#I had to take a chartered car here and can’t remember where they dropped me off

[agenttexsflippedshit]

I am at vidcon and soooooo out of my fucking depth with everything and I wanna go home

[mayansmcsblog]

Her world or mine

I have no idea when i wrote this but i found it in my drafts half done so i finished it and- yh that's about it😅

This was meant to be based upon the song her world or mine but i got off track so its only loosely based upon it.

word count: 3640

Enjoy!

He hasn't used the truck for weeks, he had no reason to anymore, being in it only brought back memories of you. The long drives, the short drives too. The way you would hold his hand while he was driving or how you would remind him to pay attention to the road when he looked in your direction for too long. All the memories were fresh within his mind- almost as if it was yesterday. 

Even now, he was only sitting in it, he had to do the beer run and obviously that couldn't be done on a bike, he had to take the truck, but all he could think about was how you used to sit in the passenger seat beside him. He could see it in his mind so vividly, if he didn’t know you had moved on he would swear you were sitting with him. 

Looking at the dash his gaze caught the Polaroid photo that was still in its place next to the radio. Your face accompanied a smile whilst his had his usual ‘tough’ man expression, but if you looked close enough, you would be able to see a small smile placed upon his lips. You took it at one of the infamous Mayans parties, he remembered how it took you around 10 minutes to ‘convince’ him to take it, he wanted to take it from the moment you suggested it but he wondered how far you would go to get him to do it

-

“Please” you had been begging him for the last 5 minutes in attempt to get him to take a photo with you but to no avail

“No” you two were sitting on the bench outside the clubhouse, people surrounding the both of you, everyone was involved on their own conversations so neither of you paid any mind to them. Of course he was still aware of his surroundings but was more relaxed than usual

“But come on” you begged

“No y/n” he kept his face as straight as he could but you could slowly see a shadow of a smirk forming upon his lips

“Why?”

“No face no case” he shrugged with a slight smirk on his face, clearly that was a lie. Not even 20 minus prior you had taken a photo of all of the club members standing outside of the clubhouse per bishop’s request so he could frame it and hang it somewhere within the clubhouse to show off the members.

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so adamant? “He questioned

“Because” 

“Because what?” standing up he motioned for you to do so as well,

“Just because”

“Come on follow me”

Standing up you took this hand as led you away from the party,

“Where are we going?”

“To take this god damn photo”

-

Recalling that night he felt a pain inevitably run across his chest, sure you two were only friends when it was taken but that night was the foundation for building the relationship you two once shared. 

Why had he been so stupid to let you go?

He knew he would have to drive past your place to get to the brewery, it was inevitable really. There was no other way unless he was going to drive an extra 30 minutes, which he didn't have time for.

when he reached the turn in to your street he slowed down a little, looking at your house from a distance he could see a car he didn’t recognize in the driveway. As he got closer he could see two people on the porch, he immediately recognized you accompanied by some guy. 

Of course you had someone else.

-----

Sitting on the couch you couldn't help but let your mind drift back to him, you missed his smile, you missed the way he would have a running commentary while watching anything on the TV, you missed how he would hold you after a long day, you missed everything about him.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren't you?” 

You did nothing but hum in response

Your brother had elected to stay with you for a few weeks while he was on a business trip for some type of expansion for the company he worked for. Originally it was a good idea, it kept you mind off Ez, but the more time your brother was here, the more he talked about his wife back home and how he couldn't wait to get back to her just made you think about how you don't have someone in your life to look forward to anymore, you no longer had someone you could tell everything to, someone who would stay by your side, someone you knew would be waiting for you when you were away from home. As much as you loved your brother, you were thankful he was leaving tomorrow

“Im gonna go get a drink” standing up you heard your brother mumble something in response but you elected ignored him and heading to the kitchen.

As you approached the fridge you spotted the picture of you and Ezekiel stuck on the door. You were pretty sure it was Coco who had taken when him, you, Ez and Angel went over the border for a day because none of you had anything to do and for some reason Mexico was the first thing that was suggested. You had been meaning to get rid of it but couldn't bring yourself to. Alot of memories were collected between the four of you, some of them you were just not ready to let go of yet.

By now he was probably already in another relationship so why were you still holding on?

Grabbing a bottle of water you headed outside and sat on the porch steps. You knew there was a party at the clubhouse tonight, Angel had invited you to come, but you knew Ez would be there. 

Did you really want to see a girl all over him while you're still here alone? Because that would definitely happen

Maybe he wouldn't be there? Or maybe he would be too busy doing stuff to even realize you were there 

You were too wrapped up in your own mind to even realize your brother had stepped outside till you heard a creak from the wood behind you 

“Y/n?”

“Yeah” 

“you okay?" He asked sitting beside you

 “yep"

You two sat in silence for a few moments before he started talking once again

“I love you ye? Don’t let that boy ruin you. He lost you by his own fault. You did nothing” he rambled on about how you should have been treated better and how Ez lost the best thing he could ever have. But you knew he was wrong.

Ezekiel always treated you like a queen, your brother met him one time and barely spoke to him for longer than five minutes. As far as you were concerned you brother didn't know anything about him

While he was rambling you were looking into the distance, mainly just looking at the sky but you could have sworn you saw his truck drive past, but maybe you were just seeing things right? His truck wasn't the only one, there were probably millions of them.

-

The party was in full swing, people were everywhere, the room full of patches from all over. mass amounts of people from charters were visiting in celebration of a new deal with the sons, leaving Ez to tend the bar along with some hang rounds.

Wiping down the bar he couldn't help but think about you for the billionth time today. He knew you two broke things off but it didn't mean you had to leave everyone from the club behind as well as him.

"Bro what the hell is wrong with you?" Angel questioned

"Nothing" shrugging his shoulders he dropped the bar rag and turned to get angel a beer from the fridge behind him

"Stop lyin man, what's going on in that head?" Angel knew his own brother better then to believe 'nothing' was going on with him, something was always going on up in Ez's brain, even if he didn't admit it

"I dunno man, I just think it's weird how y/n left us you know?" Ez shrugged again, handing angel a beer

"She didn't leave us. She’s distancing herself. Got a lot of family shit going on right now" he explained, you kept Angel in the loop with everything, after all he was your best friend even before Ez and you got together, if Ez wouldn't tell you something- Angel would.

"Just think it’s weird" Ez repeated, messing with the bar rag once again

"Ya well she’s coming tonight”

Before Ez could respond coco stood next to Angel 

"Who’s comin?"

The brothers looked at each other for a moment before angel came up with an idea 

"Just some random bird for our boy scout to bed"

"My man," Coco chuckled "finally gonna get your dick wet huh?"

----

You knew this was a bad idea, you knew he would be here. 

Was he going to be with another girl? Actually stupid question, of course he would be

Opening your phone you sent angel a text

‘I'm like five minutes out but i swear to God if you abandon me tonight i will hit you so hard that you can't remember anything for a week’

At least he would walk in with you so you weren’t alone right?

---

Angel stood up abruptly in the middle of a conversation he was having

"Where the fuck you going?" Coco questioned, lighting a cigarette from the chair he was sitting in

"Meet a friend"

"A friend huh?"

"Yeah...maybe you'll like her" Angel replied before grabbing his beer and retreating towards the door.

---

Walking through the gate you saw the front of the club littered with patches. Some of them were from different charters. Weird, angel never mentioned other charters visiting, by the look of the outside, you could only imagine the clubhouse itself is packed with people.

Scanning the crowd you spotted the person in question walking towards you

“Hey stupid face”

“good evening stupid head”

“that's basically the same thing i just said” 

"oh shut up i couldn't think of insult fast enough”

Pulling you into a hug you couldn't help but feel a little more relaxed. Angel was always like an older brother to you, an annoying one at that but still a brother.

It had been weeks since you saw him, being back in his company made you feel safe again, almost like a sense of home

He placed a kiss on your temple “We missed you here”

“Yeah, I know” letting him go you looked around, mainly to see if any of the other guys were in sight but also to see if coco was around, expecting to be attacked as per usual. 

Angel took notice of you scanning the crowd “He's inside”

“Hmm? Sorry I got no idea what you're on about”

Pulling you into his side he wrapped an arm around your shoulders “sure ya don't”

Walking inside you scanned the crowd once again, thankfully coco was nowhere to be seen for the moment and most of the guys were spread out around the room. Bishop and Taza were playing pool, Gilly and Creeper were sitting at the table in a conversation whilst hank sat opposite them looking at something on his phone, Ez was tending the bar like usual but this time he was accompanied by some hang rounds.

At least there isn't girls hanging off him yet 

“C'mon let’s get a drink huh” angel lightly shoved you towards the bar playfully.

“No”

“No?” his eyebrows raised playfully

“No and if you try to make me go over there with you i promise i will embarrass you” you laughed 

“Fine”

After he got the drinks you both sat at a table in the corner for a while talking, the majority of the topics were about what had been happening while you were distanced from everyone.

Eventually Coco spotted you two and joined in the conversation. you sat talking to the two of them while everyone else was up to their own things, you didn't mind, the both of them combined made for some very interesting storys, the conversation could never die. After around 10 minutes, Angel had left you two alone saying he “wasn't bout to listen to this shit ''- which was super ironic considering the topic of conversation was about modifications for a new bike coco had brought a few days ago

“How does your bike handle anyway? I heard they are bottom heavy and hard to manoeuvre sometimes” you questioned. overtime Ez had taught you some things about bikes, mainly when he was just rambling about random things not thinking you were really paying attention to what he was saying

“It’s alright i guess, sometimes it slips when I lean too far on corners, other times it tends to not wanna go the way I need to but other than that it handles pretty well, arms hurt like a bitch after long ride though” he explained

Nodding your head you understood where he was coming from, having your arms at that angle for hours must have taken its toll

“Ay '' he nodded his head towards someone behind you, Turning your head you saw it was Ez walking through the door with Angel, seemingly engrossed in some type of conversation they were having.

Despite spotting him earlier you only scanned over his appearance but now you actually took a good look at him, he looked different, not much but still different from before. His hair was in the same style but it little more grown out then usual, his facial hair had grown out a little too. His eyes had bangs underneath them and his face looked drained.

All in all he looked like shit.

“You know he’s not the same without you right?” bringing your attention back to coco you couldn't help but feel like you were to blame, maybe if you fought harder of him you two would have never split.

“You two spoke since?” he questioned

“Nope...I got a few drunk calls saying he was sorry but other than that. No” you shook your head. 

After you two first broke up he called you around a week later rambling about something but since he was slurring his words- you could barely understand anything he was saying. You got about 2 voicemails of him saying he was sorry and how he fucked up but- you never spoke to him, never texted him back when he would ask you if you were coming to one of the parties.

“The amount of times we've had to stop him from drunk calling you is unreal”

Playing with the label on the beer bottle in front of you, you thought about what coco said- clearly Ez had attempted to talk to you at some point, but why? The whole breakup was because he needed “space” to deal with some things so why was he trying to talk to you?

“He wanted space, I gave it to him” you shrugged, slowly peeling off the label

“Didn’t mean you had to leave us too” looking up from the bottle you saw coco was now avoiding your gaze

“Yeah...I know” maybe it was wrong of you to drop everyone, but being around them would have only brought back memories of you and Ez. At the time it seemed like a good idea to distance yourself from all of the guys, but now, despite only being here for a hour, you could tell how much you really missed being around them.

“You know he’s walking over here right?” Dropping your head onto the table you let out a sigh causing coco to laugh “I’ll leave you two alone huh?” lifting your head up you looked at him with a facial expression as if to say ‘don’t leave me’ but he did anyway

“Y/n” his voice was low, almost as if he didn’t believe he was saying your name again

“Ezekiel”

“Can we talk?”

“We are talking” sitting up straight you turned in your seat to look at him. He looked even worse up close- the bags under his eyes were alot darker then they seemed from a distance, they made it appear like he hadn’t slept for days, you couldn’t help but notice he had a bruise slowly forming on top of his right eyebrow.

“What happened there?”

He looked confused for a moment till you pointed to his eyebrow

“Oh I erm…got into a fight.....with a wall” his eyes were trained onto the floor, almost like he was ashamed.

You hummed in response not sure how to respond without laughing 

“So how have you been?” he questions

“Good i guess..how about you?”

“Alright I suppose”

What followed was nothing but silence between the both of you, neither of you knowing what to say. The sounds of other people talking and rock music became almost deafening as the two of you stayed silent

“Well this got really awkward fast” you spoke up causing Ez to laugh a little

“Yeah..yeah it did” he nodded

After a few more moments you stood from your chair “I'm just gonna-”

“Yeah go, i get it go ahead” he finished your sentence for you.

Nodding you quickly made your way outside, the yard was almost empty by now, people had either left for the night or had moved inside.

You spotted Angel sitting on the front steps fiddling with one of the rings on his hand while looking at something in the distance. You sat beside him in silence, neither of you even attempting to make conversation but simply just being trapped within your own minds.

When you and Ez broke up you knew things would change, you knew the two of you probably wouldn't be able to have the same conversations you would before, but you never expected them being so awkward.

Maybe it was just because the wound was still pretty fresh, after all it had only been just over a month

After a few minutes you heard the door behind you open as someone stepped out, seconds later a figure sat next to you, looking over you saw it was coco

“What we doin? havin a lil moment to yourselves” he asked lighting up a cigarette and offering the both of you one

“Yep” Angel responded, taking one and lighting it before looking somewhere in the distance once again. All three of you sat for a few minutes just looking at seemingly nothing in particular.

Maybe it won't be like this forever? At some point there has got to be a time where you can come to the club without feeling awkward because ez’s here.

You heard the clubhouse door open once more behind you and once again, you didn't turn around, but coco did

"Ay man sit" you heard him say as he snapped his fingers at space left beside him to whoever stepped out from the door. It didn't take long for whoever it was to sit down.

Much like he did with you and Angel, Coco offered the person a cigarette which they must of silently declined from the lack of verbal exchange.

There has to be a point when you and the club can all hang out together like before....there has to be a stage where you and Ez can talk like normal people without it being awkward….right?

Seemingly out of no were Coco spoke up, nodding his head towards two stacked benches on the opposite side of the yard "You think i could clear those in one attempt?"

Angel was the first to respond "Absolutely fucking not" he paused for a moment- looking where the benches were stacked "but I'd love to see you try"

"I bet $50 you fail and fall face first" someone spoke up, looking to your left you finally realized who stepped out earlier ..Ezekiel

"Bet, ill prove you wrong" coco stood, taking off his kutte and placing it on the stair rail "you two wanna place any bets?" Coco looked at you and Angel

"Nope, I'm good" you shook your head

"I bet $50 that you don't clear it" Angel responded

"You have no faith pretty boy" coco responded, shaking his head  as he started to walk over to the benches

"This is going to end in a hospital trip" you stated making both Angel and Ez laugh

All three of you watched as coco seemed to examine the height of the two benches, planning the distance he would have to run to gain enough speed to propel himself over them and how he would land the jump

"You think he's gonna snap his nose again?" Ezekiel questioned

"Definitely" both you and Angel replied

All three of you watched as coco began to run towards the benches, from your angle it looked as if he could clear it....you were wrong. 

Seconds later coco was laying face first in the dirt, one leg was on the floor while the other was stuck in a piece of wood on the bench that had broke underneath his weight

"I think i broke my nose" you heard coco exclaimed causing all three of you to laugh. The few people who were still outside drew their attention to the scene and started laughing too when they realized what happened.

"Ill go get some paper towels" you said, still laughing.

Maybe this was a sign nothing had changed between the four of you, that you could all still hang out and do stupid stuff like before

Maybe nothing has to change

-------------

An| hope you enjoyed this fic. Honestly have no idea why or when i started writing this but 🤷🏼‍♀️ . *sorry for any spelling or grammar errors or any parts that don't make sense. only scanned it before posting it*

ALSO- i swear part two to the prank war is coming! Its just talking awhile for me to find a way to describe to things going on as well as being busy with other stuff.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #4

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 5.6k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, just some of the fluffiest fluff that ever did fluff

a/n: *heavy breathing into a paper bag* EVERYTHING IS FINE, JUST PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS M’KAY

Date #4

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

You’ve made it to Friday night without hearing a single thing about your upcoming date. Snuggled up on your couch, watching a rerun of NCIS and wishing that you could invite Hobi over to watch it with you, you hardly notice the sound of your phone pinging. It isn’t until your eyes are flying open at the sudden recollection of falling asleep on this very couch while Namjoon snacked on his McDonalds that you notice your phone pinging for the second time.

“Finally,” you sigh, scrambling to grab it from off the coffee table. As expected, it’s a text from Jungkook. However, the more you reread it, the more confused you grow.

“Check the mailbox?” You wonder aloud, shuffling off the couch and slipping your shoes on. Heading outside to investigate, you notice a suspicious car slowly driving by.

You know that car. And you’re pretty sure you recognize the people inside of it who are desperately trying to hide. You wave at them, laughing when Jungkook raises his hand to wave back only to have it slapped away by Jin, who laughs at the boy who obviously forgot that they were supposed to be hiding.

Stepping up to your mailbox, you eye the hastily sealed envelope before taking it back inside. The boys speed off into the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts as you rip into the letter.

Not letter, you realize as you slide the slip of paper out.

Boarding pass, with the final destination covered by a slip of dark tape and a firm note begging you not to remove it. And a teasing sentence that has you barking out a laugh.

You like surprises, don’t you?

When there’s a knock on your door, you’re only aware of two things.

1.    Your shirt is on backwards.

2.    Only one eye is completely open. The other is still half-closed, trying to cling to sleep. You can’t really blame it. You were up until three trying to not freak out, and it’s barely six in the morning now.

“Coming,” you groan out as you attempt to throw your shirt on the correct way. Padding over to the door, you realize that there may be some perks to beginning your date this early in the morning. One obvious point being the fact that you’re too groggy to go through your usual freakout before opening up the door.

When you do open the door, it takes a moment to discern who’s actually on the other side.

Hidden beneath a long coat and black ball cap, Jimin looks at you with a look that rivals your own exhaustion. In fact, the way his puffy eyelids seem to be competing with his bread cheeks has you turning into a giggling mess right there in the doorway.

Jimin winces. “What’s so funny?” He croaks out. You shake your head, impossibly endeared by the boy before you. One of your best friends, the one whose words of encouragement have helped you throughout this entire dating process.

Today, you really feel his words in full force. You deserve to go on some fun dates with your friends. Just enjoy it.

“Are you regretting this yet?” You shoot back. Now Jimin does crack a smile, opening his eyes fully to regard you.

“Ask me again in a few hours.” He sways on your porch, stretching and yawning. “Got everything?”

You hurry back inside, a bit of adrenaline pumping through your system now that you’re actually about to go on this date.

While you’re pretty sure you passed over into ‘wildest dream’ territory approximately three dates ago, you still can’t quite wrap your head around everything.

While you’re running around like a mad-woman trying to gather up your things, you don’t notice Jimin easing inside and quietly closing the door behind him. He watches you with a forgotten smile on his lips, tilting his head back against the door so he doesn’t have to open his eyes all the way.

You’re just double checking that you have your passport and boarding pass when a familiar hand wraps around your arm. Gently turning you around to face him, Jimin still wears his smile as he pulls into his embrace.

Once you’re nestled into him, you let go of all the tension in your shoulders with a great big sigh. Jimin speaks against your hair, the vibrations of his voice running up and down your spine.

“I miss you,” he mumbles.

You can’t help but chuckle, thinking that he’s still too tired to think straight. “But I’m right here…?”

He shakes his head, taking the opportunity to nuzzle in a little closer. “I miss you all the time, though. Even when you’re right in front of me.”

You pull away just enough to see his face. He smiles down at you, almost as though completely unaware of the sad statement he just made. “That’s a sad feeling,” you whisper. There’s nothing for your to do but acknowledge it.

He nods slowly, stepping back and gesturing for you to hand him your bag. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s just the truth.”

And with that, he whisks you away.

It’s been ages since you last traveled so far, but you take advantage of the chartered plane Jimin somehow convinced Bang Sihyuk to let him borrow, and stretch out.

Jimin does the same, bringing the blanket up to his chin while giving you a mock salute mere minutes after the plane took off.

“See you in ten hours,” he says before closing his eyes. You grin, absolutely positive that you won’t be able to sleep at all.

However, when you hear your name being called ages later, you crack an eye open to see none other than Park Jimin grinning like a fiend above you. It takes you a long moment to remember even getting on a plane, let alone what’s actually happening.

“We’re about an hour away,” Jimin chimes, giving you space to sit up and hopefully wipe the drool off of your face without him noticing. “So, would you like to know what our plans are for the day?”

“Yes,” you croak out, stretching. A glance at Jimin shows you that he must have changed clothes and gotten ready while you were sleeping. He now sports a black bucket hat paired with a dark t-shirt and mismatched denim jacket. He taps his boots on the floor, a sign of his excitement.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks. “You were out for nearly nine hours.”

You blink. How that happened is beyond you. Perhaps it had something to do with all of the overthinking you’ve been up to over the past week, leaving you utterly drained. “I slept great,” you admit. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

You peek out the window to see if that’ll give you a hint, but all you see it blue skies and unmarked land below.

“I will when we land,” he says. “First thing’s first, I’m sure you’re hungry. I was thinking we grab some food first thing. Now, take your pick: inside or outside?”

You glare at him for not revealing the location yet. For all you know, he could have paid someone to just fly the plane around in circles for hours and land you in Busan.

“Uh…outside.”

Jimin smiles, clearly pleased with your choice. “Good. Ok, next choice. Basilica or shopping?”

“B-basilica?!” You spit out, looking at Jimin as though he just announced he was taking you to the moon. “Where are we-“ You stop mid-sentence, holding your breath as is your habit whenever you get excited. “Wait…”

Jimin’s smile only grows. “Yes?” He asks with perfect piety.

Leave it to Park Jimin to look at a 24-hour window and decide to take you to Russia.

The second you’re off the plane and jumping into a taxi, you’re squealing like a school-girl.

“Park Jimin, I swear if this is all some dream and I’m about to wake up soon-” you hardly finish your sentence, mouth dropping open as you pass by a huge cathedral.

Jimin, on the other hand, looks quite content. He’s been here several times before; a fact that you’ve always brought up when talking about travelling with the boys. Russia has been on the top of your bucket-list for years now. Every time Jimin went he’d make sure to bring you back something special.

For years you’ve been half-planning to go on a trip with him the next time he went. Of course, you never actually believed that you’d go. But still, it was worth dreaming about.

“It’s not Moscow,” Jimin laments from your side. “But I’ve always favored St. Petersburg.”

For good reason.

It’s a clear day, the sun shining off of the city streets as though they were made of gold and not the same concrete found all over the world. People appear to be in high spirits as well; many couple wandering about hand in hand.

And you’re here. With Jimin.

Just like you always dreamed about.

So when you make it to your destination where the two of you would be eating brunch, you can’t help but chew on your lip as tears spring to your eyes.

“Jimin-ah,” you begin as you’re led to your table. It’s outside, which you’d chosen. Facing a river which is filled with ferries and tourists chattering freely.

“Yeah?” He asks, taking in your expression and instantly reaching across the table to grab your hand. “Everything alright? Maybe you slept too much. Or is your stomach upset from the flight? I know that happens to me sometimes on longer flights-”

You shake your head. “No, it’s just…” you sigh, trying to figure out how to best voice what you’re feeling. “You brought me to Russia.”

Jimin squints at you as though reading a book that’s in a foreign language. “…yes.” When you don’t make eye-contact with him, he raises his eyebrows. “Is this making you uncomfortable? I knew we should’ve talked about it first, but everyone was so excited so I automatically thought that you would be too, you know? It’s just, we’ve talked about this for forever, so I thought it’d be fun to actually bring you. Since I couldn’t, before.”

You blink. “Everyone was excited about it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin nods, sitting back in his seat. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I’m not being fair?”

Despite the hat sitting low on his head, you can see the worried glimmer in Jimin’s eyes. “I guess…” you squirm in your seat. “I really want to be here. I do. But don’t you think it’s a bit…well, it’s a bit much? For a first date? I mean, I would’ve been happy going through a drive-thru and chatting for a while.”

Now it’s Jimin’s turn to look a little lost. “Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

A waiter comes by to check on you, and Jimin kindly explains that you’ll need more time to decide. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, Jimin sets his menu down and leans over the table.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

Nodding to himself, Jimin looks out over the river before turning back to face you. “This is possibly the most rash, stupid, bizarre thing I’ve ever done.”

You choke on a laugh at his sudden declaration. “What?”

“It is. Seriously. I mean, I’ve traveled a lot and done plenty of stupid things, as you well know-”

“Oh, like the swimming pool incident-”

“Yah,” he waves you off frantically, “I wasn’t asking for examples!”

“Ah, right.” You gesture for him to continue, a grin growing on your face. Once he can tell you’re not about to go recounting every embarrassing moment you’ve witnessed, Jimin goes on.

“It really is stupid. I mean, who does this?” He points around the restaurant. “You’re right, we could’ve totally done something like we usually do; grab some takeout and chill. Maybe play a card game and lose miserably.”

“Wait, you lose or I lose?”

“Both. You know Jin would be there and he’d win.”

“Touché.”

Jimin sighs, throwing his chin onto the palm of his hand and looking at you with unveiled tenderness. “It’s not very often that we get free reign like this. So I thought it’d be nice, you know. To get to go do something a little crazy with you.”

You’re reminded of Taehyung’s route through Seoul, where he had a similar motive. If given the chance, wouldn’t you also like to take a day to just live a little? Even if it is a little unconventional?

Leaning back in your chair, you let out a breath of relief before bringing the menu up to your eyes and wiggling your brows at Jimin. “Well, then. I guess that makes sense. Although, I hope you know that you’re ruining my expectations for all other men I ever date.”

Mirroring your position, Jimin winks at you from over his menu. “Isn’t that the point?”

Brunch is delicious. Would would’ve thought that Russians have nailed French-style breakfast foods?

You’re just scooping up the last of your crêpe when Jimin leans back with a satisfied groan. “So, what do you wanna do next?”

“Wait, I’m supposed to choose?” You ask. Jimin nods, languidly looking you over and smiling crookedly when he spots a bit of chocolate on your face. You quickly wipe it off. “I don’t know…” you look around for inspiration, eyes landing on the ferry closest to you. “Oh, that. Can we do that?”

“Sounds perfect. That’ll take us to the basilica, I think.”

You chuckle darkly. “You think? Wow, how wild. Lost in Russia.”

Jimin smiles warmly at the waiter that swoops in to hand him the check. If he recognizes Jimin, you have no idea. He simply waits patiently as Jimin hands him his card and waits for him to return.

“Lost in Russia?” Jimin claps his hands together, nearly slipping off his seat as he giggles. “Take that, Shawn Mendes!”

You groan even as you laugh, burying your face in your hands.

The ferry is bustling with tourists, making you buzz with excitement as you finally board. Jimin makes sure to keep his hand in yours so you don’t get separated, keeping his head down when a couple of people look his way with curious expressions.

Once the ferry begins its slow journey, you find yourself standing before a railing overlooking the calm waters. Jimin comes to stand behind you, resting his hands on either side of your own which cling to the railing. He rests his chin on your shoulder, humming a tune you don’t recognize.

“Aren’t you the one that loves Anastasia?” Jimin asks, the question a mere hum in your ear.

“Mmhm. That’s me.”

“You know that it’s-“

“Aish, Park Jimin if you’re about to go off about how historically inaccurate it is, I’ll personally shove you off this ferry.”

Jimin’s laugh has him resting against you completely, hiding his face in your back and making your cheeks turn a little red as people look your way.

“It’s a great movie,” Jimin concedes. “Really, it is.”

You nod. “Yes. It is. And don’t you forget it.”

“I’m guessing that you love Dmitri, then?” He’s returned to his spot at your shoulder, arms sliding in a little tighter until his pinkies are linked through yours. You can’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, glancing down to take a mental picture.

“…yes.” You respond, a little wary that he’s about to start bashing on what is perhaps the most attractive animated character you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Instead, Jimin releases you from his grip and comes to stand by your side. Looking out over the river as though greeting an old friend, he rests his forearms against the railing. “What do you like about him?”

Well, isn’t today just chalk full of surprises.

“Well, for starters, he admits when he’s wrong. Despite the fame and money that he’s after, he’s actually pretty humble.” Your eyes drift over to the boy by your side. “He’s handsome,” Jimin snorts, nodding along reverently when you shoot him a glare. “And he just so clearly cares about Anastasia. Like, he’s willing to step out of the picture if that means she can be happy.”

A basilica comes into view, but you suspect that’s not the only thing taking your breath away.

No, it’s partly due to the fact that somehow, you’ve found yourself describing Jimin. If he realizes it, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he just winks at you, shooting you a smirk.

“Gotcha. Humble and hot.”

As the ferry docks at the opposite shore, you wonder if it’s too late to throw him overboard.

The basilica is open for tourists, and you find that you’ve got a kink in your neck from staring up at the ceiling the entirety of the tour.

Neither one of you understand a single word that’s being said, not wanting to wait around for a Korean translator. Instead, you opt for nodding along and laughing when everyone else does.

You have your arm linked through Jimin’s, trying to get a good look at a painted mural when he whispers something to you.

“You know, I heard that you and Namjoon had a fun time last week.”

Quick enough to give yourself whiplash, you turn to stare at Jimin with wide, guilty eyes. “W-what are you…I mean, yeah. Yeah, it was nice.”

Jimin bursts out laughing, immediately drawing the attention of the tour group. The tour guide gives the two of you a disapproving glare, which Jimin takes as an invitation to hang back as everyone else continues walking.

“Nice? Really? I thought the man would be a better kisser than just nice.”

Absolutely horrified, you bury your head in your hands. “Ergh…didn’t think…can’t believe he’d…”

“What was that? Can’t hear you,” Jimin teases with a knowing smirk. You smack his arm instinctively, only making him laugh harder.

“Why would you bring that up now?” You whine, running a hand through your hair.

“Why wouldn’t I? In my defense, I at least kept quiet about it for hours.”

You squint at him, “How did you find out?”

“Told me the second he got in the car,” Jimin replies, smile growing at your expression. You’d thought that was Jimin who’d been on the phone with Namjoon when he’d called to be picked up. “If it makes you feel any better, it was absolutely hilarious.”

“How would that make me feel better?!”

Only cackling in response, Jimin takes off after the group. You glare after him, pressing your hands to your cheeks and closing your eyes.

Wrong decision. The second you close your eyes you’re presented with an onslaught of memories; primarily one of Namjoon towering over you in a wardrobe.

You chase after Jimin, determined to bring up one of his embarrassing moments that will surely make him turn into a blushing mess.

“Ok, but at least I know not to eat a whole bag of sugar-free gummy bears-”

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never been kicked out of a basilica before.”

The afternoon sun has quickly turned to the tell-tale golden hue of the evening. Jimin walks hand in hand with you down the street, the two of you the picture of calm and content.

“Me neither,” you sigh.

The tour guide didn’t take kindly to your bickering, quickly pointing to the exit once you’d resorted to attempting to stomp on Jimin’s feet like a child. He’d deserved it, though. Especially once he’d made a comment under his breath about the statue of lovers wrapped up in each other’s arms to be a spitting image of you and Namjoon.

“A wardrobe? Really?” Jimin shakes his head, tsking your behavior.

“Oh, shut up,” you hiss.

Wow. Jimin really is the Dmitri to your Anastasia. It would appear like he’s completely embodied the role he has throughout the first half of the movie, in which he’s endlessly annoying.

“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.” He hold up a hand in innocence. “Should we get some skewers before the next thing?”

“I’d like to skewer you-”

“What was that, jagiya?” Jimin asks with a smirk.

“Oh, I just said that that sounds delicious.”

“Mhmm.”

Together you locate some delicious street-food, entering some sort of food heaven when the first bite touches your lips. “This is amazing,” you say around the food.

Jimin groans, closing his eyes as he eats up. “Here, try this.” He extends the skewer to you, leaning into your side as you sit together on the bench. Cupping your chin, he feeds you the next slice of meat, watching your reaction carefully.

You hum as the flavor makes your tastebuds dance, eyes growing wide as Jimin swipes a thumb over your bottom lip, gathering up the excess sheen from the juicy meat. You watch, completely enraptured as he pops the digit in his mouth without a second thought, taking another bite of the food as though nothing happened.

