#let me see what she's been up to. what conspiracy she's gotten herself wrapped up in

[mangosaurus]

HAPPY PANEL DAY!!!! hoping for a brooklynn-centric episode for today's screening 🙏 (not even manifesting i genuinely have a good feeling about this one)

[karatam]

Speculation on the original plan for The Wilds season 2

So, basically I think that in between wrapping up Season 1 and finishing writing Season 2, the show lost the ability to have Nora there on the island as a character, as the actress wouldn't be able to film in Australia (or New Zealand) due to vaccination requirements, and therefore had to change up a lot of the planned plot lines for the girls' side of the season.

Here's a few thoughts on what I think they had to change.

1) So the big one is that I'm pretty sure Nora wasn't supposed to 'die' right then and there (maybe later, but definitely not in the premiere).

I think the writers were setting up a whole confrontation with Leah, consistently delayed by Rachel's injury, as well as Nora's increasing guilt in her participation. We'd have seen Nora deal with Rachel's injury as well as try to fend off an incensed Leah. But with the pit gone and Nora obviously distraught over Rachel, I don't think the girls would have believed Leah immediately, because they wouldn't think Nora would do something like that to her own twin.

Maybe she would have gotten hurt later on in the season, I could see her injury being the cause of their immediate evacuation, as Gretchen wouldn't want the girls on the island without a confederate among them.

It makes me wonder if they had originally had more planned for the girls (maybe enough to make their screentime equal to the boys), but had to scrap or try to rewrite so much of it to account for the lack of possibly the second more important character on the island. (Truly, losing Nora was probably the second hardest character to lose, after Leah, because so much plot moving forward probably hinged on Nora being the confederate)

2) Rachel's plotline might have been therefore more hinged on losing her hand and with it a lot of how she identified with herself as a person. Last season, she was juuuust starting to accept that she wasn't going to be an Olympic diver one day, but that's a big jump to losing a hand and undergoing island-surgery.

I wonder if she'd back Nora 100% against Leah's conspiracy theory right to the end, since her and Nora had finally started connecting again. Or if her newfound faith in Nora would start to be undermined by just too many coincidences.

3) This is the big one and this one hurts, but I think Martha died mid-season in the original plan for season 2.

In the season we got, with Nora gone they were already down to 7 girls on the island, so they couldn't kill another girl within the same season. But if they hurt Martha enough that she can still trigger certain plot events, they had to do it quite late in the season or else the entire thing would just be about caring for her together on the island (which, would get unrealistic after enough days/weeks and possibly a bit boring).

They were very conspicuous in S1 about not showing Martha at all in post-island scenes, while having Agent Young seem genuinely saddened by looking through her things. Then in S2, she's just….fine? after the few days they spend in the bunker. It doesn't quite line up.

Also, not having Toni ask about her in the post-island scenes of season 1, despite (in the timeline we got) Toni knowing that Martha is somewhere in the building, possibly still catatonic where Toni can't take care of her, doesn't make sense. In their original plan, Toni wouldn't ask for Martha, because she knows that Martha is dead.

4) The breakup of Shelby/Toni is earlier in the season and worse. If they kill Martha mid-season, that gives the break-up of Shelby and Toni much more grief and hurt behind it, and it has a much longer time to fester for them both. Them trapped on the island for weeks with that hanging between them. Because now Toni thinks that Shelby might have indirectly let Martha die, and isn't immediately rescued, and Toni doesn't get the relief of Martha squeezing her hand or being okay in the bunker. She's gone forever and forgiving Shelby seems impossible.

This also gives Shelby more time to spiral, mentally. Because in the season we got, she has a breakdown and then they're rescued literally like 3 hours later. But in the original plan, she has weeks to blame herself for Martha's death and Toni's pain. Weeks the spiral further and maybe fracture enough for the dissociative tendencies that they reference and we see in season 1 to show up.

In the season we got, I don't know if Shelby has displayed any of that in the tiny time span between her breakdown and their rescue. And she hasn't had time to sit with the conspiracy like Leah and Fatin, so wouldn't be nearly informed enough about the whole thing.

(as a side note, I'm going to be very annoyed if season 3 has Shelby as a new confederate, because it simply doesn't make sense to me)

5) After Martha's death, I think Dot was going to shut down entirely. After trying so hard to care for everyone, someone she loved still died on her watch. Again. And I don't think Dot would be able to handle that.

A lot of Dot's small plotlines this season revolved around her not being able to let go of her self-appointed position as caretaker, so to 'fail' (she really didn't) so spectacularly at the job she insisted on taking on, would have been devastating.

Maybe by the end of the season, someone like Rachel would have been able to reach her, or maybe after blowing up at her, Toni would extend a hand.

6) Honestly, I think a lot of Leah and Fatin's later plotline would stay the same, with Leah trying to distance herself from that way of thinking and Fatin accidentally being caught in the conspiracy theory.

But the early stuff, with Leah trying to pry info out of Rachel, would have been changed to Leah obsessing over getting Nora to confess, until there's a big blow-up with everyone and Fatin has to once again get Leah to back off. And I think Nora would have been able to mostly wriggle her way out of it, but leave enough doubt that Fatin would pick up on clues later, and maybe Shelby too, without needing to be told explicitly by Fatin.

7) I don't think they would have had to change literally anything about the boys, except what scenes their voice-overs would play over.

(Honestly that's kind of my big complaint about the boys, that they just didn't interconnect with the girls enough. You can literally watch a cut of the show without the boys and lost almost nothing at all from the girls' storylines)

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language and mild medical drama Warnings: Brief depictions of medical treatments for blood loss and its symptoms Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Bela has always wondered who her soulmate was, the person she was connected to by red string. When she finally meets them, she's devastated to find them hanging in her basement, being drained of blood. But her soulmate won't die- not if she can do something about it. Notes: Soulmate AU in which people have a red thread tied to their left ring finger (or elsewhere if missing the finger/hand), which connects to their soulmate. By default the string is taut/tight, only getting loose when the pair is relatively close to each other.

1: Stem The Flow

How long had she waited for this day? How long had Bela monitored the red string tied to her hand, waiting for it to be anything other than taut? A decade, at the least, if not two or more. For so long she had dreamt of her soulmate, albeit discreetly, wondering about every facet of their being. Entire days had been spent imagining them, and how they would come into her life. Sometimes, on those days, she would gently tug her end of the thread. Every single time, without fail, her soulmate had returned the motion. It warmed her heart more than she’d ever admit, to know that her excitement was not one-sided.

At times, it did worry her, the feelings in her chest reminding her of her youngest sister. Daniela was obsessed with love, dangerously so, to the point of being downright delusional. More than once her “affections” had gotten their family into some sort of trouble. No matter how mature Bela considered herself to be, there was a part of her that worried about repeating her sister’s mistakes. What if her excitement about her partner led her to overlook something crucial? What if the person in question posed a threat to her family? How easy would it be, then, for her to cut them off?...

Today, perhaps, she would find out.

