barista as he serves a couple of coffees. He got a new tattoo—some kind of brown, fur-like thing dripping blood on his biceps from where it pokes out of his shirt sleeve. Clary wrinkles her nose at it when he’s not looking, but she refrains from commenting and just waits for her drink in silence.

At last, she makes her way over to Aminata with a white chocolate frappé freezing her fingers and a reassuring smile on her lips, unsurprised when her friend’s first move is to grab for her elbow and almost spill her drink in the process.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it,” Aminata hisses, the tremor of nerves in her voice almost palpable, “where on earth were you?”

“Had a talk with my mom,” Clary replies as she extracts her arm from Ami’s hands, “she wants me to see our doctor about this.”

Aminata’s face turns contrite when Clary waves her splint in her field of vision, but Clary doesn’t let her fall into guilt and shrugs instead. She’s still nervous, it’s true. Despite her reassuring words to her mother earlier, she couldn’t helps but look over her shoulder on her way here, as if the guy with the blue hair were about to pop out of a side-street and start beating her any moment—but this is Java Jones. She’s known the shop and its regulars all her life, there’s no reason to think anything should happen to her here.

“So,” Clary starts, putting extra cheer in her voice to drive out the awkward silence, “did I miss anything interesting?”

“I think Eric Levinsky’s poem was about you again. You know, ‘fire hair’, ‘concentrated temper’, the usual.”

“Still confusing bad temper and not being a doormat, I see,” Clary mutters, and Aminata snorts.

The guy also fails to grasp the concept of lesbianism, but then he’s hardly the first, won’t be the last, and Aminata isn’t quite as invested in that topic anyway. It’d take too much fun out of the snipping if Clary ended up being the only one with a gripe, here.

Besides, there are plenty of other things to enjoy here. The shop smells like ground coffee and honeysuckle, swaddled in the tang of hot asphalt pervading the afternoon air and slipping inside by some kind of almost-miracle. From the outside, light and shadow play over the crowd, spotting them in warm golds and cooler greens as they mill about the shop with varying degrees of attention for the poets on stage. Even the coming and going of customers toward the toilets isn’t too bothersome tonight. It’s drags at Ami’s nerves, that’s obvious enough, but it’s mostly kept quiet, and the couch is still the best spot for people watching.

Clary sits with her friend in silence and lets the poetry wash over her while Ami’s fingers grip and then slowly relax around her forearm, the lull of words and crowd noises dragging Clary down into the couch and out of her shoes in record time. She’s almost asleep by the time Aminata jostles her elbow on her way to the stage, the host encouraging the crowd to applaud and make some noise for a shy but promising newcomer.

The speech is nice—though the praise would be more meaningful if Clary hadn’t heard it about every beginner poet performing at the readings—and it gives Clary just enough time to readjust her ponytail and straighten up to full attention before Aminata starts reading.

Then a hand lands on her shoulder.

She freezes, back painfully rigid and heart picking up the rhythm as if gearing up for a race, and she has to swallow a whine when she realizes Aminata is too focused on the crowd of listeners to realize what’s going on in the corner. Slowly, without moving her head, Clary glances down at the hand—wide, firm, wrapped in dark, petrole blue leather—and blinks tears out of her eyes. There’s a barista close to her, serving a couple at the next table over, and Clary somehow manages to catch her eye.

The girl—Sarah, her name tag reads—gives Clary a funny look but walks over anyway. The hand on Clary’s shoulder tightens and tugs, and Sarah frowns.

“Everything alright miss?”

“Can you tell this person to leave me alone, please?”

To Clary’s horror, Sarah’s features go from concerned to a confused frown, the shadows on her face turning the white of her skin almost gray when she asks:

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t bother,” a light voice says, a little above Clary’s head, “she can’t—”

“That boy,” Clary insists, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “please tell him to let me go.”

“See me,” the boy finishes while Sarah schools her features into polite disbelief.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t see anyone there.”

Clary wants to tell Sarah her joke is just about everything but funny, but somehow it doesn’t feel like that would make anything better. She breathes in deep instead, and winces in pain when the knot in her throat stings on the way down. Don’t panic, she reminds herself, think.

