#christine would not wear a suit 'normally'

[mono-socke]

stage dorks at prom <33

I love them <33

[technicallymaximumkitty]

it's September, which mean's it's basically October, which mean's it's basically spooky season so, Halloween episode of hazbin hotel-

charlie and vaggie would totally do a couple's costume im thinking phantom of the opera charlie as christine and vaggie as the phantom

alastor just wears a black and white suit (either a jack skellington or beetlejuice referance)

niffty is a sheet ghost that is just covered in (presumably) fake blood

angel is wearing a diffrent slutty costume in every scene he is in (he's a going through his entire catalogue in one night kind of extra)

pentious wears a 'if you squint it looks like a scarecrow but if you don't squint it looks like his normal outfit' costume

baxter dose nothing but wear a cheep spirit halloween pumpkin mask

husk wears his normal outfit except his hat is swapped, a tiny top hat with a pink feather and skull and cross bones on it that's a clear as day referance to dr facilier

[infiniteeight8]

As always, I’m loving everything you write!

IronStrange: “How weird is it that we’re the responsible ones right now?”

Thanks so much! 

This is a short one, but if folks would like a longer story about Tony and Stephen being surprisingly responsible and normally responsible people (Christine and Pepper) doing something reckless, I highly recommend Do It Right (Or Very, Very Wrong) by @airas-story

-

Tony leaned over the edge of the balcony of Avengers Tower and silently thanked God that he was wearing the nano-suit, just in case. “Steve!” he shouted. 

Steve paused in the act of taking his shield off his back and waved enthusiastically to Tony. “Hi!” he shouted back. “You should film this! It’s going to be amazing!”

Tony looked down at the dizzying slope of glass and metal that Steve was preparing to surf down with nothing but his shield and his reflexes. Steve had done similar things before, but they were nearly 90 stories up and the slope gave way to a sheer drop off after about 20 stories. “My cameras aren’t working!” Tony shouted back, which was a damned lie. “Come back in while I fix them!” Steve looked like he was considering it, and then he glanced at his shield and the slope and Tony could almost see the inhibitions-suppressing-spell kick in again. No appeal to safety was going to work right now. What else…? Inspiration struck. “Everyone would be so sad if they missed it!”

After one more heart stopping moment, Steve re-secured his shield and hopped back up onto the balcony with a couple of long strides and a jump. “You’re right,” he said cheerfully. “It can wait a bit.”

Heart still pounding, Tony followed Steve back into the living room and heaved a sigh of relief when Stephen’s red magical ropes wrapped around the super soldier and deposited him on the couch next to a similarly bound Natasha and Clint. Next to them, a miniaturized Scott pinged from one side to another of a glowing red enclosure. 

Tony made his way over to the second couch, where Stephen had slumped over, and dropped down next to him. “How weird is it,” Tony said, leaning back until he was staring up at the ceiling, “that we’re the responsible ones right now?”

“Not so weird,” Stephen sighed deeply, “if you realize that karma is real.”

Tony turned his head to look at Stephen, horrified. “Please tell me we don’t have to pay it off all at once.”

[hornyjockstrapman]

Part 1

The door to the elevator opened and I stepped in pressing the button for the lobby. The door closed behind me and I checked myself out in the reflection of the elevator door. I was wearing a pair of white short swimming trunks and a pair of black flip flops. I was carrying a small back pack which had sunscreen, a book, and my phone and a pair of headphones. The elevator stopped before I reached my destination. It came to quick stop and the door opened. A woman and a man stood at the entrance waiting for the door to fully open. They quickly stepped inside and the door closed fast behind them and begin to move again. The man was maybe 40 to 50 grey hair mixed in with more of a dominant black. Grey facial hair which again was mixed in with black. He was wearing a pair of swim shorts and a shirt. The woman he was with was wearing a bright pink bathing suit. There was quiet but awkward silence. It was welcoming to not have to exchange pleasantries even though it did feel weird not at least saying hi to them. I turned and glanced over at the guy who was standing with his back against the side wall of the elevator. The woman he was with was standing close to the elevator door hoping it would move faster. I decided, against my better judgement, to say hi to them. We did after all live in the same building. I had never seen them before but with my work schedule I didn't see much of anyone in my building. Also, I would normally take the stairs and didn't really stop to have a conversation, not even pleasantries, with anyone.

"Hi, you guys heading down to the pool today?" I asked trying my best not come across as being awkward or weird. The woman quickly responded "yes…that is why i'm in a bathing suit after all". She never broke eye contact with her phone. The guy she was with stood up solidly no longer with his back to the elevator. He leaned over and put his hand out "Hey, I'm Matt. And yeah we finally have some time and good weather so we decided why not get out of the apartment and go down to the pool." I shook his hand. I was happy to have sunglasses on so that Matt couldn't see my eyes and how much I was eyeing every inch of him. Matt stood back against the wall of the elevator. "Yeah, I hear you on that. Everything has been quite chaotic for me so I'm happy to have some time off just to decompress." I said softly. "Oh yeah? What kind of work do you do?" Matt asked. "I'm in IT…internal IT support for pretty much anything electronic". I replied back to him. "Oh nice. That's a solid profession to be in. I've been working as a therapist for about twenty years now and she's been the manager of a team of nurses at the local hospital for about ten years. So our life is chaos especially hers." He said as he took off his glasses and held them in his hands. "Oh I bet that does keep you two busy. I can't imagine all the stress of being a nurse. You all are truly life savers every single day. We owe nurses everything. And well therapist are life savers too. Mental health is such an under appreciated and under utilized part of health care." I said as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. The woman whom I never got her name stepped out of the elevator still looking down at her phone. She looked up for all of a minute and turned toward the pool. Matt stepped out of the elevator behind her and followed. I followed behind Matt. He was very well built. Not a lot of muscle but enough to show that he did work out. His legs were nicely toned with black hair covering every inch of them. The swimming shorts he had on didn't show off his butt or anything enough to make any sort of determination but Matt definitely had the dad bod going for him. Matt spoke quietly to her "you could have talked to him a bit you know he was giving your profession a lot of praise!" he said. She didn't respond. "Christine!" he said with a bit more tone. "Yes?" She said almost oblivious to what he had even said almost oblivious to anything anyone had said in the past five minutes. "Did you hear what I said?" he asked. "No. sorry. The girls at work are having a bit of a meltdown right now and I'm trying to sort this out over the phone." she said. She stopped and looked at him. "What happened? she asked. "The guy in the elevator was giving your profession…and mine a compliment and you didn't say anything." He said. They both continued to walk toward the pool. I could hear what they're were saying even though I was a few feet behind them.

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

I hope you're having a wonderful day! Since it's the spooky month I was wondering if you could do something with Wraith, Dwight, Jeff and Knight (if thats too many you can choose who you'd like) with a plus size S/O or crush and matching outfits (Like wraith and Nurse having the Phantom of Opera looking outfits)

Dee.exe has died of cuteness overload. 😁😁

Wraith, Dwight, Jeff, and Knight with a plus sized s/o wearing matching costumes to them:

Warnings: I know this it a bit later than Halloween but when you get my dbd boys involved, anytime is costume time when you don't care about what anyone thinks 😀

Gender neutral, Plus sized reader

Wraith | Philip Ojomo

Given the fact that he has a cosmetic based off of Phantom of the opera, it's not surprising to see his crush or significant other to be wearing an outfit that's also based off of the novel/ movie.

For the more feminine presenting significant other, I could see the Entity "gifting" them a similar gown of Christine Daaé's.

A quite beautiful white gown that perfect frames their body while being being comfortable to wear during trials.

Masculine wise, I could see either something similar to matching him or an suit that's inspired by the Era.

A rather handsome suit with ruffles on the button up (on the chest area) and loose, romantic sleeves that makes their body look elegant. The trousers are well tailored to fit comfortably, matching the whool overcoat.

Philip couldn't help but to stare at his significant other in awe. You looked ethereal as you walked through auto haven to see him in between trials. He most certainly loves the matching costumes that the two of you have.

Dwight Fairfield | Nervous Leader

The entity tends to give Dwight the more humor costumes and cosmetics like Dwelf, where's dwighty, and the Mummy Dwight. It could be the Entity mocking Dwight's nervous nature or using what it knows about Dwight's past to give him a false sense of hope of escaping.

Seeing how you're rather fond of Dwight, the entity decided to give you a costume of your own to match his.

The bandage wrapped around you gave a more sturdy costume than the toilet paper on Dwight's, more coverage as it was clinging to the neutral colors of the clothes you had on underneath.

Another potential costume that could match Dwight's mummy costume was the cliche vampire costume. The red and black cape draping over your suit/ dress as the fake fangs were hanging slightly from your mouth with a bit of fake blood.

When Dwight saw that you were dressed similarly to him, his face burnt with a blush as he could barely form a sentence because of how adorable you looked. He might be more protective over you, getting the killer to focus on him so that they wouldn't ruin how adorable you looked.

Jeff Johansen | Quiet Artist ❤️

I could go a couple routes for Jeff wearing more of a "costume" compared to his normal clothing. He does have a pirate costume, his death metal outfit, and his Greek mythology inspired costume.

I'm gonna go with the pirate costume. It confused you at first why the entity gave you an odd costume of a pirate.

I can imagine an costume that's similar to his. Matching leather coats with a similiar white undershirt as his. Your hair and skin had a soft smell of salt water with hints of rum that was spilled.

If you want to go more feminine presenting, a comfortable fitting white or red dress that's similar in fabric to the shirt Jeff wears with a large leather belt wrapped around your waist. The leather overcoat would still be the same to his, giving you an edge with the soft look.

Jeff couldn't help but to admire how the outfit made your body look. Although, he tends to not go for the pirate costume, he would start wearing it more to see if you noticed why the entity gave you the said costume.

The Knight | Tarhos Kovács

Tarhos wasn't a fan of his newest gift from the entity. He thought that

[wellthatwasaletdown]

it's so obvious that they are rebranding him to a more masculine and serious image

his style and attitude changed completely after the tour and his fans are like "do you expect him to wear a sparkly dress in his normal daily life"

but no one talked about the suit he wore with stevie he is on stage now no? he's never wore something like that even his hs1 era suits were more colorful

and all the football matches

and taylor russell the younger quiet gf obviously nothing like his exes

like this is all the aesthetic of the new album and era mark my words 😭

1. He was performing with Stevie during her show. He was not going to outshine her. He was performing during her tribute to her dead friend. Lambert would have taken that into account when picking out the suit.

Peep the songbird pin. This suit was all about Christine Mcvie:

2. Don't forget who is a minority owner in SS Daley. He was showcasing his new venture:

3. Y'all said the same thing about them pivoting him to a more masculine image after he showed up at the 2021 Grammys like this:

That aesthetic had nothing to do with his next album. And this was him the next year:

[forgetmyreality]

Phantom of the House of Dragons, Chapter 4: Masquerade

Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Lucerys Velaryon x reader 

Summary: Mashup between House of the Dragon and Phantom of the Opera, Aemond as the Phantom/Eric, Luce as Raoul and our darling reader as Christine. With 2 different endings, one for each lover man. 

Warning: typical cannon violence and warnings in both fandoms, potential smut in later parts. Child abuse and death in a flashback

A/N: English isn't my first language and it's not edited. Please let me know what you think and where you would like to see this go? Singing is in Italics 

A/N I dont own either House of the dragon nor Phantom of the Opera. 

Chapter 4: Masquerade 

A Masquerade, thrown by the House of Dragons, everyone wanted to partake. It was the party of the year. Full of mystery, fun and dancing. Anyone who was anyone arrived decked out to the 9s, flowing gowns and fancy ties adorned the patrons. 

Amongst the loud cheering, chattering of guest Luc and Y/N found a corner to share a moment just for the two of them. They stood close together so they could hear each other, her dress pressing up against his legs, from the proximity. Y/n was wearing a beautiful pink flowing gown that suited her flawlessly, accentuated her curves in the best way. Although nothing outshined the newly acquired ring hanging on a chain around her neck… an engagement ring. 

“Think of it! A secret engagement! Look - your future bride! Just think of it!” she looked up at Luc, love in her eyes 

“But why is it secret? What have we to hide? You promised me.” Luc pleaded to his future bride and he rested his hand on the side of her neck, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. He leaned down so he could capture his lips with hers. 

Placing her hand on his chest to stop his approach “No, Raoul. Please don't. They’ll see…” 

Moving his hand from its place on her cheek to holding her chin between his thumb and pointer finger so they would keep eye contact. “Well, then let them see. It's an engagement, not a crime! Y/N, what are you afraid of?”

“Let's not argue…” they say in unison

And the music began to play louder, drawing their attention. “Come, Luc, let’s dance” and she pulled him away from their tryst in the corner to the center of the dance floor’

Singers and dancers began circling the room in flow with the music “Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you! Masquerade! Every face a different shade... Masquerade!” Y/N and Luc spinngin along with them, Luc holding her tight in his arms protectively” Look around - there's another mask behind you! Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads... Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you! Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds... Masquerade! Take your fill - let the spectacle astound you!”

At the climax if the song, Helaena suddenly screams at the sight of the a figure on the balcony, next to the top of the stairs. The music shuts off at the yell of terror as the figure jumps across to the stairs and slowly starts to descend. A tall and towering  man dressed in crimson, his long white hair slicked back, adored on the figure’s face was a skull mask. The mask covers his eyes and nose, but that left his beautiful lips exposed. 

“Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera!” the phantom sang angrily as he pulled out a leather covered manuscript that he threw on the ground. “Here I bring the finished score - "Don Juan triumphant"!”

 He continued down the stairs and stopped in front of Carlotta and her male lead Piangi. “Fondest greetings to you all, a few instructions just before rehearsal starts: Carlotta must be taught to act…” Carlotta's face turned red “...Not her normal trick of strutting round the stage.” and turned to Piangi “Our Don Juan must lose some weight - it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age!” turning slightly the white haired phantom “And my managers must learn that their place is in an office - not the arts!” staring at Andre and Firmin who stood on the other side of the stairs. 

He continued his journey down the stairs, towards Luc and Y/n who stood at the base of the grand staircase, 

“As for our star, Miss Y/N Daae…” he sang slowly and menacingly “No doubt she'll do her best - it's true her voice is good. She knows,though, should she wish to excel, she still has much to learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher, her teacher…” he slowed as he reached his destination, just in front of Y/N. Only a few steps separated them. Looking deep at each other, Y/N seemingly falling under a spell again. 

Magically, the lights dim, isolating Aemond and Y/N. She is mesmerized by him. He reaches out, he notices the ring, grasps the chain and rips it from Y/N neck. Luc jumps between them protectively. Aemond turns to him furiously.

“Your chains are still mine - you belong to me!” whipping back to Y/N. 

Then a flash and a cloud of smoke appeared, but as quickly as they came ,the Phantom disappeared down a trap door in the floor. Luc being the protector he is, sees the door amongst the smoke and jumps down to follow the ghost, needing to stop this madness. 

What was found below the door was a maze filled with mirrors to appear endless and disoriented. “Show yourself, ghost” and the door snapped shut above Luc’s head, darkening the room. With the little torch light that crept through, the flash of the crimson cloak was caught in the corner of Luc’s eye causing him to spin and chase after it. Everytime Luc thought he caught up to the phantom, it appeared to be an illusion. 

A thud and a drop of a noose dropped in Luc’s view. And seemingly out of nowhere a hand pulled him towards it… then passed and out into a stone hallway. Realizing the owner of the hand was none other than Madame Alicent, Luc released a gasp of relief. 

Madame Alicent is hurrying Luc through a more illuminated part of the corridor. Small gas lamps flicker in the gloom. “Madame Alicent... Wait...!” Luc spoke as he followed Alicent through the corridors. 

“Please, Monsieur, I know no more than anyone else.”

Sensing it wasn't the whole story “That's not true.” “Monsieur, don't ask... There have been too many accidents.” causing her to pause and look back at the Prince and continued her journey. “Accidents? Please, Madame Alicent, for all our sakes…”

Madame Alicent reached a door and stopped and looked back at Luc again then at the darkened hallway very frightened.

“Very well”. She quickly opened the door and entered the adjoined room, pulling Luc along with her. “It was years ago. There was a traveling fair in the city. I was very young.”

“Please go on”

~Enter Flashback~ 

The fair was grimy, filled to the brim with creepy, leering men, prostitutes, and drunkards vangrands. Long rows of banners proclaiming the various attractions, the tent entrances flap in the cloudy evening wind. A crowd gathered around the entrance of a tent with a hellish theme, slinking in Alicent stood in the front of a cage that was in the center of the tent.

The cage… inside, was a boy whose head was covered in a sac. The boy was crafting a delicate display for a model monkey. A tall man entered the cage cracking a whip, letting out an evil laugh as he cornered the boy in a corner. The boy dropped what he was holding and scrambled to a corner, trying to make room between him and the evil man with a whip.

The man -now right in front of the boy- snapped the whip and ripped the sack off the boy’s head. Reliving a child no older than nine, with snow white hair. A scar running down his left cheek and other parts of his body and his eye was noticeably missing. The boy raised his hand to cover his face and the villain began whipping him.

The others in the room began throwing coins which landed on the straw floor of the cage. This didn't sit right with Alicent, a frown clear on her face. THe boy crawled back to his toy as the man gathered the earnings. 

Alicent began leaving the tent after she lingered, stopping at the exit to look back at the boy just as the boy jumped up on the man's back with the very rope that bound the child to the cage, strangling him. The evil man falling dead. Seeing the opportunity she ran back to the child, grabbed his hand and freed him from his confines. 

“Murder” was heard from the tent, both scarred they ran faster. 

They escaped the fair. Alicent led him into the base of the House of the Dragons, hiding him away, a place that would become his home, his liar and playground. The police rushing around the city looking for him but he was never found  

~End of Flashback~

“He has known nothing else of life since then, except this Opera House. It was his playground and now his artistic domain... He's a genius! He's an architect and designer, he's a composer and a magician... A genius, Monsieur.” she said somberly looking up at the Prince who sat across from her in the small bedroom.

“But, clearly, Madame Giry... genius has turned to madness.” Luc warned.

[gaitwae]

Maid of Honor [|] Stephen Strange x F!Reader

@lucywrites02 this is for u

part 2

Summary: Stephen goes to Christine’s wedding, where you’re the maid of honor.

Warnings: Mild MOM spoilers (it’s literally just the wedding in the trailer), fem!reader, flirting, weddings, Stephen-typical swearing 

Rating: PG

“Doctor Strange,” someone called softly. The voice came like a dream, and the hands that touched his shoulders felt like heaven. The way you said his name was clearly informal, no matter the title. “You should sleep soon. C’mon.” 

“Oh, Y/N,” he groaned in exhaustion, “I just have to finish this report. Go home without me.”

He felt lips brush against his. “I would, but I can’t leave without my favorite man in the whole wide world. That would be inhumane. What if he can’t drive himself home?” You leaned against the back of his hair, letting your fingers play with whatever they wanted.

Stephen smiled as hands ran through his hair. “I really do have to finish this, sweetheart. You can go home and get some well-deserved rest.” He closed his eyes and wiped his face. “Don’t let me keep you, Doctor Strange.” He looked up at you, and he felt a foreign hunger, a yearning in his soul.

“Well, you’ll have to start coming home with me soon, Stephen.” You crossed your arms, your beautiful wedding ring glittering in the light. He sat back in his chair as he admired you. You noticed and very softly added, “In the near future, J won’t be able to drive.”

His eyes widened. “…Why?” 

You beamed. “I have foot surgery soon.”

He sat up again. “What? Why did you say that as if—?”

“—As if I was pregnant? To see how you’d react. Nice to know you were disappointed.” You laughed, kissed his head with sympathy, and then once more on the mouth. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

-- -- -- 

Stephen bolted up in bed with a scream. He was drenched in sweat, his face felt too warm, and his heart wouldn’t stop beating. It wasn’t a nightmare, but it was all too real. His mouth tingled. His forehead tingled. The tears in his eyes were odd, misplaced. He had no time to be emotional. He looked over at the clock—7 AM. Four hours until Christine’s wedding… four hours to try and forget that he dreamt he was married to his old coworker. 

Stephen Strange usually knew how his day was going to go. There were usually two routes: bland, boring, and normal, or big, nasty, aliens from outer space. If it wasn’t one of the two, it was some kind of mashup. Right now, he wasn’t sure if he would choose normal. He would see you again, just like he frequently had over the last couple of months. You’d become a close friend to him, now. 

“She probably won’t care about what you look like,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he found himself wondering what to wear. Just because Y/N had once harbored feelings for him but that didn’t mean anything now. Christine was getting married, so anything could happen. “You’ll be fine.”

He speedily got ready for the day from that point on. He remembered combing back his hair, just the way he used to. He remembered picking his suit out, hoping it would bring out his eyes. Though he wanted to forget that dream, part of him wanted to make it a reality. He was wishing and praying for partnership, nowadays—ironic, since he wasn’t sure he believed in God. 

“You’re an imbecile,” he told himself in the mirror. He scowled. The Cloak of Levitation wiped away stray hair and caressed his cheek. He dispassionately waved it away, muttering about something that he couldn’t even remember the moment it passed his lips. He had just opened a portal with his Sling Ring, plastered a smile on his face, and stepped into the church he swore he would behave in. He had to. 

He would hurt the bride if he didn’t, and he would completely shatter the maid of honor.

He sat next to Nic West, swapped stories very speedily, and had to hear about how he “didn’t get the girl.” He just breathed in and decided it was best not to answer.

When she started down, he very nearly died. She was so beautiful in white. There she was, wearing a veil, holding flowers, smiling up at the crowds. There was Y/N, too, right there in front of her, glittering in similar radiance and angelic beauty. He hadn’t meant to look at you. He knew it would be trouble.

He couldn’t tear his gaze from you, now. 

You mouthed, “Hi, Stephen,” and waved as you passed. It took him a moment to process it, to recover. He waved back quickly. You beamed and then looked forward, taking your place beside Christine at the altar. He wet his lips. 

“Wow. You and Y/N?” Dr. West asked. “I would have never guessed.”

“Stranger things have happened,” he muttered, unwilling to tell the truth. He felt terrible for it; it was just one of those things he couldn’t let go of. He couldn’t admit he had been dreaming about her for weeks. They sat down, letting the wedding commence. 

It was a beautiful ceremony. It was hard to remember how much his own heart ached while watching the vows be exchanged, looking at the obvious love in each other’s eyes. Stephen couldn’t entirely let go of what had once been, but it was nice to know that Christine would be taken care of at the very least. 

His heart was pained, his smile was hard to keep, but he felt closure. She was happy enough to invite him to her wedding. She was happy. That was all that mattered. He could move on and know this was how it ended.

Once the bride and groom made their exit, everyone else started toward the reception. Stephen found himself staring, watching Christine and her husband kiss one more time—he also caught your face, again, too. The best man, whoever he was, introduced himself to you. You shook his hand, told him some response, and shrugged off whatever else he asked you. 

Nic West stopped Stephen. “Hey. I think that guy is chatting up your girlfriend. You better go get her, huh?” He gave him a sly smirk.

“Yeah,” he said. His brevity came back from when Y/N had originally waved at him. “I’ll, uh, be back.” He adjusted his tie and stepped away from West. Away from West… Toward you. 

“…really sorry, I just can’t get involved with my best friend’s husband’s best friend. That’s too cliche for me.” You shook your head, laughing off whatever the best man had just said. “You’re really nice, Tom, but I’m not into you that way.”

“Had to shoot my shot, didn’t I?” 

“I’m glad you did!”

“Am I interrupting something?” Stephen asked, walking up. You jumped and turned.  

“Oh, no, not at all!” Y/N replied. You smiled at him. He smiled back. It was new, but it was still somewhat pleasant. “I was just taking care of something.”

“It was a surprise to see you getting asked out,” Strange told you. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing the best that I can.” You gestured for him to walk with you. He did as told. “Recently I tried to get over somebody; it didn’t really work. You know how it is.”

He stopped for a moment. He did know that. He also knew what it felt like to start falling for a woman in his dreams. “Yeah, I do. But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” You moved a strand of hair out of your face. “Even though it was the same man since I was working under you.” You laughed. “I’m not just some kid anymore. That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he replied, his throat going a little dry. “Do you want to go to the reception together? Maybe dance?”

“Sure!” You beamed. “I would love to. Hey, Doc, are you okay? You look a little sweaty.”

“Of course, I’m okay.” He was not. “It’s just been so long since I saw you last.” A whole week. So long. He offered his arm to you and you took it. “I knew you were going to be here, but I didn’t know you were going to be beautiful. In fact, I didn’t know you could outshine the bride.”

“I’m not buying anything you say, you know.” You gave him a look. “Enough of your flattery.”

“I don’t flatter, I tell it how it is.” They swayed a little as they walked. “Besides, seeing you like this? Think about how I feel!”

“Oh, I think about you all the time.” You stopped, flushing. “Sorry! That sounded a little weird, didn’t it?” You cringed.

“Not at all.” He laughed. “You’ve always been so caring. I didn’t deserve it at all.”

“I was also in love with you for a long time,” you reminded him. A wave of heat fell down his spine. “I shouldn’t have cared that much back when you and Christine were in cahoots.” 

“I should have cared about you more.” He let his smile fall and tried to be serious. Y/N caught it, and mimicked his expression. “As it turned out, you were a staple for me. I still dream about you, sometimes. Too often…”

“That’s sweet.” You sheepishly looked away. “It’s a shame things didn’t work out between you and Christine. I actually thought for a minute that you’d come back in and sweep her off her feet; object at the last minute, you know.”

A topic change. It was just what he needed. 

“Why would I do that?” he asked. “I haven’t been in Christine’s life for nine years. Charlie was. I’m not that big of a douchebag.” 

“What?” You gaped. “No one said that! Stephen! I was just commenting on your lack of drama. You’re a sorcerer and you fly and you fought Thanos, but you can’t swoop in and save your lady love!”

“She’s not my ‘lady love!’” he scoffed. He shook his head. “I haven’t dreamt about her for months. If I was hurting over her wedding, I wouldn’t have come.”

“But you’ve dreamt about me?” You smirked.

He’d been trapped. 

“…Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” He kept his expression neutral. “Once… or twice.” He shrugged. “I see you on a regular basis; it’s only natural.”

“Oh, yes.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “How often do you think about love? Don’t weddings make you wonder when you’re going to find the One?”

“They make me wonder about all sorts of things.” He set his hand on top of one of hers. “Like whether or not marriage is even in the cards for a sorcerer who happens to have a history in neurosurgery.” 

“Any girl would marry you.”