All you know is that you wouldn’t mind that happening again.

“S-so what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” You ask, voice a little higher than usual as you attempt to calm your beating heart.

“Mm, lemme check,” Jimin mumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Oh! How is today going by so fast?”

“What?”

“We’ve got just enough time to pick out a souveneir before the show starts.” Rising from the bench, he takes another bite of his food. “Shall well?” You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up.

“What show?”

He looks you over. “You’ve heard of the Russian Ballet, right?”

You’re severely underdressed for a night out at the ballet, but Jimin reassures you that no one will notice. Together, the two of you roam about the Meriinsky theater’s souvenir shop.

“Oooh, Jimin, look!” You hold up a shirt with a burly man in a tutu. “You should totally get this.”

Jimin turns to face you, dissolving into a fit of laughter that has him falling to his knees. “No way, that’s horrible!”

You shrug, looking back and forth from the shirt and back to him. “I don’t know, I think it’d look kinda hot.”

Smile wiped from his face, Jimin snatches the shirt from you. “I’m getting it. Don’t try to stop me.”

You end up finding a similar shirt – this one has a ballerina balancing huge logs on her shoulders – to get with Jimin. Just as you head up to the cashier, you see Jimin sliding a small box across the table for the cashier to ring up.

“What’s that?” You ask, placing your shirt on top of his in the bag he holds open. Jimin shrugs.

“Just something.”

You frown. “That was vague.”

Tapping your nose, Jimin grins and nods at the cashier before taking the box and placing it inside the bag before you can get a good look at it. “So observant.”

The ballet begins their show at 6 o’clock. You sit near the front, in a spot that appears to be fairly inconspicuous. Jimin sits with the bag of your souvenirs placed under his chair, out of sight from your prying eyes.

You can’t help but feel like royalty as you look around the historic theater. It’s filled to the brim with natives and foreigners alike, most of which are dressed to the nines. The golden, old lighting casts shadows on everyone, thick fabric draping itself around the box seats.

Suddenly you remember what Jimin said to you so early this morning. I miss you even when you’re right in front of me.

It makes sense, now. There’s ache in your chest as you look around the theater, trying to memorize every last detail, knowing that this may very well be the last time you ever see it in such grandeur. The thought nearly rips your heart out of your chest. Knowing that this feeling is only temporary. You’re only royal for a day.

You turn to mention it to Jimin, only to find him looking at you in the same way you’ve looked at the theater.

Like you’re as timeless as the music that drifts up from the orchestra, and he’s just found out that he’s on a mortal timeline.

You will remain like this forever in his memory. Eyes bright and your right knee nervously bouncing up at down, only to be soothed by the sound of a lone violin that stands out amongst the other flurry of instruments.

He smiles, the action so at odds with the heavy look in his eyes. Reaching out, you take his hand from his lap, and without a single thought other than the way the golden lights are dimming and so is the look of pain in Jimin’s eyes, you press your lips to the tip of his knuckles. Once.

Twice.

And one more time, making it to his pinky knuckle and smiling against it before planting a kiss that feels more like a breath against it.

It’s nearly pitch black now, the curtains pulled open to reveal the breathtaking ballerina, but you find that you can’t quite look away. Not as Jimin continues to look at you with that indescribable expression that has somehow shifted into something more. He brings his hand back to his lap, enveloping your hand in both of his.

“It’s starting,” he breathes out.

You know that he means the production is beginning. Indeed, in your peripheral you see the ballerina who doubles as Sleeping Beauty tonight takes to the stage amidst the sound of awed clapping. But you can’t help but find a different meaning in those two words.

It’s starting to get harder.

Because anytime you close your eyes, you see Namjoon before you in the wardrobe, tentative hope in his eyes.

Because your wrist burns with Hobi’s bracelet linked around it, a constant reminder of the ghost of his lips on your palm.

Because you wake up in the middle of the night every night, looking to your doorway in hopes of finding Taehyung leaning against it with a smirk that does nothing to fool you.

And now there’s Jimin, filling your mind with his confession this morning. I miss you.

You’ve unknowingly boarded a runaway train.

Who cut the brakes on this thing?

The ballet is beautiful.

Like, beautiful in the way that you don’t want it to ever end. The music coming from the pit weaves the story, the ballerinas working in tandem with every note to bring it to life.

Once you enter into the final act, you find yourself squeezes Jimin’s hand as though watching a horror movie. He traces soothing patterns against your skin even as he quietly laughs.

“How’re you holding up over there?” He drawls in your ear.

“I don’t want it to end,” you reply, nibbling on your bottom lip.

Like all good things, it does. Jimin allows you to linger for a while longer, even after most of the people of exited the building. You remain in your seat, staring up at the stage now covered by thick curtains, almost as though waiting for the production to start up again.

Finally, you notice the ache in your legs from sitting in a confined space for so long, and get up.

“How was it?” Jimin asks, leading you out of the marvelous theater.

You blink. “How was it? I…I think my soul left my body for a minute back there.”

You walk out to find that night has fallen, Jimin laughing up at the stars. “Wow. That’s a pretty intense experience.”

“Yeah, well.”

Skipping ahead of you, Jimin turns around to face you with a silly grin. “We’ll come back someday,” he promises. “Maybe we’ll go to Moscow. They perform ‘Black Swan’ there.”

You blink. “And they don’t in St. Petersburg?”

Jimin shrugs, reaching out for your hands, which you extend to him. He continues walking backward, unwilling to let go of either hand. “They haven’t, yet.”

“Why not?”

“It has something to do with the political climate here versus in Moscow.”

“Huh.” You take a moment to take in the view before you, Jimin looking like he belongs here among the stars and streetlamps. “You seem to know a lot about the Russian Ballet.”

Again, he shrugs, this time accompanied by a crooked smile. “I read about it on the flight over.” He pauses, waiting for you to catch up to him before walking side by side. “Which, speaking of flights…”

“Don’t we have one to catch?”

“Exactly.”

It’s painful, leaving St. Petersburg behind. You watch through the window of the airplane as you take off, the lights winking at you in a silent goodbye.

Jimin watches from the opposite side of the plane, an absent-minded smile yet again on his face. He quietly orders a bit of food for the two of you, knowing that you’ll be hungry soon.

Once St. Petersburg vanishes from your view, you glance over at Jimin who fiddles with the safety pamphlet.

“That was amazing.”

He furrows his brows, not looking up yet. “What? The plane taking off?”

“No, you know what I mean.” He continues to look at you, feigning ignorance. “All of it. That…date. That was seriously a dream.”

Jimin openly stares at you for a moment as though not expecting such a reaction before averting his eyes. You watch with amusement as his cheeks flood with pink, a silent testament to how flustered you can make him.

“Yeah,” he coughs awkwardly. “I guess you could say…it was nice.” He looks at you expectantly.

You frown, not quite understanding what he means until – “Jimin!”

He sinks low in his seat, body shaking with laughter. “First thing I do when we get back is tell Namjoon you said that about your kiss. I’m not even kidding,” he says as he wipes fake tears from his eyes.

“Just- yah!” Absolutely embarrassed, you turn to stare out the window again, ignoring the laughing boy.

Your mind is dazed once you return to Seoul, clambering inside a car that Jimin is somehow able to drive despite being clearly exhausted from the long flight. You share a comfortable silence as you replay that events of the past 24 hours in your mind.

The sound of the orchestra is still ringing in your ears by the time Jimin pulls up in front of your apartment. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t need to get out of the car when he’s hurry around to open your door.

“You look exhausted,” you remark sleepily.

He doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be offended. “So do you.”

Indeed you do, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the car window before setting off toward your door. The few steps up to your apartment appear to be the same as Mount Everest, Jimin’s hand on the small of your back proving to be the only thing keeping you moving forward.

You watched four movies on the flight back. Jimin had urged you to try to at least nap, but you couldn’t. You were too wired, mind running nonstop with different ideas and memories. And now you’re paying the price as you stumble up the stairs.

Once Jimin has ascertained that you’re not about to fall over, he takes his hand off your back. “Made it,” he mumbles out.

“Mmm.”

He chuckles softly, reaching out to pull you in for a soft hug. It’s warm in his arms, making you close your eyes and rest against his shoulder. You could stay here for hours-

“Don’t go falling asleep on me,” Jimin quietly warns, looking at you fondly as he pulls away. He notes your still-closed eyes and leans in to peck your cheek.

He grins when he pulls away, seeing that your eyes are now wide open. You’re a little flushed from the unexpected peck, but it’s still dark enough in the early morning light that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Here, your souvenir,” he hands you the bag from the Meriinsky theater, which you take. “Go in and sleep.”

Once you manage to get the door unlocked, you’re slipping inside and waving goodbye as Jimin hurries back down to his car. Just before he gets in, you call out to him.

“Jimin-ah!”

He holds the drivers-side door open. “What?”

Giving him another little wave, you shout, “Thank you!”

“Anytime.”

With that, he hops in and drives away.

You don’t remember walking to your bedroom, but you’re grateful that you’ve found your bed. Still holding the bag, it swings down to hit your legs.

“Ow!” Something solid hits your shin from inside the bag, leading you to investigate its contents.

Hiding beneath your shirt you got, sits the small box you’d spied Jimin buying. On top of it sits a crinkled post-it note, one he must have found while you were immersed in your movies on the flight.

To my Anastasia – hopefully this will be enough to say ‘thank you’.

Brows furrowed in curiosity, you slide the box open and pull out a small object wrapped in bubble wrap. Carefully unwrapping it, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp when you uncover your little present.

It’s a music box.

Opening it, you ignore the little tears springing to your eyes as it reveals a ballerina, spinning in perfect circles to the music that dives out.

Setting it on your nightstand, you close your eyes and let the music ease you into your dreams. You’re left with a distinct feeling that lingers even when you wake up hours later.

You still feel like royalty.

main masterlist

please let me know what your thoughts are! You don’t necessarily have to be rooting for one of the boys specifically, but let me know who you think has the best shot/who you really swooned over! ;)

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[samcrobae]

Separation

I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me, I keep starting new stories when I have so many things I’m working on lol but @starrynite7114 and @ifoundmyhappythought have had my muse going strong this last week. Anyways, it’s a lil long winded, I tend to write how I talk, but let me know if you like it! ❤️ part 2 coming soon.

TW: none?

“Noah, get your backpack papi, come on.” You reach into your SUV and unbuckle your daughter, Emilia from her car seat. It was Tuesday which meant you worked night shift at the hospital which meant you dropped the kids off with Angel for the next 3 days. You and Angel had been separated for 6 months now. You had decided to walk away from him, the club, all of it when he got so invested in the cartel business and spend little to no time at home. He kept you in total darkness and distanced himself from you and the kids which is what killed you. Your son, Noah, needed his dad. He’s 5. And Emilia being 1, still too small to realize what was happening.

You put your phone in your back pocket and Emilia on your hip and walked towards the clubhouse, seeing Coco and EZ on the porch. “Tio EZ!” Noah ran to EZ and wrapped his tiny arms around his middle.

“Hey bud! What’s up?! Hi Emilia, Y/N what are you doing to my niece?! She’s huge!” He smiled a soft smile and then added “hes inside.”

“Noah, mommy’s going to go put your backpack inside with daddy okay? I’ll be right back.” You head inside and spot Angel sitting at the table, his head picking up when he heard your footsteps.

“Hey. Look Emi! Say hi dada!” He stood up and walked towards you and reached his hand out to touch you but before he could You handed Emilia to Angel.

“Here’s Noah’s bag. Please remember to make sure he brushes his teeth before he goes to bed. I’ll be by to pick them up Friday afternoon”.

“Yes, Y/N I know.. you look incredible querida.”

“Alright I gotta go. Bye Emi, I love you bebe, be good for dada.”

Before you could turn around you felt Angel’s hand on yours, “Come on Y/N.. can we talk about this? can we just stop playing this game? Just tell me You want me to come home...just say it and I’ll be there waiting for you at home with our kids.”

“Angel I gotta go, I’m meeting someone for lunch before my shfit. I’ll call tonight to say goodnight to the kids.”

His heart sank as he watched you walked out the door.

——————————————

“Oh I can’t, Angel, I’m meeting someone for lunch before my shift, Angel. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Angel mockingly repeated your sentence.

“Idk mano sounds to me like she’s meeting someone for lunch..” coco answered, lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah but is she meeting him for lunch or is she meeting him for lunch?”

“I don’t get it, you’re not together, she left Angel. She’s free to do as she pleases.” EZ contradicted.

“Fuck off Boy Scout, I put a ring on it. That she still wears. You know what that means? Fuckin engaged. Basically married. I haven’t gotten my dick wet in 6 months and she just sits around scheduling lunch dates with people?! Come on!”

—————————————

Friday came quick. You pulled into the scrapyard and before you could get out of your car, Angel approached you and opened your passenger side door, taking a seat next to you.

You eyed him suspiciously as he made himself comfortable. “Sure sit down Angel. Come in. How were the kids?” You sarcastically say as You unbuckled your seat belt and turned to face him. “What’s going on?”

“So, how was your lunch date? You know it’s so funny to me, and by funny, I mean not funny, that we haven’t broken up, you still wear my ring, and I haven’t had any other pussy except yours and you’re out here going on dates-"

“Angel I’m not doing this right now. I just want to pick up my kids and go home.” To be totally honest, you didn’t go on a date with anyone, you met your coworker, Christina, for lunch, but what Angel didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. You loved him, still did, and wouldn’t do that to him. You wanted things to work, co-parenting was fine, but the two of you haven’t had a conversation about your relationship. Maybe hearing--believing-you went on a date would make him get his shit together.

“Okay so then you tell me when are we gonna do this mama? You love me. I love you. We have a family. We can make this shit work.” He grabs your hands and brings them to his lips. You quickly pull away from him, earning a sad stare from him.

“Yeah and see that’s the thing Angel,” you said his name in Spanish, “it’s not just shit. It’s our family. Your son and daughter. Our kids. You still don’t see that. You lied to me. You kept secrets from me. You cheated on me. For fuck sakes Angel, Miguel Galindo came to our home looking for you and EZ. He was waiting for you in our living room when I walked in with our kids. OUR HOME ANGEL. You don’t see why I needed to walk away? Now, get out of my car Ignacio. Por favor.” You opened the door and went into the clubhouse where Noah and Emilia were running around playing with Riz.

You placed Emilia in her car seat and strapped her in as Angel helped Noah get strapped in to his seat. You shut the door and made your way around to the drivers side door when Angel shut Noah’s door and placed his hands on your waist. “Call Pop. Have him watch the kids tonight, come back later. We’ll talk.”

You leaned back against the car and placed your hands on his arms. “Angel, no, I don’t want to bother him and I really don’t want to party. I haven’t been to one of these in 6 months.” Every Friday night, the club house hosted a party, sometimes it was just them and the usual hang arounds, sometimes other charters, but it was always a good time.

“Come on, for a little. Besides Pop has been asking to see them for a while.” He swishes you’re hips with his hands, “Come on.. let loose, relax, you been working too hard. I can see it.”

You let out a small laugh, “fine, okay! Alright. I will call Felipe. But I’m not staying long Angel, I mean it. Now move.”

Angel made his way back to the clubhouse and sat on the porch steps with EZ. “You can’t hang onto her forever Angel. You need to let her move on if that’s what she wants to do. You should too.”

“Man shut up EZ! Nah, she’ll be back. I just gotta figure out a way to make her understand we were meant to be together.” EZ delivered a pat to Angel’s shoulder before heading inside.

————————————

You dropped the kids off at Felipe’s and thanked him repeatedly for watching them. “Mija, you don’t have to thank me for watching my own grandkids. Go, get out of here. Enjoy yourself.”

You said goodbye to Noah and Emilia and made your way to the yard. Chucky rolled the gate open for you as you pulled in and you waved your thanks. You parked in your usual spot. Even though you and Angel weren’t technically together, no one ever parked in your spot. You spot Angel outside on the bench, cigarette between his lips, talking with Gilly when Gilly tapped his shoulder and motioned towards you. Getting up off the bench, Angel slowly strides over to you, eyeing you and up down letting out a whistle.

“Wassup baby, you come here often?” He gives you a wink and pulls you into him for a hug. “Come on, lets go say hi to everyone.” You let out a laugh and you follow him back to where everyone is seated. A couple hours had passed and you had found yourself in Angel’s lap, his hand comfortably wrapped around your waist, occasionally running his hand over your thigh. “Querida, get me a beer, please?” You nod and offer to grab extras for the others and they obliged.

As the night wound down, Angel was noticeably too tipsy to drive his bike home so you offered to drive home and stupidly decided to let him stay at your place for the night. He got in the passenger seat and as you drove his hand had found its way to your thigh, gripping it tightly all the way home. When you got out of the car and approached your front door Angels hands had found their way to your hips and pressed himself against you as you unlocked the doors. “When we get inside, you gonna let me sleep in our bed right mama? Let me feel up on that ass all night right?” You turned your key in the lock and opened the door, Angel closely behind. Once you were inside, his hands found your waist and he pulled you into him so your back was against his chest.

“Tell me you don’t miss this mi dulce, tell me you don’t love how my hands feel on your skin, the way my lips feel..” he placed slow and soft kisses to your neck and for a moment you let your head fall back against him and your eyes flutter closed. Your breathing hitched and a small gasp escaped your lips as his hands slowly ran under your shirt and up your tummy.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you felt lost in his touch but knew you needed to stop this before it went any further. But damn. The way his hands felt and his voice in your ear, lit your entire body on fire.

“Angel....”

——————————————

@ifoundmyhappythought @starrynite7114 @briannab1234 @woahitslucyylu @wrcn9fvlcver @everyhowlmarksthedead @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @sesamepancakes @sadeyesgf @blackmissfrizzle @thickemadame

[skycollides]

Hi bubba!❤️ I really hope you’re well and happy! I’m falling in love with your fics😍😍 your writing is honestly remarkable!! I wanted to request for ez if that’s okay? With “You love her don’t you?” “is it that obvious?” It can be an angsty or fluffy ending whatever you think fits best!! Thank you so much🥰❤️❤️

Hey sweetheart! Thank you for all the love and support from day one! I love and appreciate you❤️❤️

I really hope you enjoy this one 🥰😘

No risk no fun

Ez x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Warning: swearing, a little heartache, happy end

Words: 1.981

Ez’s Pov:

Another night at the clubhouse. Another party takes place and Ez can’t take his eyes off you. From the moment you walked in he was practically hypnotized by your beauty which was pretty obvious to Angel.

’’Hey little brother!’’ no reaction from Ez.

’’Ey earth to Ezekiel’’ he says smacking his head. Ez’s hand finds its way to the spot Angel hit him rubbing it.

’’Ouch. What was that for Angel?’’

’’Since you weren’t reacting I had to do something to get your attention. It’s hard to catch nowadays when my sweet Y/n is in the same room. Oh and by the way it’s really starting to become obvious. Bishop noticed too. You love her don’t you baby brother?’’

’’Is it that obvious?’’ 

’’Well only me and Bishop noticed so it isn’t that bad but dude if you love her you gotta tell her. You know I have this thing going on with her best friend and she told me that there is this guy, co-worker of hers who’s trying to get her attention he already asked her for a date so you better step up your game before its too late.’’ Angel tells him.

’’Why the hell would I tell her and make things awkward when she’s already seeing this guy? I lost my chance it’s better that way. She deserves better than an outlaw biker who murdered a cop. If you excuse me now I need to get new beer.’’ with that being said Ez leaves Angel there standing by himself.

Angels Pov:

‘‘Hey Y/bf/n baby. Come here.’’ he says standing at the door of the clubhouse. She leaves you and Letty and heads outside with Angel.

’’What is it?’’

’’Listen I need you to be honest with me. Do you promise me to tell the truth I need to ask you something important?’’

’’Sure. Just tell me what’s up?’’

’’Does Y/n have feelings for my brother?’’

’’Angel I can’t’’

’’What do you mean you can’t? You fucking promised me. Please I beg you.’’

’’Fine. Yes , yes she does. Why?’’

’’Yes I knew it! That’s fucking awesome. Listen baby I need your help. Ez loves her. I’m surprised you didn’t notice him staring at her all the time. We need to make this happen. My baby brother deserves to be happy after everything he went through with Emily. You simply need to convince Y/n not to go to the date with that guy and leave the rest to me okay?’’

’’Okay Angel. I hope this is working out or otherwise she’ll have my head for spilling her business.’’

’’As if I would let that happen’’ he says and kisses her head happy with the new information he now has.

A week later

Your Pov:

’’C’mon Y/n your co-worker is boring as fuck! He won’t make you happy.’’

’’And Ez will?’’

’’You’ll never now if you don’t tell him. Cancel the goddam date and come to the clubhouse with me. No risk no fun. Do you want to send the rest of your life overthinking what could have been between the two of you? Seriously he’s such a sweet guy you’d be perfect for each other!

’’Okay you win.’’ you give in defeated knowing that you will not won this fight and she is right. You can’t win without taking a risk.

You reach your destination about an hour later. Y/bf/n has texted Angel letting him know you will be there soon so when you get there he is already waiting for you outside.

’’Hey baby’’ he greets your bf before giving you a hug.

’’Hey Angel’’ you say.

’’Is everyone here already?’’ your bf asks him and he nods.

’’Yeah the party is started a couple of hours ago. Some guys from other charters are here so are Vickys girls. Well not everyone Ez went to his trailer shortly before you arrived. So let's go inside girls.’’ he finishes his monolog

’’Actually’’ you start 

’’I gotta talk to Ez first you can go in.’’ you say and your cheeks heat up being happy it’s dark so they won’t notice.

’’Go on. We’ll be inside’’ your bf says and they walk to the porch waiting there for what’s to come. Which you don’t notice since you’ve turned your back towards them. You open the door without knocking and go in there.

’’Listen Ez I gotta-’’ you stop speaking at the sight in front of you Ez only in his boxers laying in his bad with one of Vickys girls barely covered.

’’Y/n I-’’ he starts but you interrupt him right away.

’’I’m so sorry I- I should have knocked. I’m sorry’’ you say with a shaky voice literally running out of the trailer slamming the door behind you, tears leaving your eyes.

The door opens again and Ez come out now at least waking jeans.

’’Y/n wait! He says but you’re already in your car driving off.

Ez pov:

He turns around and sees Angel and his girls standing there looking at him. 

’’Are we going to finish what we started or what?’’ he hears a voice behind him.

’’Leave!’’ he tells her and she does as she’s told.

’’Are you fucking serious?’’ he hears Angel yell while he walking towards him.

’’What?’’

’’What? That’s all that comes to your mind genius? Crazy that a guy who’s as dumb as you got into a university like Stanford. You’re a fucking idiot that’s what you are. I told my girl to talk Y/n out of that fucking date with that guy so you have a shot. She convinced her to tell you about her feelings and you’ve got nothing better to do than getting your dick wet? I seriously thought you love Y/n but I guess I was wrong. My fault that beautiful and smart girl git her heart broken.’’

’’I do love her man! I had no idea’’ he says realizing he probably made the biggest mistake of his life.

’’Then do something about it brother! FIGHT FOR HER as I fucking told you before!’’

’’Ez that’s the key to her apartment. Please don’t fuck this up I want to see my best friend happy’’

’’Thanks guys’’ with that we walks to his bike and drives off.

Your Pov:

As soon as you get home you drop your heals in the hallway going straight into your bedroom jumping into bed and crying into your pillow. You can’t remember the last time you were hurt like this. You really thought you had a shot with him but it looks like your were wrong. And so was your best friend. With your thoughts running wild and all the crying you don’t notice someone coming into to the room. You only notice when the mattress moves.

’’I told you y/bf/n I fucking told you look where it got me!’’ you say with your voice cracking. You turn around and can’t believe your eyes. It’s not here sitting on your bed. It’s Ez with the most apologetic look on his face.

’’Get the fuck out of here. NOW!’’

’’I wont leave until you listened to me Y/n. Look I’m sorry you had to see this. God I don’t even know where to start. I better start with the fact that I’m completely in love with you. Head over heals. I know it doesn’t really look like it right now but listen. Last week Angel caught me staring at you again. And he asked if I was in love with you. He told me about your date with your co-worker and I knew I will never save a chance with you. I mean who am I? A outlaw biker who got out of jail couple months ago

because he murdered a cop. I mean come on Y/n. That guy has a stable job and is not in conflict with the law. I though you were better off with someone like him. I knew I lost so I tried to get over you with one of Vicky girls. I swear nothing happened. I know it looks bad but I couldn’t. You were on my mind the whole time sweetheart. I stopped her right before you walked in. I swear. I know that probably wasn’t the brightest idea to be honest. 

What I’m trying to say Y/n. I love you. I love you so fucking much baby. You had me hypnotized the moment I laid my eyes on you for the first time. I was blown away by your smile and your beauty. And girl don’t get me started on those beautiful eyes. But that’ not the reason I fell in love with you. That’s a lie it is a part but the main reason is your character. You are the sweetest girl with the biggest heart I’ve ever met. You light up my world babygirl. Please let me make it up to you. Give me a chance to prove that to you.’’ he ends his little speech staring down at the mattress nit daring to look you in the eyes.

’’Ez?’’ you say softly. No reaction.

’’Ez, sweetie look at me’’ and he looks up to you.

’’First of all you are literally the biggest idiot I’ve met. Seeing you with her fucking hurt me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt hurt like this before. I’m glad you didn’t sleep with her by the way. Listen Ez I love you. I don’t care that you went to jail. I love you for who YOU are. You are so much more than an outlaw biker Ezekiel. You are such a wonderful human being. I chose to become your friend for a reason. I love being around you. I love that I can have deep conversations with you. I love that you listen to me not matter what time it is. I love your kind heart, your humor and your smile. I swear you got me with that smile. I’m glad you’re here right now. Thanks for stopping by and telling m the truth. I love you too Ezekiel Reyes.’’ you say with a smile and before you can say anything else he grabs you by your neck pulling your face to bis before pressing his lips onto yours. Your hand fins its way to his cheek caressing it with your thumb while EzS tongs asks for entrance keeping the kiss as soon as you allow him. You’re the first one to release his lips to get some air. He leans his forehead against yours smiling at you.

’’Wow’’ you say.

’’Wow indeed. I cant believe I missed out on those soft lips for so long. Be my girl mi amor?’’

’’I thought you’ll never ask’’ you say laughing.

’’Yes I’ll be yours babe.’’ you say and kiss him again.

’’You’re going to stay here right?’’ you ask him hoping the answer will be yes.

’’Yes just let me call Angel real quick then I’ll join you in bed sweetheart.’’ with that being said he gets up from the bed gets undressed and calls Angel while you head to the bathroom getting ready for bed. When you leave the bathroom he’s laying in your bed still on the phone with Angel.

’’Ill see you tomorrow Angel. Bye!’’ Ez ends the call and puts his phone on the nightstand while you get into bed. 

’’Everything okay?’’

’’More than okay baby. Y/bf/n won’t kill me I guess that’s a good sign if you ask me’’ he says and you laugh.

’’Yes she can get quite protective to be honest.’’ you say cuddling into his chest. He wraps his arms around you pulling you closer before kissing your head.

’’I love you Y/n’’

’’I love you too Ezekiel. Sleep well my love’’

’’You too mi amor’’

Taglist:

@everyhowlmarksthedead

@mayans-sauce

@justatiredfool

@lovebennycolon

@queenbeered

@nadinesabre

@ocetevasgirl

@spookys-girl

@angelreyesgirl

[kasienda]

A Miraculous Reveal - New York

Ack! Apparently, I remembered to post this one to discord, but not to tumblr. I apologize to my tumblr followers if they only get stuff here. But here it is now! It’s a Ladynoir angst to happy ending reveal based on the New York Special. Please enjoy. 

___ 

Adrien slipped into the silver limo and the door thudded closed behind him with a finality that made Marinette flinch. A moment later, the car pulled out onto the road. Watching the vehicle fade away into the grey haze of drizzly rain, two things were suddenly very clear to her.

She didn’t want Adrien to go. He was precious to her in a way that she could not define. He possessed an unending patience, he had the sweetest and softest smiles for her even when she was babbling or stuttering incoherently, and he was kind. She just didn’t know a lot of boys who were just so genuinely compassionate. She clearly had never really gotten over her crush on him despite her best efforts.

But in that moment as the car turned around a corner and completely out of sight, it was surprisingly easy to imagine her life without him. If Adrien disappeared she would grieve, but she would heal, and she would be okay.

No, the gaping hole in her chest had an entirely different source.

It was Chat Noir that she did not know how to live without.

Read on Ao3

Because it was Chat Noir who had her back every time hers was against a wall, Chat Noir who made her laugh when life seemed impossible to face, Chat Noir who offered her advice and insight whenever she asked even when it was about her feelings for someone else, and Chat Noir who built her up and encouraged her in her lowest moments.

And she was never going to see him again.

Marinette fell to her knees, barely noticing the unforgiving impact of the cement below or the cold water seeping up her pant legs from the ground. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks in contrast with the sky’s frigid rain drops. Her whole form trembled like a leaf in an autumn storm as her tears finally caught up to her.

She gripped his ring in her fist, its edges biting into her palm. It was wrong that she had it. It was his. But she couldn’t return it to him. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know anything about him.

And now he was gone.  

It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she done everything right? She tried to be responsible, she always followed the rules, and she sacrificed so much of her normal life to make sure she could be the heroine that Paris needed. Why had everything blown up in her face so colossally?

Chat Noir was gone.

He had supported her through her worst mistakes. Had he not trusted her to do the same for him?

A warmth cuddled at her neck in contrast to the cold damp air around them. “Marinette?”

“I-I’m sorry, Tikki,” Marinette choked out, as she turned away from the red kwami on her shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore. Not… not without him.”

A black streak flew in front of her face. “Then why’d you yell at him?” Plagg demanded.

Her vision was too blurry with tears to make the kwami of destruction come into focus. “Because I was angry! I didn’t think he’d leave!” she countered sharply. “I had every right to be mad at him, Plagg. He promised me that he’d protect Paris in my absence. And then he didn’t.”

To her shock, the kwami wilted like a plant without water. “That… might have been my fault.”

“Plagg?” Tikki asked, a disapproval to her voice that Marinette rarely heard. “What did you do?!”

The miniature cat whirled to face his opposite. “You don’t understand! He never gets to have any fun! He’s always locked up! Every moment of almost every day is planned and scheduled. He’s not allowed to spend time on his hobbies if they are not pre-approved. He doesn’t get to just hang out with his friends! It’s amazing he manages to sneak away to become Chat Noir when he needs to!” He rose and fell in the damp air with a deep sigh.

“He’s my chosen, Tikki,” Plagg continued, his voice more subdued. “He deserves to have freedom.” He said it like a wish.

Salty tears flooded Marinette’s eyes all over again. Her partner didn’t have any freedom in his life? She hadn’t realized. He had always seemed so carefree. He seemed like such a goofball. But she had never asked.

How could she not have known? She should have known.

But they weren’t supposed to know anything about each other.

Another sob threatened to erupt from her throat. She fought it down.

Plagg continued. “A chance for a vacation popped up and he wasn’t going to go! He was all disgusting like, ‘I promised Ladybug I’d be here.’ I may have convinced him that the risk was really small, that he could watch the news constantly on the trip, and hurry back if anything happened.”

Tikki’s antennae vibrated back and forth in agitation.

“And it would have worked if there hadn’t also been villains here. How was I supposed to know that New York was infested with a cesspool of villains and subpar heroes?!” Plagg demanded with all the self righteousness of a wounded animal.

Marinette absorbed this new information stoically. The drizzling rain was starting to soak through her clothes and hair, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“He deserved the chance to go, too!” Plagg insisted childishly. “Why did your chosen get to go, and mine didn’t? And it’s not like you didn’t know he was here, Tikki! You’re so quick to point fingers after the fact.”

Tikki opened her mouth to argue, but Marinette put a hand up. “It doesn’t matter. He made his choice.” She honestly didn’t know if she was referring to his choice to go to New York, or to his choice to give up his miraculous. “And now, I have no way of finding him.”

