Rock Paper SUPER

Recon is starting

#pascalcampion

Tea Time Blushes

Tea with her appointed knight had become a weekly occurrence. Since Zelda realised she had created a version of Link in her head that was far from the reality, she had made an effort to get to know Link. Through these efforts she had found reality much more interesting than she had anticipated.

“I heard some ladies fawning over you again today. They said you were the most handsome young man among court this season,” Zelda said.

She casually refrained from mentioning their belief of the waste of company she was for him. Instead, she joked about how those ladies would be appalled by his complete lack of manners when it came to food.

“At least I enjoy my meals. And the company I share them with.” Link barely looked up from cutting himself a second helping of cake as he spoke.

Zelda watched as he devoured his second piece of cake. Each slice had been a generous portion, making her own slice look modest. Surely those ladies would be scandalized at how openly gluttonous Link could be. She wondered then if previous heroes loved cake as much as her Link. Her Link? Since when had he become hers?

They were friends, and barely that, more so thanks to Link’s patience than anything. She would not dare to break their tentative friendship solely because of how her stomach flipped at his blue eyes meeting her own. A silly girlish fantasy of a noblewoman and her devoted knight, something Zelda overheard court ladies swooning over more than once. And something she herself had daydreamed increasingly about. She felt a light flush at the thought of her recent imaginings when she was supposed be in prayer.

Nothing kept the cold water from chilling you like fantasies about your appointed knight pulling you into his arms.

“You have a cute blush, Your Highness,” Link said. His quiet voice startled her away from her thoughts.

“I have a… cute…blush?” Zelda asked, taking her time to wrap her mind around what Link had just said.

Link nodded, “Yes, much better than those court ladies.”

His eyes were focused on her face now, cake forgotten.

“Maybe they would blush better if you spoke to them like that,” Zelda said, eyes shifting but always returning to his. Her stomach clenched at the idea of Link complimenting some twittering noblewoman who only saw him as the perfect hero.

“If I spoke to them like this it would be a lie,” his voice was as quiet and steady as always, though Zelda thought she could hear something else in his tone.

“They would not know the difference. So many noblemen pay false compliments it is a wonder they believe them,” Zelda knew she had received her share of duplicitous compliments due to her rank as Crown Princess.

“I prefer to say what is true, I’m sure you can value that as a scientist. I also prefer to tell those I’m interested in such things directly,” Link said, continuing to look at her with a fond expression.

Zelda could feel her blush deepen between Link’s words and gaze. While most would not have considered what he had said indicative of anything more than playful flirtation, coming from her mostly mute knight it was practically a confession of love.

Link smiled at her reaction, finally turning his attention back to his cake. She sat stunned, trying to wrap her mind around the words. While Zelda had seen enough to know Link was not like this around others, she also did not begin to get to know Link until recently. Was it possible that he was a flirt where he came from? There could be no other reason. Outside of genuine affection for her.

He had called her a scientist, something she tried to be in her efforts to understand Sheikah technology. Zelda decided to live up to the title and conduct an experiment of her own in order to determine how her appointed knight felt about.

“I do appreciate objective facts, though yours have thus far been more subjective,” she said carefully, making sure to watch his face. “I would want a suitor to comment on more than appearances that change daily.”

Link swallowed the last of his cake, crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. His face had shifted to be as impassive as always, though his ears flushed pink. Noting the reaction, Zelda decided to see if she could elicit a stronger reaction.

“With you, for example, I could compliment your skill with a sword and dedication to your duties. But I would say it is your patience, perseverance, and kindness I admire most.”

She could feel her heart thudding from the partial confession. Link’s face had not change, though he had gone still. The light blush had deepened, spreading from his ears to his face. It seemed he had turned to blushing stone at her words. One last effort then, and if he gave no sign of affection beyond friendship, she would ignore her budding feelings.

“It seems you have part of your cake on your face,” Zelda stood, closing the small distance between them, and raised her hand to Link’s unmoving face, “I would think crumbs goes against the dress code of the Royal Guard.”

Link still remained unmoving, if possible going even stiller at her touch as she wiped away the crumbs. It looked to Zelda as of he was not breathing. Clearly, she had crossed a line and misread what must have been nothing more than a compliment. Zelda pulled her hand away from his face, took a step back.