Maybe she’s just hallucinating. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all, and she’s probably stressed enough for a migraine to come through. She felt fine a second ago but it’s still possible. Besides, she’s never remembered her hallucinations before—they could involve leather clad men for all she knows. She’s probably just being needlessly paranoid and looking like an idiot for no valid reason but...still.

The hand on her shoulder feels real—heavy and strong in a way she doesn’t think she could fight off. There’s nothing here she can use to protect herself, except maybe her ring, but even with that, she’d have to land a punch. she’s not trained enough to take that risk.

In her throat, her heartbeat speeds up and presses against her windpipe until the edges of her vision grow dark and she all but topples forward with a whine.

Sarah yelps.

“Careful!”

“Woah, Fray!”

“How do you know my name?”

Clary does her best to look angry more than scared as she twists around to stare at the stranger. He’s wearing a face mask, and the hood poking from under a black leather jacket obscures the rest of his face, making it impossible to distinguish in the low light of Java Jones. Clary takes a step aside, toward the exit, and hears someone hissing for her to shut up and sit down.

There’s a ripple of murmurs and whispers behind her, and an odd silence where Aminata’s voice should be, but Clary is too busy trying to go through her parents’ teachings to care.

Back to the exit? Check. Hands into fists, thumb over the finger? Check. Stalling for time until help gets there? On it.

“How do you know my name,” she repeats, raising her voice as she backs another step toward the exit.

“Does it really matter?” The guy asks, “Calm down, people are starting to think you’re nuts.”

“I don’t care!” Clary repeats, more forcefully, “I’ve never seen you before in my life—”

“Wha—oh, yeah, didn’t see my face, but I—”

“How the hell do you know my name?”

There’s an aborted sound, like the stranger was about to get frustrated and then decided it wasn’t worth it—then he jumps over the couch, hands reaching for Clary’s left wrist.

She manages to shove her splint into the face mask through sheer dumb luck, and dodges under his arm while he’s distracted. She barrels through the toilets door before anyone thinks of stopping her, both the guy’s and Sarah’s voice hollering after her.

She shoulders her way past a couple—one of them swear as they hit the ground—and doesn’t realize her mistake until she’s slammed the ladies’ restroom door shut behind her. Crap. Trapped in. Crap, crap, crap.

Clary drags her eyes around the room, breathing loud in her ears as she takes in the closed cubicles, only just waiting to burst open and reveal people yelling ‘surprise’ at her in an instant—but her shoulder still burns with the heat of a foreign hand, her wrist throbs with pain from hitting that guy, and all of it feels so real—and how would she know the difference? How do you even tell hallucinations from reality when they’re about things that could conceivably happen?

She’s got to call Jo. Preferably before she can throw up with fear.

She’s reaching for her back pocket when the door shakes behind her back, the handle digging into her back with bruising force. She yelps in fright, heart in her throat, and bites her lips hard enough to hurt when the guy growls:

“Come on, you can’t hide in there forever, you know that right?”

Clary clamps her good hand against her mouth and screws her eyes shut. Her throat, her eyes, her lungs are burning—her heart’s trying to choke her and her brain keeps supplying every horror story she’s ever heard about black girls in her position. The entire world seems to swim around her, and when the door rattles again—harder this time, like something heavy was thrown against it—Clary stumbles to her knees faster than she even whimpers.

Think, Clary. Think.

Forcing her eyes open, Clary blinks tears out of her eyes and tries to have a coherent look at the room. There’s no other door here, no safe exit—that’s why Lucy Teruko got stuck here for almost fifteen minutes on that horrible date of her until—the window!

Clary crawls to her feet—has to catch herself with her good hand before she falls flat on her face on the tiles—and throws herself into the last cubicle to the sound of a door banging open against the wall.

The window above the seat it barely large enough for someone to go through, and for once Clary thanks genetics for her pocket size, before climbing on the toilet seat. The porcelain is wet, and she ends up with one foot in the water and a painful ankle before she can regain her footing, but she does get the window open and her upper body through it as the first cubicle bangs open.

One after the other, doors slam against the walls of empty stalls. Clary forces herself to stay quiet and calls on long-unused monkey cage skills to hang on the windowsill with her hips, push her lower body forward, and land on her feet with a painful jolt to her ankle. Loud cursing follows her toward the main street.