The sun had set over the Romanian landscape, and with the moon rose the Dimitrescu household. First out of bed, as always, Bela wasted no time in getting dressed. Hazy visions of her fading dreams clouded her mind, tugging on her thoughts as always. Most days they felt more like memories than anything else. Today, they are quieter than usual, easily fading into the background. When the last traces of her grogginess disperse, Bela finds herself glancing at her left hand. It’s a daily habit, although discreet, that always leaves her with bittersweet feelings.

“Wait…” Bela whispered, as her eyes took in the unexpected sight: The red string of fate, tied to her left ring finger, loose as can be. It trails to the ground, coiled a single time, before heading underneath her door. “Am I dreaming?” She does not bother to pinch herself to check. Instead she practically jumps into her shoes, dashing out of her room with unfamiliar glee. Maidens in the hallways have to leap aside to avoid her, but she does not care, for once ignoring the standards her mother had instilled in her. If her sisters could be chaotic, we couldn’t she?

So she follows the thread, eagerly, without even wondering why it was so loose. No, she didn’t think about the implications of the situation. In her mind, it did not matter why her soulmate was finally within her reach, it simply mattered that they were. Soon enough they would be in her arms, safe, with nothing else to bother them. And then she’d be happy, finally having someone she was on equal terms with. Finally having someone to confide in, to cherish, to whisper sweet nothings to in the dead of the night.

She doesn’t hesitate until she finds the string wrapped around the door to the basement. At last the signs click together in her mind, like a conspiracy board bound with crimson ties. Instantly panic replaces whatever excitement she had been feeling. Then she’s abandoning all sense of caution, throwing open the door and rushing forward, dispersing into a swarm to cover more ground. Even if she could no longer see the thread in this form, she was certain that she’d know exactly who her soulmate was when she saw them.

And, well, she does. Something calls her to the far corner of the main room, where a body was suspended from the ceiling by its hands. An all-too-familiar needle was sticking out of the person’s arm, leading down to a large glass container, which was slowly filling with blood. The scent made Bela’s nostrils flare, and her eyes go wide, but she did her best to fight against her instincts. Quickly she gets to her knees, examining the jar to see how full it was. Most of the measurement lines were faded, having been worn out over time, making it harder to estimate the volume. In the end, Bela guessed that the container could fit just over six liters inside. Which meant that the person had lost close to… two and a half. That was bad- behind bad, really. Horrible, actually. Immediately life threatening to the point of having been life threatening before Bela had even woken up.

“Don’t die on me, please,” she half cried half shouted, jumping into action as best as she knew how. Not even bothering to turn the nozzle on the device, she pulls the needle out of her soulmate’s arm, cursing when more blood rushes out of the hole. Then she’s applying pressure, hard as she can, beyond glad that they weren’t awake for this. One hand goes to tear a piece of fabric off of their shirt. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind, all things considered. Next, Bela ties the cloth around the collection point, making less of a tourniquet and more of a generic bandage. “Shit, you need a transfusion, don’t you?... Fuck, fuck, what’s your blood type?”

Knowing that she wouldn’t be getting a verbal answer any time soon, Bela settled for dipping a finger into the jar, bringing it to her lips, and licking. The difference in taste among blood types was subtle, but she was nothing if not a professional at this point. Still, the type is not immediately clear to her, and she knows that she might have to go around licking more blood from other prisoners. Unless… could someone receive a transfusion of their own blood? Such a thing had never happened at the castle before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Hold on, I’ll figure this out, somehow, I promise,” Bela said, gently taking her patient’s hand in her own. Taking your hand.

When you wake, you find yourself among the softest sheets you have ever felt, as if laying on clouds themselves. But your vision is blurred, and your head is besieged by waves of pain. A whimper makes its way past your lips. For a moment all you can do is tense up, unsure of any detail of your situation, unable to discern anything around you. Then you feel a hand on your own, squeezing gently. Something about it sends a rush of comfort throughout your entire body. Still, you are more confused than anything, and you find yourself trying to sit up out of instinct.

Without warning the hand lets you go, only for the owner to shift their weight, climbing on top of you in an instant. They’re holding you down, saying words that don’t quite reach your ears. For how light they are, they manage to put an impressive amount of pressure on you, easily rendering you immobile. Unfortunately, this position does little to ease your anxiety. The last thing you could remember was a very, very tall lady sticking a needle in your arm with a cruel laugh. Based on how you felt, there was still a needle in your arm. But you had been standing, or hanging, before, and now you were on your back.

“Whathe… wha the ‘ell… can’t 'hink,” you muttered, stumbling over your own tongue. Whoever sits on top of you tries to comfort you, running a hand through your hair. “Who are you?” You asked, even though you couldn’t understand a word this person said. Their voice might as well have been in another language, with the way your addled brain processed it. Had you lost too much blood? Or maybe you had a concussion? “I just. I just wanted to meet them. Please, I jus… I just wanna see my soulmate.”

Again, you cannot understand what the person says in response, but they finally seem to understand this. One of their hands reaches out and grabs your left one, slowly tapping your fingers, one by one. When they reach your ring finger, they pause, gently holding it. For a few moments you’re left even more confused. Then, with a surge of warmth in your chest, the dots are connected. Whoever is with you quietly grabs the thread attached to your finger, before tugging gently. In order for them to do that… well, there was only one explanation. They were your soulmate. They were the one you had gone to this accursed castle to meet. Somehow they had saved you, and everything was finally looking up.

Mind clearing slowly, you’re finally able to understand something they- or she, as far as you can tell- say.

“Rest now, my beloved. You are safe in my care, this I promise.”

[amethystpath-writes]

P2 A Prisoner of Balconies

You guys and @gingerly-writing liked the soldier (from this) who was barely mentioned, right? Pretty sure you did, and you might still. 👀

******

The great hall shouldn’t have been so festive, shouldn’t have been adorned with newly designed banners and recently commissioned paintings. It made Arsyisa’s stomach twist, her throat close, palms sweat, hair fall out. Everything that could go wrong with her body simply was- all because of...well, it couldn’t be summed up so easily, could it be?

There was the fact that Arsy was sat- rather, placed, deliberately next to the general, Hytin. She was stuffed in a dress of his designated colour. Crowded in by dozens of betrayers. Warm in her dress, and overheated by the steam rising off her meal.

On top of that heaping mess, Arsy’s family was dead. Her mother, father, and two younger brothers. They were gone. Nothing could ever change that fact- and actually, the fact could only become worse as Hytin was replacing every tie to the royal family with himself. Well, every tie except for Arsy herself.

Why didn’t he kill her? Why didn’t he-

(Keep reading)

Oh, it didn’t matter. Not when Arsy’s...not when the soldier across from her was still alive. If Hytin ever decided he did want to kill Arsyisa- for whatever demented reason he came up with- the princess couldn’t keep her- the- soldier safe anymore. Was it possible the soldier was the only one who knew about the siege?

That only brought a hot bout of anger in Arsy’s body- her ears, hands, cheeks. Had the soldier known about General Hytin’s plan to kill the royal family? Was that why he’d been so persistent about beginning training?