And she dissolved into shaking sobs again. “It’s not fair,” she cried. “W-why did I have to realize that I loved him now? When it’s too late.”

She leaned back against a brick wall, the rain still falling down around her. Her pigtails were weeping with excess water. Her lined jacket faired a little better. The cold wet at least hadn’t seeped down to her skin yet.

Plagg zipped up to her face, his eyes searching her face. “You love him?” he whispered. “Chat Noir, him?”

Marinette just dissolved into a new round of wracking sobs.

The tiny catlike kwami patted her cheek. “It’s not too late!” he insisted. “I can help you find him. We’ll give him back the miraculous together.”

Marinette tried to stamp out the hope that sprouted in her chest at those words.

“She can’t know who he is!” Tikki objected.

Plagg whirled to face his counterpart. “Why not?” he asked seriously. “The old man’s gone. She’s the Guardian now.”

Marinette buried her head into her sopping wet knees. Her throat closed off again, making words impossible.

Tikki had no trouble forming words, however. “It’s still a risk. She’s been akumatized, Plagg! She almost handed her earrings right over. And if Chat Noir were akumatized she would be the only defense against unlimited destruction!”

Plagg hissed in displeasure. “Did it ever occur to you that they might be less vulnerable to akumas if they knew each other?!”

“Please stop arguing,” Marinette begged.

Both kwamis instantly stilled.

“I don’t know if I should know who he is yet. But I do know that I can’t be Ladybug without him.”

“But Marinette!” Tikki objected.

Marinette held up her hand. “I don’t want to stop being Ladybug, Tikki. So we need to get Chat back somehow.”

Plagg spun in a happy circle. “I always knew I liked you, Pigtails.”

“Do you have any ideas, Plagg?” Marinette asked, finally letting the sapling of hope in her chest grow unfettered. “Do you know where he’s headed? Is he close enough that you could go directly to him?”

“I don’t think I could get to the airport before he gets on a plane. But it doesn’t matter because I don’t think he’ll take me back. Even if I bring the ring with me. As long as he thinks you’re still mad at him he’s going to reject me.”

“Oh! I am furious with him!” she growled. “But I don’t want him to quit!” And then her face lit up. “That’s it!”

“What’s your plan?” Tikki asked excitedly, spinning around in anticipation.

She turned to her friend and confidant. “You know where he’s going, too, right?”

“The airport. But Marinette, Plagg is right. I likely can’t get to him before the plane takes off, and what if the earrings fell into the wrong hands along the way?!”

“So, you’re saying that I can only go to him once we get home?” Marinette asked, her voice heavy with disappointment. “But…”

“Ladybug?” A warm synthetic voice chimed in. “I need your help.”

Marinette started, whirling toward the mechanical voice behind her. “Uncanny Valley?”

“The akuma is back and it’s gotten worse. I need your help,” the other hero told her without preamble.

Marinette’s chest tightened in panic. She couldn’t face an akuma. Not right now.

Not without her partner.

“I… I want to help,” Marinette confided. “But… I can’t… Not without him.”

Uncanny Valley smiled. “I can help with that.”

…

Adrien leaned forward in the padded seat on his father’s private chartered plane, his head tucked between his knees as he silently berated himself for every decision he had made over the last three days.

What had he been thinking? He had known Ladybug was out of town and that Paris was undefended. And he had gone anyway.

And Paris had paid the price.

Just so he could have a few days in New York with his friends. How ridiculously irresponsible and childish of him.

The resulting damage to Paris could not be undone.

He buried his fists into his hair, tugging at the golden strands in self-loathing frustration.

And then, once in New York, he had almost failed in the worst way possible. He had almost killed Ladybug. His partner!

The woman he still loved despite trying to move on.

And if he had, he’s not sure how he ever would have recovered. If it hadn’t been for Uncanny Valley absorbing his cataclysm, everything would have been lost.

Everything.

And that was on him.

Uncanny Valley had died to save everyone.

He had killed her. He hadn’t meant to. But he had still taken a life with his own power. Even if it was an accident. He had killed someone. Chat Noir was supposed to be a good guy, a hero, and he had killed someone. And not just anyone.

Aeon.

The bright and precious girl that had been following Jess around the whole trip. Ladybug’s charm may have brought the girl back, but it could never erase the moment when the dark haired girl had lain in her mother’s arms, unmoving, from his mind’s eye.

Frustrated tears leaked from his eyes, and his form shook silently.

He knew he wasn’t worthy of being Chat Noir.

Not anymore. His selfish choice to go on a school field trip had ruined everything.

His father was right about him.

Dear god, he didn’t want to face his father.

He dreaded arriving home. He knew that his life was different now. He had no way to escape his hollow and empty room at any time of day or night, no Plagg to keep him company, and he would no longer be able to hang out with or help his lady.

He knew would see her. It would be impossible not to. She still lived in Paris, and Hawkmoth was still at large. But it would be from a distance, and even if they happened to be in the same place at the same time, she wouldn’t know that it was him.

But he couldn’t bring himself to grieve those pieces yet. Because that was only being selfish. And being selfish is what caused the whole disaster in the first place.

A loud pop interrupted his internal self loathing. The air around him was suddenly roaring with the change in pressure. It lasted only for a moment, before everything went still again.

He turned around. Uncanny Valley stood before him with a bright metallic smile.

He smiled back, tears burning at the edges of his green eyes at seeing her unharmed once again.

She stared at him for a moment without saying anything before holding out a familiar octagonal black box.

“Your services are needed, Chat Noir.”

He stiffened at the address. She knew. Knew that he was the one that had killed her and she had come to him anyway.

Adrien held up his hands defensively and took a step back. “No, I am not worthy of the ring.”

She should know that better than anyone.

Her silver smile never faltered. “Good thing I didn’t bring a ring, then.”

She held out the miraculous box again.

His curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the box despite his reservations, only to drop it to the ground immediately at sight of the spotted earrings.

Adrien was already shaking his head when the swirl of pink sparkles diminished revealing the red kwami he had met only once before.

“She can’t give me her miraculous!” he screamed. “Tikki! What is she thinking?! She knows that I’m irresponsible and can’t be trusted! I proved that today!”

“Adrien,” Tikki soothed, holding her tiny hands out in a placating gesture. “I need you to calm down.”

“You want me to be calm?!” He was shaking like a jet engine. “Tikki, I almost killed her today. Me,” he stabbed his own thumb into his chest. “I did that. It was only because of her,” he gestured wildly toward Uncanny Valley, “that I didn’t.”

“It was an accident, and it turned out okay,” Tikki reassured.

“It almost didn’t,” he repeated stubbornly, letting himself fall back into his seat with his hands clenched into fists.

“Who are you talking to?” Uncanny Valley asked him, her head cocked to the side in confusion.

His green eyes darted towards the other hero for a second, and then back to the red kwami. “Tikkis is the kwami that is bonded with the creation miraculous?”

“What is a kwami? I’m unfamiliar with this classification.”

“She can’t perceive me because we are invisible to cameras,” Tikki explained impatiently.

“Kwamis are like spirits or gods of an idea. Every miraculous has one. They embody the jewelry with their powers,” Adrien explained.

“Fascinating,” Uncanny commented. “What does this creature look like?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Tikki interjected. “Can you please tell her to just playback Ladybug’s message?”

“Ladybug left me a message?” he prompted.

“Yes, of course!” Uncanny held her mouth open, but it was Ladybug’s voice that filled up the room.

“Chaton, I…” her voice trembled, and he knew she was barely holding back tears. “I don’t know what to say to you. I just… I need you to come back. I don’t know how to do this without you…” she trailed off, breaking into a sob.

His throat dropped painfully into his chest. He had made his lady cry. Even after everything, it was her voice that could break him.

She managed to recover, and continued, her voice harder. “I was angry with you for leaving Paris when you said you would be there,” she paused for a second. He could picture her glaring holes through his mask too easily. “But I am more angry that you left me today. How could you do that?” she raged. “When things get hard, when we make mistakes, I need you more! I need you to step up! Not run away.”

“I can’t do this without you,” and here her tone had shifted once again. Now, she was all business, all confident Ladybug with a convoluted plan that would bring everything together. He couldn’t suppress the fond smile that sprouted across his face. “So, I’ve decided that I’m not going to.

“I quit,” she said firmly and decisively.

Wait! What?! But she couldn’t do that! Paris needed her! No one could replace Ladybug.

“Now there’s no one to protect Paris or New York except you. Good luck!”

Uncanny Valley closed her mouth, the recording finished, and looked at him expectantly.

He knew Ladybug was manipulating him, but god damn it, he was never not going to do what she wanted.

He wiped tears from his face that he hadn’t realized he had cried. “She can’t give up, Tikki,” he sobbed. “I’ll go today if she needs me. I will go and return her earrings, but she needs to find a new partner. I definitely don’t deserve any miraculous.”

Tikki shot up to his face. “Adrien! This isn’t about what you deserve or don’t! This is about what she needs! And she needs you! You are her opposite and her partner. You cannot just be replaced. That’s not how this works!”

“She deserves better,” he insisted again, like a broken record.

“Do you not want to be Chat Noir anymore?” the tiny bug asked softly.

He sighed. “Of course I want to be Chat Noir, but there’s a difference between what I want and what is best for everyone! I proved over the last few days that I can’t be trusted not to make selfish choices!”

“That right there is proof you can be trusted!”

Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed together in genuine confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re willing to step down and pass on your position to another, even though you don’t really want to because you think that’s what’s best. That’s the opposite of selfish, Adrien.”

“But how can she trust me anymore? I let her down,” he whispered.

Tikki spiraled in the air in clear agitation. “Do you think you’re the first miraculous holder to make a huge mistake? Ladybug screwed up just last month and Master Fu’s identity and safety was compromised! And as a result, every temporary hero’s identity was revealed!”

“But that was an accident!” he growled back.

The kwami whipped up to his face.

“Exactly! It was an accident!”

He felt like she had just punched him.

“And Master Fu responded to her mistake by making her the Guardian!”

The kwami pulled herself back with a sigh, her tone once again soft and patient. “Because he was wise enough to know that the biggest mistakes often result in the greatest learning! And that Ladybug is not defined by her mistakes.

“And you aren’t either, Adrien. Ladybug can trust you more after you’ve made this mistake and learned from it, than she could before you ever made it.”

She paused for a moment as if searching for words. Then she darted right back into his personal space. “Never making mistakes does not make you worthy of your miraculous. Learning from your inevitable mistakes and taking responsibility for them is what makes you the perfect holder of the black cat.”

He hung his head. He wanted to believe Tikki. He did. Then everything could go back to normal.

“Do you believe in her or not?” Tikki asked into the silence.

“More than anything on this earth.” The words left him in a whisper.

“Well then!” Tikki continued passionately. “Believe that she’s right when she says that you are needed.”

Adrien wanted to argue. He feared Ladybug was wrong about him, and he was positively terrified of disappointing her all over again.

But if her message was to be believed it was his leaving that disappointed her the most.

He sighed, feeling emotionally exhausted and battered, but he couldn’t argue anymore. Tikki has definitely given him a lot more to think about.  “And here I was thinking you would be nicer than Plagg.”

“What?!” Tikki screeched indignantly, shooting up another foot into the air. “I’m definitely the nice one!”

He shook his head in disagreement even as he smiled, enjoying the rare chance to rib a kwami even if it wasn’t the one who gave him a hard time constantly.

“So, how do I find her?” he asked.

“It won’t be hard,” Uncanny Valley interjected. “You just need to go where the akuma is.”

He launched himself to his feet. “There’s an akuma?! Why didn’t either of you lead with that?!” he demanded even as he rapidly thrust the earring posts into his ears.

“Tikki! Spots on!” The creative energies crackled over his form, feeling somehow warm and soft, so unlike his normal destructive power. He stuffed down all his doubts and self-loathing. That could all wait.

There was an akuma to fight.

And his lady needed him.

…

“Watch out!”

Lady Noire dropped to the concrete, cursing the non specificity of the warning. Chat would have told her left or right, up or down in the same number of words. The blast of power rushed over her head and missed her, if only just, so she supposed she couldn’t complain. At least she had an ally in Sparrow. It was better than facing this akuma alone.

Because this akuma - she was blanking on his name. Techno something? But didn’t it also have something to do with the Miraculous? It didn’t matter! Lady Noire couldn’t keep it all straight! That’s what Chat and his love of comics and manga was for! The point was, whatever his name, this akuma sucked!

She vaulted upwards, launching herself from the ground to a street lamp, to one of the lower buildings in the forest of skyscrapers.

Remaining at street level was dangerous. There were too many alleyways and blocked sight lines. But leaping from rooftop to rooftop was almost as bad because it left no places to hide, no options for cover even if she could see all her adversaries coming. And she had to fend off Majestia, Knight Owl, and the akuma on miraculous steroids simultaneously.

At least she was in the clear for the moment. There was no sign of any of them. A distant crash thundered. Lady Noire sighed. Majestia was probably destroying more buildings trying to flush them out.

“Hey, Lady Cat!” Sparrow called. “Follow me!” Then she ducked through an open window a dozens of stories off the ground into a conference room of some sort.

And with another sigh, Lady Noire did just that. She and Sparrow huddled with their heads together out of sight, crafting a new strategy. And again, with Chat, the conversation would have been unnecessary. He could glean her plans from a gesture or three words of explanation.

But she and Sparrow didn’t have that level of intuitive communication. Lady Noire liked Sparrow. The Parisian hero related to the other girl’s desire to prove herself, and she knew the other girl's heart was in the right place. But they didn’t have any experience with each other.

So it took thirty seconds of rapidly exchanged words before they were on the same page and back in the air fighting. It had only been thirty seconds, but how many buildings had Majestia managed to demolish in that time?

Lady Noire honestly didn’t have time to count, as she ducked under yet another projectile - this one launched at her by Knight Owl.

The time delay had been worth it though. She and Sparrow were tag teaming better, grabbing the brainwashed heroes’ attention before they could take out their compromised morals on the city too badly, and covering each other’s back when their three adversaries converged on one of them.

But every move was defensive. They had no plan for an offensive strike. It was all they could do to not get hit by the akuma’s beam.

She wished Chat Noir was there.

She was certain he would come back. He would never leave her hanging. She had absolutely no doubt.

But would he make it back in time? Before her luck ran out completely?

She pounced out of the way of another strike, only to dodge into the blow of another. She had time to curse her mistake, but no time to course correct.

Just when she thought it was over, a flash of red body-slammed her into a third direction.

Relief flooded through her at the familiar sensation of his form pressed against her own. They both readily rolled to their feet, and slid into fighting stances side by side.

“You okay?” he called.

She flashed him a huge grin. “Never better, bugaboy!” Now that he was here.

And unlike the first time they had swapped kwamis, they were perfectly in sync. Even for them, it was impressive. It felt like she could read his mind and he hers.

Or maybe, it was just the contrast of working with Sparrow. Or was her name Eagle now?

Whatever the case, she could feel the difference. Chat Noir was her partner, her other half. He had stolen her heart somewhere along the way, and she couldn’t wait to tell him, even if she would never hear the end of it.

He called for a lucky charm, and she jutted her chin towards a parked taxi cab. He flashed her a grin, and dove into action. And that’s what she meant. He just understood.

“Sorry, Miraclonizer,” Mr. Bug called to the akuma an instant before Lady Noire shot out of the cab and cataclysmed his object. “Third time was not your charm.”

Majestia and Knight Owl cornered the healed villain within seconds of Mr. Bug purifying the butterfly and healing the city.

But Lady Noire paid none of them any mind. She launched herself into her partner’s arms the second it was safe to do so. He caught her as if she weighed nothing, absorbing her momentum with a twirl before pulling her against him.

She had never felt safer.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she told him, her voice hard. It was the only defense she had against immediately dissolving into a puddle of tears at his feet.

“I wouldn’t dream of it m’lady,” he breathed into her braid. “Shall we go somewhere to talk?”

She nodded into his shoulder. “Go, recharge Tikki. And then we’ll meet up on the Statue of Liberty?”

She bounded away without a word to the American heroes, before ducking into a secluded alleyway three blocks away and letting her transformation shimmer away.

“I don’t have any cheese,” she reported solemnly as she offered one of Tikki’s cookies to the limp kwami that had just fallen into her hands.

“I’ll live,” he replied gruffly, eying the proffered pink macaron suspiciously as if she were offering him poison. He took it, flipped it over and inspected it, before taking the smallest of nibbles.

She sighed. “I’ve seen you inhale cheese, Plagg. I don’t suppose I could bribe you with a promise of a wheel of Camembert later to just hold your nose and inhale that, now?”

“What’s your rush, Pigtails?” he asked, taking another infinitesimally small bite. “The akuma has been defeated already. Your job is done.”

“I just…” she looked away. “I don’t want him to spook.”

Which was a lie. She knew he’d be there. But she… she had lost him today. He walked away once. He might do it again. She wouldn’t feel secure until she had seen him, until he had promised with more than words that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He eyed her. “You can trust him, you know. He’ll wait for you.”

“Like I could trust him to protect Paris in my absence?” she bit back.

Plagg said nothing. Just took another tiny bite if one could call it that.

She sighed, idly running her fingernail along the alley brick wall. “I’m sorry. I’m trying not to be angry. I don’t want him to run again.”

“You don’t have to be what others expect you to be, you know.”

Her eyes whipped to the kwami floating in the dim light of a flickering street lamp. “What do you mean?”

He darted around in an animated circle. “You don’t have to be the bigger person. You can be angry. He can take it. He has lots of practice.”

She hissed at those words, hating that any piece of them could be true, and that she still didn’t know enough about his civilian life to refute or understand them.

“But this isn’t about him, or your feelings for him,” Plagg continued. “This has nothing to do with him at all. This has to do with you being the Guardian.”

She frowned. “I’m not following.”

“You don’t have to be what Paris expects you to be. Or what Chat Noir expects you to be. You don’t have to be what Master Fu expected you to be either.”

Her eyes watered unexpectedly at the mention of her old mentor.

“You just have to be you,” Plagg concluded.

Her knuckles buried themselves into her eyes, as she tried to fight back tears. “But I keep messing up.”

“That’s because you’re trying to follow the rules instead of following your instincts!”

“A hero thinks with her brain, not her heart!” she countered hotly.

“No! You need to think with your gut! Your brain is not what helps you decipher Tikki’s charms. I love her, but that girl can be obtuse! No, you have to follow your intuition, and trust that even if you don’t know what the final piece is when you’re halfway through some convoluted plan, you’ll recognize it when you see it.”

She bit her lip, considering his words. His description of unraveling the mystery of a lucky charm wasn’t wrong.

“Like, why didn’t you bring the horse miraculous on this trip? I know you thought about it!”

Her eyes narrowed at his tone.“Because Master Fu said that having too many miraculouses out and active was too risky!” she began defensively.

“You already proved that your determination, creativity, and your faith in your partner was more effective than that old man’s paranoia when you defeated Feast.”

The miniature floating cat took another crumb off Tikki’s cookie. “The old man is gone! You need to figure out your own way of doing things. His ways won’t work for you because you’re not him.”

“But… I’m just a teenager. I don’t know what I’m doing. He had so much more experience. He kept you all safe for centuries. Who am I to say that his methods were wrong?”

“Who are you?” Plagg repeated indignantly. “You are Ladybug! You have never lost. You are now the Guardian. You are Marienette Dupain-Cheng who is quite accomplished in her own right!”

Her eyes burned at the praise. And coming from Plagg who pretended he didn’t care about anything? Well, that meant a lot to her. Especially today when she was feeling so raw and like she had screwed up just for coming on this trip at all.

“And just so you know, Master Fu took on the role of the Guardian when he was twelve. He didn’t know what he was doing either. He made tons of mistakes. You will too, but they don’t have to be the same ones.”

Marinette leaned up against the wall behind her, carefully considering every word. “Why are you telling me all this?” she whispered.

He flipped the cookie over on its end and nibbled into the untouched end. Really, the whole cookie looked unmarred. They were going to be here all night.

“You brought my kid back. You didn’t let him go. I figure I owe you a favor.”

She smiled softly. “You seem to care about him a lot.”

He frowned. “He gives me only the finest of camembert!” he gushed. “Not every holder can pull that off, you know.”

Marinette reached out and scratched the little cat behind his ear, and to her delight he leaned into the caress and purred. She suspected Chat Noir meant far more to the kwami than cheese, but she wasn’t going to call him out on it.

“Tikki says you can’t ever take anything seriously.”

He looked affronted. “I can be serious!” he argued. “When it’s important!”

She giggled. “I can see that,” she conceded. “Thanks, Plagg! I think I needed to hear this.”

“Like I said, I owed you a favor. It’s nothing more than that.”

“Oh, of course,” she agreed readily, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

He popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth, and gulped it down in one swallow.

“So are we going to go meet my kid or what?” Plagg asked. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting all night! He’s going to think you’re still mad at him or something.”

“Are you serious right now?” she screeched, staring at the stoic kwami in complete disbelief. “You were just pretending you had to eat that cookie so slowly?”

He did the kwami equivalent of a shrug. “You asked me to hurry it up. And I did! Don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Oh my god! You’re impossible!”

“Still waiting on you, Pigtails,” he countered smugly.

“Plagg, claws out!” she growled out, his laughter echoing in the humid frigid air around her even after he was sucked into the ring.

Dark crackling energy enveloped her body from head to toe, thrumming with raw power and energy. Her normal transformation felt warm and comforting. And the black cat wasn’t cold - it was more like lightning. And once her transformation was complete she just needed to move, to run, to pounce, to be free.

She vaulted from the ground, shooting off towards the monument of liberty that she could see clearly now that it had stopped raining, eager and excited to speak with her partner.

As she approached, she could see he was already there - a spot of red that stood out against the green of the statue’s oxidized copper. He was sitting under that railing of Lady Liberty’s torch, his legs dangling playfully over the edge.

She vaulted up and landed next to him in a feline crouch.

“M’lady!” he greeted brightly as if they hadn’t planned on meeting not twenty minutes prior. “I was starting to get worried. What happened?”

“Plagg happened,” she growled. “Apparently, he eats cookies really really really slowly.”

He laughed. And god, it was a gorgeous sound. One that she would never take for granted again. “Yeah, he’s pretty annoying when it comes to food.”

She sat down next to him, closer than she normally would have, wanting to have him close. She crossed her legs at the ankles and they stayed relatively calm compared to his active swinging. Neither of them spoke for a minute, they were just staring over the city of lights. The city that was not their own, but they had just saved.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the silence.

His spring-green eyes snapped to her in surprise. “For?”

“For coming back,” she told him simply, still not daring to look at him. If she looked at him she was fairly certain she would cry. And while tears were likely inevitable this evening, she didn’t want to start off with them.  

“I’m sorry for ever leaving,” he told her solemnly.

“It’s…” she broke off. She was going to say that it was okay, but it wasn’t. “Thank you for saying that,” she said instead. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said immediately. Her eyes jumped towards his face, surprised at his total lack of hesitation. He gazed back at her, his face calm and serene as the breeze that swept across their cheeks.

“You don’t want to know what it is first?” she asked.

He shook his head with a soft smile. The expression almost seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “I already know I would do almost anything for you, M’lady. I thought you would have known that by now. And the one or two things I wouldn’t be able to do, you would never ask.”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks at his raw faith in her. She was never certain how she had earned it.

“What did you want to ask?” he prompted when she still didn’t explain.

“Just that… next time, if there’s a next time, which I hope there won’t be,” she rambled. “But if there is a next time, can you please talk to me first? Before you make your decision?”

He stared at her for a second. “Next time for what?” he finally asked.

She glanced at him, then looked back down to her knees. “A next time you want to quit…”

“Oh…”

And then he said nothing. And she couldn’t stand it. Her gloved fingers writhed in her lap.

“It’s just… you left without letting me say goodbye,” she confessed, her voice softer than the cold breeze. But she knew he could hear her. She looked back at him again, gauging his face for a reaction, but for once she couldn’t read him. “I…” she bit her lower lip in thought, and looked back down. “I don’t want you to be trapped in this. You’re never obligated to continue, but…”

His hand, gloved in red and black, reached out to hers soothingly. “But?”

Emerald green eyes blinked at her from behind a spotted mask, and she found herself missing the vertical pupils that came from wearing the black cat miraculous. When had his eyes stopped looking alien and strange to her? When had they become a source of comfort?

“If you ever want to stop doing this, please… just let me say… goodbye,” she choked out over the massive rock that had just lodged itself in her throat. Hot tears fell from her eyes, over her mask. She hated crying in the mask.

He pulled her against him, she felt safe and warm in his arms. Her body responded by convulsing harder with wracking sobs. He rubbed her back soothingly, and rocked her back and forth.

“Oh bug, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, and then he kissed the crown of her head. “Of course I promise.”

“The last thing I said to you was out of anger,” she sobbed into his chest.

“Shhh… it’s okay. I’m right here. And I know you,” and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You were never going to let that be our last conversation. I’m apparently really bad at staying away even when I think it’s for the best.”

She stilled at his words, at the self deprecation in his tone. “Do you…?” she hesitated, carefully keeping her head down and not looking at his face. “Do you still... think it would be best for you to give up the miraculous?”

He didn’t say anything.

And suddenly, despite his arm around her shoulders, the night was freezing once again, overcast, dark, and grey.

“Chaton?” she prompted. She was terrified of what he might say, but she had to know. She had to know if she could rely on him.

His head dropped, his forehead rested against the top of her braid. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “In the moment that I renounced Plagg, I did it because I just didn’t see any path back for me. I just kept making mistake after mistake. I didn’t want to keep letting you down.”

“You didn’t let me down,” she objected automatically.

Her partner laughed, but there was no amusement here. It was not the bright, rich laugh that came from his belly that she coveted and cherished. This laugh was bitter and dark.  

She huffed out a sigh. “Okay! Fine, you let me down, but not in some irreparable sense that you seem to be thinking.”

His arms tightened around her. “I almost killed you today,” he whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

She sat up then, and traced the sides of his downturned face in both of her hands. She urged his gaze up to hers and waited until he was looking at her before speaking. “But you didn’t.” Her voice didn’t waiver.

His lower lip trembled and soon his whole body was quaking. She jerked him into her arms, and his head came to rest on her bony shoulder.

“I… I don’t know… w-what I would do… if I lost you,” he gasped out between sobs.

“You’re the one that was going to leave,” she couldn’t help but point out dryly.

His nose burrowed deeper into her shoulder. “Only because I am afraid that at some point I will screw up so badly, but instead of me… you’ll be the one to pay the price. I don’t want to be your partner if I am not the best one to protect you. You’re too important to me to let my ego or selfish tendencies get in the way.”

Her arms tightened around him.

He looked up at her then. His eyes were glassy and as green as new spring grass. “But then Tikki said some things that made me think about it differently. That maybe coming back was more important?”

He said it like it was a question. That he needed her confirmation more than anything.

“Kitty, I don’t know how to convince you. I know you won’t be perfect. I won’t be perfect either. I know our mistakes have very real consequences for more than just us. And I would definitely appreciate it in the future, if anything that affects our responsibility changes, you would tell me rather than pretend like everything was taken care of.”

He nodded in agreement.

“But you are it for me! I cannot do this with anyone else because you are the only person who was here with me through this whole crazy thing, the only person who has believed in me even before I believed in myself! You are the person that I trust the most. The only person that can really understand my life. That’s why today was so hard. I…” She broke off into tears.

She started sobbing uncontrollably, harder than either time before. Her throat was tight, and she felt like there was no air. She couldn’t talk, but she desperately needed him to hear these ones.

“I… thought I was… n-never going to see you again,” she choked out.

His hands traced her jaw as his thumbs brushed away her tears. “Do you want to know who I am?” he asked, his eyes serious.

She laughed hysterically through her tears. Of course she wanted to know; she had always wanted to know. But she was still scared. Plagg’s advice about being in her own kind of Guardian warred with every word of caution Master Fu and Tikki had ever given her. Because learning who he was wasn’t something they could take back.

She needed to think about this very carefully. But she wanted to just know. And she wanted to tell him.

“I’m serious,” he told her. “I will tell you right now. You don’t even have to reciprocate.”

She sucked in a breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and smiled brightly at him. She wanted to give into his offer with every fiber of his being. But even if she wasn’t scared to know anymore, it was still probably wise to give it careful consideration before rushing into anything.

“I know who you are,” she told him.

He started. “Y-you do? What gave me away?”

Her smile grew, and her fingertips traced the side of his face. “No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t know your identity. But I do know you. You’re my partner. And my best friend. The boy I trust more than anyone else on this planet. And the most important person in my life. I know your heart.” She placed her other hand on his chest. His heart was racing, too. “I know you.”

She leaned forward before she could think about it too much. He met her halfway.

His lips were chapped, and his breath tasted of mint. His fingers found a home in the small of her back while hers became tangled in his golden locks. Everything about their contact was warm, sweet, and soft.

She didn’t want the moment to end.

It was perfect.

So when he started to pull away, her hands held him in place. And she could feel him smile against her lips.

She finally pulled away with a gasp, and only because she had to breathe at some point, and she was rewarded with a dopey grin on his face with his masked eyes still slitted closed.

She watched him fondly for a few seconds, her giddy smile likely echoing his own. But when he didn’t move, and he didn’t open his eyes, she grew impatient.

“Chaton? You still there?” she teased lightly.

“Yes, m’lady!” he answered brightly. But his eyes remained stubbornly closed.

She poked him in the shoulder. “Why are your eyes still closed?”  

He sighed happily. “Because I’m trying to memorize the best moment in my life so I can replay it later when I need it.”

She snorted. “I can’t believe I fell in love with such a dork.”

His green eyes snapped open. “You love me?” he breathed out as if he could scarcely believe it.

She curled her hands around his again. “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. “Did Uncanny Valley not play you my message?”

“She did, but…”

“And you were here for that confession and kiss, right? You remember it? You weren’t under some akuma’s control or anything?”

He shook his head, even as his fingers tightened around hers. “No, but you didn’t say love,” he objected.

She turned towards him again. “Chaton, the boy I told you about, the one I told you I loved?”

He went rigid, his expression suddenly carefully neutral. “What about him?” he asked casually.

“He came on this trip with me,” she explained. “But today he left. I watched him drive away and it felt like he was leaving me. And it was hard. But it barely registered in comparison to the devastation I felt listening to your echoing footsteps fade away after you left your miraculous behind.”

His gaze dropped to their joined hands. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I’m not trying to make you feel more guilty. I just… that’s how I knew.”

She turned and kneeled before him, still not letting go of his hands. “I had to let go of both of you today,” she told him. “But you were the one where that did not feel possible. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the lines you snuck into my heart, made it your own, and I don’t want you to leave.

“Because I love you,” she whispered.

His eyes turned glassy, but he was smiling. “I love you, too.”

She couldn’t stand to see him crying even if they were tears of joy. So she leaned forwards and kissed him again. And then again and again until she lost count and they were both giggling like children.

“What does this mean?” he asked her later, when they were giggled out, and her head rested against his shoulder once again.  

She sighed. What she wouldn’t give to just be! Be here and now, and not have to worry about Paris or New York or decisions that she didn’t want to be the one to make! “I don’t know. I want us to be together, I think. But this is dangerous. But… Plagg said I needed to make my own rules.”

He started. “Plagg said what?”

She ignored his interjection. “And he was right! I… I’ve been trying to emulate Master Fu because he is the only example I have.”

“Plagg gave you advice…? Like useful advice?” Chat objected again.

She frowned up at him. “You’re getting distracted, kitty.”

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free arm. “Go on.”

“I just worry that if Hawkmoth knows we’re in love, he’ll find a way to use it against us. Love makes us strong in so many ways, but it also makes us vulnerable.”

He threaded his fingers with hers. And she had never thought she would enjoy holding hands with someone as much as she did.

“Do you really think he couldn’t have already done that before when assuming we were just friends?”

She pursed her lips, considering. She supposed he had a point. She kept her identity a secret so that Hawkmoth couldn’t get at her through her family or friends. But Chat Noir had always been a friend she couldn’t hide.

“It’s just more pronounced, I think,” she concluded.

“Would you want to keep it a secret then?” he asked, his expression betraying nothing about how he felt about that idea. But she knew that was his way of being supportive by letting her take the lead.