Stephen scoffed in good humor. You picked your head up and flashed your most mischievous smile. “Oh, easy for you to say. You’re biased.”

“Am I? Why is that? Remind me, Stephen.” 

He rolled his eyes. His brain was working faster than he could process. “You all but said you hadn’t gotten over someone from our hospital days, and that you had been in love with me—” 

He paused. It began to sink in the same second the words passed his lips. You were in love with him. You were still in love with him. 

“There it is,” you sang softly. You didn’t seem thrilled. “Now you know.”

“Oh, my God.”

You pulled your arm away from his. Stephen felt millions of pieces click into place. He had no idea what he felt, but there was no dread or need for rejection. It was light, bubbly, fizzy. Painfully pleasant. He turned to you in an instant. “I’m sorry. You weren’t ready for that, were you? Not at Christine’s wedding…”

“Oh, my God, you’re in love with me.” He gently took a hold of your shoulders. “I—I can—I never—You—”

You put a hand to his lips. You looked around, watching the hall empty around the two of you. “Just forget about it. Alright? Forget it. I’m the maid of honor of the bride you’re still in love with.”

He shook his head fervently. “I’m not in love with the bride!”

“Well, you aren’t in love with me.” You gave him a knowing look. “I’d know. You kind of like to take control of these types of situations.”

“Y/N, please.” He did a small turn, not sure what to do with himself. What was he supposed to say? “How many times have you said this? How long have I been such an idiot?”

“Since we reconnected.” You shrugged. You seemed so nonchalant but his whole world was crashing down in splendid pieces. You began to smirk. “So maybe a year now. I’m glad you’re smiling like that. I almost believe you about not being in love with her.” 

Stephen, with extreme caution, pressed his forehead to the top of your head and left it there for a moment. “We’ll talk about this later, but I…”

You hugged him back. “I hope you’re happy to hear that, Stephen. We can talk all about it later.” You rubbed his back before pulling away. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

“I am.” He had no idea what his face looked like. His dreams seemed closer to reality than ever, and he was elated. “Trust me, I am so happy.”

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[paperandsong]

Erik and Elias

If you can’t tell, I am currently in the midst of an angst-filled obsession with Ancient Magus Bride (Mahotsukai no Yome). The Phantom of the Opera is my first fandom and so it’s impossible for me not to compare the two stories. I see so many similarities between Erik and Elias.

I don’t actually think that AMB’s author, Kore Yamazaki, is referencing PotO. But rather, I think there are certain themes and archetypes that appear in the two stories that mean they strike the same chord in me.

1. The Face

Both Erik and Elias have skull-like heads and glowing eyes. In Gaston Leroux’s novel, Erik is described as having no nose and eyes that are so dark and sunken in that they give him the appearance of a “Death’s head.” Elias has an animal skull with horns for a head. Both men go through various lengths to conceal their faces, Erik with masks and false noses, Elias with a veil and glamor. Erik is arguably more upset about his face than Elias. Erik overall seems more upset with life, which we’ll get to. But Elias is affected too - humans are often afraid of him, while the fae constantly make fun of him. It gets to him over time. It’s significant that he doesn’t conceal his face around Chise and that she insists she is not afraid of him. 

2. Just a Man

Are they men or not is a question asked of both figures. Perhaps as a way compensate for their unusual faces, both Erik and Elias dress very well. Almost too well, wearing finely tailored suits night and day. They are trying their best to live as normal men.

While in the musical, Erik’s underground home is soaked in the gothic aesthetic, in the novel, he keeps all that confined to his bedroom with the coffin bed. The rest of Erik’s house is meant to be ordinary, with furniture of a style that is a little out of date and almost tacky for the time period the story is set. (I can’t get enough of Erik’s tacky furniture – it makes him so very human.)

Of the two, Elias’ house is the one I would prefer to be abducted to, but isn’t there something uncanny about a well dressed man with a skull head drinking tea and reading the newspaper in his English country home? Elias seems to go out of his way to do normal human things. Perhaps, because the question of whether he is human or not is constantly hanging over his head. 

3. The Wife

Both Erik and Elias seem to think they need a wife. Erik abducts one from the Opera house, Elias purchases one at an auction house. But why? I believe that, at first, they see having a wife as a way to obtain what they perceive as a normal life. They also have issues with control and obsession and are deeply lonely.

4. Teacher/Student

Christine and Chise share some similarities too. They are both orphans and very vulnerable. They both have special talents that are developed by the men in their lives, Christine’s being music, Chise’s being magic. Coincidently, Christine often faints and grows pale after singing under Erik’s influence while Chise passes out for days each time she is tasked with using magic. Both have strong spirits and I love both of their characters. 

5. The Emotions

Erik and Elias have issues handling their emotions. Both have enormous tantrums and breakdowns in their respective stories. Both threaten to kill people (or even do kill people) as a result of their obsessive love. A major difference is that Erik threatens to kill Christine and other people if she won’t marry him. Elias attempts to kill someone to save Chise’s life. While still vile, it’s a little easier to understand where Elias is coming from. 

Looking at the original source material, it’s easier to have hope for Elias and Chise. At one point, Elias tells Chise she must love the world, even if it has been hard on her. This is something Erik would never say. 

There is a lot more to say - feel free to discuss in the notes!

[13uswntimagines]

Gravity (Alex Morgan x Press!Reader)

Request: Christen Press x sister reader with a shooter at a game where the reader saves as many people as possible but not themselves? 

10,000 words of angst, fluff and everything in between. 

Pt. 2

Author’s Note: This is a very heavy fic with several trigger warnings. First there are some depictions of violence, and homophobia. We also don’t advocate for doing anything that y/n does in this fic during an active shooter situation.  This is my longest fic to date, and i really wanted to do the topic justice. 

special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ cause without her it would be a mess. 

You always thought it was bullshit when people said that it started out like any other day. Shouldn’t there be something in the air that told them everything was about to go wrong? Shouldn’t there be some sign that their life was about to change forever? 

But it was a completely normal day. 

The bus was rowdy on the ride over to the stadium, with Megan blaring Taylor Swift through the speakers and the youngins cackling loudly over the latest viral TikTok. There was an excited air about the locker room as you pulled on your Pride month jersey. You were proud that your number showed off a little piece of who you were, and that maybe seeing you wear it could offer some sense of comfort to the people watching you from around the world. 

You joked with your sister about her latest bout of teasing the fans via Instagram and talked through several strategies to get past the Canadian defenders with Tobin (all while avoiding your recent ex-girlfriend). 

It was business as usual as you (were forced) to stand through the anthems, and as you tried to outmaneuver Canada’s annoying 5 back formation.

Everything was absolutely normal until it wasn’t. 

“They’re firing on all cylinders tonight aren’t they?” You groaned, wiping the sweat from your brow, and wrapping a heavy arm over Christen’s shoulder. It was a tough first half filled with heavy tackles and hands where they didn’t belong (you being a prime target because of how often you slipped through the cracks in their backline- the only problem being that you and Alex were entirely unable to connect). 

At least Christine hadn’t slipped past Kelley and Abby yet. 

She stuck her tongue out at you and shooed you off. You laughed loudly, stumbling back just a bit and wrapping an arm around yourself feigning offense. She never did like sweaty hugs, but you always liked to give them to her (after all, it’s what little sisters were for). 

“But we are too, we’ll break through their defenses,” Christen said, rolling her eyes and grabbing your hand instead. Her thumb moved soothingly over the back of your hand. She could feel your frustration at not being able to score yet, but you guys would get them in the end. You all just had to be patient (not one of your strong suits). 

“And if you can link with Alex in the box, we’ll be golden,” Tobin mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. It wasn’t that you weren’t playing well together, but so far the timing between the two of you was just off. 

Things had been weird since you broke up with Alex, and as much as you tried to keep the awkwardness off the field, it was a challenge. It wasn’t like you two were just on separate pages, no the two of you were in completely different books (which was part of the reason the two of you had broken up in the first place). 

Despite what your head said, your heart still ached in your chest every time you saw her. 

You shook your head, breaking the awkward silence Tobin’s comment had created. “I’m not the one who-...” 

Several loud firecracker-like pops sounded in through the stadium cutting you off, and you instinctively turned to search for who the fuck was setting fireworks off. “What the-“ 

You couldn't even get the words out before the wall very close to your head exploded. Concrete showered over you like deadly confetti from a cannon, nicking and scraping your exposed skin as it fell. 

It almost didn’t feel real. This couldn’t be real. There was no way. 

More pops echoed, and this time they sounded less like fireworks and more like the sound effects from those gaudy war films your father was obsessed with. It wasn’t just some idiot playing practical jokes, no this was something much more sinister. 

A breathless “shit,” left your lips, and you heard a “Holy fuck,” from beside you, but you had no idea which teammate said it. 

Terrified voices blended together and insistent hands dragged you down the hallway. You were shoved through a door onto a bench before you could process what was happening. 

Lights were turned off, a lock was clicked. You idly wondered if the deadbolt would actually stop someone who wanted entry. You remembered a Mythbusters where they tested locks against firearms, but you couldn’t seem to recall if they were effective against the one currently protecting you. 

Your eyes flickered around the room, taking in your teammates. Some were pacing, some were huddled in the corners and a few others were glued to their phones, but what really stuck out was how quiet everyone was (a rare occurrence for the team). 

Even with your racing thoughts, you still searched for blue eyes and a pink pre-wrap headband (a small part of you knew you would always look for her). 

Kelley’s hands were running through her hair, forming and reforming a sleek ponytail that she never put up. “What do we do?” 

“We stay here and wait for help,” Ashlyn whispered. She was leaning with her ear against the wall on the side with the door, as though listening for movement on the other side. 

“I’m already on the line with 911, it’s pretty backed up.” Becky pointed to the phone in her hand and Ali raised up her own phone slightly, adding a soft “Me too,” from her place tucked into Ashlyn’s side. The gesture reminded you of the way Alex always saluted towards you with her drink during toasts. 

“Where are the youngins and Alex?” You asked, blinking out of your daze. The room paused, all eyes turning to you like you had just grown 3 heads. 

The silence was deafening. No one wanted to be the one to speak, the one to remind you of the lockdown rules everyone had learned since elementary school. The one to condemn their friends to...

“We can’t worry about them right now,” Christen said, her lips trembling as she met your eyes, “We need to stay here until help arrives.” 

“Nearly half the team is missing guys, we can’t just sit here and do nothing!” You walked to one end of the small room. It took 6 steps. You walked back to where you had started. 5 steps, you turned, again. Alex was somewhere out there. And you were here. What if you never saw her again? You couldn’t raise Charlie by yourself. 

5 steps.  

The last words the two of you had exchanged didn’t end with an I love you. 

“We can’t confront a gunman empty-handed,” Kelley said, her voice breaking. You saw her red-rimmed eyes as you turned again. 5 steps. 

“You have to let the police and security do their jobs,” Tobin whispered.

“Because that has always worked out real well in the past,” You shot back, barely glancing at where she was sitting by Christen’s side. You turned again. 5 steps. 

“I’m through. Hello, my name is Ali Krieger  and I would like to report an active shooting at —— stadium.” 

“I’m not going to leave all of the youngins out there to fend for themselves,” you took 3 steps and grabbed the door handle, bracing yourself as several arms grabbed you and tried to pull you back.  

“Stop!”

“You can’t”

“Walking the halls with them out there isn’t a good idea, Y/n.” 

“Because staying in here like sitting ducks is?” Tobin shrunk slightly, falling back into the group of women now surrounding you. “Don’t let anyone in unless they do the special knock. Got it?” 

“You’re not leaving this room Y/n,” Christen said sternly, her shaking hands not leaving your wrist. She was always more than just your older sister, she was more like your second mom and she couldn’t stand to lose you too. Not after the year the two of you had. 

“Imagine if it was me out there Chris. I can’t abandon them,” You said softly, squeezing her hand. She heard your unspoken “I can’t lose her.” 

You stared into each other's eyes, the rest of your teammates watching you both. Christen had always won the staring games you played as kids. This time something passed between you, and she finally nodded, squeezing your hand once, twice, three times, before letting go. 

“Be safe.” 

“Promise. I’ll see you later.” 

You didn’t believe in goodbyes. There was no reason to say goodbye. Nothing was ending, you were just going down the hall and would be right back. 

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” you shot her a quick smile and eased out the door, closing it with a whisper behind you as you turned to face the hallway and its echoing silence. 

****

The air was heavy as you made your way through the deserted underbelly of the stadium. The stillness that surrounded you was smothering, punctuated only by the tapping of your cleats on the concrete and the loud pops creeping closer. 

Or maybe you were the one inching closer to them. With the number of twists and turns and connecting paths, you honestly couldn’t tell. 

You pressed yourself tighter into the wall, trying to soften your steps. Your cleats had never sounded so loud before. They clicked with every step, like a beacon, broadcasting your location to anyone within hearing distance. 

No matter what you did, you couldn’t seem to quiet them. 

You held your breath as you approached a fork in the path, glancing down both the left and right paths before slipping into one of the many alcoves around the stadium just across the way. Then you tucked yourself into a corner behind the low counter that spanned halfway across its entrance. Down here it would be difficult for anyone who walked past to spot you unless they knew to look. 

You crouched low (still too wired to actually sit down) under the water table and untied your cleats. Your grippy socks would keep you from sliding around all over the place, but honestly, you would take slipping over being heard right now. 

You took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself to leave your hiding spot. 