The thought made Arsy sick. Because if he did know, he should have told her, should have warned her, prepared her- and not in the physical sense that he seemed fond of.

He must have understood the idea of mental stress, or else he wouldn’t have found a way to protect Arsyisa at all. He would have let her die even though he disagreed with Hytin’s pursuit of command. But, Arsy meant something to the soldier, and he knew he couldn’t handle the grief should the general decide to take her life.

So, why did he expect Arsy to be able to handle her entire family’s deaths?

This was torturous. Everything. Everything was falling apart, crumpling onto a teetering floor, which made keeping one’s thoughts together nearly impossible.

A fire landed on the princess’ thigh and she gave a light gasp before sending an apologetic look towards everyone near her at the table. It had only been General Hytin’s hand.

Only. As if it couldn’t be worse. She couldn’t get used to this...this life- not with the general of all people.

“You were asked a question, my dear.” Looking to Hytin now, Arsyisa noticed him glancing at the rest of the table, a wicked smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. This was a game to him, to the rest of the table. They were all playing with her, expecting responses only because it meant torturing her further. “I would answer for you, but I feel it is not my place to do so.”

I am a respectable man, she could almost hear him saying.

Arsy whispered, looking across the table at...at the soldier. “I apologize,” she said, and glanced at the others- at the betrayers, the misleaders. “I- I was distracted.” But they already knew that. Why were they making her say it?

Hand still warm on Arsy’s thigh, Hytin reiterated for whoever decided to worsen the princess’ misery, “How are you going to feel about moving into the..." The general's eyebrows jumped. "...former king and queen's chambers?"

"I have decided," Arsyisa nearly seethed, "to stay in my own and original quarters."

Fingers pushed into Arsy's leg. "Did you, now?" His voice didn't need to change to one of innocence. This whole table knew Hytin. They knew the general was manipulating her answers.

It wasn't the voice which worked, but again, the person across from Arsy. The soldier. “Change is difficult now, as you can imagine. I do not feel ready to move on quite yet,” She added, knowing what the general’s response would be if she didn’t, “but I will.”

Looking at the table, at all the new faces which she’d either never seen before, or only did briefly in days of her childhood, Arsyisa stood, chair scooting back with a loud screech. “I think- think I need a moment. Just outside the doors. I won’t stray far,” Arsy said. “I only need a...” She searched for a word which wouldn’t upset Hytin, wouldn’t make him retaliate in some way. “A break.” Not a reprieve.

Arsy couldn’t treat her interactions with Hytin like a punishment or else he would truly deliver them. He would take it out on the soldier, the soldier whose name Arsy was too frightened to speak, or even think, because doing either would further the attachment she had to him instead of to the general.

“I can follow,” the soldier across from the princess said, “as guard.” He began to stand, but Arsy shook her head.

“No, I can take someone else. You are here as a guest”- she glanced at Hytin briefly enough that she couldn’t even read his face- “so eat.” In truth, she would have preferred she take him, but...well, it couldn’t work like that. The general would never allow for the only non-conspirator in the room to-

“He may go. I cannot think of a better skilled man to defend the future queen should something happen.”

A flurry of emotions swirled in Arsy’s gut at Hytin’s words. Words like threat, mercy, control flitted at the back of her mind. Aloud, she almost asked the general, ‘Why?’ Because it didn’t make sense, not at all. Why would Hytin allow her time with someone- with someone she loved? And alone, at that.

But how could she argue? If that was how the general wished for it to be, then there was nothing to be said. Of course, she was the next queen of the kingdom, but...but that didn’t mean anything against an entire table’s worth of conspiracy and betrayal and murder.

And anyways, it couldn’t have been so terrible. This might have been the only moment Arsy would ever be given with the soldier. Maybe it truly was mercy that Hytin was offering- not some ploy to play with Arsyisa’s heart, thus tormenting her more than she was being already.

“Very well. I suppose I should make it quick or else your food will go cold.”

“I suppose we should.”

We. Arsy drew in a breath- one of both anticipation of a moment with him, and also in fear of the meaning of that word. Because Arsyisa couldn’t be ‘we’ with the soldier. That word was reserved for General Hytin.

Either way, Arsy began making her way towards the double doors which would lead her to the hall. As she made her way, and the soldier did on his end of the table, the princess watched Hytin, who only held up his glass and gave a mock smile. “Fresh breezes, my love.”

Her lip lifted discreetly as she turned back to the doors, steps meeting the soldier’s just in time. They linked elbows.

“I feel a little offended,” the soldier whispered, lips curled up- not in spite, but in tease, “that you tried to desert me back there.”

The muscles in Arsyisa’s arm tightened as the two approached the doors.

“Oh, how regrettably shameful I feel,” she returned, voice a touch lighter than it had been when she was sat at the table. Arsy didn’t notice the difference in her voice, but anyone else would have seen the girlish fascination in it now.

What the princess did notice...was the levitation she felt at being able to be so near her soldier again. That’s right. Her soldier. In this moment, this present moment, when her arm was wrapped around his, they could embrace one another. Not in a hug, not in a physical sense, but in theory. They belonged with one another in theory.

As the doors opened, the princess stole just one last glance at Hytin. Maybe, she thought, this can be the last time I ever see him. The likelihood of it was small, and she knew that if the general ever caught her trying to escape, then...then her soldier would be...would be hurt, at the very least. Arsy didn’t try thinking about the details of what could happen.

“I would have made you my king,” Arsyisa told as the doors shut behind them.

She listened to her soldier take a deep breath before pushing it out. It sounded like a heavy weight, and yet, there still seemed to be more. “You look beautiful.”

Arsyisa squinted. “You only say that when you have nothing else to say. I thought there would have been-” Arsy shook her head. “There is plenty more to say after...after all that has happened.”

‘You look beautiful.’ How dare he? How dare he volunteer to walk out with Arsy if he had nothing to say; no condolences, or- or apologies. Apologies.

“Did you know?”

Their steps paused as the soldier faced her. “Did I know what?”

Arsy’s voice turned stone-cold. She rose a brow as she pulled away from her soldier. “Medaris.”

His jaw ticked. Medaris swallowed. “I knew, and I”- he licked his lips- “your family was aware of it, as well. I told them...about...about the revolution.”

“You- what do you mean they-”

Medaris reached for her hands, trying to comfort her, trying to be there for her, but Arsy couldn’t handle the nearness right now. She shook her head, stepping back and away from her soldier- her soldier who knew about the attack. “You could have stopped it- could have gotten us out of here. What were you- why didn’t you help!”

Maybe she knew that Medaris couldn’t have stopped the entire attack, but if he knew it was happening, if he knew soldier upon soldier was going to barge into the palace, he could have told Arsy, could have- “You told my family? My mother and father?”

It didn’t matter that they were just outside the dining room’s doors, that there was a high possibility they were heard. Arsy needed to know.

“As soon as I heard about it, I brought it to their attentions. Came back with evidence as I found it.”

“But then why...they let themselves be killed, Daris. They let”- she blinked- “they let my brothers be killed. Why? Why couldn’t we have just run?”