“Keeping our vulnerabilities secret does offer some protection. That’s the way Master Fu did it. He always stayed in the shadows and was secretive and he was able to protect the kwamis and to stay hidden for almost two centuries!”

“But?” he prompted when she stopped.

And she smiled, pleased that he could read her so well. “But we’re on the front lines. We don’t have the luxury of staying in the shadows. It’s harder to build an impenetrable wall of secrets when you have to be out in public all the time fighting monsters. When you have to balance a double life without anyone noticing. When you struggle with so much, and can’t confide in anyone, or ask anyone for support…”

And suddenly, now that she was really thinking about it, she was angry. Livid that she had been put in this situation where she was almost alone in keeping an entire city safe, and told that she could share that with no one. How long would it be before she broke? How long before she was akumatized?

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She shook herself out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I just… I didn’t realize that I was so angry. Master Fu dumped a lot of responsibility on me without leaving any avenues of support,” and she immediately tensed realizing how her words can be misconstrued. Her eyes jerked upwards to his. “I didn’t mean you,” she told him.

He smiled. “No, I totally understand what you meant,” he assured immediately. And then his smile faded and his gaze turned distant.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Do you want to give up your miraculous?” He asked softly, clearly afraid of her answer.

She jerked back violently. “What?! No!! I can’t give it up!” Even she was startled at how visceral her reaction was. “No,” she said again, her tone more calm. “It’s hard, yes. And definitely unfair. But it would just as unfair to put this burden on someone else.”

“But do you want to be Ladybug?” he asked again, this time his green eyes were intense and insistent, rather than worried.

“I love being Ladybug,” she whispered back. “I love knowing that I have helped someone. I love being able to protect the people I care about. And well, even the challenge of figuring out how to defeat an akuma or interpret a lucky charm… It's empowering,” her voice grew louder the more she talked. “Just knowing that when the chips are down, I’m capable of thinking stuff out like that. Most people have to run when an akuma strikes, but not me. I have agency. I can do something. And I’m good at it!”  

“Damn good at it!” he agreed with a huge smile.

She smirked. “And I suppose flying over the city by yoyo is pretty cool too,” she tacked on.

“I had to ask,” he told her. “I want you to know you have an out, too.”

“Thank you kitty. I appreciate that.”

“So if you’re committed to sticking it out, what do you want to do differently than Master Fu as the new Guardian?” he asked. “And whatever you decide, know that I will always support you.”

Her eyes locked onto his. “I want to trust. I want to trust you completely. Maybe others too, but I want to start with you. I don’t want there to be secrets between us.”

She felt him freeze underneath her.

“So… does that mean…” he fidgeted nervously. “Tell me if I’m jumping the gun again, but may I tell you my name?”  

The question hit her like a lightning bolt, sending both her heart racing and her gut fluttering. Even though he had mentioned it earlier, this time felt different. Now, she felt ready. But she was still nervous. But not in the way that she used to be. She wasn’t worried for her friends and family because this was Chat! Her partner. He would give his life for her, she already knew. The idea even brought a sense of relief.

No, the butterflies in her stomach were more a giddy nervousness. She tried to calm herself by breathing deeply. Knowing his name wouldn’t change how she felt about him. And she had to believe that his knowing hers wouldn’t change the way he felt either.

“Only if you want to,” she said. God, she wanted him to tell her so bad, but she didn’t feel she had the right to demand anything after she had already put him off so many times.

He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to. It works out for you, too, in this case because you’ll always be able to track me down when you need to yell at me for something without having to send a third party or worry that it will be our last conversation.”

She laughed. “You sure you don’t want to wait like two weeks when we’re not so emotionally raw? When our heads are on straight?” It was the more pragmatic choice. There was no rush. They didn’t really have to burn through all the secrets between them in one evening.

He barked out a laugh of his own. “Two weeks for you to come up with a million and three reasons about how bad of an idea it is?” He shook his head, even as he chuckled. “No, I don’t really want to wait for that.”

“I’m not that bad!” she objected.

“Oh, yes, you are,” he grinned, darting in with a quick kiss to her nose, which she scrunched up in response. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

“Yeah, well! You’re so impulsive!” she countered, even as she grinned.

“And you love me anyway,” he countered, cheekily.

Heat flooded her neck and face; even her ears felt hot in the cold air. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“I love you, too.” His voice was so soft, like velvet, and his eyes were even softer. Love poured from them. It was so intense it was hard to maintain eye contact. She had never felt more exposed or vulnerable. He had all of her heart. He had stolen it.

But he didn’t say anything more, and it was driving her mad.

“So…” she prompted, “What’s your name?”

He started, and then grinned again. “R-right!” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Adrien.”

She reeled backwards as if burned. “W-what?!” she exclaimed. She thought she had been prepared for anything! She thought his name wouldn’t change anything.

She had been wrong.

“My name… it’s Adrien,” he repeated.

Her eyes were bugged out of her head, and her jaw was on the balcony floor. But she didn’t know what to say. It couldn’t be him, could it? That would be too simple. And too unfair all at once! The universe was clearly laughing at her. It had been laughing at her for years!

He frowned. “Is that bad?”

She could hear the tremor in his voice. God, he was freaking out. She had to fix that.

“N-no…?” she stammered. Crap! She was stammering. He was totally going to see straight through her.

Would that be so bad?

“Just… unexpected,” she said lamely.

“Were you expecting a Louis, or an Antoine?” he asked jokingly, clearly trying to bury his vulnerability in silliness, but she could see through him. He was terrified. “What name did you give me in your head?”

“Chaton,” she whispered, squeezing his head, managing to look right into his anxious eyes.  

His whole form relaxed and his jokester face melted into the softest smile at her admission. And oh god, it was totally him. How had she never seen it before? She was such an idiot.

“Okay seriously,” he laughed. “What is wrong with the name Adrien?”

“Nothing!” she insisted.

He kissed the knuckles of each of her gloved hands. “Then why are you freaking out?”

So many panicked thoughts swirled through her brain just like it always did when she was trying to talk to Adrien. But this wasn’t just Adrien anymore, she reminded herself. This was her partner, her best friend, her love, and her Chaton. She had just said she wanted no more secrets between them not five minutes prior.

She took a deep breath and prayed for courage. “Adrien might be the name of the boy I had a crush on,” she admitted. Somehow, it was easier to be indirect about it even though she already knew that it was him.  

“What were the chances that I have the same name as…?” And then his whole body stilled and his eyes widened. “Unless… No! I cannot be that lucky,” he mumbled more to himself than her. “But… you said…” His eyes searched hers. “You said… your crush walked away from you today. If that was me…”

And suddenly his eyes watered and he was crying again. Only this time, she had no idea what was wrong.

He couldn’t be that disappointed it was her, could he? The possibility had never occurred to her.

“Chaton? What’s wrong?”

He yanked her to him, his arms wrapped around her petite frame from both sides and he cried onto her shoulder.

“Marinette, I’m so sorry!” he sobbed.

And she shivered at her name on his lips, laden with such emotion. She felt her panic begin to fade. He definitely wasn’t disappointed.

“For?” she asked.

“I walked away from you twice today.”

And with those words the last of her fear faded away. She rubbed circles on his back. She hoped he found them soothing.

“Chaton, it’s okay,” she reassured, feeling remarkably free herself. She had managed to confess to both of the boys she loved in one go!  And she was feeling much better about this whole Guardian business just as a bonus. “This makes things surprisingly simple,” she said, framing both sides of his face in her gloved hands.

He shook his head and nuzzled his cheek into one of her hands. “I don’t deserve you,” he croaked out.

She shook her head. “I think you deserve the world, Chaton. That’s why I fought so hard for you to be able to come on this trip. I just didn’t realize you were also the person that I needed to stay behind.”

He laughed through his tears. “You’re so amazing, Buginette. I have thought so this whole trip. Until I screwed up royally, I was thinking about asking you out when we got back to Paris. Marinette you, I mean.”

“R-really?!” she squeaked.

“Really!”

“What changed?” She asked. “If I recall, Chat Noir already rejected Marinette.”

“I don’t know that anything did. It’s like you said… I think you snuck in a long time ago and I just didn’t realize it because I was so focused on Ladybug.”

“Ladybug is pretty great, I guess,” she grudgingly admitted.

“Ladybug is definitely amazing! I’ve looked up to her for a long time, but Marinette… she is so much more because she fights for justice without the benefit of a mask. She always stands up when it matters. She goes out of her way to include everyone, she gives people second chances. She gave me a second chance.”

Her eyes watered with his sweet, sweet words.

“She was the first friend I really made on my own, and I think it’s one of the best things I have ever done, and I save Paris on a weekly basis!”

A laugh tore through her tears, and he smiled back.

She tilted her head up and kissed him, trying to convey how much his words meant to her. Because she could not put it into words.

“I love you,” he finished when they pulled away.

She grinned even though she was still crying. “I love you!”

She studied his face, his eyes sparkled and his mouth couldn’t stop smiling. Happiness suited him. She realized that she had never seen her partner completely one hundred percent joyful. She had never understood before that half his jokes and tendency to want to play around was one part outlet and another part defense mechanism, but now, he made so much more sense to her. And she loved him more.

She hadn’t realized that was possible.

“It makes sense now,” she confided.

“What does?”

“Your attitude and personality as Chat Noir. You barely ever are allowed anything, so of course you go a little overboard when the opportunity presents itself. Ladybug has always primarily been a duty for me. Chat Noir is freedom for you. And well, if my miraculous was the only way I got to be free, I wouldn’t listen to my kwami either.”

He laughed. “Plagg actively encourages my rebellious moments,” he said, his eyes still gleaming.

“Really?!” she scoffed. “No fair! Why did you get the fun kwami?”

“He’s not that fun,” Adrien immediately disagreed. “Quite annoying really. He goes through so much expensive cheese you wouldn’t believe it. Nathalie still asks me questions about how much cheese I buy. And he makes a point of leaving cheese crumbs everywhere, which makes everything smell weird.”

She ate up every word like a child on Christmas morning. It was so mundane, but they got to do this now! They got to share every bit of how their civilian and hero lives clashed.

“But he’s definitely the nice one,” her partner concluded.  

“What?!” she screeched in mock outrage. “Blasphemy! Tikki is the sweetest!”

He grinned. “She is definitely the mean one.”

“Whatever! I guess you should give her back to me then, since you clearly don’t appreciate her!” she bantered back.

She hadn’t expected the immediate flash of pink light.

Tikki materialized a split second later, but Marinette spared no attention to her constant companion. She was looking at her unmasked partner. He stood before her, unfairly tall. His blond unstyled hair looked more like Chat’s than Adrien’s and she loved it. His cheeks were slightly pink, but his eyes…. It was like she had never seen them before, which was ridiculous because he was Adrien. She had seen them thousands of times before. But she had never seen them knowing he was her partner. They were emerald-green, and they were shining with complete trust and love, and she was lost in their depths.

She traced the curve of his jawline with a gloved hand, but her eyes never left his even when she started tearing up all over again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His golden eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “For?”

“For making you wait so long for this moment,” she confessed. She was so mad at herself for costing them so much time when they could have been supporting each other completely in both parts of their lives.

He smiled. And she could see her kitty in his face and it was amazing!

He turned his head into the hand on his face and kissed her palm. “You had to be ready. I know I was less patient on some days, but I’m glad that we waited until we both were ready.”

Maybe he was right. It was better this way because if it had happened sooner she might have combusted realizing it was Adrien and been unable to talk to him. Or she might have been angry if he had shared before she thought it was okay. And this… this was better.

She dissolved her own transformation in a flash of green. Plagg was there immediately, glanced between them in their civilian forms, and he smirked.

“Oh thank god!” he exclaimed. That was as far as he got before Tikki swooped in, and wrestled him out of sight.

Adrien carefully took out his earrings, and they reverted to their red and black form in his hands. He held them up, gesturing to the side of her head. “May I?” he asked.

A blush bloomed across her face at the question. She nodded, not trusting herself to form words.

His bare hands gently pushed a few errant strands of her hair behind her ear, before he carefully slipped one earring into her right ear. “Thank you for making me come back and thank you for trusting me with… yourself and everything else.”

He moved to the other side of her head and slipped in the second earring just as gently. “I promise to do everything I can to live up to your trust in me.”

Then he kissed her forehead before pulling slightly away, but she captured his hand before he could escape entirely.

She caressed each finger one by one, and then took off his miraculous, which was a rose gold on her hand, but instantly turned black when it was free of her finger. She watched in fascination as it turned silver when she placed it on his finger.

“I want to thank you for always supporting me, for being patient,” she started.

“Mostly patient,” he interjected, his voice light with teasing. She pushed a finger to his lips.

“Hush! It’s your turn to listen.

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It was such a Chat expression on Adrien’s face. And that made her smile.

“I want to thank you,” she began again. “For always being there when no one else was, for picking me up in my lowest moments, for giving me advice, for being a bright spot in the darkness.”

“Can I get a do over?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Nope!” She snapped back playfully. She had loved what he had said. “And I promise to be transparent with you as the Guardian the way Fu never was.”

She kissed his hand. Then he pulled her up and his lips met hers again. He was so warm. And he was sending tingles down to her toes.

Would she ever get used to his kisses?

She hoped not.

He pulled away just slightly and her vision was filled with his green eyes. “It feels like we just got married,” he told her.

Heat rushed from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “I don’t think I’m ready for that. But… maybe someday?” she suggested with a shy smile.

He grinned back. “I look forward to that day.”

She did, too.

…

[lycorogue]

Latest Story: I Need Him Back

It’s Plagg Appreciation Day again!

Well, actually, it’s now after midnight, but close enough to Plagg Appreciation Day (aka Friday 13th), right? It just kept me all day to write, edit, format for online publishing, and promote this story. It’s also the 1st thing I’ve written since LAST Friday 13th (back in March), so.. yeah. (This has been a trash year for my creativity along with just about everything else) I hope I shook off enough of the rust.

You can stay here to read my latest story, or you can find it on these other sites: on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

I Need Him Back

**Contains Spoilers For ML NY Special**

Summary: Marinette has no clue what to do without her Chat Noir. All she wants is for her partner back. Plagg is just as distraught without his holder, but maybe he can find a way to get the ring back to Adrien. The trick is doing so without revealing who Chat Noir was to Marinette.

Rating: General Audience

Word Count: 5799

Status: Completed one-shot

**This story is an AU of the ending to the NY special. I wondered what would happen if the magic of the Miraculous transformations blocked enough of Uncanny Valley's scan (much like how she was having issues with Techclonizer) that it prevented her from deducing Ladybug's and Chat Noir's identities.**

“Please forgive me, my friend.”

It kept Plagg a second too long to realize what Adrien was doing. “No!”

“I renounce you, Plagg.”

He couldn't say anything. In a flash, Plagg was gone. Banished to his ring. He had never expected this. Never thought Adrien could ever abandon him like that. He was safe. He was home. Adrien was family.

“Plagg?” Marinette was holding his ring now. The Guardian was once more in possession of the Miraculous. Adrien truly was gone, wasn't he? “Plagg, what happened? Why? Why would he-?” She hid her face in her hands. “This is my fault! I chased him away.”

Plagg wasn't sure what to say. He was in too much shock himself. Tikki drifted over to him, grabbed his arm, and slowly drew him down into Marinette's purse with her so he could rest. At least, while the Guardian held onto his ring, he could be with Tikki. It was a small consolation, but it was all he had to hold onto at that point.

The rain drenched them the moment Marinette climbed out of the sewers. The teen didn't seem to notice, and Plagg certainly didn't care.

“This is all my fault,” he confessed with a quaking croak. “I should have stopped him from leaving.”

“He made his choice,” was Marinette's somber reply, “What were we supposed to do?”

She wandered the city aimlessly for a little while longer before realizing her classmates must be wondering where she was. Reluctantly, she made her way back towards the hotel. Out front, she met up with Adrien, but their reunion was interrupted when a car pulled up beside them.

“Adrien, get in the car at once,” Gabriel demanded through the video in the car.

“Adrien?” Plagg stirred in Marinette's purse, desperate to go to his boy. Tikki held him still.

“You can't,” Tikki whispered.

“But-”

“My owner is the one with the ring now, so you can't stay with him anyway, and you can't reveal that he was Chat Noir to her.”

“Tikki-”

“I wouldn't have minded being stuck here a little longer with a friend like you.” Adrien's voice nearly broke Plagg's heart. The kid had lost so much; gave up so much. He was broken, and it was all Plagg's fault.

“I should have never convinced him that it would be alright to leave Paris.”

Tikki's eyes widened. “You told him to come?”

“His father was sending him anyway, and you know how he has no say in his life when his father's involved. I just wanted him to have fun while he was here, so I came up with the plan to fly back to Paris when an akuma alert happened, and he'd press the communicator button to buzz for Ladybug while he was on-route. By the time Ladybug made it back to Paris she would never know he was gone. I didn't expect a supervillain here stopping him from getting back in time.”

“She knew about the akuma in Paris the same time he did. She wouldn't have been able to get away even if he had stayed at home. It's neither of your faults.”

Plagg hung his head. If only he could believe Tikki.

“Adrien!” Marinette bellowed, “Stay!”

Marinette's plea pierced through Plagg. He wanted to scream the same exact thing.

“I've already lost Chat Noir. I can't lose Adrien too.” She did lose him, though. Her mad dash in the rain ended with her wiping out into the street and softly confessing her love to the empty city.

She then wandered in the rain once more, completely lost in what to do next or where to go.

“What are you doing out here?” Uncanny Valley elegantly descended before them, her three eyes darting around to make sure everything was safe.

“I- uh-”

“Hawk Moth is in New York City. It is not safe for you to be outside right now. I will take you back to the hotel.” Uncanny scooped Marinette into a bridal carry and flew off before Marinette could refuse.

“Hawk Moth? He's here?” Marinette choked out.

“Yes. I am searching for Ladybug and Chat Noir to help. Have you seen either of them?”

“N- No. No, I'm sorry. I can't help you.”

“That's alright. I am sure I'll find them in time.” Uncanny landed on the hotel roof and put Marinette down. “Go hide inside until it is safe, okay? Don't worry, we will be victorious. I know it.” Before Marinette could say anything else, Uncanny Valley had flown away, looking for a superhero that no longer existed and one who didn't have the will to fight.

“Marinette! You have to transform! You know you're the only one who can stop Hawk Moth.”

“I- I can't. Not without him.” She opened her palm and looked longingly at the Cat Ring.

“I know this is tough, Marinette, but New York needs you. You can't repair what happened in Paris, but you can help here. Besides, if Uncanny Valley is looking for Ladybug then she's not helping to defeat the akuma. They're going to need as many heroes as they can get.”

Marinette nodded. “Tikki, spots on!”

It was a hard fight without her partner, but she was able to lean on Sparrow and Uncanny Valley for help. They managed to get the Miraculous away from the villain easily enough, but getting to the akuma was a different matter.

Plagg watched on from a distance, making sure Hawk Moth didn't spot him. It kept a little while, but he eventually saw an opening, snuck into the battle, and used his Cataclysm to help trap Techclonizer in the ground by the Statue of Liberty. It was then an easy task for Uncanny to break his handcuffs and for Ladybug to cleanse the akuma.

The rest of the class trip was uneventful. Everything more-or-less went as scheduled, and Plagg stayed cuddled in Tikki's arms. The three of them didn't have a moment alone to talk about Chat Noir or what to do next with the ring. If nothing else, Alya refused to let Marinette out of her sight for a moment.

On the plane, Marinette had debated sneaking away. It was a long flight, but she was also very tired. She ended up silently crying herself to sleep with her back towards her best friend so she'd never know. 

Plagg likewise curled around his ring, nuzzling it as he too tried to get some sleep. Both Marinette and Plagg tried to push New York into as distant a pained memory as possible as they flew home.

“Don't worry, Marinette,” Alya gave her best friend a tight hug before letting her off the chartered bus. “You'll see Adrien again in class tomorrow. You can make things right then.”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette forced a smile. “Thanks, Alya. See you tomorrow.”

“Try to get some rest, girl!”

Marinette collected her suitcase and waved Alya goodbye as the bus drove to the next student's home to drop off.

“Marinette!” Sabine burst through the bakery door and flung her arms around her daughter. Tom came sprinting out shortly behind and wrapped both women in his massive hug. “Sweetheart, we're so glad you're safe,” Sabine continued, “We saw that Ladybug had stopped a supervillain in New York City, and we were so worried.”

“But if Ladybug was there, we knew you had to be alright,” Tom interjected, slowly releasing his two favorite ladies from his grip. “Plus, we saw that sign you and your friends held up for that Adrien boy.”

“Still,” Sabine added, “it's such a relief to see for ourselves that you're okay.”

As Marinette's parents ushered her home, Plagg slumped in her purse, tail curled around him.

“Plagg?” Tikki whispered.

“What if Ladybug wasn't okay? What if me convincing my owner to go on the trip instead of finding a way for him to stay here was enough of a distraction that-?” He swallowed hard and pulled his knees in closer. “Tikki, my owner feels horrible about what he did, but it was my power that did it! What if that other superhero didn't step in the way? What if Chat Noir actually did touch Ladybug with my Cataclysm? She might have survived, like how Chat Noir did when Miraculer hit him with the Cataclysm, but what if Ladybug didn't because it was me that was powering it instead of some akuma? What if it somehow damaged your Miraculous? What if it had hurt you?”

“Plagg.” Tikki snuggled close to him, nuzzling her head against his cheek. “Plagg, that's exactly why your owner gave up the ring in the first place, because of all of those 'what ifs' he kept asking. It's not his fault though. It's not yours either. Poor decisions were made, but we've always learned from them in the past, haven't we? I know my owner has made a lot of mistakes as well, but we grow from them and make sure not to make them again.”

“Well, there won't be a chance to grow and learn with him. He gave me up, remember?”

Tikki shifted so she could meet Plagg's eyes; staring intently into them. “Do you honestly think that's what he wants?”

It didn't take long for Plagg to break contact with Tikki. He turned towards the side of Marinette's purse, keeping his back towards his fellow kwami. “Even if he wants to be Chat Noir again, he can't. Marinette doesn't know who he was, and she can't ask Master Fu anymore. I can't name my owner, and you're such a stickler for the rules that I doubt you'll tell her and reveal his identity.”

Tikki puffed and pouted at how Plagg snarled his final sentence at her. Exhaling her anger, she tried once more in a calming tone. “We can figure this out without my owner ever discovering his identity. I know we can. She's very good at solving puzzles like this, and-” Tikki rested a comforting flipper on Plagg's shoulder, “and you're pretty good at coming up with plans yourself.” Plagg shrugged her off him, but she persisted. “Yes, Chat Noir coming to New York City with us didn't work out, but, I must admit, it wasn't the worst plan in the world. I don't know if the AstroCat transformation would have been fast enough to get you back to Paris before anyone got suspicious about the delay. However, my owner also kept forgetting to carry the Horse Glasses with her, so she probably would have used the same tactic. And the plan to contact Nooroo would have worked if he wasn't powering Hawk Moth at the exact moment of hitting his cycle. You have good plans. Just-” She shrugged, “just poor luck?”

Plagg sighed a shaky breath and quickly wiped away his tears before turning back towards Tikki. “How do we fix this though?”

Tikki rested her flippers on each of Plagg's shoulders and her forehead against his. They both closed their eyes and just focused on their connection for a second. “We'll figure something out, Plagg.” She then pulled him closer into a hug.

A couple of hours later, a somber Marinette climbed to her bedroom, excusing herself from her overly doting parents by telling them how jetlagged she was. It wasn't an entirely false statement – something Marinette had grown quite skilled at – but her true exhaustion was due to the loss of her partner, and she still needed proper time to mourn that. The hours in the rain wandering New York City wasn't enough time. The long, nearly sleepless night after defeating Miraclonizer wasn't enough time. The eight-hour flight home wasn't enough time. Marinette was wondering if there would actually ever be enough time.

She pulled out the Cat Ring and rolled it around the tip of her index finger, studying every centimeter of its surface, as if that could give her some clue as to how to get her Chat Noir back.

Tikki and Plagg emerged from Marinette's purse, and exchanged a look. Plagg's eyes widened and he shrunk in on himself a little. Tikki, on the other hand, puffed herself up, squared her shoulders in determination, and gave a subtle nod in Marinette's direction. Plagg curled further into himself. His eyes darted between Marinette's inspection of his ring and Tikki's stern gaze and increasingly overt head nods towards her owner.

Exasperated with the pity-party around her, Tikki huffed before zipping down to Marinette's hand; catching her owner's attention.

“Tikki, I- I don't know what to do. Even if I have help like Uncanny Valley and Sparrow, or even if I find new bearers of the Miraculous here in Paris, it won't be the same. Even when I had Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Viperion helping me, it wasn't the same. No one- no one could ever replace Chat Noir. I can't do this without him, Tikki. I-” Marinette hid her budding tears with the heels of her hands, the Cat Ring dangling from her index finger still.

“Marinette, I think we- I think Plagg might have come up with a way to get Chat Noir back. Get your Chat Noir back.”

Both Tikki and Marinette turned to Plagg. He promptly started shaking his head and waving his arms, trying to get Tikki to abort the plan, but it was too late. The seed was planted.

“You- you do?” Marinette squeaked with a tiny voice.

Tikki gave Plagg an encouraging nod, and he settled. His eyebrows scrunched down in conviction, and then he drifted closer to Marinette.

“I-” he paused, startled a bit that his own voice was so soft and squeaky as well. Clearing his throat, he tried again in a more confident tone. “I want to go to him. I know how to get to his house from here, and he should be there at this time of night. Let me bring the ring back to him. I'll tell him how much you want him back, and how much I want to be his kwami. I'm sure he'll accept-”

“No.” Marinette walked away from the kwamis. “No, I'm sorry, but I can't chance letting the ring out of my sight. If Hawk Moth got it-”

“Then let me at least talk to him. I can still convince him to accept the ring again, and then I'll come back here to let you know where the two of you can meet up.”

“I can't know who he is!” Marinette gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth, praying her parents didn't hear her outburst. The room was silent for a long minute as all three occupants listened for Tom or Sabine. Luckily, her parents seemed to have called it an early night as well. Holding a finger to her lips, Marinette waved for the kwamis to follow her up to her balcony to make sure they weren't caught talking.

Once outside, Marinette hissed again, “How am I supposed to ever give him back his ring? We're not supposed to know who each other is. If any of the other bearers had known then any of them could have told Miracle Queen or Hawk Moth when they were under that spell. I can't chance knowing who he is or him knowing who I am.”

“You've worked together without being powered up before.” Plagg became more animated. For some reason, the more Marinette pushed against his idea the more he believed Tikki that it was actually a good one. “I'm sure he still has his Bananoir costume somewhere. Or he could wear something else to hide his identity, and you can just be Ladybug. It'll be fine.”

“What if Hawk Moth sees you going to him, or coming back to me? I can't have you leading him to either of us.”

“He can do this, Marinette,” Tikki interjected.

“Yeah. I was able to ditch Sandboy easily enough, and Hawk Moth never found out where Chat Noir was. He also never followed me when I want to Master Fu to let him know about Chat Noir losing his ring when Style Queen attacked. Or when I returned to Chat Noir. I'm a cat, remember? I can be sneaky.”

“I dunno. I can't chance it. There's no one else now. If Hawk Moth somehow finds me-”

“He won't! I promise he won't. I can do this. Please. The kid needs me. I know he does. And- Look. Not everyone can handle the power of destroying anything they touch. I've- let's just say not every Chat Noir is as good and kind as yours. He's special. Let me try to get him back. Please.”

Marinette glanced over at Tikki, who wore a proud smile and gave a simple nod.

“Alright.” Marinette flung her arms and began pacing her balcony. “Alright, you can go talk to him. I do want to get his ring back to him as soon as possible, but I also have to be careful about hiding my identity, so try to not have the meet-up when I have classes, okay? You do know when my school hours are, right? Oh, this can turn out so bad-”

“Marinette, it will be fine.” Tikki flew into her bearer's line of sight to try to calm the teen. “Kwamis can only be captured if we allow it, remember? And if Hawk Moth uses magic to try to capture Plagg like he did with Kwamibuster, you still have me and can become Ladybug to stop him. This is probably the best way if you don't want to fight without Chat Noir or have to pick a new one.”

“I can do this,” Plagg pleaded.

Marinette spun the ring around the knuckle of her finger, stopping to stare at the cat paw on the ring face. How could she see it on someone else's hand? How could she battle Hawk Moth alone? She needed him again.

“Okay. Go. Be careful.”

Plagg beamed and started off in a dash, only stopping a few feet from Marinette's balcony as he heard her call out once more.

“Plagg?” It was Marinette's turn to plead. “Bring him back to us.”

He nodded and zipped towards the Notre-Dame. He needed to throw Marinette off too if she were watching him. It was painful to meander around the city to make sure he wasn't being followed instead of racing to Adrien's room, but he promised he'd keep everyone safe. They were only in this predicament because of him. He had to make sure to get it right this time.

Bobbing underground, then popping back up, phasing through darkened buildings, and pausing long enough in trees to double check he wasn't being watched, Plagg wove his way through Paris for about ten minutes before nearing the Agreste mansion.

Home. Even after Adrien renounced him, this place felt like home. Specifically, Adrien felt like home. Checking once more that there was no one around to spot him, Plagg darted around the estate and made his way into Adrien's bathroom.

This was it. This was his chance to talk to Adrien again. This was probably his only chance to get his Chat Noir back. Plagg suddenly wished Tikki was still there to encourage him.

“Get in there, Stinky Sock,” Plagg imitated her in a high pitched voice that didn't remotely resemble Tikki's. “You're the kwami with the brilliant plans. You're our only hope of getting him back.”

“Well,” Plagg responded to himself with his own shaky voice, “When you put it that way, Sugar Cube, how could I disappoint? Right?”

“Now, don't screw this up like you usually do,” he replied in the high pitched voice before clearing his throat and awkwardly laughing.

“Yup,” Plagg said in his usual voice, “that sounds like her. Now to prove her wrong about being a screw up.”

He poked his head through the door to check that Adrien was actually there. He nearly burst into tears when he saw his former holder slumped at his desk. Pulling back into the bathroom, Plagg shifted to the far wall and again poked his head through, scanning for anyone else being in the room with Adrien.

All clear. The kid was alone. It nearly broke Plagg's heart all over again.

“Adrien?” Plagg cautiously floated into the room.

“Plagg?” Adrien jumped out of his chair, wide eyed and slack jawed. “Wh- what are you doing here? How? I gave you up!”

“I know,” Plagg mournfully replied.

“Aww, Plagg. I- I'm so sorry, my friend. I didn't- I just- I'm not the right person to be Chat Noir. I just screw so much up. You and Ladybug are so much better off with a new Chat Noir.” Adrien wouldn't look at the kwami. Instead he slumped back into his computer chair, keeping his eyes locked on his naked right ring finger.

“Don't say that!” Plagg flew closer. “I've already told you that you're the best Chat Noir I've ever had! No one could replace you. Ladybug has told you that before too.”

“There must be someone-”

“No! No one else, Adrien. We want you as Chat Noir. We need you as Chat Noir.”

“I saw the news report. After I gave you up the city was attacked again by that supervillain, and it was so much worse that time. I had abandoned Ladybug when she needed me most, and she still managed to save the day. The whole world could have been destroyed, and that was when I gave up my powers. How could I be a hero after that? How could she possibly need me when she was able to stop that from happening without me? I appreciate the thought, Plagg, but, seriously, you two don't need me. No one does.”

“Shouldn't that be my decision? Or Ladybug's? Or the Guardian's – who happens to also be Ladybug, but nevermind that.”

“Plagg-”

“You made a mistake. I did too. I was the one who told you not to warn Ladybug that you were forced to leave Paris. It was because of me that she got so mad at you. It was because of me that she lost faith in you like that. And it was because I made her lose that faith that you got so distracted with Cataclysm active. You are never that careless! That isn't you as a superhero. That was all me.”

“I don't think it works that way.”

“Either way, you didn't lose her faith permanently. She was just mad and shocked and didn't know how to feel. She does miss you. She needed you in New York, and only managed to win because she had to. She even allowed me to use Cataclysm by myself! You know how bad things have to be for me to bring that baby out!”