“I’m sorry, forget I said any-”

Zelda knew Link could move almost inhumanly fast. She had witnessed it firsthand after he had saved her from a Yiga attack in the Gerudo desert. Though the occasions that warranted such speed usually involved fighting monsters or assassins. Instead of brute force or aggression, Zelda was pulled gently towards a now standing Link. One hand held her steadily to him at the small of her back while the other moved up her arm, coming to cup her face.

His lips hovered over hers, his breath sending shivers through her body. They stood like that for a heartbeat in perfect stillness before Zelda closed the gap between them. The kiss was chaste. Just a clumsy press of lips that sent a jolt through her body. Zelda began to pull away, when Link’s grip tightened, and he deepened the kiss.

Zelda’s observant mind noted that Link tasted of the cake they had eaten and warm honey before the slip of his tongue pushed any other thought from her mind. A muffled noise escaped her as he pulled her closer, and she moved her hands into hair. She could feel her lungs begin to burn they finally pulled away from each other. Breathing heavily, Zelda moved her hands to his shoulders as Link held her waist. She would have happily continued kissing her appointed knight until she saw stars behind her eyes but was content to be this close.

“Is that an objective enough display, Zelda,” Link said, addressing her with no title for the first time. Her name sounded better than she had imagined in his quiet voice.

“I would say so, though continued observation is needed to be sure.”

“I’m sure we can arrange for that,” Link said as he sat down again, pulling her onto his lap with him.

Zelda cupped Link’s face with one hand, the other slipped into his soft hair. She could see the blush from earlier still stained his cheeks a light pink and knew her own face was similar.

Leaning her forehead against his, Zelda said with a smile “you also have a cute blush.”

Link’s response was to kiss her again. The rest of their tea was abandoned for the afternoon, the two thoroughly enjoying the few moments they had alone. Taking tea with her appointed knight became a daily occurrence after that, with Zelda resolved best to uncover what else made Link blush as deeply as the first time.

Korrasami Week Day Three

Oh, this one hasn’t undergone through much editing. Enjoy :)

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Prompt: vacation

"You sure you got everything?"

"Don't worry, me and Pabu are ready to rock the beach! Those waves won't even know what hit them!" Bolin exclaims, flexing his arms over his head. Pabu climbs his torso to reach his forearms, sporting a small straw hat that matches his.

Mako sighs silently and folds the last of his towels against his leg. He places the cloth inside his bag, on top of all his other belongings. His brother doesn't miss the suspire.

"Relax, Mako. It's just one weekend."

Mako zips the bag before replying, "With Korra, I've learnt not to take anything for granted."

Bolin's enthusiastic reply slides into pursed lips, "You're not wrong... I mean, even Wu is tagging along," he trails off and shakes his head vehemently, "Oh, come on, Mako! It's been a long time since we went on vacation together. Me, you, Korra, Asami, Wu and my sweet Opal. I won't let your gloomy attitude ruin it! I know this time everything will go smoothly!"

Bolin's ramble accompanies them outside their home, to the front porch.

His brother has a point. It's not easy for them to coordinate holidays and outings so most of the times they are reduced to shared brief lunches or late nights together, where exhaustion grips at them from all sides. A whole weekend feels like a small blessing and he hopes they'll make the most of it.

"Last check, did you pack everything? What about the sunscreen? You grabbed that, too?"

Bolin's protests die immediately on his mouth, lips tightening in a cheeky smile as the earthbender rushes back inside. Just to be on the safe side, Mako lazily rifles through the contents of his own bag one last time. He prays this will be the most action he experiences during the weekend when a weird crunching noise distracts him.

"Good morning, Mako!"

Korra's cheerful call comes from a small van parked in front of him. The Avatar is leaning outside the window of the passenger seat, perched on the thin sill. Next to her, Asami smiles at him from the driving seat, green eyes shaded by a pair of googles.

He hoists his bag higher on his shoulder and waves back at them.

+++

"Next time," Wu pants and swallows heavily, face pale as a sheet, "We're riding badgermoles."