Going out into the hallway unprotected the first time had been easy. This second time, definitively less so. 

You steeled yourself. You had to find Alex and your teammates. You could be brave for them, for her.

Just as you were about to peek your head above the counter, a screech echoed down the hallway, followed by deep laughter and several loud pops. 

You froze. Heavy footsteps approached your hiding place. Then the counter above you shook as something thumped down onto it.  

And then you heard his voice. 

“Ah, I love it when they scream.” 

You bit your tongue to prevent any noise from leaving you. 

No sane person should be able to say that sentence with such delight. A shiver ran down your spine. Deep breath in, hold, breathe out. You pulled your jersey over your mouth and nose, to muffle the sound of your breathing.

He was so close to you. 

You could hear his foot tapping in time to the song he was humming under his breath as he used the ledge to reload. 

 “All the other kids with their pumped-up kicks. Run baby run, faster than my bullet.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the sound of bullets clinking on the counter and bouncing on the floor. Blocking out the little click they made as they were loaded into the magazines. The sound of incorrect lyrics being sung out of tune above your head. It would almost be funny, if. If. 

Deep breath in, hold, breathe out. 

You didn’t want to think about where the bullets might end up. 

“Gotta give them time to hide first, makes it more fun,” He mumbled to himself in between verses, his weapon making a loud clack. “Might as well make sure it works.”

Your ears rang as the hallway echoed with his shots.  Between the echo and the sound of your heart pounding, you almost missed the giggle that followed.

Giggle. Not a laugh. A giggle. A soft little giggle, like the ringing of bells. And somehow the most terrifying sound you’d ever heard. 

“Come out, come out wherever you are. Ready or not, here I come,” He said, eerily. Like a child playing a game. 

But this wasn’t a game. Not one you could lose. 

You needed to find Alex and the others.

You were never particularly religious. You sent out a prayer to whoever was listening that he hadn’t found them already. 

Deep breath in, hold, breathe out. 

You waited for his heavy footfalls to fade, then you peeked out from behind the wall. There was no good path to take.  It was a bad idea to follow him in case he doubled back and a bad idea to go the opposite way and risk seeing the carnage you were sure he left behind. 

You didn’t know if you could handle seeing your teammates like that. 

But a loud yelp (and more cackling) came from the direction he went. You couldn’t just leave whoever he was chasing, it was against everything in your nature. 

You hopped over the counter, ignoring the way the shrapnel dug into your sock-covered feet and began to slowly follow the sounds you knew would haunt you for the rest of your life. 

With every step, you grew closer to the gunman. 

*****

You pressed yourself to the wall just outside of the visitor’s locker room, listening hard to the voices inside. This was a very stupid plan, did you even have a plan? God, this was such a bad idea. 

The clang of metal on metal was unmistakable, as were the whimpers that followed each heavy footfall. 

He giggled, the sound of his footsteps moving back and forth behind the wall.  “Don’t worry little nonstarters, I’m going to take such good care of you. Wouldn’t want to disappoint our audience, now would we?” 

“W-what do you mean,” 

That was Sophia's voice. 

“I have a show planned, one that will really get my point across.”

“A show?”

And Morgan too. Fuck. 

“So much good, pure-hearted talent is being wasted in favor of letting abominations play. It’s a shame really,” 

Fuck. You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that you would regret this decision later. But he had the babies of the team. They were at the very beginning of their soccer careers.  You would be damned if you let some asshole take that away from them. 

 You already regretted this decision, but you were also absolutely unable to stop yourself. 

“Hey fucktard, the only abomination I see is the loser shooting innocent people.” 

There was a loud squeak of a Combat boot as if he had spun on his heel to look for the unseen threat. 

“Ooo, you two have a friend, how cute,” his voice dropped down on the last word, and you tensed listening. “I think innocent is a relative term, don’t you? Something meant for children?”

“I don’t see you sparring any kids either, so are you a hypocrite or just a coward?” You scoffed, edging back from the corner. The side hallway had enough twists that once you started running, you should be able to get away before he saw which direction you went. It shouldn’t take much more pushing for him to change targets. 

He paused, and his voice turned almost proud. “I’ll give it to you, you’ve got some balls. Why don’t you face me? Or are you the coward?” 

You gulped. It shouldn’t take much more pushing. “ I actually have two brain cells and don’t need a gun to work out my issues. Maybe that just makes you a dumbass.”

His deep chuckle and heavy steps got a little louder.

“No, I’m the judge, jury, and executioner,” 

****

You raced through the hallway, taking random lefts and rights with no real direction in mind. 

It was stupid to antagonize him, but at least he wasn’t terrorizing the babies of the team anymore. The vets never would have let you live it down if you sat there and listened while he-. 

Nope, not continuing that thought. It was too horrible to think. 

You knew he was following you, the first couple of turns had been very sketchy. Corners exploded just after you passed them, and shrapnel had followed you like a fucking heat-seeking missal for the first 3 turns. But then he made a wrong right. 

But you still weren’t slowing. 

Left, right, left, righ-. 

“Whoa!” You gasped and stumbled sideways as hands grabbed your jersey and tugged. 

“Are you crazy?” Emily hissed, pulling you into a supply closet as Lindsey pulled the door closed behind the three of you as quietly as she could. 

You blinked owlishly at the women, sucking in deep breaths as you leaned heavily against the wall. Maybe a small part of you didn’t expect to make it out of that hallway alive. 

It took you a second to actually see them and to realize that someone was missing. 

“Alex isn’t with you?” 

“No, Mr. rifle came down the middle hallway, we went right and she went left. Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Emily grabbed your arm and restrained you as you started to get up. 

“I know what you’re thinking” Lindsey whispered, “but leaving this room is a suicide mission-” 

“Didn’t you get the lesson about lockdown drills in school?” Emily’s whisper rose in pitch as she spoke. “You’re supposed to stay put and Hunker down!” 

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m leaving her alone out there with a Homicidal maniac,” You said, pinching your arm to keep yourself from crying.

“Y/n-“

“No,” You said way too loudly, ripping your arm away from Emily before you realized your mistake. The three of you paused and waited, staring at the door. When it didn’t move, you looked back towards the woman. 

“I have to make sure she’s safe. I promised I would never abandon her when she told me she was pregnant. I’m not going to go back on that now,” 

“This is different,” Emily said sternly. 

You shook your head “I will not leave the mother of my child out there,”

“So what? You’re going to leave Charlie with no parent at all?” Lindsey scoffed trying to get through to you. 

“You can’t change my mind, Linds. When I leave, lock the door and put some of those,” You pointed towards some random benches leaned up against the supply closet wall, “against it.” A layer of benches might not stop him, but they would be a real pain in the ass if he tried to open the door. 

You waited for them to nod, and then you took a step towards the door. You could do this, you would find her and everything would be fine. 

With one last “see you later” you headed out into the hallway. 

****

The hallway still felt too quiet as you wound your way towards where Emily and Lindsey had last seen Alex. At least this time you had an idea of where you were going. 

There were only two rooms off that hallway. You would check the shower room first and then go to the conference room. If Alex wasn’t in either place then maybe she took the connecting hallway to the stadium. Was it any more safe out there? You didn’t know what to hope for. 

You winced at the squeak the door to the shower room made as you slowly opened it. When it was cracked just enough to squeeze through, you slipped in and tried to let it whisper shut behind you. Then you turned to round the corner into the main room. 

You barely dodged the ball bag.  

“Damn, I know we’re on a break, but I didn’t think you actually wanted to kill me” You laughed rubbing your head lightly where the corner of the bag grazed you. 

Her makeshift weapon clattered to the floor and she nearly knocked you over with the force she threw herself against you. You wrapped your arms around her and began to slowly rub her back. “Shh, I’ve got ya. I’m here Alex.”

She shook against your chest, each sob wracking through her entire body. You held her tightly and kissed her ear. 

“I don’t want this to be how it ends between us,” She whispered, burying her face in your collarbone.

You sighed, closing your eyes tightly “I know.” She smelled like sweat and grass, probably because of that goal she had nearly made in the 25th minute. But underneath you still smelled the subtle spice of her favorite perfume. You held her closer, just breathing in the feeling of her. 

This wasn’t really your ideal ending either. You wanted to live a long life, to watch Charlie grow up and accomplish things. You wanted to kiss Alex in front of the whole world after you won the Olympics. 

“Let’s get out of the hallway, alright?” You asked quietly, pulling her through the shower room and into a small supply closet in the back of it, where extra towels and toiletries were usually kept. You only pulled away long enough to click the lock, frowning when you didn’t see anything you could use as a barricade. 

The two of you sat pressed together to the left of the door. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

You blinked down at the woman, following her eyes to look at your feet. Your socks had been bright white when you started this journey, but now they were a strange reddish-brown color and had a few little holes. 

You weren’t sure if it was your blood. In the hall there were, there was, evidence of other people who had gotten hurt. You didn’t know where most of them had gone. How hadn’t you noticed you cut your feet? 

“Must have stepped on something. I’ll be alright though,” you shrugged, giving her a squeeze. 

The silence enveloped you again, heavy but comfortable all the same. It didn’t matter if you were technically broken up, she was your person and you were hers. 

She shook her head and used the edge of her sleeve to wipe something off your temple. She showed you the red smear, before dabbing at the area again. 

It was nice. Very twisted, but domestic. 

“Charlie misses you. I miss you. I can’t sleep without you anymore,” She said suddenly. You stiffened. 

You had flown out just hours after the fight, not even going back to your shared apartment before you hopped on the plane back to North Carolina. You were just so hurt, so mad that you couldn’t bring yourself to face her again. The start of camp had been the first time you saw either of them in nearly a month. 

“You had a fine time sleeping when you took her to England without me,” you said, lightly. Maybe a bit bitterly, but that was unintentional. This was not the best time to have that fight again.

“We both agreed that it was the best move for my Career. Tottenham could offer me minutes Orlando couldn’t,” She huffed. 

You rolled your eyes. That had been the crux of the issue (minus one very important detail). It was fine for Alex to do whatever was necessary to make it to the Olympics, but the same didn’t go for you. It was unfair that you were held to two different standards (and that she just assumed Charlie would always stay with her). 

“Just like Arsenal can offer me minutes North Carolina won’t,” you said, in the same “it’s only reasonable” tone as Alex. That voice didn’t even work on Charlie.  

She crossed her arms and scooted away from you. You needed to be face to face for this conversation. “I didn’t tell you not to go to Arsenal. ”

“You turned down my marriage proposal because you didn’t want to deal with the distance,” you shot-back, voice entirely void of emotions. 

Her saying no stung worse than anything you had ever experienced. It played on your insecurities and made you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship. 

“We’re not in the right place in our careers to get married,” she whispered, reaching forward as if to stroke your face before quickly pulling her hand back. 

“But we were totally ready to have a kid?” You scoffed. 

Some may call you old school, but you found comfort in the conventional get married then have kids bit. Instead, you had done it all out of order. 

“That’s different and you know it,” Alex said, her voice hard. 

The only difference was that if the two of you got married, she would finally have to admit that she wasn’t 100% straight to the fans. There would be no hiding anymore. 

You sighed, shaking your head and pinching your eyes. You didn’t want to have this fight in a closet while you were being hunted by a fucking shooter. “Now is not the time for this conversation.”

“And when is Y/n?” Her voice was near pleading. You had avoided her and this talk out of fear, when were you finally going to be brave enough to confront those feelings. The hurt of her saying no, and the frustration with the perceived hypocrisy of her argument. 

You opened your mouth to respond, when a loud pop sounded just behind the door, followed by a childish giggle. “It’s impolite to lock your friends out, now isn’t it?” 

There was another bang, and the door exploded, sending splinters flying in all directions. It swung open and the shooter stepped through, a Cheshire Cat grin painted across his face. 

“Peek a boo, I see you!” 

****

You held your hands up in a pacifying motion as the gunman shooed you and Alex out of the closet and into the larger room. He was shorter than you thought he’d be and ironically wearing a Jersey that was nearly identical to your own, save for the large Iceman written across his shoulders. 

His hair was dark, slicked-back in a style meant to look suave, but reminded you of those guys obsessed with their tiny black combs in the musical Grease. The only indication that he wasn’t a normal person (besides the large gun in his hand) was his wild eyes. 

“So you’re the one trying to ruin my fun,” he said, with a smile at you that didn’t reach his eyes. 

The top of his gun nudged your shoulder as he gestured for you and Alex to both sit against the wall. 

You wanted to reply with a snippy remark about him being the one shooting innocent people for no reason but thought better of it. Pissing him off could lead to Alex getting hurt and you wanted to avoid that if you could. 

His annoying smirk widened at your non-response, but that wasn’t enough for him. He poked your cheek with the barrel of the rifle, tracing a very small scar on your chin (one the famed Kelley O’Hara had given you in college). 

“Not so cocky now are you? Was it worth it?” He sneered, poking your cheek once with the barrel before stepping back and leveling it towards you.  

You frowned. “Was what worth it?” 

“Parading your filth around for everyone to see. Advocating for rights that people like you don’t deserve.” His voice darkened, going from a sing-song voice that was clearly meant to imitate you, to practically spitting at you as he spoke. 

Your eyes widened with the realization and an idea. A dangerous idea. One that you knew Alex wouldn’t like, but it would give one of you a shot of making it out of this room. You couldn’t not take the chance. 

“If this is about LGBTQ rights, then let her go,” you said, pointing at Alex, and subtly scooting away from her so there was space between where you were sitting. 