“Even if she did forgive me for leaving Paris, and for what I could have done with my Cataclysm if she wasn't there to fix it, how could she forgive me for abandoning her when she needed me most?”

“It was a tough fight. I'll admit that. And it was harder because you weren't there. I can't lie about that either. But that wasn't when she needed you most. Now is. Now that she's back in Paris and has time to think about everything. Now that she has to face Hawk Moth alone and fully understands how alone she is in this. She knows she's going to need a new Chat Noir, but she hates the idea of having anyone besides you. You are special to her. She's told you before that you're irreplaceable. Believe her, Adrien. You have faith in her about everything else, so why not have some faith about this?”

“Has she really forgiven me? Could she really?”

“Why not ask for your ring back and find out?”

“Plagg, I just can't.” Adrien pushed himself away from his desk. He walked over to his wall of windows and leaned against them.

“Why do you think I'm here? Ladybug wants you to ask for the ring back. She wants to meet up with you again. She told me to get you back.”

“How can I-?”

“Pick a time and place where you can sneak out. I'll go back to Ladybug and let her know when to meet up. Then all you have to do is find a way to hide your identity and show up.”

Adrien turned back to his former kwami, his eyes were glossed over with unspilt tears. His eyebrows where knitted as they begged for Plagg to be right about all of this. They stood in a stalemate for a minute or two.

Then Adrien sprinted over to Plagg, scooped him up in his awaiting hands, and pressed the little cat to his chest.

“Plagg, I've missed you so much. I'm so, so sorry for ever renouncing you,” Adrien cried.

“I know. I've kinda missed ya too.”

“Let's make this right.”

Plagg softly purred against Adrien's hands, ignoring the fact that he'd have to leave his home again in a little bit. Right now it was just him and this kid and he could milk this for a little longer, couldn't he?

He hoped the last thirty hours would be the longest he'd ever be away from Adrien. At least, for many, many, many years to come.

“There he is!” Tikki chirped out as Plagg zig-zagged through the terrace houses leading towards Marinette's balcony.

Marinette strained to catch sight of him, and any time she thought she did, he vanished again. “Huh. I guess he can be sneaky enough to lose anyone who could follow him.”

“I told you it would be alright.”

“Psst.” Plagg hissed from between Marinette's feet, startling her has his head poked through the floor boards.

“Plagg!” Marinette caught herself on her balcony railing. After a couple of breaths to try to steady her heartbeat, she waved for everyone to go back inside. Nestled on her bed, she nodded for Plagg to continue. “Did you get to talk to him?”

“He'll sneak out tonight. He can get to the school by one A.M. He figured it was a place the two of you fought akumas at enough that you'd know where it is, but there wouldn't be any lingering tourists, so you should be safe to talk. It would also be easier to single him out that way.”

Marinette glanced at her alarm clock. She had a little less than five hours to kill. She figured she should get some rest, but was terrified of oversleeping and Chat Noir thinking she had Plagg set up the meeting as a cruel joke. It was only with both Plagg and Tikki swearing to wake her up at midnight did she agree to get some sleep.

She tossed and turned nonstop the first two hours, barely getting any rest as she worried about the exchange; about the possibility of him standing her up or them getting captured. She was also nervous about what she was going to say to him. How could she ever apologize to him for being so cruel as to tell him she couldn't trust him anymore? She was upset about Paris being left undefended, but to say something so hurtful to him?

Tikki fussed over Marinette's restless sleep, but couldn't think of anything to help her holder. Plagg hated doing so, but he knew something that might help. It was something he only ever really did for Adrien. And even then, only when Adrien was his most distressed, and when the kid was asleep and couldn't know that Plagg did it at all.

Curling up in Marinette's hairline by her ear, Plagg started purring in a low, nearly inaudible hum. Marinette relaxed almost instantly. Relaxing herself, Tikki snuggled next to Plagg, and whispered, “Thank you.”

Plagg waved her off, and kept doing whatever he could to soothe Marinette. The entire time, he wondered how Adrien managed the night before without him, and if Adrien needed him that night as well.

The hours ticked by quickly, and it became time to rouse Marinette. The trio was tense as she got ready for her meet-up. When the clock neared one, Marinette transformed into Ladybug.

“You ready, Plagg?”

“Let's get my boy back.”

“Plagg. Return.” Ladybug held up the ring, and Plagg gladly allowed himself to be sucked into it; once more locked within his Miraculous until a wielder claimed him. Tucking the ring away, Ladybug jumped up onto her balcony, and scanned the streets. It didn't take long for her to see a mop of blonde hair rush silently down the empty sidewalk between her family's home and the school. She watched him turn towards the front steps, and break into a sprint as he raced towards the school's front doors. The moment he reached them, she swung down, scooped him up, and flung both of them to the roof of the Collège Françoise Dupont. As soon as their feet touched the rooftop, the boy scurried away.

“Ladybug!”

Startled at how shocked he sounded, Ladybug studied the boy. He had the same shaggy blonde hair, and he had dressed entirely in black. Even at such a late hour, he had on thick sunglasses to obscure his face. He had also made a point of heading towards the school entrance at one A.M. precisely. This had to be her Chat Noir! Right?

“Chat Noir?” she whispered, afraid that he was going to tell her no; that she had made another horrible mistake.

“You- you actually came!” The boy's legs shook, and Ladybug was afraid he was going to collapse. “I- Plagg said that-”

Before he could say a syllable more, her arms were around him.

“Is it you?” she sobbed, “Is it really you?”

He held her close, pulling her even closer with every shaky breath she took. “I'm sorry. I am so beyond sorry for everything this weekend.”

She abruptly pulled away, hurriedly wiped her eyes dry, and punched him playfully in the arm. “Yeah, you better be! Don't you ever do something as stupid as giving up your powers like that again! Do you hear me?”

He rubbed where she punched him, but smiled. “Does that mean you really have forgiven me?”

“Chat Noir,” she pulled him right back into the hug, “Of course I forgive you. You know I can't do this without you. I can't be Ladybug if you aren't by my side.”

“I'll never abandon you like that again. I promise.”

“You better.”

The two gave one last, tight squeeze, before releasing. Ladybug then took a couple of steps back and unlatched her yo-yo from her hip. Opening up the magical pocket, she pulled out the black Cat Ring, and held it in her outstretched palm for her companion.

“Chat Noir? I believe this is yours.”

Timidly, he reached out for his ring. His hand hovered above it, but he didn't take it back.

“Chat Noir?”

“I'll do better. I promise I'll do better. I'll be the partner you deserve.”

Ladybug's face fell, and she took a step closer. “Don't you realize you already are?” Her eyes drifted to the ring, then back up to him. “It's yours. It always was and always will be. I don't want anyone but you by my side. Please know that.” She snatched up his right hand before he could react, and she gave it a squeeze. “I'm sorry I told you I couldn't trust you. I was hurt, and I just wanted to hurt you back. I didn't mean it, and I never should have said it. I know I can always trust you.” Turning his hand over, she placed his ring on his palm. “This weekend showed us things we need to work on, but it doesn't have to mean our partnership is over, right?”

He stared at the ring for a long while before picking it up and sliding it back on his right ring finger. The moment he did, the ring turned silver as it camouflaged itself, and spat Plagg back out.

“Plagg! Welcome back, buddy!” Chat Noir reached up to scratch his kwami on the back of his head.

“Yeah, well, welcome back to you, too.” Plagg leaned into the scratches, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the great feeling of being pet by his holder again.

“How about we make this official then? Plagg, claws out!” Plagg was once more sucked into the ring, and the black clad boy was transformed into a proper Chat Noir.

Ladybug wiped new tears from the corners of her eyes. “It's definitely a good look for you. Don't lose it again, okay?” She held up her fist.

“Never again. I promised, didn't I?” Chat Noir bumped her fist with his own.

The two spent the next hour coming to terms with what happened over the weekend. How were they going to help repair Paris? The citizens knew why Ladybug wasn't there to protect them, but what were they going to say about Chat Noir? How were they going to keep Paris safe the next time one – or both – of them needed to leave the city again? They also swore to never again keep secrets from each other, as long as it didn't involve their identities.

Completely wiped and borderline passing out against each other's shoulders, Ladybug and Chat Noir parted ways and headed to their respective homes.

“Plagg, claws in.” Adrien grinned madly -  albeit sleepily – as the kwami drifted into his awaiting hand. “Welcome home, buddy. I'm glad I couldn't bear to get rid of any of this yet.” He walked Plagg over to the fully stocked mini-fridge of Camembert. The magical being greedily gobbled up a wheel before returning to Adrien. The teen had already changed for bed and slid under the sheets.

“Adrien?”

“Yeah, Plagg?”

“I'm glad you're my Chat Noir again.”

“Thank you for making it happen.”

Plagg curled up on Adrien's head and began lulling his friend to sleep with his purring. He didn't care that Adrien knew about it anymore.

A few blocks away, Marinette tried falling asleep as she wondered why Chat Noir's silver ring looked familiar. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Did you enjoy this? Check out my other Plagg Appreciation Day stories.

Breaking Monotony  Summary: Plagg’s days are all starting to feel exactly the same. As he goes through yet another school day with Adrien, he wonders if he can do something to start shaking up the status quo. At the same time, though, he reflects on how great it is that his life is fairly predictable.

Forever in Darkness  Summary:  Plagg has always been in darkness. It had become all he knew. Then he got a ray of sunshine, and it helped save him. There was a reason he believes Adrien is the best Chat Noir ever.

The Truest of Friends  Summary: It's the second day of the new school year, which also means it's been a year since Stoneheart first attacked Paris. Adrien wonders how he could best celebrate the anniversary of becoming Chat Noir, and how to properly showcase how much he cares for someone very special in his life.

Alternatively, I JUST started up a series (I still don’t quite understand the collections set-up) on AO3 that will also house all of my Plagg Appreciation Day stories.

The next Friday 13th isn’t until August 2021. Here’s hoping that’s plenty of time to get a story done earlier than midnight... Anyway, who wants to join me in showing Plagg some love? Did you post any Plagg appreciation today? Please send me a tag! I’d love to see what you did. :D

@discoveringmiraculouswriters​

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

WARNING: Mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore.

If any of those are a trigger warning, please don’t read this. I’ll get some fluffy Kozik up soon ❤️

💕Kozik’s Girl. Tig’s Baby.⭐️

You were a Trager, but you only met your pops once or twice, never really connected, but now in Charming on business; your father was unavoidable. Though he didn’t know, nor would you tell him, that while you lived in Tacoma you had slept with— on multiple occasions— a fellow brother named Herman Kozik, or Hermie as you dubbed him in bed.

“Hi, I’m Stella Trager. Here to see my pops,” you state as you head into the shop.

“Hey! Lady you can’t be here without car troubles, you can’t be back there.”

“I’m the daughter of Trager, you can go ahead and tell him his baby is out here getting a sunburn waiting for you to approve it or I can go in.” You snip at the Mexican boy chasing you down.

“He’s busy, but I can take a message for him.” You saunter passed him and shout into the garage over the tools and chatter.

“Daddy! I’m here.” You call, eyes scanning for his curls. You didn’t see them, but you did recognize the puff of blond hair coming towards you with a smile. When Trager and Kozik both stand in front of you, both looking confused.

“Baby—“

“Don’t you dare finish that motherfucking sentence. Stellar, you have ten seconds before I rip his balls off and stuff them down his throat. Why the hell is he responding to ‘daddy’?” He growls, eyes meeting yours.

“Well, I’m not sure what he’s even doing here. But, anyway, that’s what I came to talk about. I’m sleeping around with a Son.”

“That one? It had to be that fucking MORON? One in another COUNTRY would’ve been better than this fuckhead!” He swings on him, fist connecting with Kozik’s face.

“I’m sorry, pops. I didn’t know how else to tell you! I was thinking about moving back to Charming, but Kozik would have to be patched in here,and you’d have to agree.” You try to reason with him, but he barely hears you, as his fists pound relentlessly into Kozik’s face.

“And you expect me to patch you in after you got my dog killed and my daughter calls you daddy?” He screams, grabbing Kozik’s throat with both hands.

“Sir, I love your daughter.” He chokes out.

“She’s not just some lay, she’s my daughter.” He growls, his blue eyes like the deepest ocean.

“I know that, sir. That’s why I want patched in, man. I wanna marry her and I want our kids to know you. I want them to know we got over this decades-old shit and got passed it. I wanna tell em that your daughter is the prettiest woman alive. I wanna grow old with he—-“ He’s cut off with another hit, but a truck whips into the lot while everyone’s gathered around the ring, and a man jumps out and grabs you, hand covering your mouth and dragging you into the truck before whipping out of the parking lot, gunshots sounding off behind you. You were now blindfolded, bound, and gagged.

Kozik and Tig’s swings are stopped when Jax’s gun shoots off. They both turn their attention to the Vice President, his face pale.

“What, man? What’s goin on? Where’s Stellar? She alright?” His questions are met with a few looks of disgust and a few of pale ghastliness.

“She was just kidnapped man. Found this on the ground.” Jax murmurs, eyes averted to the ground as he hands off the note.

“Kidnapped? They just TOOK HER?” He pulls his gun out and hops on his bike, squealing out of the parking lot and flooring it down the road.

“Blue Chevy! Green passenger door! Crew cab! 2004!” Eyes watching for the description Jax shouted behind him.

“Son of a bitch!” He shouts, ducking just in time to miss the string across the alley he zoomed down. “Fuck!” He yells as he flies back out into the main road, hugging tight to his handle bars as he revs up between to cars at the intersection. He’s finally stopped by a police car, parked directly in the road, stopping him. He skids to a stop, lying his bike out, the hot tar ripping up his exposed forearms as he tumbles, landing at the cops feet.

“Mister Kozik, speeding, endangering the lives of civilians, failing to follow traffic signs, you’re looking at a hefty fine mister.” She taps the toe of her boot on the ground.

“I don’t care. They took her. They took her. They took my wife!” He screams at the top of his lungs, his heart burning as he starts to cry. “They took my baby.” He whispers, starting to get dizzy from the sun and the blood loss.

When you awoke, you knew where you were. You were in Tacoma, the smell of the air and the sound around you, it was Tacoma.

“Easy princess.” She knew that voice. “I’m gonna give you back to Kozik, but he’s not leaving Tacoma, you got that? I give you back, ALIVE, and you and Kozik move back to Tacoma, we put this behind us.” It was Reverend Wheeler, from the Tacoma charter.

“I—I’ll tell him that you did this!” You shriek, grabbing the ropes that held you down.

“Now, listen to me. I really want Kozik as the next President of this club, and he can’t be that from Redwood. Now, I’ve got some business calls to make. Keep quiet.”

“Kozik! How are things going down in Redwood?” Reverend Wheeler asks, listening as Kozik heaves a sigh.

“Somebody took Stellar.” He chokes, eyes watering.

“Oh shit, man. I’m sorry. I told you those Redwood Originals can’t keep anybody safe.” He offers, eyes flicking over to you.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. I gotta find her, man.” He whispers, hanging up. Pulling a burner phone from his breast pocket and dialing the same number.

“Hello?” His soft, confused voice broke your heart. He was being played the men who were supposed to love him.

“Herman. Kozik? Is it? I have someone who would like to speak with you. Remember darling, a wrong word, and I’ll kill ya.” He murmurs to you.

“You got my baby? You got her?” He shrieks, jumping to his feet and pacing the club. “I want her back, man. Listen, I don’t know why ya took her, but that’s my baby. That’s my girl. My best friend. My one and only, man. I just want her back. Please dawg, tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.” He pleads, eyes begging one of his club members to help him. He was going crazy without you.

“We need ten thousand dollars, by tomorrow or your girl dies. And my god, I’d hate to see something happen to this little lady’s pretty face, Herman.” The man said, something about his voice stuck in the back of Kozik’s brain, eating away at him. He knew that voice.

“Lemme talk to her. I just wanna hear her voice, man. Please.”

“He-hello?” You ask, throat sore and dry.

“Holy shit, hey baby. I got you okay? I’m gonna kill these bastards. Don’t you worry! Just hold on, baby! I love you!” Tig watched Kozik fall apart in front of them, and he felt horrible. Tig was so distracted and angry with Kozik that he let his own daughter get kidnapped. The tears on the blondie’s face made him feel awful. First, Abel was stolen, but they found him. Now Tig’s daughter and Kozik’s babygirl. That shit was wrong. He knew, at that moment— Kozik in the clubhouse begging on his knees just to speak with you— that the blond moron was the best thing for you.

“I love you, Hermie.” She whispers, breaking what little piece of his heart was left. He staggered to his feet and his fist hit the wall.

“Baby!” He shrieks as the line goes dead. Nothing but dial tone filling his ears.

“We’re gonna get her, man.” Opie assures, his hand resting on Kozik’s back.

“I hope so. I know them. I don’t know how, but I know who it is. There was somethin’ about the way this guy said Herman, man.”

“It’s alright, dude. We’ll get her back. What’s the ransom?” Jax asked.

“Ten thousand. I got that shit, it’s chump change in Tacoma.” He stepped away from Opie for only a moment, but then his eyes were the size of saucers. “Tacoma. They’ve got her in Tacoma!” He barks, heading to his room to get the cash and sprinting for his bike.

“Woah! Woah! What do you mean they’ve got her in Tacoma? Why would anyone in Tacoma take her? Was it the Nomad charter? Why?” Tig asks, chasing after him.

“Because they didn’t want me leaving. So they took her, gonna use her as a bargaining chip for me to go back to Tacoma. Rev wanted me to be the next president, but when I told him I was probably moving, he came unhinged, man. Told me I’d regret not staying in Tacoma.” He explains as he packs his saddlebag before mounting his bike, taking a deep breath from his helmet, and smelling the sweetness of your coconut shampoo.

“Why would he do that?” He asks.

“Because Tacoma’s gettin’ desperate, man.” He takes off, leaving Tig and the crew to follow behind him as he headed for Tacoma. They arrived at the clubhouse and he busted through the door. Dropping the bag on the table, he grabs the prospect up and presses a gun to his head. “You’re gonna take me to the girl. Or I’m gonna spill your brains across the clubhouse table. You got me?” He growls, jamming the boy in the back as they headed outside. “You don’t take me to her, you alert any of these motherfuckers. I’ll goddamn kill you.”

“I got it, dude. Man, this club isn’t what it used to be dude. I want out.” He grumbles as he storms towards the shed.

“Tell you what, since you don’t seem to know anything, talk to Jax. Become part of the Redwoods. There’s other charts, kid. Don’t stay with these assholes. You wanna come back with us?” He asks, as the kid swings the door open. There you were, his sweet angel, duct taped to a support in the middle of the shed. “Baby, oh hunny. Look at you. Beautiful, sweetheart. Just beautiful. Always.” He whispers, hugging you against him. You let out a soft whine, the pain in your ribs twinging and stabbing. “What’s the matter baby?” He whispers, scooping you up.

“My ribs, they kicked me a lot. Sorry, hun. I’m okay. Just happy to see ya, daddy.” You laugh, sucking in a sharp breath and gritting your teeth.

“Easy, hunny. I got ya. Let’s go. You got any guff about sparky over there joining SAMCRO?” He asks, directing your attention to the sweet boy who was bringing you water and food when the club left.

“Nah, he’s a good kid. He deserves a good club.” You whisper, letting the kid hug you awkwardly, showing the rest of them he was good.

“We gotta get outta here they should be back any minute. Get the fuck outta here. I’ll take care of em.” The guy barks, heading into the clubhouse.

“Kid! Get your kutte on, let’s go. You ride with SAMCRO. Let’s go.”

“You guys aren’t gonna kill me right? Rev says if anyone found out about it, I’d get killed. No other charter would take a nark man.”

“Kid, you listen to me. You were the only one who brought my wife food and water while your president held her hostage. You deserve to be in a good club, you got a good heart. Now, let’s get outta here, before they come back.” Kozik was ready to zoom away, but he heard the bikes coming up the street. Digging through his bag, he tossed his second bulletvest to the kid.

“Put it on and stick with us, you’re crow now.” He calls to the kid. Rev pulls into the lot, seeing the Redwood MC his eyes widen for just a moment, scared out of his mind. How had he known?

“Crows.” Someone whispers. Kozik swings a leg over his bike and stands in front of Rev.

“You. You son of a bitch. You took my girl from me, make a ransom call from a burner, and think I wouldn’t remember when you threatened me? I’m gonna kill you. You’re fucking dead, Rev.”

“That right? Go ahead and shoot me, my boys will back me up, well except you, I guess.” He chuckles darkly, walking towards the bike you were currently perched on. “You tell him how I touched you? How you loved it? How you begged me to keep going? That Herman here, couldn’t get it up for ya anymore!” His maniacal laughter and shrieking is cut short when Kozik grabs him by the throat.

“You touched her?” He asks, eyes dark with hatred. Some MC wash up was now playing god with you.

“Hey man, if you ask her, she fuckin’ loved it.”

“Don’t. Don’t say another fucking word. Jax! Tig!” He shouts, you watching on as Jax and your dad each grab an arm.

“What? You gonna execute me in front of my men?” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I sure the fuck am, on your knees!”

“I believe the chap said,” Chibs’ boots kicked Rev in the back of the knees. “ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!”

“Now, look at this. You here on the ground. You wanna suck my dick? Huh? You wouldn’t like that? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember asking. That’s my daughter that you just admitted to raping.”

“Huh, don’t that just suck man? I should let him do that doggie shit to ya, let him do what he wants and leave you here like the crying bitch that you are. But hey, I’ve got better plans. Take off his shirt.” Kozik slicked the blade across this man’s back, carving whatever he was carving into his skin, Rev crying out. “Lastly,” his sunk the knife into the front of Rev’s chest, cutting what appeared to be a circle, then proceeded to stuff his big hand into the opening and yank out Rev’s still beating heart.

“Kozik, man. I’ve never seen this Viking shit before. I didn’t know you had it in ya!” Jax cheers as Rev falls to the pavement. Kozik turns to you, your eyes wide and your face pale.

“Baby,” he starts towards you. He’d forgotten you were right there, witnessing the monster rearing it’s ugly head.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” You whispered. You held gently to him the whole ride back to Charming. No words were spoken between you two. Hell, you were scared out of your mind. You couldn’t believe what you saw. That was your man, the one who built you shelves for your workspace at home. The man whose strong arms made you feel so safe. You’d never witnessed this crusader of a barbarian, and it scared you.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He murmurs, his heart breaking over again. You wouldn’t get any closer than four feet, scared of him.

“No! You ripped out some guy’s heart!” You shriek, grabbing a chair and putting it between you two.

“Keep your fucking voice down. Don’t be out here yelling that shit!” He hushes, stepping toward you.

“Jesus, what would stop you from doing that to me? What would stop you? Huh? What would stop you from killing me?” You shriek, arms wrapped around your small frame as you quake.

“What?” He asks. “You think I could do that shit to you? Baby, baby listen, I know I’m a little messed up, but he raped you and was gonna kill you. Chec, the kid from Tacoma, said they planned on killing you and dropping you off at our front door. As a warning. And I wasn’t gonna just let that shit happen!” He shouts, and you shriek, covering your head with the blanket that was wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry, Kozik. I just need some time. This shit that went down, I’m still a little fuzzy, but you ripping out someone’s heart, that’s clear. I saw you. What did you carve into his back?” You coo, eyes still on the floor.

“Your name.” He steps a step closer to you, you take one backwards.

“I need time. It’s over, Kozik. I’m sorry. I can’t be with someone who can live two separate lives, because like today, those two became one.” You head out the door, limping and dragging your blanket behind you. You spent the night in Kozik’s room at the clubhouse, avoiding eye contact with everyone who watched on confused. Eyes turned to the door as Kozik walked in, his eyes directed towards the barkeep.

“Gimme a couple shots of something strong. It’s gonna be a long night.” He grumbles, putting himself on a barstool.

“What’s going on man?”

“Nothing, apparently women aren’t as keen to that barbarian shit.” He chuckles dryly. “Hey, I’m gonna stay in the guest room across the hall from her, do you guys mind? I just, I don’t wanna leave her alone, guys.” He murmurs, eyes fogging with tears, only to blink them away.

“Hey there, Conan. You wanna throw me over your shoulder and have your way with me?” A crow eater wandered up to him, smooth talking and sexy, she was hard to resist. “Oh come on, baby. You and I both know you did that to protect her. That’s hot.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“And all she did was think you were a monster. You sexy, beautiful beast. Lemme show you what a real man should feel.” He downed three more shots, feeling buzzed enough to go through with it. She leads him to his dorm, pushing him back onto the bed, letting him wrap a denim clad leg across her soft skin, the rough denim exciting her.

“She doesn’t deserve me.” He whispers, letting her ravage his body.

“That’s right, baby. Let me show you what you deserve.” She whispers, sending fire chasing her lips down his chest.

The next morning, she’d figured it was time to talk to Kozik. She was sorry for overreacting the night before. As you step into the clubhouse after heading out for a coffee, you tiptoe over the women and men on the floor, heading back to Kozik’s room. As you reach for the handle, you hear your dad from behind you.

“Hey, he’s not in there. He already went to the shower and said he was headed back to your house.”

“Well he’s not there. I’ll just wait for him in here. can you call him?” You ask, twisting the knob and swinging open the door.

“I won’t need to.” He mutters, eyes dark with fear. As you stepped into his dorm you knew why. The stench of sex hung in the air, and your eyes fall onto the scene before you. Some blond, hair flowing over Kozik’s arm, his big arms holding her tight to his body the way he held you.

“What in the mother fuck is going on in here!?” You rage, ripping his blanket from them, revealing naked bodies. “Kozik, you better be pranking me, you fuck.” You growl, watching his eyes flutter open and land on you.

“Awe shit, baby. I—“

“I dare you to try and save it. Go ahead.” You grind through clenched teeth, tears falling down your face.

“Babe, I—“

“He just wanted to feel good about what he did. You made him feel like shit for killing a man who raped you and hurt you. I was a comfort, if you will.” You grabbed the closest weapon, a baseball bat and stretched it back above your head.

“You have ten seconds, doctor Phil.”

“Is she serious?”

“Babe, just leave. I’ll handle this shit, just go.”

“Ok.” You turn, but he calls to you. “Hey. I was talking to her.” Your heart stops in your throat.

“What?” You whisper, watching that bitch saunter out of the room. You can’t help it, you lunge on her, grabbing a handful of hair and slamming her face into the door jam. “Don’t ever, and I do mean ever, touch my man again.” You bark, still holding a handful of her hair.

“Jesus Christ hunny! Let her go!”

“Well someone needed to comfort him.” She croons, a sick grin on her bloody face.

“You bitch!” You drag her through the whole clubhouse, fury pulsing through you. Throwing her onto the hot pavement, you straddle her back, slamming her face into the concrete.

“Grab her before she kills someone!” Jax shouts, hooking his arms through yours and dragging you away from her.

“No! I’m not done!”

“Kozik! You need to keep you girl in check, man. She’s out here bashing some chick’s face into the asphalt.” Jax chuckles a little.

“Don’t fucking bother. I’m gone.” You storm over to his Dyna, kicking it over onto the ground, scratching your initials into the gas tank, and getting into your car.

“Wow, she doesn’t play around man.” Tig chuckles a little, but dry. “You really pissed off my baby, man. She’s my little star, I love her. Don’t make her regret moving home.”

“I won’t man, I just need a minute to process. Shit, bro. What do I do? What do I say? I gotta get her back, for fuck’s sake, she almost killed another woman.” He was back to square one, his heart pounding, head throbbing, as if he’d never found her.

“I don’t know kid, you’ll have to beg.”

“I gotta go, if that bike even rides still.” He chuckles, tipping his bike up and jumping on, heading for home.

“Baby?” He calls into the house, eyes searching the kitchen. “Babe? Ya in here?” He opens the garage door to find you on the garage floor, bound and gagged, shirt ripped open. “Holy fuck. Who?” He screams, grabbing you up, checking for a pulse.

“Tacoma.” You hush, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Why? I killed him!” He cries, examining your body to find something carved into your chest. “I’m gonna get you to Tara, you’re gonna be okay baby.”

“I hate you.” You whisper, eyes narrowed on him before they drift shut.

“I’m sorry, hunny.” He whispers, grabbing you up and carrying you to your truck. Once at the clubhouse, he carries you gingerly inside, placing you on the pool table before grabbing Tara from Jax. “Someone attacked her in our fucking garage, dude. Hoping you could patch her up, see what they carved into her.” She hesitantly agrees, patching up your chest. When Tara lets out a gasp, Kozik dashes to her side. ‘BITCH’ was etched into your chest from shoulder to shoulder.

“Who knew that she was done with me? Who saw her little tiff?” He yells, realizing who probably did this.

“I mean, she did bash that girl’s face into every solid thing she could find. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hired someone. That’s kind of brutal for a comeback though, man.” Jax calls from the table. As if on cue, that red-headed crow eater comes sauntering in, eyes both puffed and purple. Kozik rushes her, eyes dark.

“Did you do this?”

“No, but it’s karma.” She laughs, continuing past him.

“Listen, if you did this I need to know. Like, ya I slept with you, but that doesn’t mean anything. And that also means you can’t just attack my old lady. You know that, right? And even if you were gonna, a little scare would’ve been plenty. This is too much.” She puts her hands up and laughs.

“I didn’t do it, but it’s fucking karma. That bitch said she was done with you, then dragged my ass through the fuckin’ dirt. I could be your girl, Kozik. I could be twice—“ He covers her mouth with his hand.

“Don’t. She’s always gonna be mine. I swear to god, I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth. Okay? You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. We fucked. It was nothing more than that.” He growls, stalking away before he did something he’d regret.

“Hey, how you doin?” He murmurs to you, perching on the edge of the bed.

“Fine. Listen, Hermie, I can’t do this. At least not until I heal a little better. Just, I need some time. I’m not leaving you, I just. Need a break. Okay? Can you give me that?” You ask, eyes meeting his. Tears fill his sweet, sad eyes, but he nods.

“Yeah, of course. I love you, baby.” He whispers, stepping away from you. He wanders away, leaving you alone.

A month went by, the angry marks turning to scars. You went to a tattoo shop, Happy’s, and had the scar tattooed over and had ‘that’ put above it. You start into the clubhouse to show off your new ink. Sauntering in the place like that bitch that you are, you shove aside that tart who banged your man. Standing in front of him, grinning.

“Just thought you’d like to see this.” You whisper, pulling off Kozik’s SAMCRO sweatshirt to reveal only a black lacy bra and the new tattoo.

“What an attention whore.” That tart laughs, but she’s cut short by your fist. You drop her on the ground, spinning in a slow, tantalizing circle eyes only leaving Kozik long enough to finish your twirl. His eyes catch a glimpse of a crow under your boobs, wings outstretched to cup your perky breasts; it’s beak an arrow to that slender neck. His name never looked so good, scribed on her skin.

“I found confidence. I found peace. I found my love of crazy-filled days. I found a lot out about myself being alone. And being alone I learned that I don’t need a man to control me; but goddamn it, I didn’t find contentment. I didn’t find love. I didn’t find anything close to you. I love you, Herman Kozik.” You huff, spinning and starting to walk out.

“Baby! Where you going?” He calls, shock on his lips. “Baby! I love you! That crow, it means more than you’ll ever know to me, and what a badass tattoo to cover a scar. I’m sorry for sleeping with her. I’m sorry for showing the brutal, barbaric side of me. I lost control. I did what I did because he deserved it. He used what I love the most, and he tried to destroy you. When he took you, he ripped out my whole heart and when I found him, I shared that feeling. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of this shit to happen to you. I love you so much.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you and hugging against his big warm body. Home. You were finally home.

[lothiriel84]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

What started out as friendship, has grown stronger I only wish I had the strength to let it show

A Cabin Pressure ficlet. Set in my These words are all we have (We'll be talking) universe. Aromantic!Tiffy.

They meet at a horse dressage event; she’s the friend of a friend of Minty’s, and he takes a shine to her right from the start. She doesn’t talk much, until he lets it slip that he’s an airline steward – or airdot, as it happens – and her face lights up all of a sudden. He tells her everything about G-ERTI – well, minus the bit about his Dad, actually – and she tells him about going plane-spotting on the riverbank south of Fitton Airfield sometimes.

