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jeonsduck · 5 years ago

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Smoke and Mirrors pt 5

a/n: Y/N meets the guys

warnings: uhhh, fever symptoms, things get a lil steamy at the end

After the day you’d had, you fell asleep long before your usual bedtime, and well into the next morning. It was Sunday, so it’s not like anything mattered. Noodles was tucked under your arm and San had his arm thrown over your waist. You didn’t remember going to bed, but you probably passed out from emotional distress sometime last night between crying and kissing the man in your bed. You zoned out tracing the stylistic tattoo wrapped over San’s shoulder. It looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite place why. It was blurry in your eyesight and San shifted, humming in your ear.

“Y/N? Are you awake?”

You hummed an affirmative noise, which bothered Noodles, him meowing and hopping off the bed.

“How are you feeling today? You wanna tell me about what happened?” San asked, propping his head up on his palm.

He looked down at your, shadowy and muted in the cloudy light coming in from your window. His hand cupped around your waist, his thumb rubbing small slow circles into your skin.

“Jacob is dead.” you said plainly.

San’s eyebrows knit, leaning closer.

“The guy you went to dinner with earlier?” San asked for clarification.

“Yeah, we weren’t super close or anything, but we were friends at work, ya know? Kinda the only person in the whole office that wasn’t a total dick to me.” you explained, watching the ceiling fan go in circles.

“Your friend? You weren’t dating?” he asked.

You chuckled shaking your head.

“Nah, just friends. I think Jacob might have a had abit of a crush on me, but there wasn’t anything going on.” you confirmed.

San swallowed audibly, and sat up abruptly. He ran his hands through his hair like he was stressed out. You furrowed your eyebrows and sat up with him. It was your friend that died, so why was he so torn up. Suddenly, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up completely in a hug.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry…” he started, and you patted him on the back awkwardly.

“It's not your fault San. But thank you anyway. Thank you for taking care of me yesterday too.” you said, pulling back.

San smiled awkwardly, it not quite reaching his eyes.

“Of course, anything for you.” he says.

“Is it weird to ask you to leave? I want to be alone for a little while.” you asked and San nodded vigorously.

“Whatever you need. Call me if you need anything, I’ll always answer.” San said, and pecked you on the forehead before slipping out of bed.

You heard him say goodbye to Noodles and the front door shut and lock before you flopped back down on your bed. You spent a few more hours vegging out in bed before you finally dragged yourself out of bed. You cleaned the apartment in a daze and then put on some mindless TV with Noodles on your lap.

You took a shower and went to bed on time. You thought about taking time off from work, but who knows when Jacob’s funeral was going to be and it would dredge up the same emotions all over again. So you packed up all your sadness and angst and packed it away to deal with when the day came.

The next day you got dressed, fed Noodles, and San drove you to work. The bodyguards weren’t in the car, and you didn’t comment on it. The air in the car was stale and neither of you made the effort to make conversation. You had a bit of a sore throat and your back hurt. You were dozing off in the passenger seat and didn't even realize until San was shaking you awake at the office.

“Y/N, maybe you should take the day off…” he tried but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine.” you brushed him off climbing out of the car.

For most of the day you were fine. You weren’t particularly sad or anything, just tired. You could look at some numbers, you didn’t need to waste your vacation time on this. Or so you thought.

The numbers on the ledgers kept swimming in front of your face and nothing was making sense. You tried to take your notes to the best of your ability, but nothing was making sense. You laid your head down against the table, closing your eyes and breathing hard. Colors flashed behind your eyelids and you felt light-headed. What the hell was going on?

You decided to take a quick breather with your head lying against the cool material of the desk, but it warmed up quickly, and somehow you got the idea in your head to lie on floor. When you stood up, you automatically became faint, your knees buckling and bringing you to the floor. You yelped and knocked down a few binders on the way down.

The noise of the heavy binders hitting the floor alerted Keran, and she came to check on you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” she asked, helped you back into your chair. You caught sight of her tattoo again.

“You and San have similar tattoos.” you mumbled.

“Here, put your head between your knees, I’ll get San. And a glass of water.” she said, making sure you were stable before leaving.

San came rushing into the room a moment later, kneeling in front of you and taking your face in his hands. He brushed your hair from your face, trying to catch your eyes.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

You hummed an affirmative, nodding your head almost made you tip over.

“Here, boss.” Keran returned, handing San a paper cup of water for you. He held the drink up to your lips and you drank it quickly.

“Did you eat yesterday?” he asked and you nodded gently.

“Does your head hurt? What’s wrong?” San asked.

He sounded calm but was actually freaking out.

“My back hurts, and my throat is kind of sore. It’s hot.” you mumbled.

San realized that you were sweating profusely, but you still had your coat on. He quickly stripped it from you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. Then he cupped your neck with both hands, feeling your temperature.

“You’re burning up baby…” he said worried.

You were too out of it to react to him calling you baby, squinting at him as your eyesight blurred suddenly.

“Why’d you take my coat, s’cold now.” you muttered, swaying in your seat.

“Probably a bad fever, you should take them to the hospital.” Keran said, and it sounded like she was speaking underwater.

“Tell the guys to get the car.” San ordered, and scooped you up in his arms bridal style.

The change in position made you dizzy and you squeezed your eyes closed to fight off the nausea.

“You’re strong…” you commented out loud.

San chuckled, carrying you out to the parking lot. He buckled you into the back seat and called his doctor while the guards drove you to the hospital.

The next 72 hours passed in a general haze of colors, sounds, and smells. You recalled San feeding you some kind of soup, stumbling into the wall on your way to the bathroom, and lots and lots of Powerade.

“This is what you get for sitting out in the rain for 20 minutes like a goose.” San reprimanded, but you just sneezed on him in retaliation.

“That was on fucking purpose wasn’t it? Don’t pretend to be fever crazy now, you’re disgusting.” he whined, but you just rolled over and hid under the covers.

On the third day, you were more sane, and Jacob’s funeral was happening in the morning. You were still too sick to attend the service, and you would have felt out of place with Jacob’s family and close friends there anyway. San was nice enough to help you get dressed and drive you out so you could at least leave some flowers on his grave and say your goodbyes. He even brought a bouquet himself to put on Jacob’s grave. Purple hyacinths. After that you’d come back home exhausted from just that short trip outside and passed out.

When you were finally feeling well enough to go back to work on the fourth day, San hit you with some interesting news.

“I think you should meet the guys.” he says.

You look at him eyes wide in shock.

“Who? You mean your friends?” you asked.

“Yeah, is that weird?” he laughed it off, but rather awkwardly.

“I mean, a little. Why does it sound like I’m meeting your parents or something?” you chuckled to diffuse the tension but San just looked nervous.

“I mean, I know we can’t really do anything officially until you’re done with your investigation, but I thought maybe… maybe we had something going on between us but if I read that wrong-”, you cut him off before he could ramble any longer.

“No, you read it right. But yeah, we need to keep it professional until I finish this case.” you say.

“So, we can say it’s about the investigation if anyone asks. I just really want you to meet them without you being all nervous and jumpy. I have a lunch meeting with them on Friday if you want to tag along.” ho offers.

That sounds… nice. It’s probably a good idea to meet them in a setting that doesn’t absolutely terrify you. So you agree. If you were to pinpoint the exact moment your relationship with Choi San changed, this would be the moment. From then on, your relationship with San was purely unprofessional.

It was also another fatal mistake. You never should have met San’s other friends, letting the eight of them lull you into a false sense of security.

Friday came and you were nervous. Despite San’s assurances that they were really nice guys and that they’d love you, your mental images of his friends were still very dark, serious and scary. And just like when you first met San, they proved you completely wrong.

For one, Kim Hongjoong didn’t look like a hardened mafia boss. He looked like the type of person you would see backstage at a fashion show, running the event. He was dressed eclectically, and you noticed some similarities to San’s style. The faux fur coat gave him a large silhouette considering he was a short man. His fingers were all covered in large rings, his top was silk, and your were sure his pants were so tight, if he had a quarter in his pocket you’d be able to tell if it was heads or tails.

“You can blame San’s fashion literacy on me. He’s like a Barbie doll, he’ll wear whatever I throw at him.” Hongjoong said with a bright smile. Ah, so that explained it.

Park Seonghwa was a bit more striking, wearing all black and looking ab it like an angry storm cloud.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N.” he said, shaking your hand.

“Don’t be so intimidated, Seonghwa’s a real softy, he just looks like that because he’s an Aries.” San whispered, and San whacked him on the shoulder.

“Shut up Sannie.” Seonghwa scolded and you looked at San with mirth in your eyes.

“Sannie?”

“He’s just being stupid. Here, talk to Mingi.” he said, pushing you towards the giant as he got into a spat with Seonghwa.

You looked at Mingi awkward without San’s hand resting comfortably at the small of your back.

“Hi, I’m Song Mingi, it’s nice to meet you.” he said, breaking into a bright smile.

You automatically relaxed. Despite the fact that Mingi was dressed like he’d just stepped out of the Matrix, he was a huge softie. His business partner Yunho appeared, and they kind of looked like complete opposites, with Yunho dressed in a fluffy sweater and Mingi decked out in leather.

San came back after you met Yunho, steering you to meet Yeosang. San had said he was kind of shy, which you could tell by the way he kept hiding behind his drink. He definitely didn’t look like the owner of multiple charities and jewelry companies. He looked like a fairy that wanted very much to be at home right now.

Then it was Jongho. He was dressed like a stereotypical athlete, joggers and a hoodie, even in such a nice restaurant. You were sure they had a dress code, but maybe if you coached three Olympic martial arts teams, you got a free pass to wear slides instead of real shoes. Honestly, Jongho was the most intimidating, but that was mainly because you’d seen him pick up a table and threaten Yunho not ten minutes prior to meeting him. He laughed when you stuttered out your introduction.