"So we have to listen to your singing? I’d quite prefer this, thank you very much." Korra replies, leaning back in her seat with a lazy stretch. Opal smiles at the back of her head, sharing the sentiment.

After all, Asami's van had easily welcomed the six of them with all of their belongings, and leaving space for Opal to stretch her legs between the seats.

"An air bison?" Wu groans again and Opal smiles sympathetically at him.

"Sorry, Tenzin had banned me from all the air bison’s stable, after I sort of helped Jinora sneak out in the middle of the night," Korra yawns and rubs at one eye, "And Opal here is still a student, and therefore prohibited to use air bison transportation for," she quotes with her fingers, "Such frivolous activities. But, on the bright side, I don't think this method of transportation is that bad."

"You think that only because it has the Future Industries' logo on its side," he moans back, both arms wrapped around his stomach.

Korra shrugs, "It's not my fault my girlfriend is a genius," she replies, leaning over the clutch to kiss said girlfriend on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, Wu," Opal hears the smile in Asami's apologetic tone, "But it won't be for much longer, now. We're almost there," she replies as she takes another turn down a deserted street.

The engineer drives smoothly down the lanes, slouched in a comfortable posture, even as the roads become smaller and less frequented. She looks serene in her seat, arms lazily gripping the wheel. Because of the many turns they had undertaken, Opal had lost any sense of direction. Instead, she takes her time to admire Asami's navigational skills: the driver hadn't looked at the map once, not since their departure from Republic City, but she hasn't hesitated once.

Opal takes a look at the other passengers to distract herself from Wu's retching sounds. Beside him, Mako leans against the side of the van, arms crossed and eyes closed, probably in sleep. Opal suspects he's just trying to ignore Wu's moaning. Most surprising of all, Bolin's snoring loudly in the seat next to her, passed out only after few minutes of traveling, lulled to sleep by the van's rocking motions. Pabu has disappeared at the beginning of the drive in the back of the van to keep company to Naga.

Curious, Opal leans forward between the two seats in the front, careful not to jostle her slumbering boyfriend.

"Asami," she begins, "How come you never told us about your beach house before?"

The Sato heiress catches her eyes through the rear view mirror and offers a slight smile, "I don't know, Opal. I guess I never considered the idea of going there again until Korra mentioned a beach day."

Korra makes an humming noise from the side, to which Asami's smirk only grows. Opal isn't privy to the silent exchange, but the secret traded knowledge doesn't bother her because of the exclusion.

"When was the last time you came here?" Opal asks again, head lolling on her crossed arms with the elbows resting on both the front seats.

"I was very little. I think I came here last with my mother," Korra lays a hand on Asami's tight. Smiling fondly, both at the memory and at the touch, Asami waves away the gesture, but not the feeling, "We wanted to go together, but my dad had to remain behind for a last minute emergency at the factory. He insisted we went without him."

Asami's smile never falters.

"Though he never said anything, I think he wanted to get rid of this house after my mother’s death. Sell it, probably. Even though I don't know what made him change his mind in the end- That's the place, by the way."

"Well, I, for once, am sure glad he didn't sell it," Korra whistles lowly, admiring the blue and white mansion that enters their windscreen.

But the rueful chuckle that escapes Asami's lips makes Korra's hand cease its circular movement on her leg.

"It's nothing, don't worry," for the second time, Opal feels like she missed a beat of the conversation, "I just realized I don't have any memory of my father in this house."

Korra's other hand rises to Asami's cheek and brushes away a strand of ebony hair.

After a moment, Opal adds her smile and her hand on Asami's shoulder.

"Then," she says, feeling like a real airbender behind those words, "What are we waiting for? Let's go make some new memories."

+++

When they reach the beach, with the sea lapping gently at the shore, the first thing Korra does is heave her girlfriend over her shoulders and drop her in the water.

Asami comes back to the surface spluttering and complaining about sunscreen and sunburns.

+++

Later, after a raucous round of water fighting with Opal and the two brothers, Korra marches back to the beach, where an unaware Asami is peacefully reading a thick book, body splayed on a towel.

Korra drops unceremoniously on her, sprawling over her back like a starfish and dripping freezing water over her warm skin.

Asami shrieks, and Korra laughs.