He paused his pacing, turning back towards you and leaning down so your faces were merely inches apart. “And why would I do that?” 

“Alex isn’t gay. She’s got a baby of her own. If that is what this is about, then you’ve got me and I’m one of your biggest transgressors.” You shrugged, trying to make it seem like you weren’t as invested as you clearly were. 

“Y/n,” Alex started, her voice rising in pitch as she realized what you were saying. 

You glared at Alex, effectively shutting her down, and continued as though you hadn’t heard her. “Hurting her would hurt that baby, and I thought you said they were the innocent ones here,” you said, voice nonchalant. 

The man’s fists clenched and unclenched around his weapon, and he stood upright. He squinted at you as if he was trying to figure out if you were lying. It was the first time in all of this that he looked unsure. 

You did everything in your power to keep a straight face and maintain eye contact. You only had one shot to get this right. 

The man finally tore his eyes from yours to look thoughtfully at Alex. “You have a kid?” 

You sent her a pleading look. If you couldn’t save yourself, at least you could save her. Her eyes pleaded with you not to do this. 

She finally broke eye contact with you and looked at the man. “Yes, a little girl.” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

Your little girl. 

He looked away and began to pace, his free hand tugging angrily at his hair. You tilted your head to the side, watching him carefully. You hadn’t expected this response, you didn’t think a homicidal sociopath was capable of such a response. 

“Did you have to grow it in a test tube and have it implanted?” He spat, his fingers tapping his gun more insistently and the other in his hair tugging the roots more aggressively. 

You so desperately wanted to yell that Charlie wasn’t an it. That she was a beautiful and radiant child. 

“No,” Alex rapidly shook her head, tears streaming down her face. The two of you hadn’t needed IVF to have Charlie. She was another surprise from the post World Cup celebrations, but you couldn’t imagine your life without her anymore. 

“If you let me get out my phone I can pull up pictures on Instagram,” you said, quickly. “There are pictures of her and her husband with the baby there.” Your private Instagram was covered with pictures of Alex and Charlie, you were sure there was at least one with a member of the male coaching staff.

The gunman suddenly straightened, his composure slipping back into place like a mask. He turned on his heel, a gleeful smile back on his face as he gestured at Alex with the barrel of the gun. 

“You’ve got 15 seconds to make it down the hallway before I start shooting.” 

Alex turned towards you, desperately grabbing your hand. This wasn’t the way the two of you were supposed to end. You weren’t supposed to give up yourself in some twisted sense of heroism. Charlie wasn’t supposed to grow up without you. 

One squeeze. Your eyes traced her face, trying to imprint her features into her brain. 

“14.”

Two squeezes. You tried to make your face neutral, to show her that it was alright. 

“13.”

Three squeezes. It felt heavier than it ever had, more charged with words you couldn’t speak. It was a silent I love you and Charlie. 

“12.”

You gave her a final nod, and let go. She paused for barely a second, before taking off out of the room at full tilt, disappearing out of your sight. 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Times up,” He laughed, firing 4 shots into the wall. “Should have made it 10.” 

You both stared at the door for an unnaturally long time, and you found it odd that he looked nearly as wistful as you were. 

Despite being in a worse situation yourself, you couldn’t help how the knot in your chest loosened now that Alex was safe. 

He finally turned back to you, his smirk sending shivers down your spine. 

“Now as for you, ” he said, tilting his head from side to side like he was trying to crack his neck, “you shouldn’t be so smart with me.”

“Can’t help it.” You shrugged. Your sister was the sibling that inherited all the grace, while you got the bullheadedness. 

“You don’t talk back to your superiors.”

Slap. 

Your head snapped to the side with your force, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips. “We’re all humans at our base, right? What makes you better than me?”

Slap.

“I’m not an atrocity to our society,” he yelled inches from your face, so close that you could feel the moisture from his breath hit your cheek. 

You used your arm to wipe your mouth, not even flinching at the red streak now staining your white kit top. 

“In the Bible, it says all sins are equal, doesn’t it? So mass murder is just as bad in your book as me loving a woman,” you said, glaring up at him from under your eyelashes. “It also says that he who holds no sin may cast the first stone. Murder is a sin isn’t it?” 

You knew the words that condemned you by heart after having people who didn’t understand use them as ammunition for most of your career. Your family was understanding and supportive, but other people weren’t. Of course, just another piece of their argument that didn’t make sense was that if you and your love were an abomination, then how did you create something as beautiful as Charlie? 

 “Never compare yourself to your betters.” The gun was suddenly out of your face, replaced by the man’s sneer. “I was gonna let you die here, but I have a better plan now.” 

You looked away. You didn’t want the last thing you ever saw to be his face. He grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to make eye contact. “I’m going to make an example out of you.” 

Bang! 

You couldn’t help the cry that left your lips, or how you instinctively grabbed your side. He chucked, batting your hands out of the way and pressing his fingers into the oozing hole. 

You cried out at the burn. He pushed harder for another second, smiling vindictively at you, before bringing his fingers up for you to see. 

If you had a clearer head and weren’t breathing like you had just run a marathon you would have commented that his blood was just as red as yours.

You spat in his face. 

If you were going to die, you might as well get your money’s worth. 

He growled, grabbing your arm (so tightly you were sure to have bruises) and hauled you to your feet. 

You wobbled dangerously. The pain in your side got more intense. He laughed, shoving you into the wall and pressing himself against your back. He wrapped an arm around your neck and used the other to keep a handgun under your chin. 

You could feel his heavy breathing in your ear. 

“Let’s go. We have an audience waiting on us.” 

He tugged you off the wall and marched you towards the door.

*****

It looked like a scene from a movie. One of those bad action movies where the hero overcomes soul-crushing odds and outwits the bad guy and a hundred armed minions with only a sword and some well-timed dynamite explosions in the background to walk away from. 

Hell, it could have been a movie set surrounding Alex and Christen. They were surrounded by cameras, and EMTs checking them all for injuries. There were police cars and fire trucks and other emergency vehicles surrounding the stadium, with a helicopter hovering overhead like a buzzard.  

She knew to expect the worst. She left you alone with the gunman. She expected the police to finally make entry through the tunnel, and to have to identify you later after you were transported to the coroner's office. She (and the police it seemed) hadn’t expected the gunman to come out and confront them head-on, using you as a human shield. 

He was much less intimidating now that she was standing behind a row of men in riot gear. 

He was short and thin (scrawny she would venture to say). He looked more like a nerd than a stone-cold killer. The only intimidating part about him was how he held a handgun just under your very pale chin. 

Scratches and cuts littered your face, but your most dominant feature was the large red stain just over your stomach on your white jersey. You leaned heavily against him, so much so that he had a hard time shuffling the two of you to stand before the army of police officers. 

“One move and she dies!” He screamed, nudging your chin with the barrel of his gun. It was alarming how your head just bobbed listlessly like you couldn’t lift it on your own. Christen’s nails bit sharply into Alex’s arm.  

One of the FBI agents (Morgan, Alex thought, agent Morgan) slowly put his gun away and stepped around the vehicle. 

Alex winced when the gunman pressed the barrel harder into your skin, daring the agent to take another step. 

The agent held up his hands in a pacifying motion, the headlights glinting amber off his dark skin. “It doesn’t have to be this way Tyler, it doesn’t have to end like this.” 

“It’s the only way this ends!! How else will they see?” The gunman, Tyler apparently (it felt weird to know his name. It strangely made him more human), spat back. 

“See what?” 

“They’re corrupting society, poisoning a generation,” Tyler yelled, his voice edging on pleading. 

Agent Morgan tilted his head to the side, taking another step forward. How was he so calm? Alex felt like her heart was going beat out of her chest “This isn’t the way to show them,”  Agent Morgan said, his voice almost pleasant, like a mother explaining a set bedtime to her child. Like you always negotiated with Charlie. 

The gunman’s reaction was instant, moving the gun from your chin to the top of your right shoulder and pulling the trigger. 

Alex clenched her eyes shut at your cry of pain. 

“I said not to come closer. One step and I shoot somewhere it’ll really matter. Don’t think I won’t!” Tyler yelled, his voice tilting up at the end like he thought this whole thing was one big joke. 

The agent nodded, “You’re in control here Tyler. You’re in charge. Don’t let them turn you into the bad guy.” 

“Like they won’t already,” the gunman growled, tightening the arm on your neck when you slipped further down his chest. You brought both hands up to tug uselessly at the appendage. 

“If you let her go, they can’t twist it,” Another, much younger agent, said. 

The gunman cackled mechanically “And let her roam free? She has to pay for her sins.” 

He nudged your cheek with the gun again. 

“Are you going to make her pay for everyone else’s too? Is that what you think is fair? She’s just like you. She has a daughter just like you,” Agent Morgan said. 

The air on the field shifted, the glee bleeding from the gunman's face, along with all the color (leaving him pale, but not as pale as you were). 

“You didn’t tell me it was your kid,” he whispered into your ear, barely loud enough for Alex to hear. 

Her and Christen shared a look. This wasn’t going to end well. 

“Don’t leave another child without a parent Tyler,” Agent Morgan said, soft but stern. 

The gunman’s eyes snapped back to the agent, his lips curling. 

Alex felt the pit in her stomach grow, any hope of this ending peacefully slipping away. It was stupid to try and reason with a homicidal psychopath, no matter how well trained the BAU team were. 

“Only if she repents,”

He shook you, laughing loudly at your obvious anguish. Your eyes rolled unseeing around the crowd, and Alex could tell how out of it you were. 

“I..- Ah. I'm sorry,” You wheezed. 

The man giggled, using the gun to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “For?” He asked as if he were coaching a small child through an apology. 

You made a gurgling sound, sucking in shallow breaths when he put pressure on the hole in your chest. 

Your eyes found Alex’s in the crowd, and she knew that you were talking directly to her. She was the only person you had an apology for. 

“I’m s-s-sorry I left,” you said, your voice breaking on the words.

The gunman growled loudly. “Wrong answer.”

Bang

*****

Being dead (half-dead? Stuck in limbo?) was a really weird experience. One second you were standing, facing a hoard of blurry police officers and Swat teams, your side screaming, and a reedy voice making muffled demands in your ear. Then in the next, you were waking up in this very strange place. 

It kind of reminded you of the waiting rooms at doctor’s offices, except there was no counter for the receptionist and it was entirely white. You felt oddly comfortable in the waiting room chair, warm and content to just sit (something very strange considering you normally couldn’t sit still). 

Your eyes traced the walls, covered by photo frames that held no photos and canvases that were the same bright white as the wall. 

You lingered in the large bay windows covered by tightly shut blinds. 

You couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of them. 

They would flutter every once in a while and you could just barely make out murmurs on the other side. 

You weren’t sure how long you stared at them before you finally decided to investigate (time was very hard to keep track of here). 

It only took you 4 steps to cross the room. You stood in front of the windows, a small part of you felt like you weren’t supposed to mess with them, but the larger part couldn’t seem to curb your curiosity. 

You leaned in close to the blinds, trying to understand the voices on the other side. They were frustratingly muffled, but something in you desperately needed to hear what they were saying. 

You pulled back, glaring at the indistinguishable noises. 

They fluttered again, and you very slowly bright your hand up, preparing to thumb them open. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, and your cheeks felt hot as you touched the blinds, but you had no idea why. 

Just as you leaned down to look, the door beside you swung open. You jumped back from the window as though they had burned you, and were met with a laugh you never thought you’d hear again.

“Mom?”

Her smile was blinding as she opened her arms for a hug. You launched yourself at her, burying your face in her neck and taking in her scent. It washed over you and soothed the little piece of your soul she had taken with her when she passed away. 

For the longest time, you slept with one of her shirts, trying to be closer to her, to ease the ache in your chest. It was strange because though that little void was filled, a larger piece seemed to be missing now. It left you longing for something you couldn’t describe in words. 

“Hey baby,” She said softly, her fingers carding through your hair as she wrapped you up tightly in her arms. 

“I missed you, so much.” 

Your voice was muffled by her soft skin and wet from unushered tears. Her fingers scratched your scalp a little bit harder. 

“I know baby,” she said, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head. 

You pulled back suddenly, nearly vibrating with excitement. “We won the World Cup for you,” 

She laughed again. “We were all cheering so loud.”

 You smiled wildly. You and Christen had done it for her, and you could have sworn the woman was the reason both of you scored in the final. 

“We do have to have a conversation about some of your reckless behavior though,” She said soberly. You frowned. It took you a second to realize what she was talking about. To remember racing through hallways and giving yourself up to protect the people you loved. 

“I couldn’t just leave them.” 

She shook her head and smiled indulgently at you. “Your heart's too big for your own good.” 

“Chris and dad always said that I have your heart,” you smirked. 

“And your father’s bravery. A very dangerous combination. Sometimes you should look before you leap baby,”  she said, brushing a strand of hair from your eyes, before cupping your cheek. 

Your face grew warmer and you knew you were blushing up to your ears. “True,” you admitted, looking away from her. But only for a second, and then you looked back at her again, drinking in her image. 

She laughed, rubbing your face lovingly with her thumb. 

The blinds behind her rattled loudly, drawing both of your attention. You untangled yourself from her, and took a step towards it, frowning when you heard the distinct call of your name, but you couldn’t pick out who was calling. 

You again brought your hand up and felt the same pounding in your heart and heat in your cheeks. It intensified as you got closer. You paused. What was behind the blind? 