“Oh, I promise, I’m not the one you should be afraid of.” he says with a wink, sliding way before San can hit him.

“What was that about?” you ask but San just chuckles.

“He’s just joking. Come on I saved the best for last.” he says, leading you around the table.

The last one you meet is Wooyoung, San’s best friend. He smiles lopsidely when you approach, sweeping down into a bow and kissing the back of your palm.

“So you’re San’s latest obsession….. I can tell why he’s infatuated with you.” Wooyoung joked and San rolled his eyes.

“Quit playing around dude.”

Wooyoung laugh, his face breaking out into a full smile. He hugs San, and when his shirt rides up you catch a glimpse of an intricate black tattoo on his side. Maybe he and San have matching tattoos?

Lunch goes smoothly, with the boys teasing each other about inside jokes San explains into your ear. That being said, you’re not left out of the conversation at all. San has apparently been telling his friends a lot about you, and they have a lot of questions. You try to answer them all to the best of your ability but you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed. San must do or say something that tips them off, because they start toning it down.

Hongjoong is the only one to ask about the investigation, jokingly asking if you think they’re really triad members. You laugh along, saying that Jongho seems a little sketchy. It must be the right answer, because it earns you a round of laughter from the table.

After the meal while San is fetching your coats, Yeosang approaches you. You’re suprised, considering how quiet he is.

“Be careful with San. He can be pretty…. One-track minded when it comes to relationships.” Yeosang says.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Yeosang shrugs, seeing San approaching you.

“He gets attached easily and quickly. Go slowly with him, or before you know it you’ll be moving way too fast.” he says, and walks away before San steps up behind you.

“Oh, Yeosang said something to you. Was he nice?” San asked, helping you into your coat.

“Uh, I guess?”

San smiled and booped your nose with his finger.

“Let’s get you home, hmm?”

Get you home turns into coming u for a coffee, which turns into watching Netflix which turns into making out on your couch, which turns into making out in your bed, which turns into tearing each other’s clothes off and pressing hot kisses into each other’s mouths, and sucking dark red marks on San’s neck as his fingers leave bruises on your hips. You gasp against San’s mouth and he groans in the prettiest way when you grind your knee up against the bulge in his slacks.

“Slow down, you don’t want to start something you can’t finish babe.” San hums.

The other night when you asked San to distract you, you’d stopped at heavy petting keeping it above the belt and PG-13. Tonight, there were no such boundaries and San seemed intent on making one thing very clear: you belonged to him.

#ateez #ateez san #san #choi san #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #san scenarios #san imagines #san fanfic #ateez fanfic

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sarahsilverdog-blog-blog · 7 years ago

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One Problem At A Time Ch. 4

So, it looks like this is gonna go for a while, so I am tagging it #OneProblem. Thank you!

FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES

I’m not big on social graces,

Think I'll slip on down to the oasis.

-Garth Brooks

One hour and thirty minutes left.

Clementine stayed in the lab with Sam but everyone else surrounded the plane’s main door, guns raised and ready for their visitor. The man who stepped through the plane's hatch could have been anywhere from forty to seventy, iron gray hair peeked out from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat but there were few lines on his face. he was big and burly like a bear but lean and hard, no fat anywhere on him. He wore jeans with leather chaps, intricately stitched cowboy boots, a plain blue workshirt covered with a worn denim jacket...and a fancy, pearl-handled six shooter hung from his hip, Flanked by two men in an eclectic mix of military and western clothing, he didn't seem disconcerted at all to be greeted by six people bristling with loaded weapons all pointed at him and he raised his hands cooperatively and grinned, showing even, white teeth. "G'day folks,” he said in a thick Australian accent, inclining his head to Mitch who was the closest one to him. "Morris Brown, formerly of the Royal Australian Regiment, 4th Battalion, currently of the SoCal Extract/Evac Company, at your service." He got a good look at Jamie, covered in blood and filth, and Jackson, whose eye had blackened magnificently and whose throat was ringed with darkening bruises. "Looks like you folks had a bit of a scrap.”

Jamie snorted. “That's an understatement.”

Jackson eyed Morris Brown closely and said in his gravelly, injured voice, “I’ve heard of you. Your company did the San Diego job a couple of years ago. That was some nice work." He lowered his gun, and the others did too, the tension easing in the room and Brown dropped his hands to sides.

Tessa said, "Impressive work, you mean." She explained to the others. “They evacuated five thousand people in one group, walked them 350 miles through hybrid infested desert and only lost one person- to appendicitis. That's the stuff of legends.”

Brown looked pleased at the praise and rocked back on his heels. "Yeah, that was one bugger of a run. Took two months to get ‘em to the safe zone, razorbacks attacking every few days." He turned to Jackson. "But you're a bit of a celebrity yourself, mate. I know who you are, Dylan Green. Number one evac specialist north of San Francisco, though I think your pet lions give you a bit of an advantage.” He glanced around the interior of the plane with delighted curiosity. “I don’t suppose they are with you now?"

"The lions didn't have enough frequent flier miles," Mitch interjected impatiently. "Not to be rude, but we are kind of on a tight schedule, soo…”

“Oh, right,” Brown said, not seeming offended in the least. He turned and nodded to one of his men, who disappeared back out of the plane. "We're on our way back from a run and well, there's strange things going on in the hybrid zone." He scratched up under his hat at his cropped gray hair. “I maybe saw the most bizarre of all a few hours ago...anyhow it's something we need to look into but we picked up a, uh, passenger that isn’t suited to fast, hard travel in a truck caravan. I was hoping we could leave it with you folks...” he trailed off as the man reappeared, holding a tiny bundle that suddenly let out a squalling scream.

There was stunned silence for a second. then Mitch handed Jamie his rifle and with a happy sob took his grandson in his arms. Relief swept like a wave over them all, suddenly they surrounded baby Sam, laughing and smiling with the utter joy of his unbelievable presence. Clementine came racing down the staircase from the lab, having heard her son's cries; everyone fell back and let her take her son from his grandfather in her trembling hands, hugging him tightly as Mitch held them both in a protective embrace. Jamie sidled away but one of Mitch's hands caught hers and pulled her into their family circle, though she resisted slightly he was insistent and she gave in, letting his arms encircle her too as she hugged Clem and smiled over baby Sam.

Morris Brown was taking in this scene with keen interest, and he waggled his bushy eyebrows at Jackson and said, "I guess you lot don't find a baby as strange as we do.”

Jackson was smiling happily, tears in his eyes and he shook his head at Brown and said hoarsely, “We suddenly don't have such a tight schedule. How about a drink and you tell us how you ended up with the baby?”

***

Brown set one of his five men on guard, to watch out for hybrids- or other things- and the rest of them retired to the bar for a drink. Jamie excused herself after one; Clem had taken Baby Sam to be with his father in the lab after Mitch examined him (and after Abe administered the sterility cure injection); Jackson/Dylan and Tessa were discussing evacuation runs and other business she didn't particularly care about too much with their visitors, though Abe and Dariela were extremely interested as they discussed tactics and various plans that worked, or didn’t. The sticky dinosaur blood that covered her was getting unbearable, itchy and crackling against her skin and when she moved her right arm there was a worrisome tugging sensation that she was afraid was a deep cut that her clothes had dried to. She was brutally sore and wanted nothing more than to peel the filthy clothes off and climb into a steaming hot shower. Mitch started down the hall after her and she almost told him to stay put but then she realized he didn’t particularly want to listen to tactical Evac stories, and he didn’t want to intrude on his daughter's newly reunited family- he wanted to be with her. She waited for him to catch up and teased, “Time for my private exam, doctor?”

He smiled but his eyes were serious. "Actually, Miss Campbell, it is. I’ve noticed the way you’ve been moving your right arm and favoring your right side. I know am just a vet,” she snickered at that, "but I think I am qualified to check you out.”

They needed to talk, she knew, needed to work out some of the events of the last 72 hours; Max, and Logan, and discuss some things that had been said, or maybe hadn't been said, but now wasn't the time. She was tired, sore, and they were still both too warm with the residual happiness of baby Sam to start dissecting the darkness between them.

Mitch saw her hesitation and guessed the reason behind it truthfully, he didn’t really want to hash it out now either, he was too confused, too amazed, too unsettled… just too much. “I don’t –“ he started, then took her hand and said, “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Jamie.”

Taking it as a promise, she opened the door to her room and let him in.

***

Mitch rejoined the others in the bar a short while later. Jamie hadn't had any serious injuries, the worst was the laceration she had feared, a deep cut in her shoulder from the dagger sharp talons of the dinosaur. Adrenaline had kept her from feeling it, but she had felt it well enough when Mitch pulled the clotted, matted cloth from it with a sickening ripping sound, making her pale as fresh blood seeped from the gash. She also had a darkening bruise from her right armpit to her hip, where she had landed when the dino attacked her but otherwise she seemed fine and as promised, when he had determined that she didn't need any serious doctoring, he left her to it with a kiss and a promise to let him disinfect the gash after her shower.

The conversation in the bar had shifted to different hybrids they had seen recently, and the talk had turned from somewhat jovial to something more subdued and tense. Apparently there were more terrible creatures out there than they had already dealt with, and Mitch blanched at the mention of spider hybrids the size of golden retrievers, massive eight foot tall goats that had five foot long horns and razor sharp hooves, and at least one woolly mammoth, which had used its massive tusks to knock a locomotive off of the tracks outside of Los Angeles. It was somewhat frightening to consider that six-foot tall, vicious Cretaceous dinosaurs weren’t the worst they were going to face as Abigail’s creatures roamed freely into North America.

Once he had poured himself a drink and taken a seat with the others, the conversation changed as Mitch said. "So, Crocodile Dundee, tell me how you figured out country music scares the monsters away.”