In the end, he writes down his phone number on a scrap of paper he finds in his pocket, and she promises she will text next time she’s in the area. She doesn’t give him her number, but that’s okay, he thinks; still, he looks her up on Facebook that night, and he almost sends her a friend request, but in the end decides against it. If she wants to text him, that’s up to her, and he’s fine with it, honestly.

(He scrolls past the relationship status, trying really hard not to think about what ‘it’s complicated’ means, and closes the page.)

Tiffy texts him a week and a half later, but he doesn’t get the text until they land in New Delhi, and they won’t be back in Fitton for another four days, anyway. Pushing away at his sudden disappointment, he sends a photo of G-ERTI all locked up in her hangar, and Tiffy immediately texts back to say she’s a beauty, which brings a huge grin to Arthur’s face.

When he sprints to catch up with Skip and the others, Mum eyes him suspiciously, as if she’s wondering what he’s been up to; he slips his phone back into his pocket and tries to act as if nothing happened, which he suspects he’s not entirely successful at.

A week later, he’s doing the hoovering when his phone pings with a new text from Tiffy; he tells her he’ll join her in twenty minutes, very nearly forgets to lock everything up in his haste to leave the Portakabin. By the time he gets to the top of the riverbank, Tiffy’s already there, camera in hand, snapping away at the small Piper that just took off. For a moment there, he wishes he were like Skip, but Tiffy doesn’t seem to mind his questions about all the different types of plane she’s managed to photograph so far.

He tells her about Karl, how great it is to have his familiar voice welcome them home; she tells him about taking photography lessons, and when it gets too dark for plane-spotting, they go to a nearby café where Arthur buys her the most extravagant hot chocolate he can think of. Tiffy smiles, thanks him for a lovely afternoon, and promises to call soon.

She does, two days later, and he doesn’t care that Douglas is glancing at him across the Portakabin as if he knows exactly what’s going on; he’s just happy to hear from her, and no amount of teasing can change that, not even Douglas’. They arrange to go for a walk together next Friday; Tiffy said she absolutely loves dogs, and he can’t wait for her to meet Snoopadoop in person – or, well, in animal, he supposes, but it doesn’t matter.

It takes all of five minutes for Snoopadoop to decide she likes Arthur’s new friend; they spend a lovely day in the park, playing with Snoopadoop and wandering aimlessly through the trees. Tiffy is smiling a lot, and it makes his heart beat a little faster every time; he’s pretty sure he’s grinning like an idiot now, but she doesn’t seem to mind, so that’s all right, too.

When it’s time to say goodbye, Arthur impulsively leans in to press a little peck on her cheek; he means it as a friendly kiss, mostly, as he’s still not entirely clear what their little outings are all about, and he’s not at all prepared for the way she recoils, as if burned.

“I’m – sorry,” he hastens to apologise, feeling like he just did something unspeakably horrible. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Tiffy’s face is carefully blank now, and Arthur has to fight the urge to step closer in his desperate need to comfort her. “I – have to go now,” she speaks stiltedly, almost trips in her haste to get away from him. Arthur stands there for a long time, ignoring Snoopadoop’s repeated attempts at getting his attention, mentally calling himself all the worst names he can think of.

Back home, he leaves a note explaining he’s not coming down for dinner tonight, locks himself in his room, and spends the next two hours writing and deleting several texts in rapid succession. In the end, he settles for a simple I’m terribly sorry for making you uncomfortable, and I understand if you don’t want to see me again.

He presses send, turns off his phone, and spends the rest of the night tossing and turning until he eventually falls asleep sometime around dawn. When he switches his phone on in the morning, there is no text waiting for him, so naturally he assumes she’s still angry for what he did, and he honestly can’t say he blames her.

Mum’s waiting for him at the office, so he downs a cup of lukewarm coffee, and settles for nibbling at a couple of biscuits as he forgoes his car in favour of a brisk walk to the airfield. He pauses in front of the door to the Portakabin, makes an effort to summon a smile so that the others won’t notice – much.

“There you are,” Mum sighs, reaching for her bag on her way out. “Drivers are already out there doing whatever it is they like to do when we’re on standby. I’m going down to the canteen, please don’t do anything stupid in my absence.”

“Right-o,” he shrugs, and very nearly trips on his own two feet when he finally notices there is someone sitting behind Douglas’ desk, and it most definitely isn’t Douglas.

“Tiffy,” he says, idiotically – yes, that’s her name, do keep up Arthur – finding it surprisingly hard to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. “Hi.”

She stands up, arms wrapped protectively around her front, which doesn’t seem terribly promising. “Sorry I didn’t text you back. I owe you a proper explanation, and didn’t know how to fit it all into a text.”

“It’s okay,” he blurts out from where he’s still rooted to the spot, not daring to come any closer. “I know it’s all my fault.”

“No,” she counters quickly, and way more forcefully than he’s expecting. “That’s the whole point. You were absolutely lovely, Arthur, and I shouldn’t have run away like that.”

He glances down, absently notices there’s a smudge of dirt on his right shoe. “I know I should always ask before kissing or hugging someone, I just – forgot.”

“Oh, Arthur,” she sounds like she’s about to cry now, and he can almost feel his stomach drop somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes.

“I don’t suppose we could still be friends, can we?” he pleads softly, even against his better judgement – which is not that good, admittedly. “It’s just, I really like you, and it’s okay if you’d rather not, but,” he trails off, wishing for Douglas’ eloquence to descend upon him, somehow.

Tiffy shakes her head, her fingers worrying at the thin white gold ring he’s always seen her wearing on her left middle finger. “I like you too. More than just as a friend, I mean. Only, I don’t – I’m aromantic, actually,” she finish in a rush, as if anticipating her statement will invariably get challenged, for some reason.

“Oh! Okay then,” he nods, brain working overtime to slot all the pieces together.

“It’s all right if you don’t know what that means,” she adds, sounding a bit like she’s been through this a lot.

“But I do, I think?” he frowns in concentration. “It’s sort of like being asexual, but with romantic attraction, right?”

She looks at him as if he just offered her a lift on his own charter plane, pilots and everything. “That’s – yes, that’s pretty much spot on. Most people haven’t even heard of either of those words, you know.”

“Oh, you see, Mum sent me on a course on understanding people in Ipswich,” he explains, heart leaping in his throat when the beginnings of a smile play out across Tiffy’s face. “In fact, I know what we could do – if you still want to spend time with me, that is.”

“Believe me, I do – I’m just not sure it’s a good idea, that’s all.”

He’s almost afraid to ask, but he finds he absolutely needs to know. “Because of what I did yesterday?”

“Because I think you’re romantically attracted to me, and as much as I wish I were attracted to you, it’s simply not going to happen.”

“I don’t mind,” Arthur says with absolute conviction. “We can just be whatever you want us to be. In fact, what I was trying to tell you is, we should make a list. Well, could – it’s up to you really.”

Tiffy blinks, slowly. “A list?”

“That’s another thing they taught us in Ipswich! We should write down all the things you’re okay with, and then all the things you’re not, so that I won’t get those two mixed up ever again.”

“That’s – really quite thoughtful, Arthur. It’s not really fair on you, though, is it?”

He tilts his head to the side, considering. “Actually, what is really not fair is you having to put up with stuff you’re not comfortable with, just because someone else assumes it’s fine.”

“Two lists,” she agrees at last, taking a step closer and extending her hand for Arthur to take. He does so with a smile, cradles her fingers ever so gently. “One for you, one for me.”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’m fine with pretty much anything, except shouting – well, and fighting, too.”

They stand there holding hands and smiling tentatively at one another, until Arthur remembers Mum is probably hovering outside, waiting for the two of them to be done talking. “Listen, I need to be here for the rest of the day if the client decides to show up after all, but I’m free tomorrow. Do you think you’d mind joining Snoopadoop and me for another walk?”

Tiffy squeezes his hand, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I’d love to. And I believe I owe Snoopadoop an apology as well.”

“Well, she’s a dog, so she probably won’t know what aromatic means.”

“Aromantic,” she corrects him, but she looks at least a little bit amused. “See you tomorrow, then.”

Arthur gets the brief urge to kiss her goodbye again, like he was used to with his previous girlfriends, but he clamps down on it straight away. And she’s not your girlfriend, Arthur, not unless she agrees to put that on her list.

He walks her to the parking lot, and she gives his hand another squeeze, before finally letting him go; he waves her off as she drives away, then slowly heads back to the Portakabin. There he finds Carolyn back at her desk, looking for all the world as if she never left the office – if it weren’t for the tall cup of canteen coffee sitting in front of her, and the faintest trace of maternal worry clouding her expression – and on a sudden impulse, he sidles up to her and throws his arms around her neck in the closest thing to a bear hug he knows she will tolerate.

“Not that I’m not touched by this sudden display of affection, dear heart, but if I may, what brought this on, exactly?”

“Just happy,” he mumbles, mindful of not mussing up her hair. “That’s all.”

She ostensibly shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but he can feel her posture relax fractionally. “Yes, well. Why don’t you go and make yourself useful, then? I believe our useless pilots will soon require their teas and coffees, and I’m not splurging out on any more fancy hot drinks from the canteen.”

“Righto, Mum,” he grins, and all but waltzes into the kitchenette.

[emospritelet]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9][Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16]

[AO3]

Last time, Lacey told Weaver she was going to Vegas for a funeral. Weaver realised she was lying through her teeth, found out her true destination, and decided to follow her. Mulan and Merida tag along for the ride.

x

Detectives Weaver and Fa, and Officer Dunbroch, took the first flight out that they could get, snatching what sleep they could during the trip. They landed on Friday morning, collecting the hire car that Weaver had booked and then grabbing a quick bite to eat while they planned their next move in solving the mystery that was Lacey.

“Her plane lands just after three,” said Fa, stirring her coffee. “If she’s meeting someone, we should check out the arrivals. We’ll need to be ready to follow them.”

“Any idea what she’s here for?” asked Merida, and Weaver shook his head, dipping a few fries into his ketchup.

“The only lead I have is that she has a tiny key that she stole from me, and a code,” he said. “No idea what the code is for, but the key means she needs a safe deposit box. Which means a bank.”

He shoved the fries in his mouth, chewing.

“Doesn’t exactly narrow it down,” said Merida. “Probably means we’ll be in the centre of the city, though.”

“Don’t suppose she has any sort of tracker on her phone?” asked Fa, and Weaver shook his head again.

“We should split up in case we lose her,” said Fa, putting a hand on Merida’s knee. “And don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but you kind of stand out.”

Merida shook her red curls, pulling a face.

“I can be inconspicuous when I want to!”

“You can’t even spell inconspicuous,” said Weaver bluntly. “You can wait in the hire car. Fa and I will scope out the airport.”

“Oh, and you think your wife will just breeze on past you without noticing?” demanded Merida. “Don’t be fucking stupid!”

“Both of you can hang back and keep your damn faces hidden as much as you can,” said Fa, in a tone that meant she had made up her mind. “I’ll follow Lacey. If I can get close enough, I’ll try to plant a tracker on her.”

“Don’t risk blowing the whole thing,” warned Weaver.

“Come on, I’m not a rookie,” she said, giving him a flat look. “If I can’t do it without her getting suspicious, then I won’t bother.”

“There won’t be much of a window in which to reach her,” said Merida. “What’s the plan if you can’t place the tracker?”

“If someone’s meeting her, they’ll need transport, which either means a cab or a car,” said Fa. “If we split ourselves between the hire car and the cabs we should be okay. Weaver can take the hire car, we’ll follow her in a cab. We’ll stay in touch, meet up wherever she goes.”

“Sounds good,” said Weaver. “I asked her to call me when her plane landed. We’ll see what she has to say for herself then.”

“You think she’ll call?” asked Merida, stealing some of his fries.

“Oh yes,” he said dryly. “She’ll want to keep up the subterfuge as long as possible, believe me. I’m gonna let her think she’s got me fooled.”

x

Lacey had slept poorly, worried about what lay ahead, and missing both Weaver and Tilly. She was thankful that she had caught the earliest flight possible, as it meant she could stop staring at the ceiling and at least keep busy with getting to the airport and boarding the plane. She managed to snooze a little on the flight over, but felt her heart sink as it came in to land. Whatever secrets Fiona wanted her to retrieve, they would be found in Boston.

She looked through her bag, finding her tickets, a passport and driving licence in the name of Isabelle French, and the deposit box key she had taken from Weaver. She was still unsure on the pass code she had taken pictures of. Neither Fiona nor Azurine had mentioned the code, and so she hadn’t either, holding onto a faint hope that there was still a piece of this puzzle they weren’t aware of.

As she hit the arrivals lounge, she pulled out her phone, wondering if she would catch Weaver. He answered on the third ring, his tone light.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s Vegas?”

“Just as dusty and overrun with gamblers as I remember,” she said, wincing as she lied to him yet again. “How’s Tilly?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he said. “Nolan suggested that we take a trip down the coast this weekend.”

“Oh.” She chewed her lip. “Oh. Well, good. You guys have fun.”

“She can tell you all about it when you get back,” he added. “Any idea when that’ll be? If you send me your flight number I can pick you up.”

“Uh - yeah, sure.” Guilt ran spectral fingers over her skin and twisted in her hair. “I’ll - I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

A pause, in which she heard what sounded like a sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was more gentle. More desperate.

“Take care, Lacey,” he said. “We both love you, never forget that. Take care, and come home.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

“Bye,” she whispered, and hung up.

She slipped the phone into her bag and ran her hands over her face, breathing hard to calm herself. At least they were safe. They were together, and they were safe. That was all that mattered. She dropped her hands, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes of the tears that still threatened to fall, and raised her chin. Time to move.

The arrivals lounge was busy, but she had only brought a small carry-on case on wheels, and so she was able to get through it quickly. She had been told to watch out for someone waiting for her, and sure enough, in amongst the cab drivers holding up signs with names scrawled on, was a tall young man with blonde hair and a secretive smile, a sign in his hands reading Schwartz. Lacey took a breath, stomping over to him.

“Guess you’re my ride, huh?” she said. “Where are we headed?”

“Longbourn Chartered Bank,” he said, in a lazy drawl. “Pleased to meet you, Ms Schwartz. I’m Felix, your chauffeur.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” she snapped. “I’m not looking for a guided tour of the damn city!”

He smirked and turned away, heading off towards the car park. Lacey followed, dragging her little case, and a short young woman with a heavy coat and a cap pulled down over her eyes barged into her, almost sending her flying.

“Sorry,” she muttered, not looking back, and Lacey glared after her, watching her dark ponytail swinging as she headed for the cafeteria.

“We’re on a schedule here, ma’am,” said Felix, and Lacey scowled at him.

“Yeah, okay, I’m coming! That bitch almost ran me down!”

She picked up the pace, and he led her swiftly from the terminal and into the car park. A sleek Mercedes waited, shining black panels edged with chrome, and Lacey put her case in the trunk and got into the rear seat, tossing her bag aside and putting on her belt. The sooner this was over the better.

It didn’t take long to get to the bank, and Felix pulled up outside, opening the door to let her out.

“I guess I’ll meet you back here,” she said, but he shook his head.

“I’m coming in with you,” he said.

“I’m not about to make a run for it, am I?” she snapped.

“Orders are orders, Ms Schwartz.”

Lacey rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just stay out of the way. I’m not in the mood for this crap.”

She breezed past him, trotting up the steps of the bank and into the main lobby. It was pleasantly warm after the biting wind outside, despite the high ceiling. The floor was tiled in polished cream and black, and her heels rang on the tiles as she approached one of the gleaming wooden desks. A pretty young woman in a crisp dark blue suit greeted her with a smile.

“I have a deposit box here,” said Lacey, hoping it was true. “I need to access it.”

“Of course,” chirped the woman. “We’ll need your I.D. Do you have your key?”

“Yeah.”

Lacey dug in her bag for the padded envelope she had containing the key and her identification. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Felix hovering a pace or two back. The bank clerk was tapping away at her computer, and she looked up with a smile.

“That’s fine, Ms Schwartz,” she said. “If you’d like to follow me?”

She led Lacey to a door secured by an electronic keypad, and tapped in a code with flickering fingers. Felix had joined them, and the clerk glanced at him as she turned the handle.

“I’m afraid it’s key holders only past this point, sir,” she said.

Lacey felt like sticking her tongue out at him, but kept her face impassive, and he muttered that he would wait for her to come back out. She followed the clerk along a narrow corridor with thick carpet that softened their footsteps. Another door, another code, and she was let into a room with a single table and chair, and rows of small numbered boxes stacked two metres high. The clerk ran her eyes around the room, then walked swiftly to a box numbered 219 and put her key into one of the two locks there, turning it with a click. Drawing the box out of its slot, she placed it on the table in front of Lacey.

“It’s ready for you to use your own key,” she said. “Just knock on the door when you want me to let you out.”

She left, closing and locking the door behind her, and Lacey eyed the deposit box nervously. Staring at it wouldn’t help her get out of the situation she was in, and so she inserted her own key, turning it in the lock and hearing a click. She opened up the lid, pursing her lips at the contents. There was a portable hard drive, one of the old ones from years ago that would fit on a tiny flash drive these days. She lifted it out and set it aside. That was what Fiona had asked her to get. Underneath it was a letter, a thick cream envelope with her old name written on the front. Isabelle.

Licking her lips, she picked up the letter, slitting it open with a thumbnail and pulling out a sheet of paper that had been carefully folded into thirds. She opened it up, eyes scanning the page.

‘My dear Isabelle’, it said. ‘I’m writing this to you now in the hope that you will find it before any of the others. I know what’s happening to me. I know what the future holds on that front, and so I wanted to reach out while I still can. I have asked Mr Heller to track you down, and if you are reading this, he must have done so. He is a good man at heart, seeking to carry on the work of his late wife, and as soon as he finds you, I will be sending him the means to help you, and thereby help him to protect her legacy.

Perhaps my dearest wish will come true, and Mr Heller will bring you to me while I can still move and think and speak. Or perhaps this is all in vain, who can say? All I know is that I have to try to make it right. I’m sorry for the family your mother was born into, the family that I was a part of. I’m sorry about the man she married, the man your grandfather treated as his own son, as his heir to this great fortune built on misery and suffering. I’m sorry for everything you had to witness, for everything that happened to you. I’m sorry that I was too weak to stop it.

I’m more happy than you know that you were able to get away from that life, and I hope you can go on to find your own path and put this terrible past behind you. Your stepmother smiles and speaks of you fondly, as though she misses you, but I know you were fooled by her no more than I was. She will want what I have left for you in this box. I leave the decision on what to do with the contents to you.

The true prize is in my private safe, in the library at home. Look in the alcove behind the statue you always liked. You’ll find the safe there. Inside is all the evidence that your mother collected over the years when she was a doting wife, but could not find the strength to use. Evidence against your father and his businesses. Evidence against your stepmother. Perhaps it will be enough to let you be free of them. There must still be some good people left in the world, some officials yet to be corrupted by greed and self-interest. Alas, I never met one.

I offer you this evidence, dear Isabelle, in the hope that it will never be needed. In the hope that you will live your life happily without them ever finding you. If they do, though, perhaps this will give you something to use against them. I realise that I am trying to ease my own conscience as much as help you, but we must all find our courage where we can. God knows I have little enough of that.

Take care, dearest girl, and be assured that I wish you every happiness. Your loving Grandma.’

Lacey lowered the letter, chewing her lip as she blinked away a tear or two. Her grandmother had been the one person who had been a comforting presence, but she had not realised until that moment how trapped and helpless she had felt.

“Find your courage where you can,” she said quietly. “Guess I’ll have to try, huh? Do the brave thing?”

She dropped the letter back into the box, not wanting to take it with her when Felix was waiting outside. Slipping the hard drive into her bag, she locked up the box and left it on the table, rapping on the door for the bank clerk to let her out.

As she had suspected, Felix demanded that she hand over her bag as soon as they were outside. A cab had pulled into the space in front of them, two women on the back seat leaning in to hold one another. One of the women had very red hair, pulled into a tight bun that was coming loose, her face hidden as they hugged fiercely. Lacey waited with a bored expression on her face as Felix searched through the bag, pulling out the hard drive and opening every pocket.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” she confirmed.

“Okay,” he said. “Then I guess we head to Vegas.”

“I’m going to Storybrooke,” she said firmly, and he frowned.

“My orders are—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your orders!” snapped Lacey. “My grandmother is dying, okay? I’m going to see her, and I don’t care what you say about it. You can hold onto what I took from her deposit box - hell, you can take it to Vegas yourself, if you like. But I’m going to Storybrooke, got it? If you won’t take me, I’ll get on a damn bus!”

She stomped around to the trunk of the car to retrieve her case, and he growled something under his breath.

“Fine, get in,” he sighed. “I guess a day or so wouldn’t hurt.”

She sniffed, snatched her bag from him, and got into the back of the Mercedes again. The cab ahead was still parked up. Clearly the two women were taking their time saying goodbye. Good for them. Felix pulled away, heading north, and Lacey shrugged out of her coat and settled back on the seat with a sigh. Around four hours to get to Storybrooke. Perhaps she could even get some sleep.

x

Some way behind her, Weaver was following in the hire car. He nodded grimly as the Mercedes followed the signs to I-95, and glanced at his phone seated in its cradle on the dashboard. A few flicks of his fingers called Merida.

“Looks like we’re heading north,” he said. “Where are you?”

“We’re about four cars back from you,” she said. “Stay out of sight.”

“Understood.” He frowned, keeping an eye on the traffic in front of him. “I think I know where they’re going. The cab fare is gonna be a fucking fortune.”

“Then you’d better be prepared to get your wallet out, hadn’t you?” she said. “First time for everything.”

“Bloody cheek!” he said, as she chortled. “Did Fa manage to put the tracker on her?”

“Coat pocket,” said Merida. “She still has it. Why don’t you pull over and we’ll get in your car? Not like you don’t know where she’s going, right?”

“Alright. Next place I can stop.”

He rang off, glancing in his mirror before pulling over. The cab pulled in behind him, and he waited impatiently, fingers tapping on the wheel as Fa paid the driver and she and Merida hurried to his car. They piled into the back seat, a little breathless.

“Where are we going?” asked Merida, as he pulled away again.

“Maine,” he said. "Should take us four hours or so. Look for Storybrooke on your phone, let me know where we're heading when we get a little nearer."

“No problem.”

Weaver increased his speed, overtaking the vehicle in front as he tried to catch Lacey, no easy feat in the heavy traffic. The Mercedes was easy to spot, but he kept half a dozen cars in between them and shifted in his seat, getting ready for a long drive. It seemed that Lacey was going home.

x

It was after nine in the evening when they reached Storybrooke, a small town nestled on the coast of Maine. Weaver’s eyes were grainy from lack of sleep and intense concentration, and he followed the Mercedes through the town, keeping well back. It turned off up a quiet road lined with trees, and he slowed his pace as Fa and Merida studied the map on Fa's phone.

“Pull over,” said Fa. “That road’s a dead end. There’s only one place they could be going, and it’s gonna be pretty obvious if you follow.”

“What’s at the end of the road?” he asked.

“Avonlea Manor,” she said. “Kill the lights. We’ll wait here, see if they come back out.”

“The tracker?”

“Still ahead of us.”

He turned off the lights, rubbing tired eyes and sighing.

“There was an inn back in the town,” said Merida. “We could get a room for the night. Maybe some food. Definitely a drink or three.”

“Just as soon as we know what the hell’s going on, yes.” He peered through his fingers at the road ahead. “Fuck it, I’m going up there.”

“You are not,” said Fa immediately. “Just wait. I didn't come all this way to haul your impulsive ass out of whatever fire you want to jump into.”

He growled under his breath, but nodded. Time seemed to crawl. The night was black as pitch around them, and he tapped on the steering wheel, itching to drive to wherever Lacey was and kill whoever threatened her.

“Stay where you are,” said Fa, seeming to read his mind, and he rolled his eyes.

“For all I know she’s buggered off somewhere else!” he snapped.

“No, she’s still there,” she said. “She’s - wait, she’s coming this way. Get down!”

Headlights appeared around a bend in the road, and Weaver ducked his head. He heard a car pass, and looked up again, red tail lights visible in the rear view mirror.

“Only one person in the car, but the tracker was in there,” said Fa. “Perhaps she left her coat on the back seat.”

“Perhaps she was in the trunk,” said Merida ominously, making Weaver swallow hard.

“Right, I’m going up to that manor house to take a look around,” he said, starting the engine. “You two follow that car once I’m gone, got it?”

They argued, as he had known they would, but eventually agreed. Weaver followed the road around a sweeping bend, the woods opening out to reveal a large, sprawling mansion of red brick, large gardens beyond spreading out towards thick woods. The house was oddly dark and silent, lights on in only a few rooms, and Weaver stopped the car, getting out and checking his weapons. Fa took his place in the driver’s seat.

“Call us,” she said bluntly. “When we’re done tracking that car, we'll be at that inn we passed. If you need help, just fucking call, okay? And don’t get your ass shot.”

“Yeah, you too.”

They drove off, and Weaver followed the road around to the rear of the house, moving quietly and hugging the red brick wall. There seemed to be no security to speak of, and he wondered at this large house in the middle of nowhere, and the secrets it might contain. Was Lacey inside?

He reached a door, and opened it quietly, slipping inside and closing it behind him. Warmth flooded over him, and he glanced around, taking in the empty room with its heavy range and gleaming steel pans. He appeared to have found the kitchens. A teapot sat on a heavy pine table, white glazed pottery with a chip in the rim of the lid. The teapot was steaming, a cup and saucer next to it, and Weaver figured that whoever the tea was for had to be around somewhere. He slipped across the room, heading for the door that led into the main house. A dark corridor opened up before him, a set of stairs at the end, and he flexed his fingers, focusing his energy on the door at the top. Perhaps Lacey was beyond. Perhaps he would finally get some answers.

“Hands in the air!” A stern voice made him freeze. “Hands in the air or I’ll shoot!”

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: Modern day au where Fergus and Marsali are members of opposing biker gangs.

Catch up on the first part of this story here. There will be one more chapter after this.

The Borders Between Us

by @wunderlichkind

Two

Fergus has felt the irritation crawl under his skin all day, like tiny little insects, hooking their hairy legs into every crevice, every artery, every synapse, laying their eggs on their quest to populate his every thought. He thought Marsali’s touch would make it better – her hands wrapped around his middle on the bike, her smooth skin under his hands and lips. But she hasn’t brought him any semblance of peace, not today.

Instead, she’s a sounding body to his vibrations, picking up the current of anger and frustration running through his veins and throwing it back at him, magnified and dangerous.

He isn’t gentle with her, and she spurs him on, as if challenging the fragile illusion of peace to implode and tumble to pieces, as if walking the edge excites her, and it isn’t lost on him that her behaviour in the face of his unrest says a lot about their relationship – the game they’ve been playing for too long, that she refuses to transform into something more real, more solid.

It’s only after – when they’re lying side by side in the wide bed, spent and heated, avoiding any more touch, that he realizes the crawling sensation has left him, his anger erupted in the heat of their joining. The silent emptiness it left behind is worse, still.

„Why do you continue to come?“ he asks, a bitter taste on his tongue – the taste of weakness. He’s not comfortable with this needy side of himself, this side that can’t stay away, this side that asks her to stay again and again.

„Ye’re a damn good fuck,“ she teases, but it’s half-hearted and they both know it. He sees the fire flicker behind her blue eyes when he turns to look at her and welcomes the bite of its flames reaching for him – anything to fill the void. He presses on.

„You refuse to quit the gang, you won’t let me quit either. You never answer my declarations or pleas, yet you always come back to me. Why?“

Marsali sits up abruptly, reaching for her shirt and swinging her pale legs over the edge of the bed. The set of her shoulders is tense and she doesn’t look at him when she snaps. „What do ye want me to say, Fergus?“

„I want you to admit you love me.“

It comes out a little too loud, a little too forceful, but he doesn’t care. This has been brewing inside him for weeks, a dark, bubbling mess long overdue to spill that he desperately needs out of his system. He wants clarity – all or nothing, to have her admit her feelings or provoke her until she finally walks out on him for good.

She’s on her feet now, moving through the room quickly, in jerky, angry motions, her body radiating stress, the stony expression of her face telling him she’s struggling to keep her walls up.

„Admit it!“ he says, even louder this time, crawling to the edge of the bed. He’s naked still, but he doesn’t make a move to get dressed. He wants to force her to be open and honest, to be naked with body and words.

„Admit it, or tell me you’re just coming back here because you need to get fucked so bad, because your shitshow of a gang doesn’t have one decent man who serves you as well as I do, because you’re a damned whore who doesn’t care one iota about who she’s hurting. Say it!“

He’s almost screaming at her now, the words purposely harsh blows, chosen to tear down her walls, chosen to make her react. It’s selfish of him, but he feels he might disintegrate, might lose himself completely if he stops.

„I do, okay?!“

It’s something between a sob and yell and he’s at her side in seconds when she drops to the floor crying.

„I do love ye,“ she admits, much quieter now, arms wrapped around herself, as if trying to protect her from falling apart now that the walls of protection have fallen.

„Are ye happy now?“ Her voice rises again, and she lifts her head to stare at him defiantly through a curtain of tears. He thinks about that – tries to pinpoint his feelings, to interpret the turmoil in his stomach, but she’s not finished.

„It doesn’t change anything, don’t ye get it?“ The look of despair on her face scares him, and he reaches for her arms, trying to become a part of the forlorn embrace she’s wrapped herself in.

„Ye dinna even know my last name.“

He wants to protest, wants to tell her he’ll happily learn every little detail about her life – how she drinks her coffee, how she ties her shoes, what colour her shower curtain and oven mitts and toothbrush are – but the words die on his tongue at her merciless stare, and her next words feel like a stab with a knife. Brutal, painful, inflicting an irreversible wound.

„My name is Marsali Fraser. My father is James Fraser, president of the Mongols’ Badlands charter. My mother is Laoghaire Mackenzie. She has early onset dementia. I moved back in with her a year ago, because she can’t live alone anymore.“

Fergus suddenly wishes he had dressed. He feels exposed, Marsali’s words a cold storm attacking him full force, her face a mask of pain he feels mirrored on his own.

„We’ll find a way,“ he says, a weak attempt at gaining some semblance of control over this chaos. He doesn’t believe it, and she doesn’t either.

„I canna leave, Fergus.“ Her voice is tender now, as she bends towards him and presses a soft kiss to his lips. It’s salty and wet from her tears, and he feels stranded, disoriented. „I’m sorry.“

And then she rises and leaves, but he can’t move. Glued down to the carpet he hates himself for being naive enough to believe that all or nothing was possible, for not seeing this coming. She loves him, but he will never have her. It’s all and nothing at the same time.

___________________________________________________________________

She’s picking out cereal when her phone rings, the melody of her favourite song echoing off the boxes stacked on the aisle. She curses under her breath at her treacherous mind, immediately flitting to Fergus. They danced to this song. Made love while it played in the background. He wouldn’t call though; he only ever texts. And he won’t text anymore, now that they stopped pretending. She swipes at her phone angrily, without checking to see who’s calling.

„Yes?“

„Marsali, good! Don’t freak out, okay?“ Claire’s voice sounds pretty close to freaking out herself, although it’s clear she’s making a conscious effort to stay calm. Marsali immediately goes into emergency mode, her feet carrying her towards the exit, the groceries in her cart abandoned.

„What happened? Did she hurt herself?“

The memory of the big blister on Laoghaire’s forearm from when she had turned her back to the hot stove for just a second makes Marsali feel nauseous and triggers more images – images of every possible danger in their house, every step you could fall, every corner you could hit your head on.

„She got out. I’m looking for her now, and Jamie is in your apartment in case she comes back. I’m really sorry, love, I swear, I was only in the bathroom for a minute...“

Marsali has to swallow around the lump in her throat before she can answer. „It’s not yer fault,“ she finally manages to say, already climbing into the car. „I’m on my way. Let’s split areas to look – where should I go?“

She finds Laoghaire at the corner café her mother used to work at, where she smiles at the customers and cleans the tables. Louie, the owner, who’s called her only ten minutes after she hung up on Claire, squeezes Marsali’s shoulder.