Summer-hot asphalt burns at her feet as she runs, and people turn to stare as she races down the sidewalk, jumps over a golden retriever like she’s in the middle of a track meeting, and manages to cross in all the wrong places, terror pushing her to speed she’d only ever dreamed of before. Her entire body burns by now—feels like she’s going to collapse and start retching if she even thinks of slowing down—but she keeps going anyway.

She does have to stop, eventually, bending over a bunch of tired-looking hydrangeas about three quarters of the way to her place and emptying her guts over the stems, careful not to put too much weight on her left foot. She braces herself against a concrete wall while the nausea dies down, and makes herself take deep breaths while her brain slowly collects itself and analyses the situation.

She’s barefoot, blisters growing so fast she can almost feel them form. Her left ankle is busted. Her purse—with her money, her phone, her ID—is still at Java Jones, hopefully with Aminata, but it’s not like Clary is about to go back there to confirm.

In short, Clary probably looks like a maniac who doesn’t have the brains to put shoes on, with no way to call anyone in or prove who she is or the truth of what she say. Assuming, of course, that the whole thing isn’t just happening in her head.

She’s so screwed.

If she looked better—if she couldn’t feel rivers of sweat rolling down her back, feel the frazzled state of her ponytail against her back—she’d ask for help. Maybe. She’s heard horrific stories about black people asking for help and getting trouble instead though. Not all of them get out of it alive...and let’s face it, she doesn’t look good.

She just ran three blocks like somebody was out to kill her—which may or may not be the case—without shoes, and she doesn’t need a mirror to tell it shows. Frankly, she’s rather not risk it. Her ankle hurts, yeah, but it’s not broken, and it’s not like there’s much to do about blisters beside taking things easy and resting. Besides, even if the guy is real, Clary probably lost him by now, thank God for Jo and Luke’s insistence on track training.

Slowly, with a careful limp, Clary starts back toward her home, determined to get there, get back in bed, and not move for the rest of the weekend.

It’s hardly surprising that it takes her much longer than usual to get home, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys it. It takes effort to ignore the staring passersby, and some more to keep herself from wincing at the heat under her feet. The sun is getting a little less unbearable at this time of the day, but asphalt is stone. It keeps heat.

It sucks.

The good news is, although no one offers to help Clary, no one becomes a problem either, so by the time she reaches the little square in front of her home, she’s just about ready to weep with relief. The white little twins from two houses down are playing in the fountain, like they always do. The pug from across the square fell asleep in the shade again.

Clary steps up to her own building with the odd sensation of leaving what little was left of her energy behind, the wisterias from the facade wrapping her in its perfumed embrace long before she reaches her front porch, glad all of this happened on one of her mom’s home days.

She limps through the reception room without even a glance for the door that leads into Dorothea’s apartment and climbs up the stairs with her mother’s name half on her lips already.

She stops dead in her track when she notices the smear of blood at the top.

Her mouth stings when her hand slaps against it, but Clary doesn’t care. She swallows a frightened whine and keeps going, stomach heavy when a couple more steps reveal a long, bloodied shard of glass next to the gutted frame of one of Jo’s watercolors, and then Clary is actually high enough on the stair to take a good look around.

To the left, the parlor and the door to the art room both look undisturbed. To the right, on the other hand, the busted glass is far from the only damage. The sad remains of the living room door half-hang from the hinges, the bottom half lying on the floor like a mangled corpse, and stepping up to the landing to peer inside the room does nothing to reassure.

It’s like a hurricane went through it: the dinner table is on the ground, half a leg broken and abandoned next to the hallway door, a broken plate scattered all over the room. When Clary limps around debris and reaches the other side of the table, she finds large gouges in the wood and a bloody tooth on the floorboard. There are bloody hand prints on the threshold to the back hallway, and the largest kitchen knife lies on the ground with blood all over the blade.

No trace of Jo anywhere.

The twins’ laughter filters in through the open window, and Clary wonders how a house can possibly get turned into such a mess without the rest of the world being any wiser about it. Don’t they know something horrible just happened? How does the world even keep working around this? Clary’s legs sure don’t, at least, and she has to sit in the hallway before she ends up in a heap on the ground.

Stop panicking, Clary tells herself—she’s heard those words so many times in Jo’s mouth, in Luke’s voice. If you’re in danger, don’t panic. Think. Get helps, first. Panic later.