Brown just laughed. "Crocodile Dundee. You Americans are so unoriginal. 'Throw another shrimp on the barbie’ and all that.” He squinted hard at Mitch, then shrugged. “To be honest, Dr. Morgan, we have no idea how it works. We just happened to luck into the discovery.” He took a deep swallow of the golden amber liquid in his glass and settled back into his seat. “We don't only do evac work, though that is our main focus. We also, eh," he searched for a delicate term, “clean up after the survivors have been evacuated.”

“Loot, you mean.” Dariela snapped. Brown only shrugged again. “If that's what you like to call it, mate. One man's trash is another man's treasure. Anyway, about a week ago we were cleaning a cabin we found in Nevada outside some desert town called Rachel. Wasn't much in it, but Chuck here," he motioned to one of his men, “found some little ipod type thing and snagged it, thinking there might be some good music on it. Turns out there wasn’t, just that terrible song on a loop, over and over and over." He shook his fist at the sky and said, “I’ve got friends in low places too, mate! Such a bloody come down. We were in one of the trucks and we came on a herd of those goat hybrids and Chuck was so mad at the song he was about to throw the damn thing out when all of a sudden the goats started to run. Away. Now, in our experience those stubborn, canty headed bastards will charge every time, but while that bloody awful music was playing, they ran.

“We experimented. Cut the song off, they charged us, turned it on, they stopped in their tracks and skedaddled the other way. So we tried it on the next hybrid we met, a razorback. Ran. Vulture, flew away." He grinned, his hatless gray head shining in the plane's soft light. "It's a terrible price to pay, but for those we love, we sacrifice!" He guffawed and gulped the rest of his drink down, motioning to Mitch to refill it.

Mitch took his glass, rose and went to the bar, but he stopped short of pouring the whisky. “I owe you,” he said, inclining his head gratefully towards Brown, “for bringing the baby back to us -and l still want to know how that came about - but I think if you let me study that device with the song on it, I can figure out why it repels the hybrids and maybe you won't ever have to hear that song again,” he shrugged, “Or at the least, maybe I can change the song.”

“That in itself would be a relief, my friend." Brown said, and Mitch smiled as he handed him his drink.

***

They moved the party to the lab, after Mitch saw Clem and Sam into his bedroom with the baby. Sam was still in rough shape but seeing his son and spending some quiet time with Clementine had done wonders for him, and the lab was too cold and uncomfortable for someone trying to rest. Jamie rejoined them, clean and fresh and creamy white in the glow of the lab's lights and Mitch was gratified to see her in somewhat casual clothing - in his mind he characterized it as ‘Early Jamie', faded jeans and a cute t-shirt and a light sweater -and she hadn't done her hair, it was tousled and curled and Mitch wanted nothing more in the world than to twist one of those curls in his fingers, pull it down and let his hand graze her cheek...but his imagination was cut off as Morris Brown whistled slowly at Jamie and said, "Well, we are officially a part of the jet set! Pun intended, of course! Jamie Campbell, of one of my favorite authors of one of my favorite novels.” He was quite a few drinks in, and he gave Jamie a friendly leer as he said, “I didn’t recognize you before when you were so...dirty," and winked, taking her hand, bending low and kissing her knuckles softly.

Mitch rolled his eyes loudly and Jamie withdrew her hand firmly with her ‘celebrity smile', the one she always used on talk shows and interviews and with overbearing fans. Mitch recognized it at once, how many times had he seen her use it when weaseling information out of someone or dealing with idiot officials who couldn't be handled by anyone else? lt was another glimpse of the old Jamie, and Mitch found himself feeling grateful that she was still...her.

"Thank You," she said to Brown, then pointedly joined Mitch at his computer and took his hand, looking down at what he was working on.

Morris Brown chuckled and took another drink. “Aye, you're a lucky man, Dr. Morgan," he said, slapping his hand on his thigh. "No offense meant Miss Campbell. And you’re still my favorite author." He leaned sharply forward and said to Jackson/Dylan, "She may be the writer, but now I want you to tell me a story.”

Jamie stayed next to Mitch as he worked on the device Brown had given them. It was connected to one of their diagnostic computers and he ran a variety of different tests on it as Morris Brown listened to Jackson/Dylan and Abe take turns telling him about Abigail and the hybrids, New York, the volcano, Clem's miracle baby and the cure for sterility, and the breach in the barrier and their escape, though they left out Jackson's involvement both as her brother and as the one who drove the plane through the wall.

Well," Brown said, his deep Aussie accent broadened by alcohol, "I told you I had seen some strange things. About four hours before we found you, we came across the herd of rhino hybrids you folks acquainted yourselves with earlier. They were acting fairly bizarre, all standing in one place, looking the same direction. No panic, no snorting, no bellowing, not even when we started to drive around them, Then we saw a jeep parked at the edge of the herd, and a sheila, right up close, using some kind of hand signals and be damned if the rhinos weren't behaving as if they knew what she was saying!”

The crew all exchanged looks as Morris continued, "Well, we got up to the jeep before she noticed us, close enough for me to notice a baby seat in the back. Funny how baby seats never caught my eye before but I guess after you haven’t seen an ankle biter in a decade those kind of things look out of place. Anyway, she finally saw us and she didn’t bat an eye as she waved her hands and those damn monsters came charging at us so fast Chuck almost didn't hit play." He paused and threw a toothy grin at Chuck, who answered. "But l did, and those sumbitches wheeled around so quick they almost trampled the lady where she stood.”

Morris Brown took over. "Seemed like the music was hurting her too, she grabbed her head like it was about to bust but then again, maybe she just doesn’t like country music. But here's where the craziest part comes in. She was too far from her jeep, and she seemed pretty surprised that the beasties were running away such a hurry. She got a look at our arsenal bearing down on her so she made some kind of sign and one of those big bastards came back to her, let her climb on it and she rode away on it!” He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe what his own eyes had seen. "Craziest damn thing I’ve ever seen. We did a quick go over of the jeep and didn't find anything but well, the baby. We had figured on taking it to the Barrier and leaving it, but since you say they’ve evacuated –“ he shrugged and took another swallow of whisky.

Suddenly Mitch broke in. "Hey, Ja- uh, Dylan, could you come over here for a sec?" Brown didn't miss Mitch's mistake and his keen eyes suddenly narrowed as Jackson rose and joined Mitch at his computer. He had a screen up and Jamie peered over their shoulders as he pointed to two parallel, wavy lines that intersected at uniform points, "This look familiar to you?”

Jackson looked up at him incredulously. "That looks just like the combination of frequencies Abigail used to make the beacons, hers and mine, but opposite ranges, So instead of drawing the hybrids-“

“They repel them." Mitch finished, halfway between triumph and jealousy. “It’s genius, l don’t know why think of it before.” He beamed at Jamie, who squeezed his hand as he said, "I can isolate the frequencies and we can play it from anything that can broadcast. Looks like we may have a new line of defense.”

***

Everyone had gone to bed except the two of them; Morris Brown and his men were sprawled on various couches throughout the plane and the others had gone to their rooms. Mitch had isolated the repellant frequency from the music and had it on a loop that was silent to the human ear but would hopefully keep hybrids away and Jamie had set proximity alarms on every entrance to the plane so everyone felt reasonably secure. Having six extra, heavily armed people on board for the night made it feel a little less worrisome too. They sat close together at the bar, nursing what was left of a bottle of vodka. Other than the impersonal exam earlier, and his quick, post-shower dressing of her wound, it was the first time they had been alone together in what felt like weeks, though it had only been little more than a day.

Jamie could feel him steeling himself up to say something and she was pretty sure she knew what it was going to be. As much as he had tried to make her feel better before, trying to claim darkness for himself, she knew he really wasn't accustomed to ruthless Jamie. Single-minded Jamie, yes, she'd always been that, but his brilliant brain was having trouble processing what ten years of bleak disappointment and pain had done to her. For years revenge had been her only motivating factor, in truth, years before she even met Mitch revenge had been her motivator but she'd had hope then, hope that things would work out in the end, hope that the little guy would win, and even hope that she and Mitch could make some kind of life together after the animal apocalypse. Then Mitch was gone, and she had hope that she could take care of Clementine the way he had wanted, hope that she could keep some part of him alive in herself through his daughter. Then Max took Clem and she had nothing. Logan hadn’t been, would never have been enough for her, so vengeance had filled that hole in her heart and she didnt know if she could make room in it again for something so weak and fickle as hope.

“So what was that out there?” He finally asked, his hand cupping her cheek, gently but firmly, she wasn’t going to look away.

She did anyway. and he let his hand fall, picking up his drink instead as she answered innocently, "What was what?"

He wasn’t going to deal with her bullshit tonight, and he rolled his eyes as if to say, really? "Didnt we just have a whole conversation about darkness? I think kicking Jackson in the face and threatening to burn him alive is a bit dark, even for you.”

“I wasn’t going to burn Jackson," she scoffed, though she couldn't deny the kick in the face so she took the easy one first. “l was threatening to burn the zombie because they are afraid of fire, which worked by the way.”

“No, it didn't. What worked was the flaming Thanksgiving turkey smashing into it." He had her there, and she leaned slightly away in irritation, pursing her lips and rearranging her socked feet on the barstool railing. Mitch didn't miss her reaction, and he pressed his advantage. “And what made you think fire would work on a zombie?”

Already annoyed at him, she rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid she'd strained her optic nerve. "Hello? I grew up in Louisiana? Bayous?Voodoo? Zombies? Didn't you spend a year there?”

"Studying giant river rats, not the undead.” He finished his drink, poured himself another and topped Jamie's off with the remainder of the bottle, plopping it loudly on the back of the bar. "Need to get some more of this." He sighed, swirling his drink in the bottom of his glass and deciding to let her off the hook for now said instead, "l could be studying the undead right now, but we left them in the compound. Not that I could do much with the soldier, since I think he's been barbecued beyond use,” he looked emphatically at Jamie, eliciting a snort of laughter she tried to suppress, "but l could still learn something from the dog.”