+++

The six of them engage in an animated match of volleyball, one that ends in the water.

They have to explain the game to Korra, first, who has never played before in her life.

Surprisingly, Wu reveals himself to be a pretty decent server, scoring a few points with only one shot. But the skill doesn't balance his refusal to play any ball that's saved further than this, claiming of not wanting his hairstyle ruined. Opal is the fastest on her feet, jumping at any given occasion to land most of the smashes.

Mako stumbles awkwardly through a couple of smashes, but Bolin makes an amazing defender against the sturdier hits. His strength hinders his fast movements, so his team ends up relying on Asami's timely saves. Except for those, Asami reveals herself to be a terrible player, somehow lacking the proper coordination for simple passes.

They all breaks down in giggles when Asami accidentally hits Korra in the face with a terrible serve.

+++

"What do you mean you can't sandbend? Aren't you an earthbender?"

Bolin smiles awkwardly at Wu, "Yes, but that's not the same thing."

Wu wrinkles his nose from behind his round sunglasses, his face being his only visible part. Bolin and Opal are working together to bury him completely in the sand, as their original plan of building a sand chair had failed miserably. At random intervals, Mako kicks a spray of sand in their direction, helping them bury the former king.

"Why not?" Wu asks again, "It's practically the same thing. Sand is just earth, split into grains and located at the ocean's side."

Bolin's face flickers to a miffed expression, "It's not the same thing, because I can't sandbend, but I can earthbend."

"Do you know the reason it's not?"

"Of course," Bolin pauses in his digging to hunt for words, "It's because... because."

"You don't know?," Wu presses, "Aren't you an earthbender?"

"I am!" a wave of embarrassment washes over Bolin, "And what about you? Why don't you know the difference?"

Wu sniffs at him, "I'm not an earthbender."

"But you're the Earth King. You should know this stuff," Bolin points out simply.

Wu's complaints pitch his voice into a whine, but Bolin can now recognize when Wu is taking the teasing in stride, laughter bubbling behind his words, "Former king, thank you very much. And I-"

Bolin sighs, tuning out the political spree Wu inevitably launches into. He had seen in first person the effects of Kuvira's tight reign on the Earth Kingdom, and so it's natural for him to wholeheartedly agree with Wu's decision in stepping down on the throne. He has the feeling that the world had seen enough of monarchs, at least for a little while.

He just wishes he wouldn't launch into an half hour speech every time they mention it.

Bolin trades shrugs with Opal as he lets his gaze divert to the side. His eyes fall on Korra's form, laying curled up on her side, head in Asami's lap. They're huddled on their towels next to their failed sand chair, Asami sitting up to read her book. One of her hands is busy carding through the Avatar's damp hair in a rhythmic motion. 

Korra looks on the brink of sleep, with that thousand mile stare she does every time she struggles to stay awake. And Bolin knows the warmth brought by the touch of a lover so he understands Korra's wishes to remain awake as long as she actually can.

He feels lucky to be among the few who have the privilege of seeing the Avatar so relaxed. In the past years Bolin had known her, Korra had faced many adversities, always giving to the world more than it deserved. Bolin often wondered how much more she could give before it demanded too much.

Seeing her pliable and serene slots a pebble in Bolin's chest, one that warms in a pleasant way.

When he rises his eyes, he meets Asami's smile with one of his brightest.

It doesn't take long for Asami to join the conversation, offering her input on sand. She explains the many applications it has found in modern technology and how Future Industries has hired a team of skilled sandbenders to create prosthetic limbs with sand particles, resulting in lighter and stronger models.

He doesn't need to imagine the widening of Korra's smile.

+++

The moon shines over them, splintered in speckles of white over the black pool of the sea. The lapping waves peal like thunder.

Strolling on the beach, Korra gently leads Asami by the wrist, eyes soft. And Asami follows her until she feels the water lap at their waists and tickle their bellies.

Korra wraps her arms around her shoulders, guiding her further in the sea of darkness.

They sway to the rhythm of the waves, stealing slow and tender kisses from each other.

Asami presses the side of her head to Korra’s chest without a word, burying her face in Korra's neck. Her hands circle her waist and Korra feels like her heart is about to burst from love. She presses a kiss to the crown of Asami’s head in turn, cradling her closer in the embrace and heating the water around them with firebending, so Asami won't feel cold.