Get help first. Think first. Clary isn’t in a state to brave the phone yet—not if she wants to sound even vaguely coherent for the call. So, she thinks.

Clearly, someone broke into the house without being seen—maybe they used the back door. Just as clearly, someone got hurt. Probably Jo. Most likely Jo—oh, god, please let her be alive, let her—stop. Stop. Think. 911 has to come first.

There’s no way Clary can deal with all of this on her own, and there’s no guarantee Luke is even back in the city yet.

Police it is.

Clary stumbles to the kitchen on shaky legs, and stumbles over the undisturbed Fire Box on her way there. Her mother’s laptop is here, too, and Clary saw the silver candle holder on the ground when she crossed the living room, so either the people who came here weren’t after money, or they did a really poor job of it.

The aloe vera was thrown to the ground, along with most of the cutlery drawers, possibly in search of the kitchen knife. Clary has to look away from the fridge and its open door—like Jo forgot it, or maybe was stopped in the middle of something—and focus her sight on the land line to calm the tremors in her hands.

She keys the number in with bile rising up her throat. Forces herself to practice what she’s going to say. Breathes in deep to steady her voice. Screws her eyes shut when the movement of Jo’s screen-saver catches her attention.

She wants to go to bed—pretend none of it is happening and that Jo’s going to come in through the door any time, now, and take things in hands like she always does.

The hopeless fantasy shatters when Clary raises the phone to her ear, and nothing happens.

No sound.

No voice announcing the line is currently busy.

No dull beeping.

Nothing.

Clary sobs. Wipes tears out of her eyes. Does it again, and gives up when her lungs turn her breathing into full blown sobs. They cut the phone lines. The Wi-Fi router is intact, Clary’s seen it, but still. They cut the phone lines. Why would anyone cut the phone if they didn’t expect to find someone in? And why would anyone organize a robbery when there’s someone to witness them? Picking empty houses is just less work, isn’t it?

So, whoever came must have known Jo was here.

Maybe they even came specifically for her.

What if they’re here because of Clary, though? What if the rapist she saw in Pandemonium was some kind of—of gang member or mob boss or something? And he didn’t like Clary’s intervention and decided to take it out on her and managed to discover where she lived?

What if he sent the guy at Java Jones too, what if Clary was meant to be with her mom right now and the only reason she isn’t is because she went out and got stupidly lucky? What if all of this was only meant for Clary and Jo took the fall because she wasn’t there?

She shouldn’t have gone out. Should have listened to her mom and stayed in—she could have negotiated then. Begged for whoever came to spare Jo. After all, if this is all because of Pandemonium, she’s the only responsible one. She’s the only one who should pay for it, right?

She wasn’t there, though, and now Jo is gone God knows where in God knows what state and going through God knows what all because Clary couldn’t use her brain and stay out of somebody’s business and now she’s stuck wondering what’s happening and Luke won’t be here for hours yet and there’s no phone and no police and Clary’s panicking, she nows it, she knows, but knowing it doesn’t help and she ends up sitting in the dirt in the middle of the kitchen while sobs tear out of her louder than she even thought possible.

It takes her a long time to calm down—for her body to exhaust the tears and her breathing to slow down—but eventually, she does. She’s not even sure how. It’s not like anything’s changed. It’s just—it kind of feels like the attack putters out on its own, like a car running out of fuel.

It leaves Clary aching, her body back to throbbing in pain in ways she wouldn’t even have thought of as possible.

It also, thankfully, leaves her a little more coherent, like her mind got aired out.

It’s not much—it’s not a solution in itself, at any rate—but it does leave Clary coherent enough to remember Dorothea and her hermit ways. The woman so seldom leaves her apartment Clary used to be convinced she was a witch, so chances are she’s in...which means Clary can use her phone! All she has to do is get downstairs and ask politely—maybe negotiate a little but that’s negligible. Then she’ll call the police and Luke, and let him take over.

He’ll be far better than she is at this sort of thing, anyway. Clary has never seen either of her parents lose their head in a crisis, and wherever they learned this—it might be an innate sense of calmness but Clary finds the theory a little hard to swallow—Clary is presently very, very glad for it.

So, get downstairs. Get Dorothea. Get Luke. It all sounds so simple, compared to the rest, that it makes Clary’s head swim and she trips over her own feet on the way to the back hallway. Not a problem in itself, except when it’s followed by a heavy scrapping sound.