She swallowed the last of her drink in one gulp, jumped up from the barstool and said, "Well, lets go get it then." He looked at her blankly and she said, "The dog. It's still there in the compound, right? I mean, where would it go?"

He took another sip and looked sideways at her, then down at her feet. "Uh huh. You going in your socks or are you gonna put on some fuzzy slippers first?”

The laugh was real, warm and honeyed and rich and it sent shivers down his spine as the mood subtly shifted between them. "Maybe we can wait until tomorrow," she said, her voice suddenly husky and low, stepping between his knees she leaned into him as he bent to meet her lips with his. Electricity surged between them, fusing them together, all sparking neurons and melding molecules; her hands burned against his thighs, through the thick material of his jeans and in the desperate reaches of his lizard brain he wondered vaguely if she planned on burning him alive, though at the moment he didn't really care if she did. He buried his hands in her hair, pulling her closer, needing her closer and she responded, tightening her body against his because she needed him too.

They finally surfaced for air, and Mitch stood. holding her to him and brushing tousled tendrils of her hair away from her face. "Uh, my room is currently being used as a nursery ..sooo, think maybe l can crash with you tonight?" he asked gruffly.

She answered him breathlessly, running her fingers over his stubbly cheek, “I think that can be arranged.”

"Afterwards you can tell me all about zombies," he said, lowering his head to nibble sharp kisses at the soft skin of her throat. “We have to keep up our reputation for lively pillow talk.”

***

Here, darkness was good. Here, darkness kept them safe, hidden from the outside world and its monsters; it hid their scars in shadows, even as they bared themselves completely. Here, in the darkness, it was just the two of them, together.

***

#oneproblem #zoo #renew zoo #zoo cbs #tumblr fanfiction #mitch x jamie #jamitch #mitch morgan #jamie campbell #jackson oz #billyburke #kristen connolly #clementine lewis #cbs zoo #otp

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

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Read My Mind (Trixya) Chapter 2 - Candy For Children

A/N: Here’s chapter 2! I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I hope you enjoy it! I now have the skeleton of the next few chapters figured out so hopefully I should be updating regularly. Thank you to the person who pointed out my mistakes with the powers! I had just been going off the definitions on the AHS wiki. I will probably keep using the same terms I used in the first chapter for continuities sake, but I really to appreciate it. Happy reading!

Summary: Trixie is a clairvoyant witch, sent to study at Mrs. Charles’s Academy for Gifted Girls, where she meets another young witch named Katya, and sparks fly (no pun intended).

Katya yawned. She tried to pay attention to what Ms. Edwards was saying but instead she yawned again. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and was exhausted. She was sure that on any other day she would be interested in whatever mix of herbs they were putting together to make… what was it, an elixir of truth or something? Well whatever it was Katya was hard pressed to pay attention to it. All she could do was sit at her desk next to Alaska and doodle in her notebook.

She looked over to where Trixie was diligently taking notes. It was always adorable to see new girls so fascinated by it all when they first arrived. Katya had been like that. They all had. Well except maybe Violet. Violet was a nice girl, but she had a cold demeanor and little enthusiasm for anything that life threw her way. Not that anyone could blame her, life had thrown her some shit.

Katya smiled when Trixie sneezed after smelling one of the ingredients Ms. Edwards handed to her. She was cute. And definitely Katya’s type. Blond with blue eyes, large soft lips, and curves that made a girl feel dizzy to look at. All wrapped up in a big pink bow. And the two definitely had chemistry, there had been something there the night before in the other girls room. If Katya hadn’t been talking to Jamie again recently, she would have done more than flirt with the life sized barbie, she would have pursued her in earnest.

But as it was, she had been talking with Jamie again, and Katya had a feeling that this time things would work out.

“Alright girls, we’ll leave these to sit overnight, and in the morning we will try them out. You’re free for the day.” Ms. Edwards dismissed the class. Pearl and Violet were the first one’s out the door, Pearl talking animatedly and walking backwards in front of Violet, who had the whisper of a smile on her face. Next came Max, Fame, and Courtney, who walked in a clump whispering excitedly to each other. As they walked past Katya and Alaska’s table they looked at Katya and giggled.

She looked at Alaska in confusion, who just shrugged and left the room. “What the hell was that about?” Katya asked walking over to the the table where Kim and Trixie were cleaning up their mess.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, just gossip” Kim said looking quickly between Trixie and Katya.

That only served to confuse Katya more, “What gossip could they possibly have about me?” she asked.

“It’s Max.” Naomi said, walking over and resting against the table between Trixie and Kim, “She’s been telling everyone that when she shook hands with Trixie last night she saw the two of you bumping uglies.”

Trixie blushed and didn’t say anything, so Katya jumped in and saved them all mere seconds before an awkward silence, “Didn’t anyone ever tell Max that no one likes a peeping Tammy?”

“You know she can’t help it Kat” replied Naomi, twisting her long silky hair into a bun on the top of her head and sticking one of Kim’s pencils in it to keep it secure.

“Um,” Trixie said finally speaking up, “I’m not a lesbian though?”

Naomi laughed, “Not even a spaghetti lesbian? Straight until hot and wet?”

“Ugh” Katya rolled her eyes, “I hate that term, that’s just called being bisexual.”

“Don’t worry Trixie,” Kim said, “She’s probably just exaggerating what she saw. She’s been known to do that. She’s super sweet, but she’s a little dramatic. She got her accent from living in Newcastle for a year when she was 12.”

Trixie shook her head and laughed, “I’m not worried. Just, confused is all.”

The room was quiet again, except for the sound of Adore’s heavy boots against the hardwood floors as she left.

“Anyway” Naomi said smiling and resting her head in her hands coyly, “I have a tinder date in an hour, and I would love it if my best friend and make up god Kim would help me get ready?” She began to bat her eyelashes comically and Kim rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do.” she laughed, and turned to Trixie, “I’ll see you at dinner!” They hugged and then she and naomi left the classroom.

Katya watched them leave and then whipped back around to look at Trixie grinning manically, “So we still on to hang out?”

“Of course!” Trixie smiled, “Let me take this stuff to my room and then we can do whatever.”

She began walking and Katya followed after her.

“I can just pop it over there for you.” Katya smiled and reached out for Trixie’s notebook making grabby hands at it.

Trixie laughed, “No thank you. I’ve decided that I’m making my room an official ‘no transmutation’ zone. I don’t even like jump scares in movies, I don’t need them in real life.”

Katya shook her head and tutted her tongue, “Whatever you say Tracy. Your loss.”

The two girls began to walk toward Trixie’s room making chit chat along the way.

Thirty minutes later as they were walking out of the front door and into the bright sunlight Trixie asked, “So what do two magically inclined girls do for fun in this town?” Things had taken a little longer than expected, because once the girl had gotten to her room she decided to freshen up her makeup and change into some clothes that were more appropriate for the weather.

Katya grinned and put on her large tortoiseshell sunglasses “I have a few ideas!”

Katya’s idea had been for them to go see a movie at the small independent theater in town. It was a cute place with no more than thirty seats and old fashioned looking bags to serve the popcorn in. The theater had been playing one of Katya’s favorite movies: “To Wong Foo: Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar” and she had been wanting to go for a while, so this had worked out perfectly. The girls had gotten there early and were basically alone in the theater so they talked until the movie started. They shared their favorite movies (Katya’s was ‘Contact’, of course, and Trixie’s was ‘When Harry met Sally’), and other little things about themselves.

“I think in a past life I was a drag queen.” Katya said smiling as they walked out of the theater. She had always liked the moment you stepped back into the real world after a movie, it made her head spin in a delicious little way that she could appreciate.

“Same!” Trixie smiled and crumpled up her empty popcorn bag.

“Oh honey, with that make up? You’re a drag queen in this life.” Katya cackled and then dodged when Trixie tried to hit her with the balled up bag. When the Barbie began to chase her Katya ran away but was quickly caught and her side was attacked mercilessly..

“Дядя!” Katya shrieked, “дядя!”

“What?” Trixie asked, and kept tickling the other girl.

“Uncle!” Katya yelled, gasping for breath through giggles.

“Oh!” She said, and stopped and took a step back. Katya doubled over onto the ground in an exaggerated coughing fit, and then slumped backwards putting her arm over her forehead and spoke in one of her favorite voices “Go on without me Barbra. The devil has come to take me away from this place.”

“Shut up.” Trixie laughed, pulling her up to her feet, and then to an ice cream shop a few yards away.

Later, after Katya had dragged them out of ice cream shop, the two girls were walking alongside the train tracks eating their ice cream. Katya’s was peanut butter chocolate in a cup, and Trixie was eating bubblegum in a cone (Katya got the feeling that Trixie had mainly gotten the flavor to go along with her aesthetic, because every time the other girl licked her ice cream she wrinkled her nose a little bit at the flavor). Katya took bites out of her’s with the sample spoon giddily, ignoring the regular spoon resting along side her ice cream in the cardboard cup.

“So did you speak russian back there?” Trixie asked suddenly. They had been walking in companionable silence for the past few minutes. Katya had been surprised at how quickly and easily they had become comfortable with each other. Usually people weren’t really sure what to think about her when they first met her, but Trixie seemed to get her almost immediately.

“Yeah!” Katya smiled, “My family is russian. My grandmother moved here when she was 25, 8 months pregnant and not speaking a word of english. She raised me and my younger sister when my mom died. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if we couldn’t speak the mother tongue.” Katya smiled when she thought about her babushka. Then she frowned, “She passed away a few months ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Trixie said, and, to Katya’s surprise, took her hand, stroking her thumb up and down the back of it comfortingly. She squeezed back, enjoying the way their hands fit together.