You turned suddenly towards your mom, who was watching you, an emotion you couldn’t place stretched across her features. 

“Where are we?” 

She smiled sadly at you, holding out a hand for you to take. “Why don’t we take a walk,” 

You nodded and took her outstretched hand, sighing at the way her thumb rubbed your skin. It was so comforting. 

She opened the door opposite of the one she used to enter the room and pulled you out into the bustling hallway. 

****

You froze, recognizing the noise and machines of a hospital hallway. 

You hadn’t been in a hospital since…

 You held your mother’s hand tighter as she gently pulled you along, out into the waiting room. A waiting room that reminded you too much of the last time you were here, all the worry and grief on everyone’s face. Your sister tucked tightly into Tobin’s side, biting the edge of one of her nails, while the other hand tapped on the edge of the chair’s handle. 

You stared at the waiting room packed to the brim with soccer stars. Your eyes lingered for another moment on your sister before they drifted to Alex. Even with red eyes and puffy cheeks, she was absolutely gorgeous. 

She blew out a deep breath, scrubbing her hands down her face and shifting restlessly in her chair. 

“Y/n is strong, she’ll pull through,” Tobin mumbled. 

“Yeah Al, she’s too stubborn to leave you and Charlie here,” Christen nodded, almost like she was trying to convince herself. She couldn’t lose you and her mom in the same year. 

“She flatlined,” Alex’s voice came out soft through her hands. “Again.” 

You took a step towards the woman, squatting down in front of her and trying to grab her hand. “Shh, don’t cry. I'm right here.” 

Her sobs didn’t stop. She didn’t even look up to acknowledge that you were there. 

“They can’t hear you, baby,” Your mom said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“There was just so much blood,” Her shoulders shook with the force of her heart, and her hands scrubbed at each other, almost like she was trying to get something off of them.

You tried to grab her hands again, to stop her nails from digging into the soft skin of her arms. The only response she had was the quaking shiver that seemed to rock through her. 

You dropped your hands, turning to your mother. 

“Am I dead?” You asked, your voice wet with tears. 

Your mother shook her head solemnly. “Not yet.” 

“At least they got that son of a bitch,” Tobin said in a low, gravelly voice, glancing at the TV in the corner running the story. 

You turned to look with her. The TV was showing a high shot of the stadium, showing several detectives surrounding a black bag in the middle of the field. Your eyes were drawn to the large 24 at the bottom of the screen and you gulped. 

The shot shifted to one of you being loaded into an ambulance, Alex running alongside the stretcher. 

“I still don’t understand why he had to go on a murder spree because his girlfriend left him for a woman,” Christen said, drawing your attention away from the screen. 

“It’s called small penis syndrome,” Tobin mumbled, her fist clenching on her knee. It was fucking discussing that he thought going on a rampage was the answer to his problem. “I’m sure he’ll learn all about it in hell.” 

“What do you mean not yet?” Your voice shook a little as you finally stood to face your mother. 

Was this what being dead was like? Was it just watching the people you cared about live their lives without having the ability to tell them that you were there? 

“It’s not your time yet,” Your mom said simply like it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

“Then why am I here?” You huffed, running a hand through your hair and yanking at the roots. 

Gentle hands grabbed your wrists and untangled your fingers from the strands. She rubbed her thumbs on the back of your hands. You blinked up to look her in the eyes. 

“You have to be ready to wake up first,” She said, brushing a tear from just under your eye, and letting her warm touch linger on your cheek. 

You didn’t know what that meant, but then again you had just realized that you weren’t actually standing in the room with your family. Where were you really? 

The door to the side of the room clattered open, and all of your thoughts stalled at the entrance of the new, very tiny, presence in the room. 

Charlie raced through the door (Alex’s mom following very closely behind) and practically launched herself at Alex. 

“Mommy!” Charlie yelled. 

Alex hugged her tightly to her chest, pulling her up into her lap. She took a deep breath against your daughter's hair, seemingly trying to ground herself (Charlie didn’t need to know the seriousness of the situation and Alex needed to be calm to keep her calm). She would be forever grateful that the little one had been taking a nap when it was time to leave for the stadium, forcing her grandmother to stay back at the hotel with her. 

“Hey baby,” she murmured, taking comfort in holding a little piece of you close to her. 

Charlie let the hug go on for a minute, before she pulled back, and looked around. 

“Where Mama?” She asked, her little eyebrow quirking up nearly identical to the way yours did 

“Let’s go see her, yeah?” Alex gave your daughter a smile, trying to hide the pain underneath it. 

Charlie nodded excitedly, as Alex stood with her in her arms, and began to make her way down the twisting halls. You hesitantly trailed after them, afraid of where they might be heading. 

“Ok baby, remember mama’s sleeping ok,” Alex said as she pushed one of the many doors open, and stepped through. 

Your breathing hitched when you saw exactly what was in the room. 

It was you in a hospital bed. There were at least 15 wires connecting you to various machines, and several screens showing what you assumed were your vital signs. There were wires along your cheeks and chin, and thick bandages just visible below the comforter. 

Alex settled into a chair by your side, holding Charlie in her lap and grabbing your hand. Christen took up your other side, Tobin holding her from behind to offer her whatever comfort she could. 

*****

You were frozen, torn between the desire to run to your little family's side and by the paralyzing reality that you were hurt in a hospital bed. A warm hand rubbed the top of your back, squeezing lightly. 

But this time it did little to soothe you. It spurred you on. 

You gulped, and finally took a step inside the room. The hand slipped off your shoulder, and you turned to look at your mother. 

She stood just outside the doorway, smiling sadly at you. “This is as far as I go, baby.” 

“But don’t you want to meet your granddaughter?” You asked, your head tilting to the side. Charlie was your proudest accomplishment and you so badly longed for your mother to know her. 

“How do you know I haven’t already?” She smirked. 

“She said she saw you,” You said thoughtfully, thinking about every time she said that your mom was right next to you. 

“She’s very bright for her age,” Your mom nodded, laughing a little. 

You smiled too. Charlie was too smart for her own good sometimes. She was just at the stage where she was repeating everything you said and asking why constantly. You knew she was going to be a handful when she got older. 

“How did you do it?” 

“There’s no instruction book to raise children, honey. Between you and Alex I think you’re doing pretty alright,” Your mother shrugged, brushing a fallen strand of hair from your eyes. 

“There isn’t a me and Alex anymore I don’t think,” You mumbled, looking away. 

You weren’t proud of how you handled the fight. How you had just left. They didn’t deserve that. 

Gentle fingers under your chin forced you to look your mother in the eyes. “Hmm, you don't face a gunman for someone you don’t care about,” your mother said with a wry smile. 

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

“I think she’s more worried about you forgiving her, but you’ve already done that,” She said with a quirk of her eyebrow. 

You did forgive Alex, but you had just been too stubborn to admit it. Too annoyed by her response to tell her that you weren’t trying to run off to Europe without her. “I should have told her Arsenal wanted to sign her too,” you admitted. 

Your mom smirked again. “Just like she should have told you that Mark was looking into getting you to Orlando.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, groaning out a “We’re idiots,” and facepalming. 

“No, just young and stubborn,” she laughed, her thumb rubbing your cheek. ”I have faith the two of you will figure it out.” 

The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, listening to the beeping of the machines connected to you and how Alex was trying to explain to Charlie that you were sleeping. You so desperately wanted to go over to the two of them. To reassure them in some way (you weren’t quite sure how this whole thing worked). 

Sensing your growing restlessness, your mother patted your shoulder gently again and gave you a little nudge forward. “Go honey.” 

“I don’t want to leave you,” you whispered, eyes tracing the lines of her face. 

Your mother shook her head. “That little girl needs you more than I do sweetie.”

“I love you,” You said, pulling her into a final hug, trying to ingrain exactly how it felt into your memory. 

She held you tightly, before pulling away and nudging you towards the room again. “I love you too, now go. I’ll be watching.”

“Promise?” 

She kissed your forehead. “Always,” 

You nodded and turned back towards your little family. You could do this. 

One step, two steps. You paused. 

“Wait, is this real, or is it just all happening inside my head?” 

Your mom laughed, catching the reference to the series the two of you had read together so many years ago. “Well of course it’s in your head, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” Then she winked at you and you closed your eyes. 

****

Your mouth felt like cotton. Like that moment at the dentist when they need your mouth to stay dry and they stuff cotton balls between your gums and cheeks. You felt the top of your mouth with your tongue. You weren’t sure water had ever sounded so delicious. 

You thought about trying to sit up to get some but then realized something felt different. There was a strange weight on your nose and arm. 

Ow! You had tensed your arm muscles, intending to lift it up, but your arm hurt. Actually, now that you were thinking about it, everything hurt. Your arms and legs were sore like they usually were after a particularly grueling game, but there was also a different, dull pain radiating out from your shoulder and mid-abdomen. It was there, but also not there, like an annoying horsefly buzzing around your head. Easy to ignore for the moment, but you had a feeling you would really notice the sting later. 

There was a sharp poke to your cheek by what felt like a tiny finger, and a little whine “Mama, wake up! It’s daytime.” 

There was another hard nudge to your cheek, just before a larger hand very carefully removed the appendage. 

It reminded you of all the mornings Alex had used your daughter to force you out of bed. How she would set the little one on your chest and give her free reign to get you to open your eyes. 

Those mornings always ended with giggles and tickle attacks. 

But you just felt so heavy, like your eyelids were covered by weights. 

“Remember baby, gentle hands. Mama’s got lots of boo boos,” Alex whispered, her voice slightly muffled by what you assumed was Charlie’s ear. 

“Careful wit mama,” Charlie murmured and you could picture her nodding with a pout. 

The fingers were back, this time much more gentle than before, rubbing little circles in your cheeks. 

“That’s right,” Alex said softly, a larger finger running a gentle finger down your nose. Charlie’s tiny finger followed, pausing for a second too long at the tip. 

Your nose wiggled involuntarily, earning a loud giggle from Charlie. 

It was your favorite sound on the planet (though Alex’s was a very close second). 

“Mama, we know you wake,” She laughed, poking your cheek. 

“What are you talking about baby?” 

“Look!” 

A little finger gently ran down your nose and again paused at the tip. You couldn’t help the way your nose scrunched. 

Two gasps sounded, one on either side of you (you assumed one was Alex and the other was your sister). 

The air around you suddenly felt crowded, and the light behind your eyelids dimmed, as though someone was standing over you. A hand slipped into yours and a palm was pressed into your cheek.  

“Y/n, honey, can you hear me?” Alex asked. 

The pause that followed was deafening while they waited for you to respond, to give them some tiny sign that you were present. You channeled all your strength and energy to gently close your fingers around the warm hand, ignoring the twinge you felt in your wrist as you did so. 

“Oh my gosh, she squeezed my hand,” Alex let out a wet laugh. The hand on your cheek ran down your shoulder to grab your other hand. 

“Hey y/n, can you do that again for us?” Christen’s voice was soft but stern. The same tone she used when you weren’t cooperating when you were little. 

The one she always used to coax you into brushing your teeth or coming off the pitch when you were fixating after a bad game. 

Wiggling your fingers the second time was so much easier than the first, like a little bit of the weight holding you down was shed with every successful movement. 

You felt lips touch your forehead. “Good job kid,” Christen breathed into your skin.

“Eyes open Mama. It’s time to wake up!” Charlie cheered. She bounced wildly on the bed beside you, for a second. 

“Whoa kiddo, remember we need to be careful with mama?” Tobin said, and suddenly Charlie’s weight was gone from the bed. 

You frowned. You didn’t want them to take her away. You needed to tell them to let her stay. 

You scrunched your face and forced your very heavy eyes open. 

You squinted at the bright light, groaning softly. Alex’s face was suddenly in your view, blue eyes glassy with unushered tears, her hands very carefully holding your cheeks. 

“Hey, baby,” She said softly, her tears dripping from her face into your cheeks. You leaned into her touch, enjoying the warm butterflies it sent to your stomach. 

But something was missing. Charlie. 

You frowned again, attempting to push yourself up, your eyes darting around the room trying to get a glimpse of your daughter. 

“Try not to move,” Christen scolded, one hand on your uninjured shoulder to keep you in place. 

“Shh, relax baby. We’re not going anywhere,” Alex added, noticing just how frantic you seemed. 

“I’ll get the doctor,” Tobin mumbled from behind Christen, taking a step towards the door. 

All you could register was that she was carrying your daughter out of the room, away from you. 

“No!” The horse cry left your lips, and the room froze. 

Christen and Alex shared a look you couldn’t read. They both turned to the midfielder paused in the doorway, holding the squirming toddler. 

“Tobin,” Alex said, holding her arms out for her daughter. Tobin complied, passing her Charlie. 

The forward resumed her place on the edge of the bed, as Christen reminded the three-year-old to be gentle with you. Charlie nodded seriously at her and then turned to you. 

“Mama,” She smiled widely (a smile you tried to return despite a slight grimace- your pain meds were starting to wear off). You pursed your lips for a kiss. 

Charlie giggled and gave you a peck on the cheek. (Very carefully as Alex helped her so she didn’t end up pressing on your chest). 

“Mommy get kiss too?” She asked, looking sideways a Alex. 

You sent the toddler a cheeky smile (or as close to one as you could muster), tilting your chin up at the woman in question. 

Alex rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and leaned down, placing a very quick and gentle kiss on your lips. 

It was like the world tilted on its axis, and reality shifted. A little piece of yourself that had been missing finally clicked back into place. 