Clary freezes. She’s alone in the apartment. At least, she’s pretty sure she is. Jo would have signaled her presence if she was there, wouldn’t she? Unless she was—no, Clary isn’t even going to think about that one. And anyway, scrapping isn’t creaking. Creaking could have meant the neighborhood stray cat getting in through Clary’s open window again.

Scrapping means someone dragged heavy stuff on the floorboard.

Logically speaking—assuming Clary’s logic is somewhat functional at the moment—it’s probably not someone out to get her. Probably. A kidnapper would be more discreet, right? They wouldn’t be stupid enough to make a mistake even an unprepared teen can spot.

Right?

It’s probably not Jo either. Clary wasn’t exactly trying to keep her noise levels down when she came in earlier, so if Jo were here, she’d have signaled her presence. Probably. And if she were too weak to call out, she’d be too weak to produce that kind of sound as well. Not Jo, then.

But in that case, who? An attacker? A kidnapper? Or worse, someone to finish the job and finish Clary off?

With her heart in her throat, Clary takes another, far more careful step toward the hallway, and steps around the creaking boards near the back staircase to reach for the kitchen knife and its bloody blade. Hopefully, having her fingerprints on it won’t get her in trouble later, but she’ll get to that problem if and when it poses itself. For now, not dying has to be a priority.

She tries to step around the glass again, but her legs are still numb from her panic attack, and clumsy with fright. She hisses when the sole of her left foot lands on a particularly nasty shard, and has to land on her heel with a heavy thud to avoid falling flat on her face—or worse, her knife.

In her bedroom, Clary hears something scrape again, and a sudden jolt on the circular handle makes her jump something like a foot in the air. Thankfully, she doesn’t freeze this time—slips past her bedroom to the closet door and flattens her back against it while she ignores the pain in her right wrist to try and open it without a sound.

Her door’s handle stops moving.

For a heartbeat, Clary thinks this might mean safety.

Then the door bursts outward and slams into her.

Clary barely has time to realize she’s in pain—sharp, stabbing pain in her left side where the handle hit, hot pulsing where sticky warmth floods down her nose—before she collapses to the floor, pure luck the only thing preventing her from impaling herself on her improvised weapon. When she manages to remind her eyes of which way is up—her head must have taken a bigger hit than she thought—Clary finds shoes first.

A battered pair of once-varnished shoes leads up to the sad remnants of faded black suit pants, and Clary has to struggle in order to keep following the line upward. She finds a shirt dirty enough that it barely retains the memory of white, the whole thing filled with really, really thick arms. Clary’s blood freezes in her veins long before she manages to find her aggressor’s...head.

There’s no face there—only a mess of purple-and-red scars like earthworms, features obliterated by thick, painful-looking tissues that barely part wide enough to reveal destroyed eyes. In he mouth—what was once a mouth—blackened shards mark the spots where teeth used to be.

A thick, bruise-purple hand reaches for Clary’s ponytail—flails for a second against its unexpected volume—and drags her off the ground by the hair, a scream flying out of Clary before she can fully process the gesture.

That seems to be the wrong reaction, thought, because the other hand appears in Clary’s field of vision, aiming for her throat in a way that makes Clary kick, squirm, scream as hard as she can until she remembers the knife in her hand and swings it around until it catches at the suit’s arm.

Clary falls to the ground with a thud and scrambles away from the—the—whoever or whatever the hell it is, half-crawling and half running toward the living room and front hallway until her right shoulder refuses to move and yanks her entire body back with it. She hits the other’s chest with a pained huff, tries to use the knife again, but this time all it gets her is enough of a slap in the face that the world starts spinning—and then a hand on her throat.

There’s a vague, stiffening feeling of déjà-vu when a gloved fist collides with the mangled vestiges of a cheek, but Clary doesn’t have time to process it before she’s dropped on the ground, next to a pair of thick leather boots.

“Get outta here!”

Clary’s feet get the message before she does, and she’s already jumped over the living room table by the time she recognizes the voice. Turning around reveals the same silhouette—wide shoulder, stocky built, clothing alternating between black and deep dark blues—except this time the hood is down, short cropped frizzy hair and a black-skinned face poking from behind the face mask as the guy tries to fight Clary’s attacker off.