“Don’t be,” Katya laughed a little, “she was a tough bitch, she always said she wouldn’t die until she was damn good and ready. So she must have been ready. But-” Katya stopped herself.

“But?” Trixie asked.

Katya sighed, their first time hanging out and she was about to air all her dirty laundry, super smooth.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Trixie added quickly, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No no, you didn’t. It’s just- Now that my grandma is gone, my little sister has to go live with our Aunt. I keep getting these letters, not emails, letters, because my aunt won’t let her near a computer. It’s just her telling how bad it is, about how mean our uncle is, how much she hates it. I feel like I’ve abandoned her.”

“I’m so sorry Katya.” Trixie said, her eyebrows knitted up in concern.

“It’s fine.” Katya said a little louder than she intended, pulling her hand out of Trixie’s to wipe at her face, she hadn’t cried, but she needed to do something to dispel the energy that had been created by their conversation. “I’ve been working at the pawn shop to try and save up money for a plane ticket for her out here. That’s why I was late yesterday, no one knows I’m working there except Alaska. She won’t be able to stay at the academy until she starts manifesting her powers, but that shouldn’t be too long now. I can get another job and help her to pay for a small place until she does.”

There was silence and Trixie stopped walking.

“What?” Katya asked looking at the other girl.

Trixie was staring at her, kind eyes crinkled in a soft smile, “Nothing, you’re just a really good sister. A good person. I wish I’d had someone like you back in Milwaukee”

“Want to talk about it?” Katya asked, not sure if it was the right thing to do. It was the least she could do though, after Trixie had listened to her sob story.

Trixie smiled, but it didn’t really meet her eyes, “Eh, there’s not much to talk about. My step dad didn’t like me, and had super fun ways of showing it, and my mom didn’t really care.” She kicked a pebble with one of her white pumps and then turned to look Katya in the eyes, her big blue eyes filled with emotion, “I was worried about coming here you know. But I think it’s gonna be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She smiled.

Katya smiled back and then cocked her head to the side, “This is very ‘Stand By Me.’”

“How so?” Trixie laughed, bringing the energy back to a lighter note.

“A couple of youths bearing their souls walking down a dusty train track.”

“I’m not sure I’d call us youths. I’m 20, and you’re so old you look about ready for the crypt, so-”

“You rotted whore!” Katya laughed. “Fine, this is very much like the movie Contact in that-”

Trixie cut her off with a loud exaggerated groan, “Katya I have known you less than two full days, and I have already had it up to here with you referencing that movie.” she moved her hand high above her head as she spoke.

“That’s just because you haven’t seen it.”

“Maybe so, maybe so, but I doubt it.”

They laughed and talked and walked a bit more. It was beginning to get dark when they got to a part of the track Katya was very familiar with. Off to the side was a train car that had fallen off the tracks a few years ago. Katya used to go there with Jamie when they were still together since she couldn’t bring her back to the academy.

“Who’s Jamie?” Trixie asked suddenly as they turned around and began walking home.

This caught Katya off guard, and it took her a second to realize that the other girl had heard her thinking.

“Can you not do that?” She asked, mostly joking.

Trixie frowned apologetically, “No, sorry.”

Katya sighed, “She’s my ex.” Trixie watched her as she picked up a rock with her mind and let it swing back in forth in front of her before letting it fall again. “We dated for a year. Got along like a house on fire. But I had secrets, and she didn’t like that. I couldn’t really tell her what goes on at the Academy, because that’s a major no no, but she thought I just didn’t trust her. It was pretty messy.”

“I’m sorry” Trixie said with a frown.

“Don’t be,” Katya smiled, “I ran into her recently, and we’ve been talking, I think things are going better this time. I really like her you know? And- You can’t tell anyone this alright?”

Trixie held out her pinky and smiled, “Promise.”

Katya cackled, but took her pinky in her own, “You’re a fucking child.”

“Whatever bitch!” Trixie screamed, “Spill unto me your deep dark demented secret.”

Katya laughed but acquiesced, “I showed her my powers.” At Trixie’s worried and surprised look Katya added, “That’s something I had never thought I’d do, but I really trust her Trix. I don’t believe in all that soul mate mumbo jumbo, but I think we’re right together, and I don’t think that happens often.”

Trixie smiled gently, “I won’t tell, I think that’s really sweet. Although I will say it’s a bit hypocritical of you to call anything mumbo jumbo when you regularly light things on fire with your mind, and scatter bones for good luck.”

Katya laughed, “Don’t knock it till you try it Barbie. You know what they say, ‘bones scattered, for a life that mattered, bones encased, and your life is a waste.”

Trixie stopped walking and looked at Katya a little stunned, “Did you just come up with that?”

“I did! I did!” Katya wheezed and flapped her hands around.

“I wish you hadn’t!” Trixie chuckled and shook her head and began walking again.

Katya screeched with laughter and Trixie soon joined in. The rest of their walk home was filled with laughter and playful insults.

–

To say that the day hadn’t gone how Trixie expected would be an understatement. She had expected some fun but slightly forced chit chat, get to know you small talk type stuff. Not tragic backstory time. She couldn’t say she was disappointed though. She liked Katya a lot, and was glad to have someone she could call a friend at the Academy. She had Kim of course, but that was different. She and Kim were in a sort of limbo between knowing each other and not knowing each other. A lot can change in 9 years, and neither of them were the same person they were when they were 11.

She smiled at something funny Katya said as they walked up to the large white academy building. It was somehow less intimidating now that she knew what it was like on the inside. As they stepped up to the gate, a taxi pulled up to the curb and a beautiful middle aged woman with white blond hair stepped out. As soon as Katya noticed her she stood up straighter, and stopped walking. Trixie followed suit, not really knowing why, but getting the feeling she was supposed to.

The woman was elegant, and poised. She wore her hair in a tight french twist, and had a rich mauve lipstick painted on her round lips. Her clothes fit tight to her body, but screamed sophistication, with their rich jewel tones. She held what was either a jacket or cape in one hand and a vintage louis vuitton suitcase in the other. She walked up to the two girls and put her suitcase down on the sidewalk. Smiling, she took off her sunglasses and turned her beautiful pale green eyes onto Katya.

“Miss Zamolodchikova.” The woman smiled.

Katya straightened up even more and smiled brightly, “Hello Ms. Michaels. How was Paris?”

“It was lovely thank you for asking, but I must admit I’m glad to be back.” She suddenly leaned down and picked up her suitcase again, “Now would you do me a favor and take this up to my room for me? I want to have a chat with our new sister.”

Trixie watched as Katya grinned, “Of course!” She took the suitcase from the woman and then turned to Trixie, “I had a lot of fun! I’ll see you at dinner?”

“I assume so!” Trixie laughed weakly, a little unsure of what was going on. Katya smiled, and then turned and walked through the gate and then the front door, leaving Trixie stranded with this highly intimidating woman.

Green eyes suddenly turned to her, “Miss Mattel do you know the last time we had a clairvoyant witch living at the academy?” She asked, and then began to walk through the gate. Trixie quickly followed after her.

“Um, no?”

“Nearly 20 years ago,” She replied as they stepped through the front door, and turned to enter an office that Trixie had noticed in passing, but had paid little mind to until this moment, “A short while before I took over as supreme.” At this point the witch walked around to a large mahogany desk that sat at the center of the room and took a seat, then gestured for Trixie to sit across from her.

The room was painted a crisp white, like the rest of the Academy was, but was smartly decorated in warm woods and leathers, and oil paintings of other sophisticated looking women. Featured most prominently, right behind the desk was a painting of a beautiful dark skinned woman, with tall blond hair. She was statuesque and graceful, and seemed to command power and respect, even in painting form. Beneath the painting was a small golden plaque that read, ‘Founder & Supreme: Rupaul Charles.’

“What I’m trying to say Miss Mattel” Ms. Michaels continued, “Is that the gift that you and I share, is not one that this academy sees often. And it’s one that I believe needs to be nurtured.”

Trixie tore her attention away from the portrait behind the desk, “You and I? You’re clairvoyant too?”

“I am. And during my time at the academy, I was the only girl to have that gift. No one taught me how to deal with it, or how to use it to my advantage. No one showed me how it made me special.”

Trixie nodded, still not entirely understanding, but feeling that what was happening was important.

“I want to teach you Trixie. I know how overwhelming the voices can be. I want to help you learn how to control your gift. To only hear them when you need to, or when you want to.”

Trixie’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t known there even was a way to control her clairvoyance. She had resigned herself to a life of indefinite din. She was overjoyed to know there was another way.

“Here’s what I’m proposing.” Ms. Michaels said, “Two times a week, for two hours before dinner you and I will meet in this office and work. We will meet until I believe that you don’t need to any more. In this room and in this room only I will call you Trixie, and you may call me Chad. For those four hours a week, we will be peers, and I will help you develop into the powerful witch I am sure you’re destined to become.”

‘Chad’ stuck her hand out and Trixie heard her voice silky voice in her head ask Deal?

Trixie smiled and took her hand in her own, Deal. She thought back.

#katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #kim chi #naomi smalls #chad michaels #trixya #au #tw language #candy for children #rpdr fanfiction #submission #witch au #ahs coven au #lesbian au #read my mind

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madamedeher · 6 years ago

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When You Hear the Sirens Coming

I did it. Another DA fic. This time Dorian with my inky Julian! This fic is modern au where Julian is a detective and Dorian is a lawyer. Enjoy chapter 1! Also for those who prefer, link to ao3 here

+++

From the other side of the shop, Bull turns to Julian and throws a look approaching annoyance.

“Do you like them?”

Cole’s voice rings soft and clear as it always does. In his spindly hands is a large box of donuts, two of which are long gone from the box and stuffed unceremoniously into Julian’s eager mouth. They’re maple bacon flavoured which is his all time favorite, of course. Finding the young man’s bakery was the detective’s best and worst decision according to the ever expanding waistbands.