„It was really no trouble. She just went right to work.“

She forces herself to smile at him. „Thank ye, Louie. For not saying anything to her. And for calling me.“

„No biggie. Let me know if I can ever do anything to help.“

She gives him a grateful nod, her lips pressed together tightly to keep in the sob of exhaustion and relief she doesn’t want the world to hear. With a light touch to Louie’s arm, she turns and approaches her mother.

„Hi, Laoghaire. Let me take ye home.“

The soft tone is practiced, not even stumbling on her mother’s first name anymore – Marsali’s long since accepted the fact that addressing her with „Mam“ only agitates her, that her own mother can’t remember having a daughter.

„Is my shift already over?“ Laoghaire asks, looking over Marsali’s shoulder at Louie.

„Oh yes, dear, you go right on home and enjoy your night,“ Louie smiles at her, and Laoghaire’s face lights up, and she lets herself be led out the café and towards the car.

___________________________________________________________________

„I found the brochures,“ Jamie says, and passes her a hot cup of tea. She avoids his eyes, burying her nose in the steam rising from the cup and coughing at the strong alcoholic fumes.

„Ye put whisky in that,“ she states with half a smile that he mirrors back at her.

„Thought ye could use it.“ They settle into the couch, and his clear blue eyes - so like her own – rest sternly on her. „Marsali,“ he prompts and she shrugs her shoulders.

„I havena taken the test.“

„Ye should. I think it might be time we find a good home for Laoghaire. It’s too much for ye to take care of her all the time. Ye should be able to live yer life. And not be afraid.“ His warm palm on her knee grounds her and she sighs and lets herself be comforted by his strong presence, his warmth and solidness and safety.

„What if I have it, too?“ she whispers, not looking at him.

He wraps his strong arm around her shoulder and draws her into his chest, enveloping her into the familiar scent of worn leather and aftershave.

„I dinna ken,“ he admits, „but it’s better to know than to wonder and fret, don’t ye think? And I’ll be here. Whatever happens, I’ll be here.“

[dead-night-harringrove]

Also would Max and the kids soon discover he’s part moth?

It’s been three months since Steve and Billy had called a truce in a meadow by the train tracks. Three whole months since Steve had caught Billy with a dislocated wing and instead of killing him with that bat he’d had or cashing him in as a science prize, he had offered his home and friendship. 

It had been a week after that encounter that he’d organized a plot to apologize to all of the children en mass for almost running them over and for what he’d done at the Byers’ home a little over a year before. 

Now, he spends most of his days chartering the kids around when Steve isn’t available to do so- the added perks of loud music and a cool ride gets him in their favor much quicker than he expected, but they still don’t trust him. When he’s not moving kids to and fro, he’s avoiding his house and lounging around Steve’s house with just a pair of sweatpants that he stole out of Steve’s winter drawer. 

Since it’s the first summer after his graduation, he spends days upon days at Steve’s house when he can manage it. He also only shaves his “fluff,” as Steve calls it, when he’s going back to the house where Neil could potentially catch him if he hadn’t. After about two days, it’s already grown in thick and wearing a shirt is just unacceptable. 

It’s also Steve’s day off, which he’d forgotten about until Steve just didn’t go in to work earlier. Steve’s day off is when the kids always walk in uninvited, which he’s also managed to forget.

He remembers, very clearly, when Steve is in the bathroom upstairs and the door swings open and he hears a scream of “Holy shit!” Billy’s pretty sure it’s Dustin who screams. The other kids immediately follow suit in their own freak outs, but Billy isn’t listening to what they’re saying. His heart starts pounding in his chest and he’s frozen, staring at them dumbly with wide, dilated eyes. Billy feels hot tears sliding down his cheeks and he didn’t even realize he’d started crying until then. It’s horrible, and he feels his anger rising but he tries to fight it, crush it, but being angry is so much easier than being afraid and right now fear is outweighing everything else. 

Steve finding out was one thing. A group of hyperactive children who can never shut up and potentially still hate him is a different situation all together. 

He’s running. Slamming the back door open and sprinting out, his wings are catching on air before he even realizes he’s leaving the ground. Once he’s high enough, he relies on gliding to get as far away as fast as he can. 

The view would be beautiful if only he could enjoy it. 

When Steve comes running down the stairs, almost falling for the last few of them, it’s Max, El, and Will who recover the fastest and tell him what happened. Steve curses, and then fixes a glare on Dustin who’s still cursing about how Billy’s been infected by an upside down monster and he’s a freak. Dustin is reasonably subdued by the look Steve shoots him, and then they’re all trying to organize a plan of action while Steve explains what he knows about Billy’s...moth side. 

It’s within an hour they’re all out and walking the woods, shouting Billy’s name as they try to look for him. 

It’s another two hours when they finally find him. After checking everywhere else, Steve directs them to the clearing where he and Billy had first become friends. Billy’s sitting there in a heap in the center of the meadow, tucked into the tall grasses and wildflowers and hiding with his wings curled around him protectively. If Steve wasn’t looking for him, he might have overlooked him entirely. He’d definitely found himself a good hiding spot. 

The kids approach hesitantly behind Steve as he walks closer, holding their tongues as they register the shuddering movements and hushed but sharp breaths beneath the wings. Honestly, Max is the only one who actually believes Billy can cry. 

“Billy?” Max asks, voice soft as she walks up beside Steve from where he’s crouching in front of her stepbrother. Steve gently pushes the wings aside with practiced ease, taking Billy’s hands in his and whispering comforts to him as he looks up at Max. She gasps lightly, taken slightly with his deep, wide eyes and pupils that almost engulf his irises. Max has never seen him like this, but for reasons she can’t really explain it feels right. It’s like there was a gap in her perception of him, not just emotionally and physically, but spiritually. She wonders what he really is, but can’t find any reason to question it fully. He’s something special, though. 

His eyes search hers for something, and whatever it is he’s looking for he must have found- or not found, she supposes. Billy relaxes somewhat, hands gripping onto Steve’s and just holding on. 

Looking between them, how intrinsically they move towards each other and the fact that Billy was just at Steve’s house without any cares until she and the rest of the Party had walked in... She wonders if they realize the love each other. 

Billy, with his hands now in Steve’s, drops his wings and the Party gathers around in a loose semi-circle, eyes full of questions. 

“I didn’t think fairies were assholes,” Lucas says, but then immediately regrets it when Billy’s antennae lay flat down against his head and his wings hitch back up, coming in close around him. Lucas doesn’t say he didn’t realize Billy was so sensitive either, and wonders where it’s come from. 

He doesn’t voice it either, when he realizes how confident El is until someone asks her about her number or catches her using her powers. 

Lucas realizes suddenly, that Billy isn’t sensitive. He’s terrified. Of them. A handful of kids. Oh, how the tables have turned. With a quick glance at the others, he sees they’re realizing it as well. 

Lucas fixes El with a look, and when she meets his gaze she catches on with ease. Moving closer to be right beside Steve and Max, she holds out her arm and shows Billy her tattoo. Billy frowns at it, looking up at her curiously. “11? What does that mean?” he asks, and she smiles wryly and points to herself. “Me. I’m Eleven. They won’t tell anyone. Promise. Watch...” she trails off, and turning to the side she holds her hand out towards the woodline. With a mighty groan, one of the younger trees begins to bend and creak towards her, until it falls with a crash. El groans as she puts in more effort to push it back up, the earth packing in around the roots as it resettles. Turning back to Billy, she wipes away blood  from her nose with the back of her short sleeve. He’s staring at her with awe, and she smiles. “See? They know my secret and didn’t tell. I used to be a monster. I’m not anymore. They didn’t tell anyone I was a monster either. You’re safe with us. Jim and Joyce and Jonathan and Nancy too. You can tell them, and you’ll be safe. I promise,” she says. Billy finds he believes her, and nods shortly. Any tension he’d had has faded now, and he’s at ease when the party starts firing off questions one right after the other. 

“Do you know what type of moth you are?” Will asks, and Billy nods. “Ah, I’ve looked into it and I’m pretty, pretty sure I’m a white-ringed Atlas moth. It’s the closest match, at the very least,” he says, and Will beams. Billy smiles back, wings fluttering amiably. 

A brief, comfortable silence falls over them for a moment before Dustin lets out a cheer? It’s also a curse though, so it’s hard to tell. He follows it shortly after with the cause of his outburst.“You flew! You flew here! With your wings! You can fly! That’s awesome! Why do you use your car so much? Why not just fly?” he asks, and Billy stares at him blankly for a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, let me just fly over to the supermarket. That’ll work real good, especially when I give Mrs. Wicker a heart attack for being a winged demon descending upon them. I kind of like life, as shitty as it is. Also I can’t give you brats rides everywhere when your babysitter is unavailable if I flew everywhere.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m part moth. I’m not an airplane. I get three feet off the ground and almost crash.”

It isn’t really that funny, but the kids all laugh to their hearts’ content regardless. They all spend a little while longer there, just talking and bonding and Billy? Billy feels a lot lighter having people who aren’t trying to hunt him down or kill him. He’s not used to having people care about him, but he’s starting to like the feeling. He just hopes he doesn’t let them down, and he’s going to try his hardest not to. 

When Steve, Billy, and the kids finally get back to Steve’s house, night is falling. The kids all crash in the living room, digging around in closest that they’re obviously familiar with and setting up a huge blanket and sofa cushion pallet on the floor for them to all sleep on. They set up the VCR player to watch movies, and Steve bids them goodnight as he walks up the stairs. Billy usually sleeps on the sofa, but seeing as the kids have claimed the living room, he eventually follows Steve up the stairs. Steve seems surprised when he sees Billy leaning against his door frame, and Billy feels his face heat up as he looks down at the floor. 

“Can I, uh, sleep in here with you? I usually sleep on the sofa and I know you said your family keeps all of your unorganized junk in the guest room... I mean, I can go home if that’s too awkward or weird for you but I just-” he’s cut off by Steve’s hands finding his again. He looks up at Steve’s face, and doesn’t find any apprehension or disgust there. Only a soft smile and understanding eyes. “You can absolutely stay in here, Billy. You know, I usually ask people out before I get them in bed with me, though. Looks like you get the first class pass,” he smirks, and Billy feels like his legs are about to give out as he stares at Steve in absolute, unmasked shock. Steve seems slightly taken aback for a moment, as if he didn’t expect his joke to get taken seriously, but it’s again erased by a soft look. Billy was expecting disgust. He was expecting any reaction other than just a gentle acceptance when he’d floundered over Steve’s words. Steve tugs him towards the bed, letting go of his hand just long enough to strip down to his boxers and climb into bed. Billy crawls in behind him, laying down on his stomach and letting his wings fall across the bed like a blanket. Steve gently touches the one across him with the tips of his fingers, and Billy shivers. He hears Steve laugh softly beside him and takes a risk to curl closer to him, as close as he can get. Steve’s arm comes up around him to play with his hair, and they both fall asleep twined together. 

Downstairs, Max smiles over at Lucas after explaining what she’d seen between them. He’s looking at the staircase and back at her with a soft smile too, and then he smirks. 

“10 bucks says they’re already doing the gross shit” he bets, and Max cackles.

Steve and Billy are in for one hell of a ride. 

[choicesfanatic86]

TTS:  Part 33 In Liam’s Eyes (2/2)

DISCLAIMER:  All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY:  Liam learns of Riley’s accident, and is having a difficulty time coping.

If you are new to the series and would like to catch up by reading previous parts, please check out my master fan fiction listing.  CATCH UP HERE

TAGS:  @herladyshipxx  @theroyalweisme @blackcatkita @devineinterventions2 @hopefulmoonobject @captainkingliam @pbchoicesobsessed @cocomaxley @queencatherynerhys @mfackenthal @boneandfur @spetstoof @bobasheebaby @grapefrults @pessimystic-fangirl @dralenamax @mspaigemoore @drakelover78 @kaitycole @jayjay879 @hhiggs @umccall71 @penguininapinktuxedo @topsyturvy-dream @decisso @pnhanga @ladynonsense @mrs-simmy @jamielea81 @alwaysthebestchoice @hamulau @mrsdrakewalkerblog @crookedslimecreatorpasta @liamxsworld @flowerpowell

5/20/18 - This is part 2! And I’m done for tonight.  <3  Part 34 will be out maybe tomorrow. :)  As always thank you for the awesome feedback.  SO blessed and lucky to have ya’ll reading my fics!

PART 33 - In Liam’s Eyes (Part 2)

It had been nearly twelve hours since Andy had left, and Liam found himself unable to sleep.  It was futile trying.  His mind kept wandering to her.  He pictured her hooked up to a bunch of wires, unconscious, tubes piercing through her beautiful fair skin.  He wondered then if it was a car accident or if she had gotten hit by a car.  It was New York after all.  He was sick with worry.  He wouldn’t be able to sleep again until he knew she was alright.  He decided that the only way to get his mind off of things was to hop on his bike and go for a ride.  He needed to clear his head.  He didn’t know what kind of news to be expecting.  It could be awful, and that Maxwell was right, she was in a coma fighting for her life . . . or it could be a simple car accident and her assistant just jumped the gun in calling Andy.  He hoped that was the case.  He couldn’t withstand it if it were the former.  He’d never forgive himself.

He’d been riding around for an hour when he found himself at the doorstep of the Beaumont Estate.  He remembered the last ride that brought him to this doorstep.  It was the night he saw her for the first time again in two years.  He remembered how beautiful she looked, how absolutely breathtaking.  He loved her best when she was dressed down – no makeup, no fancy dresses, just Riley.  And that’s how he saw her that night as just Riley.

He glanced up to the front of the house and noticed that Bertrand was on the porch, sipping a cup of something.

“You’re still up?” Liam asked, taking his helmet off.

He nodded somberly.  “Can’t sleep,” he said bluntly.  “No one can.  We’re all waiting for Lady Andy’s call.”

Bertrand looked tired.  Hell, he was certain they all looked tired.  Worn.  Broken.  They’d all be the same way until they heard any news.  It had to be any moment now.  She’d had to have been in New York for at least a few hours . . .why hadn’t they heard anything? Liam left Bertrand to his thought as he entered the house.  He wandered through the living room, remembering the last time they had spent time together, how everything had been so amazingly perfect.  It was then that he decided he wanted to marry her.  The days they spent locked away loving one another had been the best days of his life.  He never thought that he’d ever feel that happy or that content.  He never wanted it to end.  Then it had all gone so terribly wrong.  He let his jealousy get the better of him, and he took it out on her instead of trying to allow her to explain what had happened.  He loved her.  He knew what kind of person she was, but his goddamn pride and stubbornness had blinded him to all of that.  He wanted to believe she was at fault in all of this, but he knew it was him.

And now?  Now he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance to apologize to her.  To tell her how much he regrets the words that flew out of his mouth.  He wished he could blame the scotch, but he was drunk of jealousy and rage and it made him hurt the most important person in his entire world.  The atmosphere inside the house felt so terribly depressing.  He felt like he was at a funeral.  Drake, Savannah and Maxwell sat around sharing stories about their times together during the social season, and how amazing Riley was.  It was all too much for him. He couldn’t treat this like she was in their past.

When Maxwell’s phone started to ring, he could feel his heartbeat quicken in anticipation.  The news at the end of the line could possibly change his life forever.  A world without Riley?  He was already living in that world.  But a world where she was gone . . . forever?  He couldn’t imagine it.  He didn’t even want to think about it, yet the possibility was there.  Lord knew what kind of accident she had been in.  Every moment of waiting made him feel just a bit more empty and broken inside.

“Quiet down, it’s Andy!” Maxwell exclaimed.  In his eagerness to answer, he nearly dropped the phone in the process.

“Tiger Lily?  Any word?”

“Oh thank God is right,” he breathed a sigh of relief.   “She’s okay, guys,” he said eagerly to the waiting faces around him.  “We’ve all been worried.  That’s such a relief,” he turned his attention back to the phone.

“What happened?” he asked.  “Was it serious?”

“Little Blossom looks unwell?” His eyes drifted to everyone around him.  “Yes, I remember.  She did look rather pale, but I just thought it was the screen coloring,” he admitted.

“What are you doing to do?” he asked with concern.

“A broken leg?” he asked horrified.  “Her face, too?  Jesus, poor Little Blossom,” he said overcome with emotion. “I think I should be with both of you.  I can charter a plane, or ask Liam for his assistance again,” he made eye contact with the King, and Liam’s face immediately turned to one of equal concern.

“Her assistant is staying, too?  But, Tiger Lily, don’t you think she’d be happy to see me?  I mean, my handsome face alone would certainly bolster her spirits,” he joked.  

“Does she really look that bad?”

“Oh my God,” he paused.  “I should be there.  She needs all of us, Andy.”

Liam couldn’t handle the phone conversation.  He wanted to know what Andy was saying, but it didn’t feel right to grab the phone away from him.  After all, he had given the right to know any intimate details about her well being up when he kicked her out of his life.  He doubted she even wanted him to know about her condition.

“What’s the matter?” Bertrand asked.  “What is she saying?”

“No, that was Bertrand,” he sighed.  “We’re all just a bit overwhelmed.  It’s hard to be here when both of you are there,” he admitted.

“Perhaps Maxwell is on to something; maybe we should all take a short trip Stateside. Check in on Lady Riley, see how we may be of assistance in her recovery,” Bertrand said frankly to the rest of the group.

“Bertrand, Andy would like you to quiet down.  Tiger Lilly, I really think we should talk about us coming out there,” he said again.

“Give me the phone, Maxwell,” Bertrand grunted.

“Alright, Bertrand.  Tiger Lilly, Bertrand would like to have a word with you.  It will just be for a moment, I swear,” he said handing the phone to Bertrand.

“Lady Andy.  I trust you are in Lady Riley’s company?  Then why didn’t you call us much sooner?  We’ve been unable to continue with our normal affairs out of sheer frustration and worry.  Yes, well, it wasn’t soon enough.  Where did you go first?  And did you speak with her physicians?  Find out what occurred and her prognosis?  Well why the bloody hell not?  Didn’t you ask to speak to someone in administration?  Someone with more authority than a simple peon behind a computer screen?  Well, at least you’ve found her, now you can talk her into coming home to Cordonia.  We can hire a nursemaid who will provide her with round the clock care until she’s well again.  Well you should try harder to convince her that this is the only option.  She doesn’t know what she wants.  If she did, she wouldn’t have been so damn emotional before she left.  Why?  Fine,” he sighed, handing the phone back to Maxwell.

“Yes, love?  Alright, but he can be quite persistent.  Drake’s here as well, would you like to speak to him?  He’s very worried.  Are you sure we shouldn’t fly to New York?  It would only be an eight hour flight . . .we could be there first thing in the morning your time.”

“Liam’s been taking this very hard,” he gazed at Liam.

Liam’s eyes met Maxwell’s gaze, shaking his head.

“That wasn’t very nice.  You know very well that there were complications . . . a misunderstanding.  They just needed time and to talk things out.  He’s still very much in love with her.  Everybody can see it.  Apology accepted.

Liam cleared his throat, standing up to pace the floor.  He was quite aware the they all knew he still loved her.  It was the general consensus that he was a moron and should have just gone after her and made things right the moment she flew back to New York.  It was an unspoken understanding amongst their little circle of friends; it was very different to hear it spoken about so freely as Maxwell just had done.

“Please call me first thing tomorrow to let me know how she’s doing.  I really think we should fly out there.  Little Blossom needs her favorite Cordonians.  I know, I’m sorry.  I love you, Andy.  Be well, love.  Goodbye.”

“Well, gentlemen.  I feel a bit better,” Maxwell announced.  “It seems like she’s on the mend.  A little banged up, but nothing that time won’t heal,” he said happily.

Liam exhaled a large sigh of relief.  “At least she alive,” he said seriously.  “My mind was going toward some pretty dark scenarios all day,” he admitted.

“I know,” Drake nodded in agreement.  “Lawson’s tough.  She’ll bounce back.”

“I’d feel better if we had spoken with her physicians.  Lady Riley has such a laissez-faire attitude about things.  Even if something were seriously wrong she probably would think nothing of it.  She can’t be expected to take care of herself,” Bertrand said seriously.

“But Andy and Alicia are there,” Maxwell reasoned.

“Wonderful, the blind leading the blind,” he snipped.

“Well, she told me that we shouldn’t go down there.  I don’t want to upset any of them,” Maxwell explained.

“Maxwell’s right, we should just let things settle and see what happens,” Drake agreed.

“Liam, I’m sorry . . . about what I said . . . I just hoped that she would maybe send the message to Riley, and then you guys would be good again,” Maxwell said bashfully.  “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ever the hopeless romantic,” he clapped his friend on the shoulder.  “It’s fine,” Liam murmured.  “I need to head back to the palace.  Call me?  With any updates?”

Maxwell nodded.  “I’ll call you whenever I hear something new,” he said earnestly.

True to his word, over the next three days, Maxwell had called Liam constantly.  Each time Maxwell received a call from Andy, he would hang up and call Liam to ensure that he repeated everything to Liam while it was still fresh in his mind.  Although the updates seemed fairly positive . . . there was just something that didn’t sit well with Liam.  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he still felt like there was something very wrong.  Perhaps, it was the fact that he wasn’t the one getting the messages direct from Andy.  Or maybe nothing would truly feel right except being there with her and seeing for himself that she was indeed on the mend.

It was the second call on the third date of updates that solidified the fact that something was terribly amiss.  It was the first time that Maxwell had shared with him his growing concerns over Riley’s wellbeing.

“Liam  . . . I suspect that there may be something more going on with Riley,” Maxwell sighed into the phone.  “Andy’s acting odd, and she’s beginning to cut our phone conversations shorter and shorter.  Then, just a while ago, I heard Riley vomiting profusely in the background.  I would expect her to be better by now.  I think they’re not telling us how sick she is.”

Liam could sense the fear, frustration, and anxiety in Maxwell’s voice.  Riley was like the sister he never had, and he knew that he cared for her just as much as any of them.  But Liam didn’t know what to do with this newfound information.  He had an inkling there was something wrong, and apparently, he had been right.  Riley was sick, and he suspected that her accident may have been the result of said sickness.  He just wondered what it was that was causing her to be sick for so long.  His mind began to worry, contemplating if he should have a specialist flown to New York since obviously, the physicians there hadn’t corrected the problem the first time.

“Thank you, Maxwell.  She’s going to call you again tonight, won’t she?  Will you ask her if she’s been seeing any other doctors?  Maybe we can figure out if she’s seeing the right people,” Liam reasoned.

“Will do.  I’ll call you if I hear anything else,” he said quickly before ending the call.

Two hours later, Liam had been knee deep in paperwork.  He had been so overwhelmed with all of the work he had been procrastinating on for the last few days, that he hadn’t noticed he’d missed a bunch of notifications.  Several being missed calls from Maxwell.  His hands began to tremble, worrying that something had happened.  He dialed Maxwell’s number instantly, but there was no answer.

“Shit,” he said angrily, tossing his phone on his desk.  He was just about to get ready to head out toward the Beaumont Estate when his study door flew open forcefully.  Liam was started to see Maxwell with a tearstained face and worried expression.

“Maxwell – “ Liam looked up in surprise.  “I tried calling you back-“

“She’s back in the hospital,” Maxwell said in a panic.  “I threw what I could together.  Bertrand and Drake are in the car waiting . . . I know it’s asking a lot but I was hoping we could use your plane again.  We have to be there with her.  Figure out what’s going on.  Andy’s not handling things well, and I don’t want her having to go through all of this alone,” he explained.

Liam stood up quickly.  “Is she okay?”

“We don’t know.  Andy just called me to tell me they were going to take her back in.  Apparently she hasn’t been doing well at all.  Andy thought things were under control,” he sighed.

“You can have anything else you need.  I’ll happily oblige any request.  Anything for her,” he murmured.

“Come with us then?”  Maxwell asked hopefully.

“Except that,” he shook his head.  “You’re wasting time.  Just go.  I’ll make the arrangements now.”

“Liam, this is ridiculous.  The woman you love is not doing very well thousands of miles away, and I think you have something to do with it,” he said pointedly.

“How so?”  Liam looked at him confused.

“Maybe you broke her heart so terribly her body couldn’t handle it again,” he fumed.  “Just come back with us.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” he narrowed his eyes at the king.  “You ask about her every single day, Liam.  Multiple times a day.  You still love her.  Why are you being so foolish?”

“Because I’m ashamed,” he said sadly.  “Did Riley tell you what the last thing I said to her was?”

“Not in so many details,” Maxwell shook his head.  “I know there was fight, a misunderstanding,” he explained.

“I told her that I wouldn’t try to find her this time.  That she should just leave, because it’s what she does best,” his eyes scanned over his desk, falling to the envelope Drake had given him the night of Riley’s accident.  “She told me that she wasn’t going to let me break her again,” he said, his voice cracking in emotion.  “But I guess I still did,” he looked up toward Maxwell, his eyes filling with tears.

“Liam . . .” Maxwell said slowly, unsure how to approach the normally strong King.

Liam’s hand reached for the envelope, holding it up for Maxwell to see.  “You see this?  She wrote this to me . . . I haven’t had the strength to open it.  I’m not sure what she could possibly say to me.  I guess I’m scared to find out,” he sighed.

“Liam . . . you need to let this go.  Who cares what happened before . . . all that matters is what happens now.  Come with us.  Tell her how much she means to you,” Maxwell

“Just go, Maxwell.  Head straight for the airport, the plane will be ready for you when you get there,” he turned away, the envelope still in his hands.

“Liam, you’re a goddamn fool,” he admonished before slamming the door to his study shut.

Liam closed his eyes.  He’d never felt so terrified in his life.  Things had gone from bad to worse, and Liam didn’t know what to do.  He could normally handle any situation that he was faced with, but this . . . this was too personal.  This was dealing with Riley.  He couldn’t fix it.  He was thousands of miles away and he couldn’t fix whatever was wrong with her.  His hand reached for the envelope . . . . his hands trembling as his finger slid through the envelope’s seal.  He licked his lips in anticipation, preparing himself for all the hurt and pain he had caused her to come barreling out in a hatred-filled letter.  His eyes wandered over the letter . . . studying her handwriting.  It felt amazing to touch something she had touched.  He missed her so much.  Maxwell was right.  He wanted to be with her, but too much damage had already been done, why make it worse?  He started to read the letter, grasping the paper tightly.

Liam,

Well, I suppose our love story was never really meant to have a happy ending, huh?  I want you to know that I don’t regret any of our time together.  Not any of it at all.  I love you.  I probably always will.  It’s just so heartbreaking that we could never seem to get it right.  You said something once that we’re victims of bad timing.  I think so, too.  Always too late or too soon, never just right.

I remember thinking that love shouldn’t be this hard.  It’s always been hard for us, hasn’t it?  First with the Coronation, then with Madeline . . . it was obstacle after obstacle and somehow we got to this point, and I truly thought that it would be our turn for the fairytale life together.  I was wrong.

I used to think that love should be easy, and fun, and simple.  It shouldn’t be about fighting, and tears, and heartache.  Then I met Paul . . . and it was easy . . . being in a relationship with him was simple and nice, but he wasn’t you.  It wasn’t love.  Then I realized, that love wasn’t meant to be easy.  If it were easy, why bother?  It’s the hard stuff that makes life worth living.  With every tear and every fight and every struggle, the relationship builds stronger so that together, you can endure whatever comes your way.  Getting through it is what makes love stronger.  I suppose none of this even matters anymore.  You made it clear how you feel.  I know you don’t love me anymore . . .at least not how I love you, and it’s okay.  I don’t blame you.

This wasn’t just a fling for me.  I think out of everything you said that hurt the most.  I wanted a life together.  I think a little part of me still wants a life together.  The last week and a half has meant everything to me.  I just want you to know that I’m sorry I hurt you.  I’m sorry for back then.  I’m sorry for now.  It was never my intent.  I only wanted to love you, Liam.  Everything was real.  Every single moment of it.

Yours, Riley

Liam couldn’t catch his breath.  He read the letter once, twice, three times before fully comprehending the fact that she still loved him.  At least she had the day that she left.  What the hell was he doing here?  He needed to get on that plane.  He needed to be with her.  He was such an idiot.  She had done nothing but love him, and he just scorned her love for him and tossed her out like she was nothing.  He needed to show her how wrong he had been.  He needed to show her how much he loved her.

The ride to the airport had been a frantic one.  He’d only had enough time to pack the essentials and a small bag of clothes.  He usually had people pack for him, but there was no time.  He needed to get there before they left.  When Bastien dropped him off at the private airfield, he was relieved to find that the plane hadn’t taken off yet.  In fact, it looked as if it were waiting.  It was waiting for him!

“I called ahead, sir.  The pilot is waiting for you,” he murmured.

“I don’t know how to repay you . . . “

“It was my fault you turned her away in the first place.  Just go,” he smiled lightly.

Liam ran up the steps of the loading stairs, lugging his carryon bags behind him.

It was Bertrand who noticed his arrival first.  “Your Majesty?” Bertrand asked, “What are you doing here?”  

He was breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath.  “Needed . . .needed to get here  . . . before you left,” he explained.

Maxwell narrowed his eyes at him.  “Came to say goodbye?”

“I changed my mind,” he said stoically.  “I’m going to come with you.”

“You are?” Maxwell’s face lit up, as he turned to Drake looking at him enthusiastically.

“You sure about this?” Drake asked him, staring at his best friend long and hard.  “She’s not well, man.  Don’t come if you aren’t one hundred percent sure about this.  She doesn’t need to feel worse than she already is.”

Liam adjusted the collar of his jacket nervously, his eyes meeting Drake’s.  He was just as fiercely protective over her as Liam.  All of them were.  She had become a part of their little family, and he’d forced her to leave them.  Twice now.  He may have been stupid enough to close himself off to her this last time, but he certainly wouldn’t be allowing it to happen for a third time.  This time, he was playing for keeps.  He didn’t care how long it would take, he was going to do everything in his power to make amends with her, and show her that he loved her with every fiber of his being.  He licked his lips as he cleared his throat.  “I am certain about this.”

“Alright then,” Drake clasped him on the shoulder.  “Wheels up in twenty.  I’ll let the pilot know we have a last minute add on,” he motioned for Liam to take the seat next to him.

He dropped himself into the seat, releasing a breath he had been holding since reading her letter.  He loved her.  Desperately.  And if she’d have him again, he would never let her go.  

[frozenartscapes]

10, pairing your choice!

*Shows up several months late with Starbucks* 

This prompt came to me a while ago and apologies for taking so long! It’s been rather busy for me, lately, and my creative drive is chugging along worse than a car with only three wheels, but I got this one finished, dammit.

For those wondering, the promt was: “I think I twisted my ankle.” And I chose to have this delightful back and forth between Kristoff and Elsa. Enjoy!

Climbing post-ice storm, in retrospect, wasn’t a very good idea. But Kristoff had wanted to check in on a secret pond he knew produced some of the purest natural ice. Spring was fast approaching, and this particular pond was just on the line in which mountain ponds and lakes thawed out during the warmer months. He hoped to get one last harvest in before the season ended.

That was before his foot slipped, then his hand slipped, and his other foot got stuck, and before he knew it he was hanging upside down by one foot just a little above Sven’s head.

Sven grunted in worry, sniffing his friend’s face to be sure he was ok.

“I’m fine, Sven,” Kristoff assured him, making an attempt to free his foot and not succeeding, “I’m just…ugh…a little…”

“Stuck?”

Kristoff looked at Sven. That voice most definitely didn’t belong to the reindeer. He turned as much as his head could, only to spot a dark grey fjord horse and its dignified rider.

“Elsa!” Kristoff sighed in relief, “It’s you! Wait… What are you doing up here?”

Elsa dismounted with more grace than he’d ever seen in someone getting off a horse. “I just wanted to check on everyone. The storm last night caused quite a bit of damage and I wanted to make sure trails were clear and roofs weren’t threatening to collapse under all that ice,” she explained, “I was on my way to Oaken’s when I heard you yell.”

“Well, you’ve caught me at a bad time, I have to admit,” he said sheepishly.

“Do you need any help?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. This happens from time to time.” Kristoff then tried again, feeling the rocks around his foot loosening. “Just…need…the right…lev- Ahh!”

Thankfully, a pile of snow that hadn’t been there moments ago caught his fall. He shook some of the flakes off his head, and chuckled, “Heh. Thanks. Guess I did need some help.”