It was cheesy and romantic, but you didn’t care. They were your tether to the world. The thing keeping you grounded and the thing that brought you back. 

They were your gravity. 

[marshmallowprotection]

That anon talking about Saeran’s parallels with the Phantom and such has me wondering if you’ve ever written a little drabble for Ray in his Halloween costume 👀👀👀👁👁👁👀👁👁👀👁👁👀👁👁👀👁 because Ray…that’s the number one musical as an ex theater kid that makes me froth at the mouth how could you do this to me

“He was illuminated only by the moonlight at the end of the hallway. Normally, a sight like that would make somebody uncomfortable in a lonely building like this one in the middle of the mountains. However, you weren’t just anybody and Ray wasn’t just a stranger waiting in the shadows to whisk you away. He was a man you adored and you knew for sure that he adore you in return. 

After all, he made you a costume to match his for the evening party that his Savior had planned to celebrate with the rest of Mint Eye. It was brilliant white and reminded you of a vision of true innocence. It made you feel lovely and all you wanted was to discover what Ray imagined himself to be on a night meant to be someone you weren’t. 

Would he play a vampire? A ghoul? A monster? 

Much to your surprise, he stepped out of the shadows with a beckoning hand already waiting for you. “I was hoping you would arrive soon... I wondered if there could be a chance that you heard my heart beating all the way from your room.” 

The suit that he wore was not like the one that he normally would. There was no sign of magenta on his person where his tailored coat would swallow him up like there was no tomorrow. It was sleek and black. It was also the first time that you had seen him wear clothes that actually fit him. It was all too often that you would see him wear something that was two sizes too big. He was small but for some reason, tonight, he appeared well-kept. 

Out of the darkness and into the light, you could see that he was wearing a mask. It was a mask that reminded you of something that you had seen before but you couldn't place your finger on. His costume was a theme that went with something that was popular but what was it again? It had to match with yours, after all. He wasn’t a ghoul, a monster, a devil, or an angel. He was Ray, and a man that seemed ready to play a trick. 

It was on the tip of your tongue.

It was something that made your heart feel like it was rushing against your chest. It almost made you feel excited. No, you were definitely excited. There was something mysterious about being able to meet with Ray in the dead of night where nobody could find you or think twice about pulling you apart. It felt like you were meeting in a place that only belonged to the two of you.

You took his hand, and he smiled. “My Christine,” he bowed his head. There was mirth in his eyes but the intensity did not miss you. “I’ve not heard your voice yet tonight, my angel, but I already know you were meant to play this role. Just as I was meant to play the Phantom, enraptured by your beauty and the light of your glow on stage.” 

A phantom, he admitted. 

Oh, it hit you what he wanted to play on this Halloween like clockwork. He was determined to make you feel like you were a gift on stage. You let out a little laugh and looked away from his enchanting expression. He didn’t do much to stop you. He let you set the scene and the pace, which isn’t out of line for him. You weren’t sure you fit the role he gave you, but you saw how elated this made him. 

“Phantom,” you returned, voice quiet, eyes returning to take a look at him and the way the moonlight caressed his cheek. “I was searching for you... you don’t make it easy to find you. But, I’ve found you. You won’t leave so soon to where you hide, will you?” 

A hand was lifted and brushed against your cheek, moving the hair out of your eyes so that you could see him. “Tonight, I wish that we never part... a stage meant for the two of us awaits. Will you shine even brighter knowing that I’m by your side? Will you smile and see all that I’ve made for you and me? Will you let me into your heart where I know I’m... destined to be?” 

Your heart fluttered. Ray was being more confident than usual. What were you supposed to think? You were intrigued by him... determined to be as close to him as the universe would allow... chasing him down hallways and tunnels to know a single truth about him. You had a chance to be as close as you wanted, and you were going to take it. 

“I will.” 

[spookysecretfriendday]

for @groovy-bear by Emery

“This is stupid.”

“No no no, trust me, it’ll be PERFECT!”

Glanni let out a frustrated sigh, the pokes from his needle still showing through his skin. He placed down a couple more sequins, trying (and subsequently failing) to patch them down in their proper places. “I was the one who taught you how to sew, you have no right to be better at it than me..!” Robbie twiddled his fingers, secretly holding the sequins in place so his cousin could sew them in. “Batman is not nearly as glitzy as you think he is, though…you sure he’ll like it?” “Shut up it’s perf.” “Fair, fair….I suppose it’s all about the personal touches, anyway. It’s going to look cool no matter what.” Triumphant, he held up the batsuit, modified a bit to match Ithro’s physique. It glistened in the light, a few extra fabric details added, and some sparkly bits for show because he just Had to. Still, even with the pride of his handiwork filling him, a soft little doubt crawled over his chest. “What if he already has plans and I’m doing this for no reason?” “He is so ridiculously public about EVERYTHING he does. I doubt he has anything going on.” Robbie held up the glossy plastic mask to his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He took the cape up in his arm to give it a big swoop. It was a little simple- after all, the Phantom didn’t have very many details in his outfit- so he added a few extra touches of red-and-gold trim in intricate embroidered patterns. His classic signature of “R.R.” was hidden among the swirls. “Do I look fit for an OPERA?” he said dramatically, a dark and suave tone to his voice. Glanni nodded excitedly. “MAN, this is gonna be so cool.”

— “B-b-b!!!! But it’s so silly��!” Totally indifferent to his brother’s stresses, Ithro shrugged. “Nah, you can wear a dress if you want. I personally wouldn’t, but I think it’d look good on you. Plus, people crossdress on Halloween all the time.” “Mm, I suppose so,,,,” “Isn’t that more blue than Christine normally has, though? Not like I watch it often.” Sportacus smiled with something that would have been indignance if he weren’t so sweet. “I like blue! Besides, the stripes and swoops make it look nicer.” He twirled a bit, just for the fun. It was quite a bit shorter than the dress normally would be, falling to about knee-length, so he could still adequately move in his… flamboyant fashion. “Shit, I don’t have any lipstick. Do you think he’ll have some?” Sportacus looked at him and held back from guffawing. “This is GLANNI GLAEPUR we’re talking about, and you’re worried about him having LIPSTICK?” A nervous laugh escaped him, accompanied by blush. He gathered everything together, laying it out. The electric green wig, the royal purple suit, and the wacky eccentricity of the green-and-orange to match it. It was a little haphazard, some parts having been put together by his meaty and unrefined hands, but he made it work. “Are you planning anything for yourself, brother?” Sportacus asked curiously. “Nah, I’m probably just gonna go as the same thing I did last year, honestly.” The blue elf smoothed out his skirt, fluffing up his hair as much as he could to bring out the curls and putting a small silver barrette in it. “Too much?” piped up his sheepish voice. Ithro shook his head. “Don’t worry, you look great.” “Then come on, let’s go give your gift to him!” “All dressed up like this, though? Is it too early to reveal the costumes though?” Sportacus had already done a double-backflip out the door, so he had no choice but to follow with his plain wrapped box.

— It was a short trek down the hall to Glanni’s apartment. They couldn’t hear the voices on the inside of the door. “Come on, let’s go give it to them!” Robbie said excitedly, bouncing on his heels with devilish glee. He LOVED surprises, even if they weren’t for him. All Glanni had was a purple and yellow box, which he tried to make more rugged and “manly” with a burlap ribbon- he hoped more than anything that Ithro would appreciate it. Just at that moment, that hand nervously gripped the doorknob- he was so close, this should be so EASY, goddammit- and with a LURCH he was sent tumbling in when Robbie threw open the door from the inside. “GAAack-“ he yelped on his way in, narrowly missing Glanni and crashing to the floor. “Holy shit Ithro??! I!! Didn’t know you were there!” Robbie helped pull him off the ground, but Glanni clutched the box tighter to him, flushing a bit- god, he wasn’t expecting the confrontation so soon. Sportacus piped up from behind them. “WAIT?! Robbie, you’re- we match??” He looked up, confused, to see a wide-eyed blond Christine that was more gorgeous to him than any lady. His mouth fell open. “Oh wow, you guys both did Phantom of the Opera? That’s incredible!” Glanni chuckled. “Was that coordinated at all…?” (to which they both shook their heads brightly.) It was then that Ithro noticed the box. “Oh, who’s that for? Me?” he joked. Taken aback, Glanni didn’t answer at first, and then just. Thrust it towards him! But gently. “Yea. Just…here.” “Ironically…” Ithro trailed off, switching off the packages, both of them blushing quite a bit. “Holy shit you-“ “-The Batman…” “THAT’S.” They both burst out laughing, holding the matching costumes they had made for each other- Joker and The Batman. A glance at each other, a little nervous, a little silly, a little incredulous at it all. Robbie and Sportacus looked on too, giggling with it all.

Unintentional, but wonderful- a matching double date.

It was going to be an awesome Halloween spent together.

[backjustforberena]

a series of question for your entertainment - if for some reason halloween was something that berena engaged in; maybe for their grandniece, what would they wear? would bernie wear a shockingly impressive replica of a well known suit of armour she and jason had been working on for months? or would it be scrubs? would SERENA be in the armour? would it be a christine and phantom from phantom of the opera couple-type situation, or would they have seperate costumes? are they bullied into it or interested on their own? what’s the wildest thing they could be convinced to wear

halloween has never really been a Thing where i am so idk what’s up about it and what’s normal. are there fireworks? does bernie hate them or are they fine?

See, I'm British. And what did I do for Halloween this year? Diddly squat. Absolutely nothing. And I do nothing most years. I didn't get any trick-or-treaters at my door, no invites to parties, no interest in costumes or sweets. So, it's really been a holiday that's passed me by. However I am aware little kids like it. You'll just have to forgive me for my limited ability to headcanon because I have literally no reference points for how adults celebrate this.

Given Serena likes Christmas, I can imagine she'd be far more willing to indulge. But it's all pretty low-key and pretty bog-standard, I'm afraid. They're still very, very busy people with demanding jobs so all focus, if they do celebrate, would be on the kids. Bernie's too self-conscious for a huge costume. She's far more likely to put on cat ears and be done with it. If she were to wear a proper costume, Serena would have to organise. That and a lot of the Halloween stuff has to do with death which is a bit... tasteless?

Serena attempts to go full domestic goddess so if there's a party, it'll be finger foods galore and she'd try making cobwebs out of marshmallows to put on chocolate buns. I can see her going for a fortune teller costume actually, if not a classic witch.

Either way, both of them will end the day happily merry on their alcoholic tipple of choice, and grumbling about being too old to fall asleep on the sofa.

[witchoflegends]

Going back and rewatching Strange’s episode of What If... just so that I can talk about palmerstrange. So below is all my thoughts and feelings about everything palmerstrange related in the episode. So spoilers under the cut. It did get long, so fair warning. Since I touch on practically every palmerstrange moment in the episode.

I love that all Stephen had to do to get Christine to come to his speaking engagement was to promise her crème brulee. Then he’s got that sly comment about how he thinks they can do better than that. I love it.

The way Christine wants to hear Stephen’s speech before anyone else does. How she wants him to just go at it in a way that she knows he normally would. Just for the fun of it. And the way he actually considers it. Even telling her in one of the loops that he will go full out and run up to the podium like a reality tv show contestant. Even if he doesn’t know what that exactly entails. He’ll do anything for Christine. As long as it makes her happy, and as long as she is by his side.

Oh, then there’s Christine saying he’s done something remarkable, and Stephen’s immediate response is, “I would say the same about you.” That just makes me squeal. Cause he sees her as remarkable, and anytime she compliments him, he’s turning it back on her. She’s all he can think about when she’s around.

Also, all the times we saw Stephen compliment Christine in that dress of hers? How he pushed aside her own compliment of him to tell her how stunning she looked. Even though he was wearing an Armani suit. All he cared about was how pretty she looked. How the next time he sees her after he starts trying to get her back, his heart flutters. Then says he might have had a mild cardiac event upon seeing her. So cute. Ugh, and then he tells her that he’ll give her the world.

As well as how in the first car drive, Stephen says “We’re okay. You’re okay” after the oncoming car scare. And he puts his hand on her shoulder to comfort her in that moment. He was so concerned about her. His main concern was her. It’s always been her, and I cry. Which is what makes it even more heartbreaking the next moment when they actually do crash.

“In this universe, Stephen Strange didn’t loose his hands, but his heart.” The fact that Christine is seen as his heart just kills me. Also, Stephen’s face and posture at her funeral. He is absolutely broken and you can’t tell me otherwise.

Okay, but can we talk about the scene where Christine is wearing Stephen’s shirt. Her laugh and saying that the shirt of his that she’s wearing is now her favorite. How happy and playful Stephen sounds when he reaches out to her and says he’s going to have to take it back. Only for her to respond equally as playful. Yes please. I love that soft little moment. They’re so cute together.

THE HAND HOLDING DURING THE SECOND CAR RIDE!

“You’re being delightful. I must owe a muffin basket for this personality shift.” “Maybe you make me happy.” Ugh. Of course she makes you happy, Stephen. How could she not?

All the different options that Stephen when through to save her. Even so far as to try and separate himself from her and stand her up. Only for her to die when he wasn’t there. Then there’s the death where she dies in the middle of them dancing. Absolutely heartbreaking. All of it.

Also, there’s the fact that when Stephen tried to convince Christine that they should stay in, she was focused on him. He was supposed to be getting an award, and she wanted to make sure he was recognized for it. That he was happy, and getting what he deserved. She cares about him just as much as he cares about her.