They stay entwined in the dark for long, moving only to kiss or caress another silver of skin.

YES YES YES

Omg can you write a one shot where Lexa is paid by her college peers to write love letters to their gfs/ppl they want to date. So Finn asks her to write for Clarke and it becomes a constant. Until one day clarke goes up to her and says I know its you

OKAY. So this has been sitting in my asks for like a year. There will be a few (but short-ish) parts to this. And before anyone asks, this is not based off of “The Half of It” ... but here ya go.

---

Letters

PART 1

It was Polis Record’s fault. Lexa’s atrocious week was definitely Polis Record’s fault. Had Titus not been a complete asshat of a manager and dicked the schedule around, Lexa certainly wouldn’t be having this predicament. Had Lexa’s hours not have been cut back, she wouldn’t be where she was. Had Lexa not known that her next paycheck would be half of what it normally was, she wouldn’t be writing a fake love letter to the devastatingly beautiful girl in her Astronomy class. Had Finn Collins not offered her cash to do so, she wouldn’t be writing this letter on his behalf, even though she was the one that’s had an earth-shattering crush on the recipient ever since their Freshmen orientation, four long years ago.

Let’s rewind.

“Titus, are you kidding me?” Lexa huffed at the bald-headed man who was scurrying around the break room like a headless chicken. “You did what?”

“Lexa, listen,” he tried to calm her down. “The schedule will be back to normal before you know it. I had to hire her. There wasn’t another way around it.”

She was mad. No. More than mad, “There was. But you just didn’t have the balls to tell your mistress’ best friend that you already had a full roster of people on your fucking schedule.”

“Can you keep it down!” He hissed. “This is temporary. I’m sorry. I couldn’t dock my cousin, okay? The schedule will even itself back out. You’ll be back to selling these shitty, scratched up vinyls in no time. Ride it out for two weeks, it won’t kill you.”

What he didn’t realize was that two weeks of half-pay because of shitty scheduling could actually kill her. He just didn’t realize that. There was the pressure of doing well in school, that was one thing. But there was also the pressure of doing well enough to keep her GPA high enough to keep her partial scholarship. And then the pressure of her shitty part-time job at the local record store to help make early payments to her student loans so she wouldn’t have to worry about crippling herself into debt once she figured out what to do with a fucking degree in Geology.

“Two weeks,” she warned him as she started to storm out. “This better be fixed in two weeks, Titus.”

Spoiler alert: Two weeks had come and gone, and Lexa was still screwed off of her work schedule.

“C’mon,” Finn pleaded at Lexa’s side. He had managed to weasel his way into the vestibule of Lexa’s apartment building. “I took that writing class with you last year. I know you’re good. I just need one letter. Typed. That’s it.”

She was already on the verge of a massive outburst after her conversation with Titus. The dickwad that he was, managed to screw her hours up for another week, even though he promised he wouldn’t, “This is not a good time, Finn. Seriously.”

“$200.” He stood tall in front of her. “$200 in cash right now, and all you need to do is type up a page of words that will have her vaguely interested in the person who wrote it, and that’s it. $200 right now. If you do this, then I’ll never bother you for anything again.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Listen, I just need a good way in. I can take the rest from there, okay?”

$200 was enough to cover a good portion of what she would be missing out on for the week. $200 was enough to get by. $200 was enough to get her mind to start churning.

“$300 and it’s a deal,” she tried to match his height. She straightened her back and broadened her shoulders as far as she could.

He laughed at the request, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“You’re the one that needs me,” she reminded me.

He let out a huff and pulled another Benjamin out of his leather wallet and clumped it with the other two. “Fine,” he shook his head as he handed her the wad of cash.

Lexa nodded as she took the money. She buried the pang of guilt she felt into her pocket, alongside the earnings she just made and was ready to make way up the two flights of stairs when she felt Finn grab her arm.

“Hey,” he called out. “Wait a sec. I started a letter already, but didn’t get very far. You can just go off of this,” he handed her a folded piece of paper.