“Obf courth I lige mem—”

Julian reaches for another before Bull finally steps in, pulling Julian’s arm out the shop and into Bull’s giant truck.

The truck, of which Julian has to wipe his fingers on his slacks so he doesn’t make the leather greasy, is almost comically large to account for his partner’s size. Julian stands at 193 centimeters yet the truck made him feel like he’s in a Barbie car.

“You know, man, the whole ‘cops love donuts’ thing isn’t helped when you pig out like that.”

Julian shoots him a glare before pointedly licking his fingers.

“Yet, here I am, loving Cole’s donuts. Besides, we’re detectives, not cops.”

Bull snorts something about a hole euphemism and drives to their next scene. Julian read about it briefly before they set out for the morning. A seemingly random man disappeared out of thin air, leaving a heavily pregnant wife behind him. Usually a case like this just means some scumbag guy couldn’t handle the pressure of settling down and skipped town, but the house had been trashed and looked like a bad robbery.

The house is deep into the suburbs, where all the houses look printed out and the lawns are all fake bright green grass. Personally, Julian hates going out here. The inner city of Denerim is real, hard, and fast. In the suburbs you saw the true dredges of society and Julian always left feeling more depressed than curious.

It took about 20 minutes to get to the home. It’s a sick yellow and has the same fake patch of grass front yard like every other house. If it wasn’t for the broken window and clear trail of blood leading from the door to the driveway, it would look like just another cog.

The inside of the house on the other hand is a trainwreck. Furniture is flipped, it smells so heavily of bleach it makes Julian’s eyes water, and pretty much every fragile object in sight is shattered to pieces. It looks damn more than a robbery, that’s for sure.

Bull ducks behind him to enter the house and sighs softly.

“That ain’t good.”

Julian shakes his head. No, it isn’t.

Snapping on gloves, Julian steps carefully around the home. Voices came from another room, presumably the dining room, and as Julian got closer he hears faint sobbing and the fake sweet voices of cops trying to console someone who is clearly hysterical.

Turning a corner, Julian is greeted by shattered dishes and several broken appliances. Sitting at the dining room table is a blonde woman with short hair sobbing into her arms. Cassandra and Blackwall stand on both sides of the woman, gently patting her and looking very awkward.

“We are very, very sorry for your loss Mrs. Cousland.”

“Fergus wouldn’t just leave! Someone to-o-ook him!” The woman, Mrs. Cousland? Punctuates most of her syllables with hearty sobs.

Blackwall is the first to see Julian and pleads with his eyes for the man to walk over and turn on the charm so they could walk away from the situation. Julian relents and puts on his most buttery voice. He needs information, and a sobbing victim made no use.

“Miss? My name is Julian Trevelyan,” he flashes a badge at her when she looks up with puffy eyes. It’s pretty obvious he is another worker bee around here, but flashing his badge always comforted scared civilians.

She sniffs loudly and nods curtly. “M-my name is Oriana, Oriana Cousland. Are you one of the, um, detectives they were talking about?”

Mrs. Cousland motions towards to the two officers behind her who are slowly drifting away from her and out the room.

“Yes, my partner, Bull, is looking around the house.”

Speak of the devil, Bull saunters in, ducking under undoubtedly one of many doorframes. Julian sits down while Bull stays standing. Chairs too small.

“Ma’am.” He tilts his head towards her and does his best to look as least-threatening as possible.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright with you.” Julian pointedly ignores his partner’s arrival to keep her attention on him.

Mrs. Cousland sniffles and thinks, nodding after a moment.

“Yes, that’s fine.” she croaks, wiping her red nose on the sleeve of her dress.

Julian hears Bull pull out a notebook and click a pen.

“First of all, I’d like to know how you’re holding up, Mrs. Cousland.”

Mrs. Cousland waves her hand, “Please, call me Oriana. And terribly. Thank you for asking. It feels like everyone here doesn’t even see me. I’m just another person to interrogate, my husband, the father of my child is missing for Maker’s sake!”

Julian sighs. Knowing Cassandra and Blackwall, Oriana no doubt got the reaming of a lifetime.

“Okay, Oriana. I have no plans to interrogate you. I simply want to ask a few simple questions.”

The woman visibly relaxes. With a heavy sigh, she nods. Julian continues,

“So, to start off, I’d like to know about your morning. Tell me about your routine.”

“Well, Fergus wakes up before I do. He was gone before I woke, but, but that’s normal.” Her eyes gloss over and stare out a window as she speaks, “I get out of bed, take a shower, and have breakfast. An omelette. Then, hm, I watched television for a couple hours, then went to have brunch with my mother-in-law.”

Oriana’s nose begins to scrunch with unshed tears as she recalls the day’s events. Julian puts a sympathetic hand against her shoulder which seems to comfort her just slightly.

“And when you got home, you saw the house as it is?”

She nods, hot tears rolling down her blotchy cheeks.

“Yes, I came home to— to— to this.” she motions her hands wildly around them before she begins sobbing again.

“Right, I’m sorry. When you came home, what exactly did you see?”

“My home a mess! Everything absolutely disarray. I called Fergus, but he didn’t answer. I called his work, and they said he never showed.”

Bull can be heard scribbling on his tattered notebook. Julian simply raises his eyebrows.

“Hm. He left before you woke, but seemed to have stopped home while you were away and then..?”

“He disappeared! Fergus wouldn’t just up and leave, he wouldn’t.”

The edge of her voice causes Julian to backtrack. He honestly wasn’t trying to imply anything. Taking a breath, Julian collects his wandering thoughts and zones into Oriana.

“I believe you.” He lies, “I just want to get all the facts straight.”

“Right, right, I apologize.” Oriana dabs daintily at her nose, suddenly remembering she’s in front of people. “Yesterday, did everything seem normal? Fergus didn’t act out of the ordinary?”

“Oh, well…”

Julian looks back at Bull who’s giving him a hard look that says, ‘oh, here we go.’

Oriana frowns and looks down between her shoes. “We had a fight.” she says very quietly, as if she was a child caught in the candy.

“A fight? What kind of fight?” Unless this woman is a makeup wizard, there doesn’t seem to be any obvious signs of a physical fight.

“Over the baby. He… he wants us to move into his family’s estate. So he’ll have more room to learn and play.” She lovingly pats her swollen belly, continuing, “I didn’t want to. I like this area. It’s quiet, and saf-” she stops on the word safe. Obviously, it isn’t as safe as she thought. Julian is still having a hard time at the thought of a grown man getting kidnapped. Probably killed and dragged off to be dumped somewhere.

“Is there anything stolen from your home?”

“That’s the thing!” Oriana jumps at the subject switch. “Nothing was taken! Not one thing. I checked, the police checked, everything is here.”

Bull grunts behind him and the scribbling stops at the sound of the pen clicking.

“Interesting.” is all Julian can say without furthering the woman’s worry. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a look around.”

Oriana nods softly and turns away from them, lost in thought.

Once out of the room Julian finds himself back in the living room. Large smears of blood stain an off-white wall leading into the house’s hallway. Fingernails seem to have dragged across the floor in an effort to hold onto something as to not get dragged away. Huh. Julian figures it must be more than one person who dragged away Fergus Cousland. The force’s photographer, Dagna, bounded into the room with her large, expensive camera. She stops at the fingernail marks, steadies the camera, and Julian hears a stream of shutters.

“Hey, Jules.” Dagna doesn’t look away from her camera, adjusting and fidgeting with whatever is going on in there.

“Hey, D. Anything particularly gruesome you want me to take a special look at?”

Dagna chortles to herself but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah, did you check the bedroom?”

Julian walks past her and pushes open the creaky door. He certainly wasn’t expecting what he saw.

The bed is absolutely covered in blood and gore. It’s clearly a king size and every inch is drenched in some sort of human. Oddly enough, the rest of the room is spotless. Julian takes a sample of whatever… parts were on the bed and goes to patrol the rest of the house.

The bathroom, second bedroom, and backyard are all clean. In fact, the they’re the only spots on the land that weren’t tainted in some way. It didn’t take long for Bull to finish up his business and Julian is back in the truck on their way to their headquarters.

Another thirty minutes and Julian manages to submit the evidence he collected and sits down at his desk. Bull skulks off to the break room of the office before Julian can discuss what they found. Bull was never a quiet man, but after every introduction to a case he goes to compartmentalize whatever it is he just absorbed. Julian, on the other hand, hates that, and is buzzing to bounce ideas off the first person who will listen to him.

He’s about to go search for the new temp, Krem, that Commander De Fer hired when a bustling at the front of the station draws Julian’s attention.

Loud voices and a haughty laugh follow. If Julian strains, he hears Cullen’s sputtering at some joke and Sera’s shrill laugh.

Suddenly, the group appears into the main office.

A finely dressed man swaggers into the room absolutely glowing. He has a nicely trimmed mustache that matched the perfectly swooped hair atop his head. He wore an immaculately fitted black suit and is followed by an equally perfectly groomed tall blonde woman. The pair didn’t fit into the office’s environment at all.

Sera, permanently stained by mystery substances is absolutely enraptured by whatever the blonde woman is telling her, while Cullen, stubbly and tired looking still seems to try to keep up with the beautiful strangers.

Cullen and Julian catch eyes and before he can stop himself, Julian is standing in front of the group.

“Julsie!” Sera bounds over to him and pulls his tie so he slouches closer to her level. He feels slightly guilty for being over a foot taller than her. “You’re gonna love these guys! They’re from Tevinter. And dirty.” She giggles that evil laugh she does and Julian’s drawn back to the strangers.

The first stranger holds out his hand to shake and smiles— well, no, smile would be the wrong word. It’s more of a shit-eating grin, even though Julian can’t tell what the man has done to earn that smile.

“Dorian Pavus, charmed, I’m sure.”