Elsa smiled warmly. “Glad I could provide it, then,” she replied, beginning to make her leave.

Kristoff went to get up, but the moment he put weight on his previously trapped foot a sharp pain shot through his leg. Involuntarily, he hissed in response, adding a few colourful words under his breath.

Elsa stopped walking toward her horse.

“S…sorry, about that,” he said quickly, remembering that she was, well, the Queen.

“Are you ok?” Elsa asked with concern, dropping down to his level on the ground.

Kristoff reached for his ankle and sucked in a sharp breath the moment his fingers brushed the skin. “Y…yeah. Fine. Totally fine,” he said through gritted teeth. He looked up to meet Elsa levelling him a disbelieving look. Knowing he’d never be able to convince her otherwise, he sighed and admitted, “Ok, no. Not fine. I think I twisted my ankle.”

With a small flourish of her hands, glittering snowflakes encompassed his injured foot, forming a delicate but delightfully cool wrap to ease the swelling. “Did you want me to bring you back to town?” Elsa asked. 

Kristoff could see the look on her face - regardless of his answer she was going to take him somewhere safe. She wasn’t leaving him now. “No, the Valley is better,” he said reluctantly, feeling bad that he had distracted her like this. She was the Queen��after all.

Elsa frowned, her brow furrowed a little more than it had been, as she thought about his statement. “The…Valley,” she repeated, a tinge of skepticism in her voice.

“I know, I know. They don’t have the fancy doctors you have back in Arendelle but they’ve dealt with this kind of stuff before,” Kristoff assured her.

“Oh, so you’ve twisted your ankle before, have you?” she questioned, playfulness appearing in her tone and expression.

“Once or twice,” he replied with a shrug, “Ice harvesting isn’t exactly known for being safe, now is it?”

Elsa laughed a little in response. “No, I can’t say that it is. I of all people should know about those kinds of dangers,” she said lightly, “Well, Valley it is then.”

With that, she rose to her feet and turned toward Kristoff’s sled, which was loaded with over a dozen large ice blocks. With a mere wave of her hand, the ice was gone.

“Hey!” Kristoff protested.

“I’ll reimburse you,” she told him calmly, “With a much better product, at that.”

“I feel like I should be insulted but I can’t really argue with that deal,” he remarked dryly.

Her smile grew as she rolled her eyes. With another wave of her hand, her magic swirled around and under Kristoff, surprising him only slightly when he suddenly found himself being carried over to the bed of the sled. As he processed what just happened, Elsa pulled out a spare blanket and gently draped it over him. She then tied her horse’s reins to one of the bars along the side of the sled, before climbing up to the seat.

“You know you really don’t have to do all this,” Kristoff told her, “Sven can find the Valley on his own.”

“True, but Anna would kill me if I just left you out here, injured and alone,” Elsa replied as she snapped the reins, urging Sven forward, “I just want to see you home.”

“Ugh, Anna’s not going to let me live this down,” Kristoff groaned as he remembered all the times he had teased the princess about potentially hurting herself while doing something foolish.

“Well, she doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on,” Elsa said over her shoulder, “You sure you don’t want to try the royal physician? I’m almost certain his specialty is injuries like yours simply because of how many times he’s had to deal with her injuries.”

Kristoff chuckled at the thought. “No, that’s ok. The Valley’s closer anyway.”

“Alright then,” Elsa said with a shrug.

There was a pause, then. The pair had always been comfortable in each other’s company, and neither one was what you’d call an expert when it came to holding a conversation for long. They were both fine with the silence, broken only by the sound of the sled moving through the forest.

But then Kristoff asked: “And…what about you?”

“…What about me?”

“Any big injury, or minor? You never pulled a pinky while sipping tea, or hurt your neck balancing a book on your head?”

“Now where did you get those ideas from?” she asked teasingly.

“Anna, mostly. A little farfetched?”

“I can say with certainty that I’ve never balanced a book on my head,” Elsa told him proudly. Then, a little off to the side, she added, “I never had to.”

“So nothing you had to see the doctor for?”

“No.” Her voice had changed slightly, not a lot but enough to notice. It had taken on a sad edge, as it would in someone mourning what might have been. “I never… I never did anything that could have caused an injury like that.”

“Oh.” Kristoff swallowed hard, afraid he had hit a nerve. But then:

“Actually, that’s a lie. There was one time, before the separation.”

“Oh?” Now he was interested. Anna had mentioned her sister used to be just as energetic as her, at times even more so, and given what he had seen of her he didn’t doubt that. Yet Elsa also seemed like the kind of person who knew where to call it before things got too dangerous.

“We were riding our bike together,” Elsa explained, “Anna was up front but she hadn’t quite gotten the steering part right, and she steered us directly down the staircase in the east wing.”

“Wait… That’s not the spiral one, right?”

“Nope. That’s the one with a landing and a sharp ninety-degree turn no four year old guiding a tandem bike ever would have been able to make.”

Kristoff winced, just imagining the carnage that likely followed. “So?”

“Anna was more or less ok,” Elsa said with a sigh, “Snow makes a good cushion, but landing on a bike that was resting on the snow wasn’t quite as comfy.” She gently reached for her right hand and rubbed the phantom pain in her wrist. “I, on the other hand, broke my wrist.”

“Ooh, broke, huh?”

“Yep. It…uh, it hurt,” she said with a small laugh, “But I didn’t actually register anything until I had made sure Anna was ok and no longer crying.”

Kristoff couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. Figures: even with a broken wrist Elsa would still put someone else before her own pain.

“Thankfully, it was minor, and I’m naturally left-handed,” Elsa continued, creating a small burst of snow from her dominant hand for emphasis, “Much to my tutor’s ire, of course. Funnily enough, because of the incident, I got away with being able to use my left hand to write. And I didn’t hear anything about my awful handwriting that whole time.”

“I never understood that,” Kristoff commented, “If you naturally write better with one hand, then why can’t you use it?”

“Oh, something about the left hand being the hand of evil,” Elsa said with an exasperated sigh, “You know: superstitious religious stuff. If you ask me it’s an archaic tradition that really should just die off already but as a small child who had magic I certainly didn’t want to push my luck with my old tutor.”

“Well, you’re the Queen now. Nothing stopping you from changing it.”

“Well, maybe. I’ll talk with my education minister about adding it to the school charters.”

“And what about Anna? How did she react to your injury?” Kristoff wondered.

At this, Elsa chuckled. “You know what? In a very familiar way,” she said fondly, “She saw it as her fault I got hurt and at first acted pretty distant, as she was afraid I was mad at her.”

“So I guess that runs in the family?” Kristoff said with a laugh.

“It is very unhealthy. When you have children make sure they don’t inherit that.”

“Children?!” Kristoff sputtered, completely caught off-guard by her casual remark regarding a significantly not casual subject, “We… Let’s not go crazy, here. Anna and I are…”

Elsa laughed for real, this time - it was her rare kind of laughter when she was at complete ease with the people she was with, and no longer trying to hide anything. “Relax, Kristoff. I’m teasing,” she told him, “I’m honestly amazed at how sensitive that subject is between you two.”

“That’s right,” Kristoff commented with a relieved sigh, “Anna told me about the other day at breakfast.”

“You mean when I mentioned how empty the nursery looked and she spat out her tea? The way you two are acting about that sort of thing makes me think something’s up.”

“Oh, no, nothing is…up. I can assure you, your Majesty, Queen Elsa of Very Cold Ice and Snow, that nothing is… And you’re laughing again.”

“Oh, I don’t normally get to have this much fun. My royal council is far too old and stiff to rile up,” Elsa said through her laughter. After a moment, she sighed, and her calm demeanour returned. “Thanks, Kristoff. I needed that.”

“Happy to help?” he said lightly in reply, “And for the record: Anna and I aren’t looking to have kids anytime soon.”

“Good. Not that I’d care too much…Ok, I’d care a little… But I know plenty of people wouldn’t be too happy about a royal baby announcement before a royal wedding announcement. It’s just fun to watch you both turn beet red at the mention.”

“Anna’s right: you really are a stinker,” Kristoff told her with a chuckle.

“I spent thirteen years repressing it, forgive me if I want to have a little fun,” Elsa shot back with a grin. She then looked up ahead of them on the trail, and stated, “Well, we’re getting close. The path is starting to look unnaturally green for this time of year.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Elsa,” Kristoff said with a sigh, “You didn’t have to go out of your way like this.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Kristoff,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly, “I needed the distraction, to be honest. Thankfully this ice storm gave me an excuse to leave my office - I was practically going stir crazy in there.”

Kristoff smiled at the thought. “Anna always says you love doing paperwork, though,” he mentioned teasingly.

Elsa rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, I don’t mind it. But lately it’s been piles of documents and laws to review, and new agreements, and events to plan and finalize, budgets, settlements, complaints, charters, bills, infrastructure plans, lists of new things to draft up…” She paused mid-rant and frowned as she glanced around at the ice-encrusted trees. “…I really hope I didn’t do that subconsciously…”

“Relax,” Kristoff told her calmly, “It’s not your ice. There’s no…flair.”

“Flair?” Elsa asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know…” Kristoff replied, moving his hands in a similar way Elsa normally did when casting her magic, “Flair. Your ice is pristine, even when it forms naturally. It’s smooth and clear, and almost always has a slight tint to it. It also sounds like glass.” As if on cue, a large chunk of ice broke free from the branches of a nearby tree, crashing through to the ground rather ungracefully. “See: didn’t sound like glass.”

Elsa smiled softly, turning back to face the road ahead. “Thanks, Kristoff,” she said earnestly.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” he said confidently, “They cheer each other up when one of them is afraid she might have coated her kingdom in an inch of ice to get out of work.”

“And drag them home after they twist their ankles doing something foolish,” Elsa replied. Kristoff could hear her smug grin in her tone.

“Seriously, please don’t tell Anna,” he begged somewhat desperately, “If you’re going to be like this…”

“Anna doesn’t have to know if you don’t want me to tell her,” Elsa promised him, “However, you’re going to have to come up with some kind of reason for why you’ll be returning to Arendelle with a limp.”

“Ugh, I didn’t think of that,” Kristoff groaned in dismay.

Just then, the sled came to a stop. Kristoff sat up a bit and craned his neck to see that they had arrived in the clearing of the Valley. “Wait, how did we…” he muttered to himself, wondering how Elsa had managed to bring the sled so close without changing out the runners. A quick look behind them revealed a path of snow just thick enough and wide enough for the sled to slide over the heated ground. The snow was already beginning to melt.

“Your Majesty!” An overly excited cry echoed through the clearing, followed by the sound of a rock troll clambering up onto the seat of the sled. “It’s such a pleasure to see you here, my dear!” Bulda said happily, “But, what are you doing with Kristoff’s sled?”

Elsa merely smiled and nodded toward the back of the sled. Bulda took one look at Kristoff before frowning, and placing both hands on her hips. “What did you do this time?” she demanded.

“This time?” Elsa asked in amusement, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

Kristoff sighed heavily in defeat. “It’s just a sprain,” he told Bulda, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh sure, just a sprain,” Bulda grumbled as she hopped into the bed of the sled to further inspect Kristoff’s ankle, “I swear you humans are far too delicate to be doing the kind of jobs you do…”

“Well, I should be off,” Elsa said as she climbed down from the sled, “Oh, and before I forget…” With a wave of her hand, several blocks of crystal clear ice formed at the edge of the clearing, to completely replace Kristoff’s earlier loss. “And don’t worry: they won’t melt until you need them to,” she informed him.

“Thanks, again,” he said with a grateful smile, “I owe you.”

She held up a hand. “No, no, don’t worry about it. Like I said, it was a good excuse to keep me from my desk.”

“Are you sure?” Bulda asked, “You can always stay for lunch! We just made up a big pot of toadstool and lichen stew!”

Kristoff could barely contain his laughter when he spotted Elsa’s face, an expression that looked very similar to the one she made about the Flemy statue back around the holidays. “Yeah, come on! It’s delicious,” he teased.

Elsa blinked and her composure mostly came back. “Oh, you know, I’d love to, but I really should get going,” she said quickly, moving to untie her horse from the sled, “We’ll have to come back some other time. I’ll bring Anna, too. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to miss…that kind of lunch.”

“Alright, but you don’t know what you’re missing,” Kristoff relented with a large grin. 

Elsa merely nodded in acknowledgement and gracefully mounted her horse. “You sure you’ll be ok?” she asked, concern showing through past her smile, “I can always send for a doctor, or provide some additional ice if you need it.”

“A human doctor?” Bulda scoffed as she continued to examine Kristoff’s foot, “Like they’d know anything useful…”

“I think we’re good,” he replied, “But thanks. And I don’t think I need to tell you this, but be careful out there. It’s a bit slippery.”

Elsa laughed again, although it was her much more composed laugh - her queen laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wouldn’t want Anna poking fun at me, too.”

As Elsa rode off away from the clearing, Kristoff turned to Sven and sighed, “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I, buddy?”

[scenes-in-between]

Vienen (2/2)

Could be worse, Doggett thinks as he kicks hard to stay afloat. Could be wearing full combat gear.

Of course, he was also a good 20 years younger the last time he had to do that.

The chopper circles back around after skirting away to avoid the blast from the rig. Between the spray and the spotlight, Doggett can barely see anything, but he's pretty sure Mulder's still keeping his head above water. He hopes so, anyway. The last thing he wants is to have to tell Agent Scully that he lost Mulder in the damned Gulf of Mexico.

He wonders how exactly they’re planning on trying to do this. That’s a charter helicopter up there, same one that brought him out here this morning. Evacuating from the rig itself would have been one thing, but there’s no way it’s equipped for an open water rescue.

The pilot’s saying something over the loudspeaker again, but hell if he can make out what it is. A shadow cuts through the spotlight, and then he feels more than hears the whump of something landing in the water nearby. Looks like a duffel bag, but it’s actually a raft, he realizes. Well, that’ll work. He kicks his way over to it, adrenaline and fatigue and cold making him unsteady as he fumbles for the pull rope to inflate the damned thing. Mulder gets to his side just as he finds it.

“Heads up!” he yells, though his words are swallowed by the noise from the rotors.

In seconds, the raft inflates, and he and Mulder haul themselves aboard. There’s some relief as the chopper pilot ascends a fair bit, keeping his spotlight on them as he circles but not flying so low as to keep buffeting them constantly with wind and spray. For a while, Doggett and Mulder just lie there, catching their breath.

Hell of a day at the office.

It doesn’t take too long for the Coast Guard to arrive. Long enough for Mulder to lose his lunch a couple of times over the side of the raft though, the poor bastard. Not that he can blame the guy; the water’s more than a little choppy. When the rescue basket drops, Mulder tries to tell him to go first, but he shakes his head. No way. Mulder may have been the one to get them both into this mess, but Doggett is the one getting them out, and that means making damn sure there is absolutely zero chance of Mulder getting left behind.

Only once they’re both aboard the chopper, blankets wrapped around them like, he supposes, the trauma survivors they are, does he finally let himself comprehend the full scope of what just happened. He won’t go so far as to say Mulder was right about all of it, but he also can’t deny what he saw. Oil coming out of the foreman’s eyes. What happened to Diego Garza. The way the workers conspired to trap them and destroy the rig.

And oh, Kersh is absolutely going to blow his stack when he finds out about that last part.

If Mulder was right about one thing, it’s that Kersh sent him out here with an agenda. And that agenda was not to simply uncover the truth about what happened to Simon de la Cruz. There’s something decidedly unsavory about the political nature of Kersh’s priorities in this case; not that Doggett doesn’t understand and appreciate the stakes involved here, but his job is to find answers, not protect some oil company’s bottom line. Being given orders, implicitly or not, that run counter to that job is never going to sit right with him.

Of course, that is far from the only thing that’s not sitting right with him about this case.

He saw the black oil. Doesn’t mean he thinks it’s alien, but it sure as hell wasn’t standard crude, either. What happened to the workers was… well, “unnerving” doesn’t even begin to cover it. He honestly has no idea what the implications might be if the stuff ever gets back to shore, if Galpex doesn’t give up on trying to drill that area. Or what might have happened if he’d skipped on this case like he wanted to, if Mulder hadn’t pushed and gone behind his back to get the Bureau involved.

Mulder. Doggett shakes his head. He probably owes the guy an apology for the crack he made about being able to find a conspiracy at a church picnic. Turns out Mulder’s paranoia wasn’t so completely baseless after all. Doesn’t make his behavior any less obnoxious, of course, nor does it mean every claim he made about aliens was the gospel truth, but his instincts were still good. Doggett doesn’t have to agree with all his wild theories to recognize that much.

Then again, Mulder definitely still owes him an apology for going behind his back repeatedly in this investigation, but he’s not going to hold his breath waiting for one. Nah, he can keep his own mouth shut and just call it even. If it weren’t for Scully, he wouldn’t bother trying to get along with Mulder at all. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s an option. Be nice if Mulder could at least try to meet him halfway, though.

It’s a little less than an hour back to the Texas shore, and A.D. Skinner’s there waiting when they land. Better him than Kersh, Doggett supposes. Skinner looks like he can’t decide whether to be pissed or relieved, as they climb down out of the helicopter. (“Damn it, kids, you crashed the family car, but at least you made it home alive.”) Mulder seems all too comfortable in the role of petulant teenager; after they’ve thanked the Coasties for saving their asses, he stalks over to where their boss is waiting.

“I’m betting Kersh didn’t send you down here to throw us a ticker tape parade for saving the day.”

“Actually, I’m here at Agent Scully’s insistence. You don’t need me to tell you, you’ve got almost as much to answer for to her as you do to the Deputy Director.”

“Yeah, well at least she appreciates what was at stake. What’s still at stake if Galpex Petroleum keeps trying to drill that site.”

Skinner’s frown deepens. “All the men on board were infected?”

“All but one,” Doggett answers before Mulder can. He’s not interested in being shouldered out of this conversation altogether. “I promised I’d help him get home, but…” He shakes his head, remembering the sight of Diego Garza’s burns. “I can’t even begin to explain the condition of his body, same as what happened to Simon de la Cruz.”

“I can.”

He just manages to keep from scoffing. Yeah, I’m sure you can, Agent Mulder.

“In any event,” Skinner says pointedly, “I assume based on what I heard over the radio that we're no longer dealing with a quarantine situation.”

“That's correct, sir,” Doggett tells him, while Mulder says, “We'll need to confirm that,” at the same time.

This time he does scoff. “No way did anyone survive that explosion. We only barely made it out alive, ourselves.”

“I'll agree with you that it's unlikely any human could have survived.”

“Oh, come on, you've got to be kid--”

“All right, that's enough,” Skinner cuts him off. “Fire containment efforts will include a search for survivors, as part of routine procedure. I'll make sure the FBI stays in the loop if they find anyone.”

His phone rings, then, and he turns away to answer it.

“They find anyone alive out there, it’s gonna be a miracle,” Doggett mutters.

Mulder glares at him. Really leaning into the petulant teenager thing full-bore, isn’t he? “After everything you saw out there, how can you possibly still be this dismissive?”

“What I saw, Agent Mulder, was men behaving strangely. I saw oil do stuff I’ve never seen it do before. I saw no proof whatsoever of aliens. And even if I had, why would I assume an alien could survive an explosion any better than you or I could?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could trust that if I was right about the oil, then I’m right about this, too. Maybe you could trust that I’ve seen these things. But I guess you’d also have to believe that I’m not crazy, and I suppose that’s just a bridge too far for you.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Doggett says, and he means it. “But you told me yourself that you’ll believe just about anything. That you want to believe. Whether that’s in aliens or ghosts or monsters or what-have-you. And in my experience, if someone wants to believe in something bad enough, they tend to ignore all the evidence that might refute that belief.”

“Yeah, well the same can be said of someone who doesn’t want to believe. Only they’ll ignore all of the supporting evidence, denying even undeniable proof out of sheer bullheadedness.”

Skinner comes back before Doggett can respond, holding his phone out toward Mulder. “Agent Scully wants to talk to you. Make it quick, we’ve got a debrief with the Coast Guard in twenty minutes.”

Mulder takes the phone and walks away, and Skinner watches him go, shaking his head. “I know he sounds nuts, but there’s truth to what he says. I’ve seen enough to take his word on a lot of the things I haven’t seen first-hand.”

“All due respect, sir, I’ve seen some things in this job that I never would’ve believed a year ago. But I’m still not gonna compromise my integrity and objectivity by jumping on the alien bandwagon when there might be some other explanation we’re missing.”

“And that’s fine, just… just be careful not to spend so much time looking for another explanation that you miss the one right in front of you until it’s too late.”

Doggett nods. “I’ll do my best not to, sir.”

Mulder walks back over and hands Skinner back his phone. Skinner takes it with a curt nod. “Right. Let’s get this debrief over with so we can go grab a few hours’ sleep. We’re on the first flight back to Washington in the morning.”

“I might go stand in the shower for a few hours instead, if it’s all the same to you,” Mulder says wryly.

Despite himself, Doggett laughs. “You and I might not agree on much, Agent Mulder, but I think that sounds like a great idea.”

[organiclifestylemagazine]

Interview With Joel Salatin, Polyface Farms

Joel Salatin is an American farmer and author. He owns Polyface Farms, which is known for its small scale unconventional farming methods. Months ago I heard Joel on a Joe Rogan podcast and was immediately blown away. It’s not very often that we hear people discuss the gut microbiome on one of the most popular podcasts in the country.

Here’s that podcast. I highly recommend listening to it if you have the time.

Along with discussing the gut microbiome, Joel talked about his farm, Polyface Farms. Polyface Farms is located in Virginia, and they do things a little differently than most. The land that is now Polyface farms was purchased by Joel’s parents in 1961. They’re all about regenerative farming through sustainable practices, like pasture-raised meat, carbon sequestration, and working in a seasonal cycle.

In short, it’s a dream come true for someone like myself who is all about organic eco-friendly agriculture, so naturally, I had to ask Joel a couple of questions.

The older generation is a big fan of talking about life when they were young. My grandfather loves to talk about the fact that he was raised on cow’s milk, and he turned out “just fine.” The difference, of course, is that the milk he was raised on was unpasteurized small scale cows milk. What encouraged you to get into small scale sustainable farming? Does it relate back to how you were raised or did you have some sort of revelation in life? Feel free to comment on how things have changed if you have any thoughts on that.

My paternal grandfather was a charter subscriber to Rodale’s Organic Gardening and Farming Magazine when it came out in the late 1940s.  He always wanted to farm but never did.  He had a very large garden, though, and sold extra produce to neighbors and corner grocers.  My dad received his no-chemical indoctrination, then, from Grandpa, so I’m the third generation in the compost tradition.  My Dad was a financial wizard and did accounting work all his life.  After flying Navy bombers in WWII, he went to Indiana University on the GI bill and then headed off to Venezuela, South America as a bilingual accountant with Texas Oil Company.  His long-range goal was a farm in a developing country and Venezuela seemed as good as any.  After about 7 years he’d saved up enough to buy 1,000 acres in the highlands of Venezuela and began farming.  The goal was dairy and broilers. My older brother and I were born during that time, and things looked bright.  But then came a junta and the ouster of Peres Jimenez and animosity toward anything American; we fled the back door as the machine guns came in the front door; lost everything and after exhausting all attempts at protection, (we) came back to the U.S. Easter Sunday 1961, landing in Philadelphia. Mom grew up in Ohio and Texas and all their family was in Ohio and Indiana, but Dad’s heart was still in Venezuela and he hoped after the political turmoil settled to be able to return to our farm.  

With that in mind, he wanted to be within a day’s drive of Washington D.C. so he could get to the Venezuelan Embassy quickly and easily to do paperwork and return. That never happened, but it’s why we ended up in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.  When I hit 41, I remember thinking: “If I lost it all, would I start over?” That’s what Dad and Mom did in 1961. I was 4.  Dad did his accounting work, and Mom was a high school health and physical ed teacher; that off-farm income paid the mortgage and within 10 years the land was paid off.  Dad combined his ecology with his economic understanding to create some broad principles: animals move; mobile infrastructure; direct marketing; carbon-driven fertility.  I had my first flock of laying hens when I was 10 years old and then added a garden.  By 14 years old, I was our main salesman at the local Curb Market, a Depression-era hold-over that foreshadowed today’s farmers’ markets.  With only 3 vendors, it struggled but after a couple of years, we had a growing and steady clientele for our pastured meats, poultry, eggs, produce, and dairy products (yogurt, butter, cottage cheese). We closed it down when I went off to college and the other two elderly matrons at the market quite as well so by the time I came home, that market and all of its wonderful grandfathered food safety exemptions were gone forever.

I’ve always said we were about 20 years ahead of our time.  Operating that market during my teen years of early 1970s as the nascent back-to-the-land hippie movement germinated was not easy, but the lessons were invaluable when I returned to the farm and started building a clientele on my own in 1980, long before modern farmers’ markets. Teresa and I married in 1980, remodeled the attic of the farmhouse, and lived there for 7 years until Mom and Dad moved out from downstairs to a mobile home parked outside the yard.  My Mom’s mother had lived there for 10 years and passed away, making that spot available.  As an investigative reporter at the local daily newspaper, I realized every business was desperate for people who would show up on time, put in a full days’ work without whining, and actually creatively think through better ways of doing things all made me highly employable.  Living on $300 a month, driving a $50 car, growing all of our own, cutting our own firewood for winter warmth, not having a TV—all these things enabled us even without a high salary to squirrel away half the paycheck.  Within a couple of years we had saved enough to live on for a year.  I walked out of that office Sept. 24, 1982, with a one-year cash nest egg and the jeering of every person I knew”  “He’s throwing his life away.”  “All that talent and he’s going to waste it on a farm.” “Don’t you know you can’t make any money farming?”

We succeeded. 

While we were watching the podcast you did with Joe Rogan, my dad and I had several “Wow!” moments listening to you. One of us would be in the kitchen, and we would run into the living room where the podcast was playing, and share a look of absolute awe. “This guy is talking about the stuff that we talk about! And he’s on Joe Rogan!” We don’t know many people who talk about gut health the way we do. How did you learn about the importance of the body’s microbiome? Is there a correlation between your knowledge of the microbiome and how you run your farm? 

Perhaps the most profound truth in life is that everything we see floats in an ocean of invisible beings.  With electronic microscopes, we can now see many of these things, but because we can’t see them with the naked eye, they are not in our momentary conscience.  It’s hard to forget the microbes floating in the air, on our skin, in our eyes, nostrils, and intestines.  Our farm’s wellness philosophy stems from Antoine Béchamp, the French contemporary and nemesis of Louis Pasteur.  While Pasteur promoted the germ theory and busied himself destroying and sterilizing, Beauchamp advanced the terrain theory and encouraged people to think about basic immunity.  Rather than sterilization, he encouraged sanitation.  He encouraged folks to get more sleep, drink more and better water (much of the water at that time was putrid) and eat better food.  Along came Sir Albert Howard half a century later adding the soil dimension to this basic wellness premise.

In general, we believe nature’s default position is fundamentally wellness and if it’s not well, we humans probably did something to mess it up.  That’s a far cry from assuming wellness is like catching lightning in a bottle, and some sort of sickness fairy hovers over the planet dropping viral stardust willy nilly.  Sickness and disease, whether in humans, plants, or animals are not the problem in and of themselves; they simply manifest weaknesses developed in the unseen world.  Every sickness or disease we’ve ever had on our farm was our fault.  We may have selected the wrong seedstock, crowded things, created incubators for pathogens.  You can stress things a lot of different ways.  But our assumption when confronted with non-wellness is not to assume we missed a vaccine or a pharmaceutical, but rather to ask “what did we do to break down the immunological function of this plant or animal?”  That leads to far more profound truth than assuming we didn’t select the right connection from the chemistry lab.

The fact that today people actually talk about the microbiome in polite company is a fantastic societal breakthrough. Hopefully, it will continue.

The current “pandemic” resulted in a total collapse of our food chain at big grocery stores. While things have since calmed down and straightened out, many people are now aware of just how weak our food supply chain is. The obvious solution- buy small- scale, buy local. The obvious problem- buying meat the right way, (small scale and local) is expensive. Here where I am in Detroit we’ve got a great meat guy, but a couple of weeks ago I found myself at the Dekalb farmers market in Atlanta. I spent $9 for one pound of organic, grass-fed ground beef. What are your thoughts for people who are concerned about the costs of shopping ethically? On a broader scale, do you have any solutions to this? 

Price; it’s one of the biggest and most common questions.  So let’s tackle it on several fronts.

1.  Whenever someone says they can’t afford our food, I grab them by the arm and say “take me to your house.” Guess what I find there? Take-out, coffee, alcohol, sometimes tobacco, Netflix, People magazine, iPhones, flat-screen TV, tickets to Disney, lottery tickets—you get the drift. Very seldom does “I can’t afford it” carry any weight. We buy what we want, and that includes many folks below the poverty line.  

2.  Buy unprocessed. That $9 ground beef is still less than a fast food meal of equal nutritional value. Domestic culinary skills are the foundation of integrity food systems, and never have we had more techno-gadgetry to make our kitchens efficient. The average American spends fewer than 15 minutes a day in their kitchen. Nearly 80 percent of Americans have no clue at 4 p.m. what’s for dinner. In fact, the new catchphrase for millennials is “what’s dinner?” not “what’s for dinner?” So cooking from scratch is the number one way to reduce costs. Right now you can buy a whole Polyface pastured broiler, world-class, for less a pound than boneless skinless breast Tyson chicken at Wal-Mart. The most expensive heirloom Peruvian blue potato at New York City green markets is less per pound than Lay’s potato chips across the street. It’s about the processing.

3.  Buy bulk. Get a freeze and buy half a beef or 20 chickens at a time.  Buy a bushel of green beans and can them.  We buy 10 bushels of apples every fall and spend two days making applesauce; it’s cheaper than watery junk at the supermarket and is real food.  That’s not a waste of time; it’s kitchen camaraderie.  On our farm, we give big price breaks for volume purchasing because it’s simply more efficient to handle a $500 transaction than 25 $20 transactions.  This means, of course, that you must have a savings plan.  Half of all Americans can’t put their hands on $400 in cash.  That’s not an expensive food problem; that’s an endemic and profound failure to plan

Q: Here at OLM we’re a big fan of systems. We also have 10,000 square foot urban farm right in our back yard and are getting chickens very soon. Developing a farm feels a bit like an optimal opportunity to create the “perfect” system. I’m curious as to how the farm is systemized to be self-sustainable. I’m wondering if the farm is carbon neutral or carbon negative? Do you let your chickens work on your compost pile? Do you monitor cow grazing for optimum carbon sequestration? What advice do you have for the many people including us, who have just started growing our food after the current crisis?

Perhaps the starting point is to think of integration rather than segregation.  How many different species of things can you hook together for symbiosis?  So we follow the cows with the laying hens in Eggmobiles to scratch through the cow dung, spread out the manure as fertilizer, and eat the fly larvae out of the cowpats (this mimics the way birds always follow herbivores in nature).  We build compost with pigs (we call them pig aerators).  We have chickens underneath rabbit cages, generating $10,000 a year in a space the size of a 2-car garage and making the most superb compost in the world.  We see trees as carbon sinks to integrate with open land; industrial commercial chippers enable us to chip crooked, diseased, and dying trees for compost carbon.  The kitchen and gardening scraps go to the chickens.  Hoop houses for rabbits, pigs, and chickens in the winter double up as vegetable production in the spring, summer, and fall, creating pathogen dead-ends for the plants and animals growing there at different times of the year.  Integration is everything.

In half a century, we’ve moved our soil organic matter from 1 percent to 8.2 percent.  I don’t know if we’re overall carbon-neutral, but we’ve done this without buying an ounce of chemical fertilizer and using 800 percent less depreciable infrastructure per gross income dollar than the average U.S. farm.  That creates resilience.  Over the years we’ve installed 8 miles of waterlines from permaculture style high ponds that catch surface run-off and gravity feed to the farmland below.  And the rocks and gullies now grow vegetation where none grew before.  This is not pride; it’s a humble acknowledgment of a Creator’s benevolent and abundant design; it’s our responsibility to caress this magnificent womb.

Interview With Joel Salatin, Polyface Farms was originally published on Organic Lifestyle Magazine