She opened it and read it aloud, “Have you ever felt like you couldn’t breathe? Like the weight of everything you’ve been carrying has amounted to this one moment in your life? Like there’s this burden placed so heavy on your chest that has left your lungs struggling for any ounce of air?”

Finn nodded as the words poured out of Lexa’s mouth. He was more than proud of what he thought was eloquently poetic. Lexa’s look of confusion went missed by him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Pretty good, right?”

“Finn,” she deadpanned. “It sounds like you just described having the fucking Spanish Flu. I’m not using this. You sound like a serial killer.”

“What?” he yelped. “It’s poetic!”

“It’s a terrifying beginning to what’s supposed to be a love letter,” she deadpanned again. She shook her head as she finally made her way to the flight of stairs, “Give me a few days, I’ll come up with what we need.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine. But you better make it good.”

She made it good. She made it really fucking good.

Clarke ran her fingertips over the paper as she scanned the words again. She had no idea who had left it for her—she walked into the lecture hall a few minutes early, as she normally did, and saw an envelope pinned to the corkboard with “Clarke” scribbled on it. She looked around, wanted to see if anyone in particular was looking in her direction. It was the usual suspects that always got to class a little bit early. Monty, the one who was always quiet in class but loudest at the neighborhood bar during happy hour. Echo, the girl who always sat in the back row and snoozed as soon as the professor opened her mouth. Finn, the boy who always found a way to have an uncalled for argument with the professor. Lexa, the one who was always in the front row and tended to herself.

Not a single one of them was paying her a piece of mind, so she let her eyes scan the letter one last time before the room filled up.

Clarke,

I was sitting on the lawn behind the library catching up on reading for a class last week. I was skimming through Voltaire’s words:

“Sensual pleasure passes and vanishes, but the friendship between us, the mutual confidence, the delight of the heart, the enchantment of the soul, these things do not perish and can never be destroyed.”

This particular passage struck a chord with me, and it was mostly because when I looked up after reading it, I immediately saw you consoling who I’d assume to be a friend of yours. I’m not sure what had happened, but she looked like she was crying and you showed up with a blanket to sit on, a bowl of fresh fruit, and sat with her and listened intently while she spoke. It was life imitating art, right before my eyes.

Voltaire’s writing is mostly straight and to the point. It isn’t hard to decipher the messages he often tries to relay, but it was most certainly a breath of fresh air to finish that passage to find a parallel to present day. Your actions on that lawn helped me see things a little clearer.

I suppose I just wanted to thank you for that. SO, thank you for being the catalyst for making something in my brain click.

Before I close this letter off, I do have a question for you. And if you feel so inclined to indulge and answer it, you can drop it back into the envelope where you found this one and pin it back to the board.

Has anything happened to you recently that struck a chord? Something that stood out to you, but you haven’t had a chance to dive deeper into it? I’d like to know.

Enjoy your week, Clarke.

Upon tucking the printed note under her laptop, she took another look around the hall, which was now practically full. She moved her computer to the side and pulled a notepad out of her bag. The professor had started her lecture, but Clarke’s mind wandered from the images pulled up on the projector from the Spritzer space telescope as her pen started to move across the page.

Hello,

I believe you’re at an unfair advantage here. You know my name. You know what I look like. Yet I have absolutely no idea who you are. So if you write back to this, I’m hoping you’ll share some insight on the person behind the pen (or keyboard, in your instance).

I’m happy that the interaction you saw helped bring better insight into what you were working on. Coincidentally, the friend that I was with when you saw me is also reading a Voltaire piece for an assignment. I wonder if you’re in the same class?

She’s taking “Romance Studies” as an elective. I tried to convince her that there was no point harping on what was considered to be “romantic” through archaic literary pieces that are now long gone, and replaced with mediocre-at-best Netflix series about teenage love.

It always seemed that with the way things were going in our lifetime… that all “romance” really was, was when two people swiped right on Tinder.

With that said… I guess I can honestly say that your letter is what struck a chord with me. Especially after freshly coming out of that conversation with my friend.

I don’t want to be presumptuous. But it seems that this gesture of yours, whether it was meant to be platonic, or if it was meant to imply a sense of something more, is making me realize that maybe—just maybe—the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic after all.