Taking a step towards her again, Medaris told the princess, hands held out to her, “I don’t have an answer from them, but I can give you a reasonable assumption.”

For some reason, Arsy found herself accepting her soldier’s offered hands. Perhaps even she knew she needed someone to be there for her. Hytin certainly would never be, not in this way, not seriously, and certainly not in such the caring way which Arsyisa required.

“You know the general.”

Arsy nodded.

“And you know he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

She nodded again.

“Your family was doomed from the moment Hytin realized he could gain greedy support.” Medaris squeezed his love’s hands gently, drawing a line over the back of her knuckles. “Hytin was intelligent enough to bring several men to the king’s quarters, and seeing as your mother was never trained, well...”

Medaris’ own trained voice wasn’t helping very much. Him holding Arsyisa’s hands was, sure, but the way he spoke so...so strategically only made Arsy’s perception of her own life teeter. It was as if she were reading a book of her own life.

“And my brothers were too young, too- too weak, even with training.” She swallowed and her head shook. “They asked you to train me, didn’t they? My parents?”

With a nod of the head, Medaris stopped his stroking thumb.

Too bad it wasn’t enough. Arsy recalled the moment General Hytin swatted the dagger right out of her hand after coming to her room and balcony just days ago.

“I wanted to train you to begin with; all in fun and game, but...” Medaris shrugged. “It seemed like I would be overstepping my boundaries as a measly soldier. I am no nobleman.”

“My mother likes you,” Arsy said, before realizing the error in her statement. “Liked you,” she corrected quietly. Her hands fell from Medaris’ as the reality set in even further. “We should go back. Before Hytin has me dragged back, you know?”

He nodded again, but still made no move towards the door. “Why do you- um- why do you think he wants to...to keep you?”

As the soldier between the two of them, Medaris should have known the answer himself, should have been able to dive deep into a fellow soldier’s mind and pick it apart. Maybe it was because he knew Arsyisa, and because he knew her, it was impossible to see her from another perspective.

See, Medaris never saw Arsy as a princess. To him, she was just a girl.

A pretty girl with her head held high. One excited to talk to the soldiers about where they came from and if training had been easy or hard for the day. One who wasn’t necessarily ‘one of the boys,’ but was willingly friends with them, making sure they were okay, and rough housing with them as best she could. Arsy was dainty by noble demand, but she broke away from it as much as she could.

“You cannot be a king without a queen,” Arsy explained. Truthfully, she didn’t have an answer to this question until Medaris asked, and it clicked. “Sure, he could command any girl to marry him, but it would have no impact, and it would hardly be believable. I am the princess, thankfully saved, and by the local general. With me, he has the excuse to be evil. With me, he can-”

With her, Hytin could manipulate the situation through her. He already made her announce to the nearby villages that...Arsy swallowed thinking about it.

True, Arsy could reject the orders Hytin gave her, but then...

Hytin forced her to have random citizens executed, only to cover up his own crimes. Executed, not just imprisoned. He had her announce their treatment- their torture.

If anyone would be the bad guy, it would be Arsyisa, but the public would accept it, because it was revenge, and because they believed the royal family deserved vengeance.

Without another word, Arsyisa wrapped her arms above Medaris’ waist, holding him close. “Promise me you will not do anything to get yourself harmed.”

Medaris squinted above the princess’ head. Was that why she’d been so cautious around everyone recently, sending him small glances, and apologizing to him when spacing out instead of the rest of the table? Had Hytin threatened to hurt him if Arsy didn’t do as he demanded?

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘Why?’” Arsyisa scoffed against her soldier lover. “I just want to know that you will be safe, that I will not have to worry about losing someone else that I love.”

“Okay,” Medaris promised. “I won’t allow stupidity to take over my senses.” She began to pull away, but he kept her close. “I want you to promise the same.” Medaris knew his princess wasn’t one for such brutality which she was displaying to the villages. As heartbroken as she was, she wasn’t a killer- even if it were for punishment and revenge.

“We need to go. Hytin will suspect something.”

“Promise me, Arsyisa. Do not allow yourself this change.”

She shook her head. “Medaris,” she whispered brokenly, “I am doing what I must; that is all.”

“You are allowing for your image to change.”

“So what if I am!”

When she pulled away this time, Medaris let her step back. He still wanted her promise, but- well, it seemed as though it was going to be more complicated than saying, ‘I promise.’

“I am doing whatever I need in order to maintain safety.”

“For who?” Medaris questioned. “Because it is certainly not for the villages. That much is evident.” He watched her, her facial features and how they shifted to reveal panic and worry. He wanted to hold her again, make her feel at ease with herself.

“For you,” she admitted, a little coldly. “I am doing this for you, and you are going to let me- because if you do not, I will hate you.” It was the worse threat she could think of. “I will hate you for as long as I live and you do not. He will kill you, Daris. He will if I fail him.”

“Let him try.”

Something glinted on Arsy’s cheek. A tear. “You promised,” she quaked after a silent moment. “You already promised me.”

“Then hate me, Arsyisa- because I will not allow you to live by this fear. I will kill the bastard if it is the only way you, or any of us, will be free of him, you hear me? I will shred him to pieces.”

******

@tears-and-lilies @moose-teeth @sableflynn @all-whumped-out  @watercolorfreckles (tagging you guys out of your interest in the first part. I do plan on continuing this as a series so if anyone would like to be added or removed from the tag list, don’t hesitate to let me know! :) )

[curiousconch]

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 7)

Part 7: Round and around we go

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The attack in McGraw Byrne's offices reveals a deeper conspiracy that runs to the top of the law firm, which Alex pursued head on. But when the dust settles, she is forced to face the music of her own troubled mind.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.1k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / themes of violence, and trauma, language. Reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A week after, New York City

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The gunman panted as he ran through the dark and unfamiliar side streets of New York, the covering on his face not helping alleviate the sense of panic overtaking him.

His current state of mind paled in comparison with how calm he walked into the offices of that freakishly bright law firm.

The task was simple - get the phone and get out.

But when he found himself face to face with the woman who'd sent his life into a whirling clusterfuck, he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

He missed.

A brute of a man rammed into him right before he took a shot. Who knew corporate slaves can be combative? By then he knew he was fucked. He snatched the phone then ran.

An earlier scope of the building gave him an easy way out, but the shitty maze of the streets of the business district didn't give much of a reprieve.

I fucking hate this city.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, not until he had to stop by the dead end wall in front of him.

Blue and red flashing lights caught him in a daze, his breath heavy, realizing he was boxed in by police officers in an alley.

"Freeze!" one had shouted. "Raise your arms over your head!"

He didn't have a choice. He's not willing to die for his uncle, nor take another sentence in prison. That scumbag wasn't worth it, regardless of how many times that man tried drilling the thought into his head.

I'm tired of this shit anyway. Though I'll miss the perks.

He raised his hands, then felt his knees buckle when someone kicked him from behind, forcing him to the ground. Someone pulled the ski mask off his head, his face now exposed for everyone to see.

He was the younger, spitting image of Koenig's CEO. Except for those piercing blue eyes.