Julian isn’t charmed, but the man, Dorian, has a fantastically confident attitude that Julian loves to feed off in a group setting. He takes his hand and shakes once. Firm grip. Nice.

“Julian Trevelyan. But my friends call me Jules.”

Dorian grins genuinely this time, quirking his brow and snorting.

“Your name is Jules?”

“Yeah, something wrong?”

“Oh, no, it’s just such a frilly name and,” Dorian stops himself before he puts his foot in his mouth further. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you’re just rather striking to have such a name, is all.”

Julian can’t help but bark a laugh. He already likes this guy.

“Is that a roundabout way of calling me handsome?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

They share a look before Cullen coughs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, Maker. Don’t tell me you’re like Julian.”

Julian feigns a hurt expression and clutches his imaginary pearls.

“Whatever do you mean, dear Cullen?”

Cullen turns to leave muttering something about serial flirting under breath.

“What a chipper young man.” Dorian comments.

“What!? He can be a right twat!” Sera bounces around them and it takes Julian all he can to keep from snickering. He loved Cullen, he did, but he needed a break. Badly.

Behind them, the blonde woman makes herself known by clearing her throat.

“If you two are quite finished, my name is Maevaris Tilani.”

“Julian Trevelyan. Pleasure to meet you both.”

Julian shook her hand, too. He noted how dainty and pale her hands were. They reminded him very much of Cole.

“These two are lawyer leeches.” Sera made sure to really punch out the word leeches, causing Maevaris to roll her eyes and Dorian to act offended.

“I’d think you were nicer to fellow crime fighters?”

“Ha! Since when were lawyers righteous? Shove that up your arse.”

Dorian looked at Julian for some defense which Julian has a hard time coming up with.

“Well… I guess it depends on what kind of lawyer.”

“Maevaris is the defense attorney, not me.”

Maevaris glares at Dorian and pinches his earlobe. He yelps and clutches it tenderly.

“Still, I’m happy you two are around. Was wondering when we’d get some new blood around here.”

“Vaguely suspicious. What happened to the last ‘new blood’ that wandered around here?”

Julian smiled mischievously before looking out to the backlot of the office.

“Ran far, far away. Only the real ones stick around.”

Dorian immediately bristles at the challenge.

“Ha, I suppose I now have to stay for as long as I can out of spite.”

“Meh, probably wouldn’t be a bad thing. We need eye candy that isn’t Vivienne around here.”

“My my, you’re brave.”

Sera makes a gagging sound. “Can you two stop being gross n’ shite? You met 2 minutes ago. Don’t starting rutting, nasties.”

Maevaris tugs at Dorian’s arm to pull away at the conversation that apparently she’s also done with.

Julian loves new people.

#dorian pavus #inquisitor/dorian pavus #dorian x inquisitor

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exceptionalstatistics · 8 years ago

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...a woman should be two things...

...who and what she wants. I was slow to accept feminism as part of my identity. The word itself carries some hefty baggage, and to be honest I didn't understand the hype. I used to think that sexism wasn’t real. I thought women who claimed to have been discriminated against were over-dramatic, attention seeking, or simply misinformed. I was one of the people who decided humanity had simply become a little too sensitive. When I finally made my way into the real world, I started to notice subtle things I hadn't before. They were things that probably seem insignificant, until you begin to realize what it could mean for your career, income, or standard of living. There are plenty of social justice warriors (and other people too) who will tell you that blatant racism, sexism, and religious discrimination are alive and well in the U.S. today - and they're right. Those things still exist. Discrimination rooted in hate is absolutely still a problem that plagues society. It's just important to remember that unintentional generalizations based on "XYZ" can be harmful in ways that aren't always so obvious. We're all guilty in one way or another. Period. End of story. Earlier this week, I had the rare opportunity to spend a couple consecutive hours at my desk, catching up on tasks that have long needed my undivided attention. The sound of political commentators reiterating some (very) familiar arguments poured into my oversized purple headphones (that are $5.00 off-brand beat-imposters, in case you were wondering) providing just the right amount of "static" to keep me in the zone. Just before wrapping up one of the last items on my to-do list, I caught the tail end of an exchange that momentarily shattered my state of focus. I had to re-listen to make sure I'd heard what they said correctly. It's no secret that "the media" typically leans to the left. I may not agree with President Elect Trump's recent accusations of "fake news", but I do think the habit of favoring a person and/or party can get in the way of great reporting. And right now, maybe more than ever, we need good reporting. It isn't very often that "the right" does something that "the left" can celebrate (or vice versa), so when it happens shouldn't we scream it from the rooftops? Isn't that newsworthy? You're probably wondering what I'm talking about. And that's probably because almost no one is covering it. When/if they have, it's been condescending or dismissive. Melania Trump doesn't want to move to Washington, D.C - so she isn't going to, and I think that’s freaking awesome. No. This isn't me being sarcastic. My question is… why aren't we making this a big deal? By "we" I mean anyone who is passionate about living in a progressive society? Shouldn't the 'Liberal' media be singing shining praises about Melania paving the way for a new age of First Ladies who would prefer to live out their own dreams than their husbands'? She is making history, meanwhile TMZ is publishing 6-sentence articles that say things like Welp, I guess she takes that mom thing really seriously. Instead? Crickets. No kudos from feminists, no statements of support from women's' organizations. Nada. [I should note that since writing this the Washington Post has come out with an article on almost this exact topic, but still… it took them far too long.] Why? Oh. Because she's "just" staying home to be a mom.The level of seething anger I feel when I think about this double standard is difficult to put into words.First... Being a mother is not a freaking cake walk. Sure, maybe Melania Trump has it easier than the rest of us - but that isn't even remotely the point. Sheets made of gold or not, motherhood is hard. It's lonely. It's terrifying. And wonderful too, but (I'm rambling again)…still not the point. The POINT is that she is a woman who DIDN'T grow up dreaming of living at the white house. She didn't spend the last 10 years fighting tooth and nail to be a spokeswoman for various causes, or studying ways to influence public opinion. She isn't interested, and she doesn't have to be. The fact that so many people are waving her off like she's a plastic Barbie doll simply because she doesn't have ambitions to change the world is pretty damn repulsive. Melania is making one of the boldest decisions in the history of all FLOTUS(s), and all we do is collectively role our eyes? No. Nope. I refuse to ignore something this iconic just because her husband makes me want to smash my face into the pavement. If it's not right for Hillary's opponents to blame her for Bill's crimes, then we don't get to make fun of Melania for saying she cares about cyber bullying. Her husband is the internet troll, not her. But hey, she's just a mom who doesn't have a career worthy of your respect, so let's just laugh at her from our ivory tower. Shaaaaaaaaame on us. Hey, Lena Dunham, didn't you say that the most important part of Feminism is empowering women to make their own decisions, even if they aren't the same decisions you'd make for yourself? *Insert pinterest quote meme.* Melania won't ever see this, but I, for one, would just like to say thank you. Thank you for choosing your own path and flipping the bird to one of the most ridiculous conventional "norms" in modern society. Despite the cold shoulder you're getting from…well… everyone, you're helping us move forward. What you're doing is important. Because of small changes like this, maybe someday a FLOTUS can publicly admit that she fundamentally disagrees with almost everything her husband represents - and still manages to love him. Or maybe that comes from the mouth of our first FGOTUS. The G is for gentleman. For those of you who were wondering.

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artificialqueens · 8 years ago

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Barbie And Her Monster High Doll (Adore x Trixie ft Alaska) - Lemonade

Barbie And Her Monster High Doll Chapter 1. (Adore x Trixie ft Alaska) - Lemonade

AN: I’ve been wanting to write an Adore x Trixie fic for so long, you guys have no idea!!! (legit there are three unfinished stories w/ these two on my phone). It starts out more Alaska/Trixie at first, Adore pops up towards the end. The next chapter is where Adore/Trixie really start to take off. If there’s enough interest I’ll do my best to write/sumbit a chapter every 1-2 weeks (pls don’t hold me to that though). Also, I’ve made a side blog @aqlemonade!! I’ll try to have it dolled up before this is posted but if not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Anyway I hope you guys enjoy!!!

“Alaska?!” Trixie called from the opposite side of the room, a sea of intoxicated individuals separating them. The only glimpse she could catch of her girlfriend was the the tip of Alaska’s teased to the high heavens hair. If the platinum blonde didn’t bop up occasionally with the music Trixie would have assumed she abandoned her. “Laska?!?!” Trixie raised her voice, which she usually hated doing, but there was no way Alaska would be able to hear her with the music pounding through the small apartment if she hadn’t. “Trix?” Alaska shouted back at the top of her lungs. Trixie perked up as she heard Alaska call her name back, sounding completely trashed, but comforting Trixie’s growing anxiety nonetheless. “Wait right there baby, I’m coming for you!” Alaska yelled to Trixie with a faux dramatic edge to her tone.

Alaska pushed and danced her way through the crowd. She stumbled over to Trixie, tripped over her own two feet, and fell straight into her love’s arms. “Hi babe.” Alaska flashed Trixie a cheesy grin, pushing herself up just enough to kiss her cheek. “I want to go home.” Trixie spoke urgently. Parties were far, far out of her comfort zone. Alaska always wanted to go crash the nearest one. While she never forced (she even given up asking) Trixie to go with her, Trixie still felt awful for not accompanying her girlfriend anywhere the platinum blonde usually dwelled. She took a chance, deciding to tag along this time, which she began to regret about five seconds after the bottom of her heel hit the floor. Alaska rolled her eyes, pouting up at Trixie. “C'mon,” She drawled. “We’ve only been here for an hour.” It was definitely the alcohol. If Trixie wanted to go, (sober) Alaska would be right behind her. Admittedly, she might cover her annoyance with a bright smile, but she did do her best to accommodate her girlfriend’s struggle.