-Clarke

She was happy with the end result of what was hurriedly committed to the page. Clarke quickly tore it from her notebook and tucked the loose piece of paper back into the envelope. She scanned her fellow students to see if anyone was watching her. She slunk further into her seat and wondered if the recipient was there, sitting in that very room. Unfortunately for her, the lecture that was being given on the Nebular Theory kept the attention of every other person in the hall, so she quickly reached for her computer to start typing notes on the theory’s premise of how every planet in the system was formed.

A tedious hour later, her fellow classmates started packing up and rushed towards the exit door. Clarke took her time shutting her computer down and tucking things away into her bag. She was suddenly aware that the person who wrote to her—the person she now wrote to—could be in the room watching her to see if she had a written response back.

She waited a few more minutes, and finally deemed it safe when the last few people in the room seemed to be chatting with one another or finishing up straightening their notes from the lecture. With a big exhale, she pinned the envelope back onto the board and made a swift exit.

Lexa felt a tap to her shoulder, which caused her to look up, “What do you want?”

“I think it worked. She put the envelope back!” the excitement in Finn’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Okay,” Lexa lowered her head to finish writing out her notes from the class. “Job’s done.”

“I’m gonna go get it so we can read it and figure out what to do next,” he giddily let out before darting out of Lexa’s peripheral.

She let out a sigh of distaste when he came back half a minute later and pulled a chair close to where she was sitting. “Finn, you said one letter. I did it. This is on you now. And if you don’t mind, I need to finish up here,” she raised her hand, showing she was still trying to get some of her notes done.

“Fine, suit yourself,” he propped his feet onto the table in front of them while he silently read Clarke’s reply. “Hmm, Voltaire?”

The author’s name caught Lexa’s attention. She suddenly looked up to where he was sitting, “What about him?”

“I don’t know. Clarke said something about him. That’s the bad dude from Harry Potter, right?” Finn brought his attention back to the letter. “What did our letter even say? You never even showed me.”

He handed Lexa the notebook page with loopy and wide writing on it. The edges were jagged, as if Clarke did the whole thing in haste.

“What do you want me to do with that?” Lexa eyed the piece of paper.

“Read it and let me know if you think she likes me,” Finn shrugged. “But also, why didn’t you put my number or something on it?”

“Because it’ll probably take more than one letter for her to even be open to the idea of you,” Lexa chided in her reply. She let her eyes quickly scan the girlish handwriting and folded the paper back up. “She’s definitely intrigued.”

Finn finally set his feet on the floor as he leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, “Okay, great! So what do we do now?”

“We,” Lexa pointed her pen between the two of them. “Do nothing. You can write another letter and see if she wants anything to do with you, Finn.”

“C’mon,” he nudged her shoulder. “I’ll pay ya for another one. Another $300. But we need an exit plan for when we move this from letters to texting or something.”

“Her reply literally just said that we’ve opened the idea to her that letters are romantic,” Lexa shook her head. “Your take on that was to immediately turn this to a texting conversation?”

He grabbed the letter from Lexa, “What? Where’d she said that? It doesn’t say that, Lexa.” He scratched his head.

Lexa let out a defeated sigh, “Finn. She literally said something like, ‘maybe the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic’ or something. Did we not just read the same piece of paper?”

“See, Lexa,” he smiled as he patted her shoulder. “This is why I need you. Just one or two more. Same price per letter. I just need a little more help and then I’ll be outta your hair. Promise.”

She took her palm to her forehead and rubbed her thumb into her temple. One more wouldn’t hurt. Mostly because the $300 definitely wouldn’t hurt.

“Fine,” she finally let out. “One more. Give me her letter back. I’ll have our reply ready for this same class next week.”

“Excellent,” he grinned as he handed the piece of paper over to her. “You’re a lifesaver, Lexa.”

She felt anything but that. But at least it meant she’d be able to get by for the next week or two, while Titus still screwed around with her hours at the record store.

OKAY THEN

Chouette

Eye of Iceland - Fagradalsfjall Eruption, Iceland - Sep 11 [OC] [3500 × 2332] - Author: grisigt on reddit

Last full moon of the year, in Þingvellir by Ann Silvestre.

sea and stars