Now everyone will know, he thought. Poor uncle Peter will be burned to the stakes after he spill every single sordid detail of all the crimes Max was ordered to do.

From that pretty little celebrity in L.A., the poisoned man from Oklahoma, the researchers from Massachusetts, and all of those other victims in between.

Good thing he kept all those souvenirs. He will prove to them that he was just a pawn.

The pawn that was Maximilian Koenig Cornell.

**

A few days after, Rooftop of McGraw Byrne

Alex took another hit of nicotine from the cigarette between her fingers, standing by the edge of the fancy rooftop lounge. She exhaled a plume of smoke, the friction in her throat giving herself a temporary reprieve from her chaotic state of mind.

By the rest of the world's standards, it should have been a beautiful day. The skies above her was indigo, filled with streaks of orange from the setting sun. The peacefulness of it a far cry from the storm that was brewing inside her.

Success shouldn't feel this way. She was having a hard time basking in her recent victories.

Alex was just named junior partner this morning, after successfully taking Peter Koenig and Sadie McGraw down. Max Cornell, who turned out to be Koenig's nephew slash hitman, had confessed. He revealed who really was pulling the ropes, all in the form of well-kept call logs and text messages.

The backlash of it all reached McGraw Byrne's founding partner. The same form of proof exposed Sadie's hand on the Koenig class action suit, as well as her involvement in tipping off authorities to paint Marcus Sharpe as Aliana's murderer. The intent was to veer suspicion away from Koenig, making thousands of dollars along the way.

Alex had completely unraveled the conspiracy, with the help of Aislinn and Gigi. Beau, surprisingly, was more than participative. But it was obvious for everyone at the firm who led the crackdown, and it didn't take long for recognition to come to pass.

In everyone else's eyes, she emerged the winner.

And now, when all is said and done, there was nothing to escape to.

Alex can no longer disassociate herself from the sight of the gun barrel held by the ghost she tried to forget all these years.

The sound of applause, soured only by Martin Vanderweil's display of pain-in-the-ass arrogance, should have made her want to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Instead, here she was, wallowing with herself to be overcame by old bad habits.

What happened in the library was etched in her mind, clear as day. The memory of that close encounter with death, being brought up to life by the lack of distractions, made her shudder.

Every waking hour was consumed by the man with the haunting blue eyes that meant death. Those same eyes from the past that suffocated her for so long.

A decade spent running away from them, yet they still caught up with her.

She worked so hard not to remember, not to let it bring her down, for it not to be her end game. She's at the top of the fucking career ladder, yet why can't she still have a sense of freedom?

Everything just felt wrong. She felt out of place.

Lost in her frustrations, she didn't hear the whirring of the elevator and the approaching footsteps that followed.

"Thought I'd find you here," Gabe said, stopping inches away from her.

It took everything of her not to swivel and look at him, opting to curse at herself for how her body quickly relaxed by the softness of his voice.

The storm clouding her mind instantly dissipated, leaving her bare. Gabe's presence made the oceans within her stand still, as if awaiting to be stirred.

"Didn't want to be found," she mumbled, closing her lips on the still burning stick of nicotine. Alex struggled to keep her gaze steady at the slowly darkening skyline.

I know. Gabe wanted to say. He knew that finding her here, seeking out the comfort of isolation screamed her desire to be left alone. He had seen her internal turmoil, hiding behind the air of stoicism she projected for everyone else.

That's why he was never more determined to find her. He wanted, no, needed, to be there for her.

Gabe knew he'd been a dick to walk out from her that morning in L.A., right after he admitted what he felt for her.

But there was rarely an opportunity to make it right. Whenever there was, there was no getting through her. No matter how much he tried to reach out, to make her see that he regretted his actions that day, she wouldn't let him in.

He couldn't blame her.

Gabe told himself he'd give her time, to give her space. However, fate had other plans.

He almost lost her that night, and it was a wake up call. When he watched helplessly as Cornell aimed at her, something in him shifted. He's no longer stuck in a limbo questioning who Alex was for him, or why he constantly wanted to be near her, wanting to make everything right.

He was decided to run after her, to stay with her, no matter what. He was done chasing after dreams of the past.

Alex was his future.

"Can't get rid of me easily," he settled on that reply, leaning on the glass railing beside her.

"Really?" she quipped sardonically. "I honestly didn't take you to be the staying type."

That had to sting.

He knew he'd hurt her by leaving, so he deserved that. It wasn't enough to make his resolve waver.

"I am," he insisted. "It just takes me some time to find my footing."

She lifted a hand to him. "Don't go there, Gabe. Just don't - "

"I'm not walking away from you again, Alex," he professed.

She whirled to face him with a look of sullen resignation. "I know."

Deep down, she wanted him too. But not in the fucked-up state she was in. She needed to think, she needed to recover, she needed to get a grip on herself.

But she needed to do it alone.

"I can't deal with us now, it's just.." She sighed. "Everything else that's happened is too overwhelming."

Gabe deflated.

It was the first time he heard her admit defeat. He's gotten used to seeing her fighting every step of the way, that finding her in this state of hopelessness felt alien to him. His chest tightened, hating himself on taking part of what pushed her to breaking point.

"I need to take a step back from everything, Gabe," she said, almost begging. "That includes you."

"What do you mean?"

"Can I to take some time off?" she pleaded, wrapping herself in her own arms. "I have to hit pause for now."

"For how long, Alex?" Gabe's voice was strained. She just made it clear that he wasn't what she needed.

Still he hoped. So he held his breath.

Alex thought quietly for a few moments, before looking back at him in determination. He found a semblance of the Alex he knew.

"A couple of weeks," she answered with a tone of finality.

He didn't want to. But in his heart of hearts, he had to respect her decision. He understood that even the strongest needed to heal. Even the brave Alex Keating.

"I'll arrange it," he relented, closing his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her. "Anything else?"

She hesitated, biting her lower lip before she continued. "Actually, there is one more thing."

"What is it?" Gabe watched intently as she raised her head to look at him, her mouth curved into that familiar signature smirk that he'd grown to chase after.

"Will you wait for me?"

As per her usual modus operandi, Alex took his breath away by her unpredictability. Almost immediately, Gabe wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. He raised his free hand and let his knuckles brush against her cheek.

He smiled softly, a tad afraid that by holding her this close could break her. And yet, the effect she had on him couldn't be stopped from spilling out, as if it was what he wanted to say all along.

"I've waited my whole life for you, so what's a few more weeks?"

Alex beamed at him, relieved. "I knew you'll be up for the challenge."

"Because I care about you, Alex," he whispered.

"I care about you too."

Alex then dared to take it forward.

Before he had the chance to move away, she tiptoed and surprised him with a tender kiss on the cheek.

Gabe wasn't able to react as quickly, the contact catapulting his senses. Just as his mind plunged back to the ground, she was already walking away, the clicking of her black heels syncopating along with the beating drum inside his chest.

His sight followed her until she stood by herself in the employee elevator, her brown-eyed gaze melting him with earnest affection. As the doors shut closed, so did the heart of Gabriel Ricci.