Trixie hated this, she hated the insensitive little comments Alaska would make about her anxiety. She knew it had only been an hour, she knew any other ‘normal’ person would be living it up, drinking and dancing with their girlfriend, but she couldn’t. The entire situation was overwhelming from the jump and Trixie kicked herself in the ass for even putting herself in this position. “I’m going, you clearly don’t care anyway.” Trixie pushed Alaska off of her, beginning to make that impossible journey through a hoard of people and to the door when Alaska grabbed her, pulling her back to her previous place. “What the fuck do you mean I clearly don’t care?” Alaska screamed over the music, the chattering of a room full of people, and the moaning emitting from a couple in the corner with their hands down each other’s pants.

Trixie didn’t have a moment to respond as Alaska continued on her drunken rampage. “Every fucking time we go somewhere it’s: ‘Oh, Alaska, I have to go. It’s too crowded, there’s too many people here.’ Or: ‘Oh Alaska I can’t handle a simple fucking task like ordering my own goddamn coffee at Starbucks.’” Trixie opened her mouth to argue, to defend herself despite the tears pricking her eyes, but Alaska cut her off again. “All that stupid fucking shit I put up with, and you have the nerve to tell me I don’t care?” The woman’s face was contorted in anger as she stared down her girlfriend. Her expression would be better suited on Trixie’s face after being belittled for her anxiety in front of an apartment full of people; Instead she had the look of an abused puppy: sorrowful and utterly heartbroken. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, though her voice betrayed her instantly, unmasking the pain Alaska’s words inflicted upon her. “That’s the thing Laska…” She trailed off for a minute or two. Her eyes wandered from her girlfriend’s to a more comfortable spot glued to the tacky patterned carpet on the ground. “If you cared you would know I have no control over this. If you cared you would know how hard I try every day to do things that seem sofucking simple to you. If you even listened to me you would know I hate being like this. I wish I could go out with you, and your friends, and not feel like I’m suffocating. I wish I could order my own drink and not have my girlfriend do it for me because even the thought of talking to someone is overwhelming. So I’m sorry for all the stupid fucking shit I put you through, just know it’s ten times worse for me. I feel like shit about it anyway without you constantly making me feel worse.” Guilt began to seep into Alaska’s blood stream, replacing the booze and sobering her up a bit.

“Trix, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did mean it. You meant every word, Alaska.”

She reached over to cup Trixie’s face, but Trixie shied away from her touch. Alaska sighed, bringing her arm back to her side. They stood in their own silence. The noise around them was ear-splitting, yet the two felt like they were in their own painfully quiet bubble. Trixie was the first to burst it. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with someone who won’t even try to understand me.” A sad, knowing look was shared between the two of them. This had been a long time coming. “I don’t think you want to be with me anymore anyway, do you Alaska?” If she said she did, Trixie might crumble right under her words. She was never strong in her decisions, and had a desperate need to be loved. She’d take it from anywhere even if the situation wasn’t healthy.

Alaska’s eyes spoke before her words had the chance to. Trixie understood them, finally letting the tears she was holding in drop down her painted cheeks, causing runs in her otherwise perfect makeup.

“I have to go.”

“Trix, wait.” Alaska pulled her back yet again, this time into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered into her ear. Alaska wished she was a better person, that she had the patience to understand Trixie, but she didn’t. Her girlfriend–ex girlfriend, deserved that. If she couldn’t give it to her she hoped she found it with someone else.

When Trixie retreated from the hug Alaska ran her hands over her skin tight jeans, pulling out a wad of cash she was going to use to get them both a ride home to the other side of town. “Here.” She shoved the money in Trixie’s hands. “Take this to get a cab, and don’t wait around outside. It’s a bad neighborhood.” The girl with rosy pink cheeks looked down at the money she was holding.

“Laska, no. How are you gonna get home?”

Alaska shrugged her shoulders. “Won’t be the first time I’ve had to find my own way home. I’ll hitch a ride with someone here or something.”

After a good deal of convincing, Trixie took the money Alaska offered her. “Text me when you get home, okay? So I know you made it there safely.” Trixie nodded in the direction of Alaska’s voice as she scurried out the door.

Alaska had told her not to wait outside, but the last thing Trixie could think of right now was anything her ex-girlfriend had said in that condensed little room. Trixie bolted through the front door of the building, stopping at the bottom of the steps while gripping the railing for dear life. She held her free hand over her chest. Her heart beat so fast she feared it would burst right through her. She would do anything to be able to run back into Alaska’s arms. Even if she didn’t understand her, a calming embrace felt more like a necessity at the moment.

Instead of comforting arms Trixie was met with a threatening, “Hey, princess.” The man seemed as if he had emerged from the shadows, popping up out of no where. Trixie definitely did not catch sight of him when she first ran out or else she would have ran back in. He was tall, at least six foot and towering over Trixie as he creeped closer to her. She gulped, preparing herself for any of the million scenarios running through her head to became a reality. Her knuckles turned white as the grip she held on the railing became a vice of life or death. “Look,” the man spoke as he eerily approached the young woman. His face was pale with a bright red scar running across his left cheek. Trixie tried to etch every physical feature the man had into her brain: bright red scar, pale skin, icy blue eyes, the right one slightly lazy, hooked nose, cleft chin…“I’m not gonna beat up some nineteen year old girl wearing a pink dress.” His words broke her concentration. “Just give me your phone and money. Make it easier on the the both of us, alright?”

Trixie nodded. Shaking hands unbuckled the purse on her shoulder as she pulled out her iPhone and the money Alaska had given her for a ride home. As she looked up to pass the items over she caught a blur of flannel and ratty black hair swinging at the man’s jaw, grabbing her own wrist, and yanking her down the street with them. The person’s hand had remained wrapped around Trixie’s fragile wrist as their feet beat against the pavement. They were running for their lives at this point, the man who only staggered from the blow had begun chasing after them.

Trixie’s pace started to slow. She wasn’t athletic, and her breathing had already been compromised due to an oncoming anxiety attack she almost fell victim to after initially leaving the party. On top of all that, she was clad in five inch, bright pink heels while the person who saved her ran comfortably in black combat boots. Her arm dropped from the other girl’s grip, her hands falling to her knees as she desperately gasped for air. The darker haired girl stopped in her tracks, turning around to the blonde and giving Trixie the first real glance of her face since she came to her rescue.

This woman was…stunning. She had to be the most beautiful human Trixie ever laid her eyes on. Her cheeks were splashed with pink glitter, her lips nude and plump–What an awful time for this thought to come about, but Trixie couldn’t help but to envision how mind blowing they would feel between her legs. “C'mon, Barbie.” Her voice raspy, sending a slight shiver up Trixie’s spine that broke the trance that had fallen over her. “You can’t give up on me now, he’s right behind us!” He wasn’t. The girl just wanted to get as much distance between themselves and the attacker as possible; Fear seemed like the best tactic to get this exhausted girl moving again. She grabbed Trixie’s wrist, beginning to run, forcing Trixie to keep up with her. “Fight the patriarchy! Prove to them you can run in heels!” She called back to her as she sped up, dragging Trixie along like a stuffed animal on a leash. The statement made zero sense, though somehow encouraged Trixie to power through until she was directed into a tight alley way.

“What are we–” Trixie began to question breathlessly before the girl’s hand was over her mouth. She made a shushing motion to her, signaling her to shut the fuck up. They stood like that until the asshole chasing them eventually passed with enough distance between them. Now that they were in a dimly lit area, Trixie could see her hero better. The woman couldn’t be much older than her, if not the same age. Her smudged eyeliner circled the most dazzling pair of eyes: vividly colored green and sparkling in the moonlight. She wore a black tank top, jean shorts, ripped black tights, combat boots and a red flannel that was one of the only things Trixie could pick out about her in the haze of the night’s earlier events. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed once in her lifetime. A makeshift brass knuckle decorated her right hand. This girl embodied everything Trixie, with her perfectly pinned up blonde hair, precise makeup, and all-pink outfit wasn’t. She hadn’t known her very long, but Trixie knew she was strong; Strong in a way Trixie only wished she could be.

Trixie licked the girls palm so she’d remove it from her lips. The girl withdrew her hand, wiping the spit off on her flannel without seeming fazed by the move at all. She replaced it with a soothing hand (the one Trixie hand’t licked) cupping Trixie face as she looked over her features. It wasn’t much, but after craving some sort of physical comfort all night, the touch nearly brought her to tears.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” The girl moved Trixie’s face to examine her, her shiny eyes scanning over the skin left exposed by her outfit as well for any signs of trauma. “No.” Trixie croaked out, shaking her head. “He just wanted my phone and money–said he didn’t want to attack a girl in a pink dress.” She dryly chuckled.

Trixie shook the woe is me attitude she felt approaching straight away. She had not only been almost robbed, but broke up with her girlfriend all in the same day, within the same hour. But here stood this gorgeous hero, who saved her from at least one of those events; She was nothing but grateful for their presence. “Thank you so much for saving me back there.” She spoke before the other could. The girl shrugged as if it was no big deal, just part of her daily routine, saving naive girls form the dangerous streets of neighborhoods they aren’t familiar with. “If us girls don’t protect each other, who will?” She answered simply. “Especially around here, especially when I get the impression you don’t hang here that often–” She looked her up and down in all her bright pink glory. “Or at all.”

The blonde blushed under her wandering eyes. Say something, Trixie urged herself.

She held her hand out, fresh french tip manicure and all. “I’m Tracy-Trixie! I’m Trixie.”

The other girl snickered at her obvious nervousness, taking her manicured hand into hers, chipped black nail polish from the dollar store and all.

“I’m Adore.”

#barbie and her monster high doll #lemonade #anxiety tw #ableism tw #robbery tw #rpdr fanfiction #adore x trixie #alaska x trixie #lesbian au #rare pair

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