How happy he gets just being around her, and the little smile he gets on his face anytime she’s even remotely happy. Then there’s how broken and tired he looks at the bar after he stood her up. I have so many emotions about this episode.

“Aren’t we allowed to be happy?” Apparently not, Stephen. Apparently not.

Stephen’s almost defeated, “I only want you. You’re the only thing that matters,” when Christine is asking if he’s okay, and if he wanted to talk. As well as the way he remembers her right before he cries out to the heavens in agony.

Stephen Strange is so stubborn. Especially when he can’t get what he wants, and all he wants is Christine. So he’ll do anything to get her back, and I think that’s the most heartbreaking thing of all. As well as the fact that the “normal” him saw that he couldn’t/wasn’t able to save Christine and how devastating it must have been to come to that realization.

“Is she worth the pain?” “Every moment of it.” Ugh. I can’t. If only you would listen to the people giving you warnings after warnings, Strange. But you were already too far gone the moment you decided to try and bring Christine back. Such devotion.

It must have broken “normal” Stephen’s heart not to try and save Christine, but to try to keep her dead. Cause he immediately knew the moment that the Ancient One was talking about when she was explaining what evil Strange was planning to do. He had thought about it just as much as evil Strange. Yet he was never able to go through with putting the timeline in danger. So he allowed himself to be broken hearted for the sake of his reality. Also, how the Ancient one had to remind normal Stephen that he couldn’t save Christine. Cause I feel like he regularly needs reminders.

“But do you want to stop him? Weren’t you in love with this Christine?” “I think I have to.” Like I said, him choosing the fate of his reality over his own heartbreak and pain. That is the Stephen that Christine loved. The one that cares about people and is able to put their needs above his own selfish wants.

Then there’s the whole fight between the Stephens and evil Stephen trying to convince normal Stephen to save Christine. Two versions of the same man that loved the same woman. One driven practically to madness trying to bring her back, and the other trying to move on and stop him. Christine would have wanted Stephen to move on.

“They wouldn’t understand. They never knew her. We knew her. We loved her.” As he was the only one that ever loved her. Meanwhile, he things normal Stephen is lying to him when he says the world is breaking. Just because he refuses to see the truth, and the truth would cause him and his emotions to come crashing down.

Evil Stephen basically calling normal Stephen a coward because he hadn’t tried going back. Hadn’t spent centuries sacrificing everything for Christine. Ugh. I love the devotion of a villain. 

My heart breaks at normal Stephen’s “and now can you save her?” cause I can tell a part of him was hopeful that he could. Hopeful that maybe they could have everything they wanted, but then he realized that wasn’t the case when evil Stephen grabbed him.

Honestly, normal Stephen is the Stephen that Christine would love. In my opinion anyway. Evil Stephen saying yet again that the Ancient One doesn’t understand and they love her. Then normal Stephen saying that what he’s doing isn’t love. It’s something that I think Christine would absolutely say. Choosing the greater good over any one person. Over herself.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on the illusion that evil Strange makes normal Strange see. Christine wearing his shirt. Her telling him she loves him, and his smile as her hand covers his cheek and his hand covers hers. How they can be together again, and he honestly looks so content and relaxed in that moment. God how he missed her. I was so hoping to hear him say that he loved her back before he started coming to his senses.

Then there’s evil Stephen succeeding. Getting Christine back, but she’s terrified of the monster he is, and what’s happening around them. The world crumbling and falling apart until it’s only Stephen and Christine left. Him desperately trying to stop the world falling apart. Only for her to die in his arms anyway. Leaving him trapped in his own prison. It’s so heartbreaking, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover.

That’s it. That’s my palmerstrange rant brought to you by What If...

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

Potober Day 11

Hi, everyone! Here’s the oneshot for Day 11 of coatntail’s Potober prompts: “lake under the opera house” - Drowning/the underground lake/the Siren

Leave the Past Behind

Meg stood on the pier, looking out over the harbor. The water lapped at the shore quietly, and in the distance, she could barely make out the silhouette of buildings across the harbor. She felt as if someone were watching her. “Erik,” she said, “I know you’re there.”

He stepped out from behind some boxes. “People like to drown themselves at this pier. Why are you here, Meg?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same?”

He stood beside her, looking down at the boards of the pier. Meg sighed. “I like to swim here at night. Maybe it’s tempting fate.”

Erik was quiet for a few more moments. “She didn’t come.”

Meg looked over at him, wondering what he was referring to at first. Then, she remembered all the newspapers she and Mama had burned announcing Christine’s upcoming arrival in New York City. She had been so excited to see her old friend. He must have found out anyways. He continued, “There was a death in the de Chagny family, and it gave her and that boy enough money that she cancelled all her performances.”

He let out a bitter chuckle. Meg hesitated for a moment before resting her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I should’ve known I’m never this lucky.” He seemed to suddenly become aware of her hand on his forearm and flinched away.

Meg shed the coat she was wearing to hide her bathing suit. “Do you know how to swim?”

Erik looked at her, his visible eyebrow raised. “Yes.”

“Would you join me, then?”

Erik paused for a second before shedding his own coat. Meg dipped into the water as he stripped to his shirtsleeves. The ocean water was cold, sending a shock through her body. She relished in the feeling—she felt free, clean, pure.

Then, Erik joined her in the water. In the moonlight, she saw how the water plastered his shirt against his chest. She saw the outlines of scars crossing his chest, could almost count his ribs. Meg averted her eyes.

Then, she heard a clatter on the docks. “I’m sorry,” Erik said. “I can’t—in the water, the mask—”

Meg realized he must have taken his mask off and looked back at him in surprise. She had only seen his face a couple of times before, never under good circumstances. There had been the time her mother had dragged him to their house, half-frozen and exhausted, and the time she had visited the freak show he had hired himself out when they first immigrated. That time, she had thrown up.

In the moonlight, though, it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe this is why he always preferred the night.

Meg bit her lip and dove under the water to get her hair wet. When she came back up, he had one arm wrapped around one of the pier’s posts. She felt the butterflies in her stomach—she had tried to repress what she felt for him so long. It was hopeless that he’d ever reciprocate any feelings she had, so it was easier to pretend they didn’t exist.

She didn’t know what came over her in that moment. Meg swam over to him and pressed her lips against his. It felt odd, at first. His lips were uneven, one side swollen, and he didn’t react.

But then, she felt his arms wrap around her and lift her out of the water. She wrapped her legs against his chest, trying to find her balance. His lips opened slightly as he started returning the kiss.

Meg finally pulled away, slightly panting. She could hear his breath coming quicker than normal, as well. She brushed her thumb across his twisted cheek and met his eyes. Then, Erik pressed his lips against hers again. Meg’s head spun. He tasted vaguely of red wine. He broke away from her and cradled her in his arms.

For the first time in ten years, Meg wasn’t looking back at what she had thought were her better days, those days as a ballerina in the Palais Garnier. Their past no longer seemed to loom over them, shadowing their lives with the bitterness of what could have been.

No, for the first time, Meg could imagine she had a future.

[kirah69]

Come over [Petopher]

Day 1: "Can you come over?"

For the @petopher-events

Tags: trans character, teenager Peter, teenager Chris, rimming, oral sex, crossdressing.

[It's not betaed so if you find any mistake, let me know]

[AO3 link]

Come Over

Peter's phone rang with Chris' ringtone. It was weird because a) it was a call, not a text, and b) it was Thursday night. They usually hung out on weekends and kept their interactions to texts the rest of the time. They had to be careful after all, coming from a werewolves pack and a hunters family respectively. So Peter was immediately on alert.

“Yes?” he answered in a neutral voice.

“Can you come over?” Chris asked as a greeting.

“What happened?” Peter asked worriedly.

“No-nothing, it's... it's... Can you come over or not?” he sounded nervous, his heartbeat was a little faster than usual, but Peter couldn't hear anything else amiss.

“Won't there be scary parents waiting to shoot me?” If Chris needs him, Peter would find a way around them to get to him no matter what.

“They went with Katy to a party or something. There's no one. Peter, please,” he begged with a desperate tone. How could Peter say no?

“I'll be there in fifteen.”

It usually took twenty or twenty-five minutes to get to the Argent's house from the Hale House. But Peter was known to have little respect for speed limits (for authority in general), and since he was the mayor's son, he always got rid of the speed tickets.

Peter got into his car and drove to the Argent's house. He parked a couple of streets away and walked the rest of the way. He made sure there was only one heartbeat in the house and rounded the house to Chris' window. It wasn't usual for them to meet there, but it wasn't the first time either. The window was open, the light was on, so he just climbed to it and got a leg inside before he saw what was inside. There was Chris, dressed in a dark blue dress. Peter tripped and face-planted on the ground. Much for werewolves reflexes.

“Wow. If I knew this was what took me to have you at my feet,” Chris said with a nervous chuckle and a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, darling, you know I'm always at your feet. On my knees or however you want me.” He got up, trying to ignore that he had just made a fool of himself.

He looked closely. Chris was barefoot, the dress covered him to mid-thigh and it was loose on the hips but tight on the waist. It didn't have sleeves, and the neckline wasn't too low but enough to show some of his light chest hair. Peter adjusted himself in his jeans, they were too tight all of a sudden.

“I need your help,” Chris said, turning around. “With this.”

He was signaling to the zipper of the dress, but Peter could only look at the way the skirt covered his ass making it stand out.

“Peter!” Chris exclaimed when the 'wolf just stared.

“Yes, of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “And how, pray tell, did you get stuck in a dress? One that isn't your size at that.”

“It was... It's Katy's... I was just curious... just fooling around...” His heart seemed about to explode.

“Shh, darling, it's okay. I'm not judging, it really suits you.” Peter slid a hand up his hip, raising the dress slightly.

“Peter!” Chris exclaimed a little hysterically.

“Yes, yes, sorry.”

Peter tried the zipper. And tried again.

“It's stuck.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Chris was starting to get a little anxious, and it was hard to breathe with the dress so tight around his middle.

“Want me to rip it?” Peter suggested, pulling out a claw.

“No! No. My sister just brought it, she'll notice,” he said, getting away from Peter.

“Fine, we can try other ways.” Not that he cared a shit about Kate's clothes. “Maybe pulling it up...”

Peter took the edge of the skirt and pulled it up.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, letting go of it.

The blush on Chris face had been growing steadily and now it reached his ears. He wasn't wearing anything under the dress. Nothing at all.

“The- the- the boxers would have...” He was trying to cover his face with a hand while he stretched the dress with the other.

Peter fell on his knees, and Chris became silent.

“Tell me it's okay,” Peter begged.

Chris nodded.

Peter pulled his dress up and buried his face in his groin, inhaling deeply. Chris' cock reacted instantly, more so when Peter opened his mouth and just took him half the way in like a pro (he could be with all the times he had given head to Chris). Peter let go of the dress, and the skirt fell over his head. Chris could see his head bowing back and forth under the fabric and that was damn hot. (The skilled tongue and the warmth inside too, but that sight gave it a little something.) Peter's hands slid up the back of his thighs until they grabbed his asscheeks, fondling them like he loved to do.

Then, Peter let his now hard as a rock cock go and reappeared from under the dress. Chris let out a needy whine, grabbing his shoulders to make him come back.

“I love that ass in this dress. Let me eat you out,” Peter asked, a thread of saliva going down his chin.

“Fuck, yes!”

He almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to kneel on the bed. Peter had a wolfish smile on his face. He knew there was nothing Chris loved more, and the sentiment was mutual. The dress covered his ass, and the 'wolf pulled it up slowly until if fell around his waist. Peter salivated. He grabbed Chris asscheeks and parted them. He swiped his tongue over the closed hole, and it twitched at the same time Chris moaned. Peter used his skilled tongue for like felt like hours. The tips of his claws threatening to break his skin (he knew Peter had perfect control, but Peter knew he liked that side of his so he let it out once in a while), a growl deep in his throat, until Chris was a fucking mess, moaning and groaning and clenching the sheets and dripping over them and over the dress. But he just didn't care because he had Peter's tongue inside his hole. And then he just cum without even touching himself and fell over the bed with his body completely lax. He felt Peter cumming over his ass, and he didn't care. He knew how much the 'wolf liked to mark him and he couldn't do it with hickeys like normal teenagers.

Peter laid beside him with an arm around his back and nuzzling his neck.

“I think the dress is ruined.”

Chris groaned. Peter yanked the zipper, breaking it, and Chris was finally free.

“They won't be long,” Chris said, getting up. He let the dress fall to the floor.

“Would you explain me what was this about first?” Peter asked, getting up the bed and arranging his clothes.

Chris started fidgetting, which wasn't usual for him.

“I just... I was just curious. I liked the dress and wanted to try it,” he answered, a good enough lie for anyone else but not for Peter. He wouldn't press, though, if Chris wasn't ready to tell him.

“Ok. If you need help to take off another dress...” Peter teased with a wink.

He turned and headed for the window, but Chris clung to his shirt like a little kid. Peter waited quietly for him.

“What if it's not only curiosity. Or dresses,” he said at last. “What if they're skirts and heels and make up...”

He was about to cry, and Peter couldn't allow it. He hugged his naked love and buried his face in his neck.

“Christopher or Christine, with jeans or dresses, hunter or werewolf, I love you no matter what and nothing will change that.”

Chris sobbed and hugged him with all his might. They didn't have much time until the other Argents came back, but they would make the most of every second.