It shut down in anticipation of her return.

**

Two months later

Mind hazy and craving for Chinese food, Gabe had asked the driver to take a quick detour.

He had just flown from Los Angeles, spending two weeks to assist on a big hotel chain M&A. He got out of LaGuardia at around 10pm, and now his jet lag and empty stomach were taking its toll on him.

The car stopped at the familiar block, and he got out of the vehicle, grabbing his suitcase. He walked the rest of the way, enjoying the craziness of New York City on a Friday night.

For a minute, it reminded him of her.

He heard rumors of her coming back, but HR had been heftily secretive on all things concerning her. With the firm fidgety over Vanderweil's recent harassment lawsuits, he erred on the safe side and didn't poke further.

It didn't take long for him to find Hoi On. Once inside, he greeted the servers in flawless Cantonese, striding straight to the counter.

As he gave his order, the kitchen crew brought out a bag of hunger-inducing takeout box. He was almost tempted to bargain for it instead of waiting for another 20 minutes. Until...

"Order complete for Alex!"

Gabe froze.

His senses were instantly filled by the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla and the echoing beat of heels hitting the floor.

There was no doubt about who was approaching the counter.

He found her standing beside him, the woman he'd missed every single day since he saw her last. The powerhouse junior partner with the easy smile and confident aura.

The woman whose return Gabe eagerly waited for.

"So," Alex began. "I take it tinsel town's fusion of cuisines can't match authentic Brooklyn takeout?" she teased, smiling at him in the same red dress she wore the first time she walked into his office.

He looked down over her - closely looking at the tiny changes in her features. Regardless, she looked more beautiful, taking note of the longer, loose tendrils of brunette hair framing her face.

"No," Gabe shook his head in amazement, his lips breaking into a lopsided grin. "Everything else couldn't compare."

She chuckled. The radiance of her laughter showed Gabe she was really back, and that she was finally ready.

"I bet they couldn't," she winked.

In an instant, Gabe's heart awoke from its slumber. It's as if it knew that this time, the wait was over.

The chase has come full circle.

Author's Notes: This may be the end of this series, but Alex & Gabe will return.

How did you find it? Let me see in your comments/reblogs! Thank you! 💖

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@choicesficwriterscreations @lawsofattractionfanfiction

[ophiexb]

Way Down

Based off this post here 

@keitozwurld wanted Alex tucking Willie’s hair behind his ear, and @wlwcarries added some pretty amazing tags about it happening when the boys save Willie - So naturally I wrote it. 

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The band is so focused on the fact there back, that the curse is lifted and everything’s going to be okay. Unfinished business aside and everything else doesn’t matter anymore because they're together and they get to play music, and that’s really all that matters right?

Luke and Julie launch into writing beautiful songs together, composing all kinds of fun and creative things that just blow each and every single one before out of the park using all those emotions and feelings from their ordeal to channel beautiful music. Reggie has taken up communicating with Carlos; after all the boy knows there around now so there’s no point in pretending and honestly? Reggie really likes him. He spends a lot of his time with the other Molina sibling working on who knows what-conspiracy theories and ideas of the ghost world?

Alex was just as glad as everyone else he wasn’t going to just suddenly move on, and suddenly lose everything after just getting something at least close to happiness. The band was back, the guys were happy, they’d get to make music and do what they always loved and always enjoyed...but Alex was alone a lot...more than a lot. He was pretty much always alone now-Luke occupied by Julie and Reggie by Ray(who still didn’t know about them) and Carlos. Alex just...wandered. Up and down the streets of LA until they needed him to play or practice. He’d show up for those couple hours enjoying the routine of drumming and being able to work through some stuff through those motions...only to find himself right back here in the end.

Willie was gone; likely because of the fact he helped them, or because Caleb lost them to Julie and he was taking it out on the poor skater...either way he was gone and it was Alex’s fault. They’d joked-you never forget your First Ghost, and all kinds of stuff that they thought was helpful. About focusing on music, and that he’ll meet other ghosts. But he didn’t want to meet other ghosts. Other Ghost didn’t call him Hot Dog, and hold his hand while trying to teach him to skate. They didn’t help him scream away the anxiety and...they didn’t make him feel whole.

Willie made Alex feel like he mattered and without it-he was left with that ache across his chest and no real purpose. Was he just to play drums? Always and forever? Alex didn’t know if he could do that-but being dead complicated things. He couldn’t….do much else. So he was left to just worry about Willie. To worry what happened to the long haired man who made Alex feel like he had purpose-if he was suffering. If he was hurting-oh god what he was hurting? Those painful jolts that he felt coming back to his mind. What if he was waiting for Alex to save him and all Alex was doing was aimlessly wandering around Los Angeles. If he hadn’t been so set on helping the guys get back at Trevor, if he hadn’t been so intent on answering all his anxiety filled questions-they could of just been happy. They could of skated through the city and run through closed places with no one to stop them. Willie could teach him about Justin Bieber and some of those other names he mentioned. Instead he was probably gone- and it was Alex’s fault. He was suffering and no longer free all because of them and-

“Alex!” The voice managed to make it through his thoughts, there were hands on him a lot of them and he felt himself dragged up against something warm. There were to many hands-his hands shifted by they were caught being held gently against his chest. “Alex!” The voice shouted again, it sounded so scared...why were they scared? Was...was it Willie calling for him?

Why couldn’t he move?

His focus shifted from the racing thoughts to the touch, the hands on him and the voices all around him. His panic and horrified thoughts slowly fading as he tried to figure out what was going on. It felt-everything felt tight and painful and like he couldn’t breath. But he was a ghost right? He didn’t need to breath-so what was going on? It felt like his chest was being squished slowly by an elephant-making it impossible to take in any air-and then it all clicked and he gasped. Arching against the body holding him with a cough.

He hadn’t had a panic attack this bad since 1994.

“Alex Alex please-“ The voice pleaded in his ear, it didn’t sound so scared anymore-it sounded like they were crying. Pleading with so much sorrow and Alex focused on that. On the whispered cries and pleas as the world slowly shifted into focus. Things returned slowly. One by one-

Julie was crouched over him, her dark eyes filled with tears as she kneeled close but her hands were to herself. She looked so scared and Alex wanted to ask her why, but her face lit up seeing him look at her. “Hey-Hey Alex…” She soothed his hands fumbled and gently she moved to grasp it tightly. The other one being caught and he turned to see Reggie-he had the same expression Julie did.

Which means the body behind him, rubbing over his chest and rocking him is Luke. Slowly the whispers come through, coaching him to breath and calm down. To slowly and gently bring him down from the peak he got lost him and slowly, and oh so slowly, he comes down. He’s breathing now, heavily and shakily but there coming in. The tightness eases up slowly and slightly. Unwinding from around his heart and lungs and he’s just spent, tears running down his cheek and his face burns with embarrassment.

“I wish I could get him some water.” Julie whispered playfully to the guys trying to lighten her own anxiety and racing heart over worry for the blonde, Reggie laughs sympathetically but Luke’s focus is all on Alex.