He doesn’t seem to have much luck there. Clary smothers a panicked shout when the creature slams the boy to the ground—from there it’s like the world turns into a collection of details.

The kitchen knife in Clary’s good hand—shiny and bloody and bigger than it should be. A gasp, filling the room even through the louder grunts. Something like fear in amber eyes, surrounded by a familiar shade of brown. Clary’s hand raising.

Dull shock all through her arm.

The creature, clutching its knee, wailing like a wraith.

The boy—the man—coughing as he struggles to his feet. Turns to Clary. Panics—only for a moment, a short second, but Clary sees it—and shoves her away from him, into the front hallway.

“Get out of here! I’ll be right there!”

Clary spins on her heel so fast her twisted ankle doesn’t even have time to protest, shoots through the living room door, slips on the broken glass there, and rolls into the staircase.

It’s like the world skips a beat. One second Clary is running away from a fight to the death, the next she’s sprawled on her back in the reception room, unable to focus on anything but pain and holy hell there’s no air, no air, need air—

It occurs to her, after a while, that the fish-out-of-water sounds popping in her ears come from her. It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes things worse—drives home how bad her situation is and sends her into overdrive—makes her legs and back and stomach and head pulse harder under the flesh, burning with the heat of sudden pain even as she tries to turn around.

There’s a series of loud thuds upstairs. Hurried steps.

“Don’t move!”

Clary stops her effort, but even going limp hurts—there’s something warm on her upper thigh and a harsh, stabbing burn somewhere up her left arm, but she doesn’t dare looking around to assess the damage. Overhead, the stairs tremble with the weight of her savior’s steps, although he doesn’t make a sound, even when he jumps over the last few steps and lands into a crouch next to Clary, eyes roaming over her while his hands rummage into his jacket.

“Is it bad?” Clary asks, even though she knows the answer to that one already.

It’s still less scary to ask ‘is it bad’ than ‘am I going to die’ because she doesn’t want to—she doesn’t, really—but wet warm spot on her thigh is growing and the boy—man—whichever he is—sounds panicked where he throws foreign words into a phone. Clary’s head grows lighter, even a the rest of her seems to triple weight in an instant, black spots dancing in front of her and growing more numerous with every blink—of course it’s bad.

Really bad, if the way her would-be savior looks at her is any indication.

She’s already crying by the time he takes her hand, ready to tell her a bunch of reassuring things that may or may not be true—but when he finally grasps her injured hand, his features go from worried to shocked.

“Where did you get that?”

“What?”

Clary’s trying to follow his second answer, she really is—even through the darkening edges of her vision the urgency on his face is obvious, but there’s not enough blood left in her head for that to work. He must realize it as well—his face hardens,and he reaches for something on his side with something that may or may not be an apology.

He brings his hand to Clary’s thigh, and the world bursts into pain.

She thinks she screams. At some point, the man all but sits on her to stop her from moving away from him.

Pain, pain, pain.

Nothing.

Sharp, stinging pain on her cheek, and then words in her ears—urgent, and raw, and way louder than anything she’s ready to bear.

“Thank the Angels,” her savior says, “I thought I’d killed you!”

Clary tries to speak, but it doesn’t come out quite right—at the very least, she can’t make out more than a garbled sound, like her mouth fell asleep and refuses to wake up. Her general state of mind must be obvious enough, though, because a gloved hand comes to rest on her cheek, and golden eyes shift from relief to reassurance:

“It’s okay, Fray. You’re my sister. I’m gonna help you. I’ll take you back home.”

Clary is already home, mutilated though it is, and she tries to convey the message through the pained whine that escapes her. The guy shushes her, too dry to be soothing, and then he picks her up like she weighs nothing, bridal style.

In some distant corner of her mind, the more sarcastic part of Clary wonders when her life turned into an action movie.

“It’s okay,” the man says, “it’ll be a while before we get there but I glamoured us. You just go to sleep, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Well. At least Clary got herself a nice kidnapper.

Eventually, she does fall asleep.

[wroetominter]

Intrepid - ChrisMD Fanfiction - Chapter IV

[ebhobbies]

Salt Lake City cafe employs homeless youth

March 16, 2018 Salt Lake City—The chill new coffee stop in Salt Lake City is staffed with homeless youths, who couldn’t be happier to find themselves on an upward track after some tough times.