“You back?” He whispers softly when he feels all the muscles unclench in the other and Alex gives a weak nodd. Luke sinks into him with a sharp noise and squeezes Alex against him.

“W-What was that? Was that Caleb? I thought we fixed it…” Julie asked softly, panic creeping into her voice a bit that they’d still lose one of them. That she didn’t save them all. Alex’s breathing hitches at the name and he feels that panic creep back up into his skin and Luke shushes him softly, his hands in his hair.

“Breath. Breath Alex...I’ve got you I’m right here.” He coaches softly, Julie gets the hint the poor girl and doesn’t say anything, watching as Luke coaches the other down again before it can spiral. They don’t move, no one moves at all. Just gently touching over him rubbing over his hands, through his hair and finally Alex just feels exhausted. Like he can fall through the floor and never come back. Luke is solid behind him though keeping him from doing just that.

No one asks, no one says anything, unsure if moving will spark anything or change anything. Alex can’t find his voice right now and they don’t seem to mind. He’s not even sure how long passes, Reggies climbing up slowly staying in eyesight to turn on the radio before coming back. The silence being filled does it’s job to calm him more and he finally feels stable enough to curl more against Luke. The man simply adjusts his legs and pulls him tighter against him. He can tell their scared, there worried and he owes them answers.

“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing out of his mouth, it doesn’t even sound like him. Croaked out through sandpaper and glass and Luke shushes him softly.

“That was - that was a bad one.” Luke whispered finally, unable to help himself. His hands are still shaking at the image. They’d been playing, messing around and Reggie had just gotten back from the main house. He’d turned to ask Alex if he was ready to find the drummer curled against himself against the wall. He wasn’t making a noise, but he kept flickering and honesty it scared Luke in ways he hadn’t been scared before. Because before it had been all of them, all together but the idea of losing only Alex?. He wrapped around the other afraid he’d vanish and they’d never see him again if they didn’t, if he didn’t hold him like Luke was the thing keeping him here. He’d recognized what it was right away and there wasn’t anything more they could do. Nothing to bring him back around until he was ready.

“What happened?” Julie finally whispered, even her hands were shaking.

“It’s...sometimes he gets them. Panic attacks and stuff. He use to have an inhaler for it...and we had all kinds of techniques like salt, or breathing exercises...but now that…” Reggie gestured. “None of them would work the same…”

“I’m so sorry Alex…” Julie whispered her hands coming up to comb through his hair and he closed his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it or are you not ready?”

Alex didn’t feel like he’d ever be ready but the name was through his lips before he could stop himself. “Willie.” He forced out and it seemed like Reggie suddenly remembered as well. Luke tensing behind him a bit. “I haven’t seen him since-since he helped us play the show….I’m so worried-worried Caleb hurt him because of us. That something-that he needs our help but I don’t know how to save him without risking everything again.” He rambled that sharp tone coming and Luke pressed gently grounding him again.

“Well….maybe I can lift Willies curse the way I did yours?” Julie offered looking between the three ghosts. “Maybe I can save him to...I can set him free…”

“Jules…” Luke said softly. “We don’t even know if you can see him. You haven’t seen other ghosts until us yeah? If you can’t see him-who knows if you can hug him? As far as we know we’ve got connections to you….but he doesn’t.”

“He’s got Willie.” Julie said firmly. “And that’s enough to try right? We can’t just leave someone who saved you to suffer a horrible, dark death. You guys have me, and each other. He-he only has Alex.” She defended.

“But what are we going to do? Caleb won’t let him out if he does have him, and it’s not like we can go in to get him. And for all we know he’ll hurt you!” Luke protested.

“That’s not true.” Julie pointed out. “We got into the Orpheum.” She countered. “Something you also thought was impossible. You know where this club is right?” They nodded. “Then we just need to come up with a plan- and he’s a ghost what’s the worst he can do to me?”

“But Caleb says they move around a lot…” Reggie added. “That they play all over the world.”

“But Willie doesnt. He stays here.” Alex whispered. “We don’t know if all ghosts can travel the same way….”

“And it’s worth a shot-if we worry about the what if’s we’ll never help him.” Julie said firmly. “We’ve just got to come up with a plan to get into the club and find him…”

“Caleb...Has all this staff and crew. If someone were to sneak in he might not even notice.” Luke reasoned. “All these waitresses and waiters-but we won’t be able to just walk right in. He’s probably waiting for us-for Alex if anything.”

“Maybe that’s it!” Julie grinned, shifting to look at them. “Maybe we play into that. That he’s looking and waiting for Alex to come to Willie. It’ll lead us right to him and when we’ve got him boom-We set him free and run!” She gestured. “It’s not like he can curse you again! Your free from him.”

“We don’t know what else he’s capable of…” Reggie pointed out.

“I’ll do it.” Alex said firmly, sitting up slowly with Luke’s help. “I don’t care about the risks. Willie risked it all for us-we can do the same.” Julie beamed at him, slowly pulling him into a hug before they were getting to work. Alex had to play a part-and he was willing to do it if it meant freeing the other. Even if it meant risking everything again. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t keep going and drumming. Being this ghost knowing the cost. Once Alex seemed sure and aware enough they started talking, discussing everything and all with Julie they could possibly think of.

They needed to do this right or they’d end up in a bigger mess than before. After all there was no beating Caleb. There was only saving Willie and hoping he’d back off or something-maybe. Either way there focus and goal was set and everything else could come later.

Turns out Caleb was waiting for them to make the first move he knew Alex would come for Willie and the moment they’d made contact he was there at the spot Alex had set. A dazzling display of elegance and not at all phased by the blonde all alone in front of him. “Oh goodness, Alexander have you changed your mind all alone? Where are your friends?”

“Where’s Willie?” Alex demanded, ignoring everything else. “I know you have him.” He hadn’t ever had so much confidence in his voice and even Caleb raised a brow at him.

“So rude-I asked a question….have you. Changed your mind?” He repeated. “After all Alexander I did tell you you could have everything and anything you desired if you joined...including Willie…”

“I want to see him first.” Alex said looking at him. Calebs eerily blue eyes and wide smile. He gestured and the air shifted Willie appearing next to him with a noise, his eyes going wide to see the blonde.

“Alex.” He couldn’t help but be shocked, he’d thought surely the other had crossed over but here he was. Completely unphased and before him. “Alex what are-“ Caleb was quick to silence him with those familiar shocks that made the other jerk.

“How do I know you won’t just kill him?” Alex asked softly looking at the other as his eyes widened looking up at him. He couldn’t…

“My promise means everything of course.” Caleb said simply. “Im never one to break a promise….“

“That’s not enough.” Alex said firmly. “I want him to be safe-to he free.” Calebs eyes widened a bit but he was quick to cover it.

“Why I think that’s more than a fair trade, I can always get another waiter.” He mocked. “So-do we have a deal.” He repeated his hand reaching out to Alex.

“Let me...let me say goodbye.” Alex whispered the tears coming now, and it only seemed to delight Caleb more. He seemed to agree because he let Willie rush over, the man’s arms wrapping around Alex’s.