Maud’s Cafe in the city’s Granary District – the former warehouse and industrial area that’s undergoing a makeover – gives young adults a chance to get job training and experience through the internship program with an hourly wage.

"All I can say is I’m grateful. The people here are amazing," said Jennifer Salceda. "And they believe in me. It changes everything – you start to believe in yourself."

Volunteers of America-Utah (VOA) launched the cafe in January next to the nonprofit’s Homeless Youth Resource Center.

"It’s real cool, and I like doing it – it’s laid back here and nice," Ms. Salceda said. "My favorite drink to make is a latte because you can do art on top with the foam."

For Salceda, who lives at the resource center, the VOA is a godsend. She got kicked out of her Kearns, Utah, home in December and was living in a nearby park with her boyfriend.

"There was that feeling that we were helpless and couldn’t get out of it," she recalled. "There were times we were angry and depressed and crying, missing our families."

Maud’s is open from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Monday through Friday. Beyond coffee, the offerings include bagels, croissants, and a host of other baked goods, along with burritos, salads, sandwiches, and soup.

The baristas are paid $8 per hour through the program, which is tailored to each individual, manager Kiara Polee said.

"We see where they are along their personal journey and help them with social and personal skills, as well as job training," Ms. Polee said. "The idea is to make them really great employees."

Another Maud’s intern, Hope Jones, graduated with honors from Highland High School. She had been in foster care for three years while her mother was in prison. About the time Ms. Jones finished high school, she was reunited with her mother. But times were tough because, as a felon, her mother couldn’t find work.

Jones set off for Los Angeles. But the sojourn proved to be difficult. Eventually, she made her way back to Salt Lake City.

"There were days when I was starving and had nowhere to sleep. I came back from L.A. in December and was really struggling," she said. "This place really saved me. It helped me stay off drugs and got me back to a productive life."

Maud’s and the VOA resource center provide a community for young people who all have dealt with tough challenges.

"It’s nice to be here because people can relate," Jones said. "They can confide in me and I can confide in them, and they don’t judge me. Pain is pain."

Jones has worked a variety of jobs, including cleaning restrooms at Salt Lake City International Airport. Like Salceda, she enrolled in a certified nursing assistant program and only needs to pass the state certification before she can begin work. She’s already had several interviews.

The future, Jones said, looks bright. It will take a lot of work, but she can imagine her life one year from now when she hopes to have her own apartment and a car.

The cafe was the brainchild of Jessica Norie, president of Artspace, which has its Greenery and Solar Gardens projects nearby and owns the building that houses Maud’s.

"Jessica came to VOA and said, ‘We want a coffee shop for our tenants,’ " said Cathleen Sparrow, VOA’s chief development officer. "It was an offer we couldn’t refuse."

The cafe training program is 12 weeks long. The interns’ hours are built around their studies and other programming, Ms. Sparrow said. VOA hopes 24 interns will complete the program each year.

William Heinig, another intern, wants to be a truck driver. He had been homeless since June 2016, when he arrived in Utah. Originally from the Syracuse, N.Y., area, Mr. Heinig found his way west after being kicked out of the house.

"I was in the legal system," he said. "My mom was sick and tired of me being in the system, so I had to fend for myself."

As a practicing Mormon, Heinig wanted to come to Salt Lake City. The church paid his airfare here, but he soon found himself at The Road Home shelter. After a month or so, he was directed to VOA’s Homeless Youth Resource Center.

"It’s a good thing there are people out there who care," he said of VOA and its partners. "Now I’m doing what I need to get back on my feet."

After living at the resource center, Heinig was able to get into the nonprofit’s transitional housing for men. He now is looking forward to completing a commercial driving program through Salt Lake Community College.

"Once I get my [commercial driver license], I can work for [Utah Transit Authority] as a bus driver and then get on with a trucking company," he said. "I highly recommend the VOA; they have a lot of resources."

The young baristas add to Maud’s vibe, said businesswoman Julie Coates, who lives nearby at Artspace and likes to hang out at the new cafe.

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"I come here as often as I can. I do a lot of work here," she said. "They nailed it with the design. It’s amazing."

This article was reported by The Associated Press.

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