“You can’t-you can’t do this Alex it’s not worth it! I’m not worth it!” He protested his voice was rough, tears in those beautiful doe eyes and Alex only smiled. A mantra of please work please work in his head.

“Hold on.” He whispered wrapping around the other tightly and in an instant they were in the studio. Willies eyes going wide as he jerked away, the shock running through his body with a gasp. “We don’t have much time Calebs going to know where I took you-I had. I had to get you out of there.” Alex whispered frantacilly. “I couldn’t leave you there to die by his hand not after everything you did for us.”

“Alex.” Willie whispered tearfully, but the blonde only wrapped around him squeezing tightly. “You idiot.” He couldn’t help it laughing as he held right back. His fingers digging into the other. “He’s going to kill us both don’t you get that? How-how did-“ He jolted again with a cry.

“I-Julie. Julie saved us and maybe. Maybe she can save you to?” He asked tearfully. Looking up at the dark haired girl sitting with Luke and Reggie, she climbed up and she was looking right at him.

She could see him.

She could see him!

“It’s nice to finally meet you...Can I?.” She said softly, her own eyes filled with tears as she gestured and they shifted to make room for her to be wrapped around the two of them. Pouring every emotion possible into it, her love for sweet, gentle Alex. The one who always made she was okay and checked on her, and this poor soul who’d been tortured and abused by this man who tried to take her boys from her. How she just wanted to save him to how she wanted to save all of them and she felt that warmth and sensation as if the other was solid under her hands in the same way.

Willie jerked his eyes wide looking between the two. “You-how?”

“Honestly we have no idea but we’re not going to question it too much.” Luke joked softly, his own eyes wet at the thought that they did it. They saved him, they saved another from Caleb. Julie stepped away her hands touching the two of them but slowly moving to give them space. Overwhelmed she’d managed to save another from Caleb, it had to mean something right?

Willie looked at Alex, his face breaking out into an impossible smile as he tossed himself at the blonde again the two almost rocking as they squeezed one another. Sure, they were both ghosts. They were both dead-but they weren’t cursed anymore. They weren’t trapped and tied to this fate-and they were together.

They slowly pulled back but the hands and arms still twined together. Willies hair falling around his face and Alex gently reached to push it back behind his ear to see his face properly, that brilliant smile across his innocent face and Willie was almost speechless. “You...you really came. You came to save me.” He couldn’t believe it.

Alex could only smile through his own tears and emotions. “I told you I’d follow you.” He joked roughly, and Willie pulled him close again, only this time his hand found the back of the blondes hair, pulling him close so their lips could meet.

They’d have forever now.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

House Tour

A Horror Septics Short

(It’s been too long since we caught up with these horrors. Let’s see what they’re up to in this quick short story =) )

Real estate agents liked to joke that certain houses in the city were cursed. They just couldn’t be sold. The ones who were in the business for a while told the new hires that these cursed houses would each spike up a period of difficulty selling, then after a decade or so, they’d be sold, and the curse of unsell-ability would move on to a different one. Deborah had always thought this ongoing joke was rather tasteless. After all, the real curse these houses held wasn’t that they couldn’t be sold. It was the reason they couldn’t be sold. Everyone knew deaths drove down the price of a house, but it was just odd when it just kept happening over and over in one house before suddenly stopping, and then the same thing happening in another house.

She’d previously tried to bring this up with her fellow agents. After all, wasn’t it weird how the same thing kept happening over and over? Suspicious, even? But everyone else shrugged it off. Just a coincidence. One time, she’d brought it up with the police, but was met with a similar reaction. There was no proof of this...conspiracy. It was just really strange. About two years ago, she’d told her boss about her theory one too many times. He’d gotten annoyed, and then the next house she was assigned to sell was one of the cursed ones.

It had actually gone well, at first. Deborah sold the house to a family of three. Americans, just moving to the country, and willing to take a cheap house even after being told about what happened to the previous owner. But only a couple months later, they were moving again. Out of the city. And the house had to be sold again.

Months passed, and the house was still for sale. It was starting to wear on Deborah’s patience. People would be interested in the offers online, but when they came in for the house tour, they’d quickly change their minds. Always the same.

And honestly? It sounded crazy, but the more time she spent in the house, the more she felt like...there was something inside watching her. Something that didn’t like her, something that wanted her to leave and never come back. It was ridiculous, but that’s what she felt. Maybe her potential clients felt the same way, and that’s why they always decided against buying.

Now, it was six months since the last family moved out, and Deborah had a new house tour for the first time in a month. It was a rainy day, but she stood out in front of the house, coat wrapped tight around her, clipboard with the house’s information underneath said coat to keep it dry. In the distance, a small black car turns into the street, slowly approaching. It soon pulled over to the side of the road in front of the house, and out stepped a man in a long coat.

“Hi! I’m Debbie, I’m your real estate agent.” Deborah put some extra cheer into her usual script. “Are you Mr. Howell? We talked online.”

“Yes, that’s me,” the man replied. His voice had a refined accent. “Charmed to meet you.” He held out his hands, and they shook.

“Well thank you very much, Mr. Howell,” Deborah said. Shall we get started on the tour right away?” If she hurried him through, maybe he wouldn’t back out later.

“That sounds lovely. Thank you, Debbie,” Mr. Howell said cordially.

Deborah smiled, and led him inside.

By now, she had her spiel memorized, and was prepared for any potential questions. The house had been left unfurnished when the American family moved out, so she rattled on and on about the space each room provided and the features that could be included. In the kitchen and bathroom, she pointed out the smooth countertops—“As good as new!”—and in the upstairs bedrooms she suggested they could be “good to give children their own space, or for those without kids, could be easily turned into an office or guest bedroom!”

She finished the tour in the upstairs master bedroom, and felt suddenly incredibly proud of herself. By this point, the clients were usually vocal about their discomfort, often saying things like “It’s a lovely house, but we’re not sure it’s right for us” to ease the blow. But Mr. Howell had been pretty quiet the whole tour. But at this point, she was required to ask if there were any questions, so...“Alright, and that’s the last stop on our tour,” she said with a big smile. “Now, are there any questions you have about the house?”

And she turned around.

But much to her surprise, she was alone.

Deborah blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, as if that would help her see. There was no getting around it. Mr. Howell had disappeared at some point. But...where? Where could he have gone? And how could she have not noticed. She could’ve sworn she could hear him responding to her selling points. No questions, but little comments that sounded impressed. Though...she couldn’t remember the specifics of those comments.

Well it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she somehow lost sight of her client! That wouldn’t look good to her boss. She hurriedly left the room. Maybe he’d gone back to check out another location?

Why...was it so dark in the hall? She’d made sure to leave all the lights on as they left each part of the house. But they were all turned off now. And when she flipped the hallway lightswitch, they didn’t turn on. Oh, great. A power outage. With the rain outside blocking light from the windows, the house was now exceptionally shadowy and gloomy.

Deborah walked down the hall, hurrying towards the stairs, but then...there was a voice. She stopped. “Mr. Howell?” she called. But got no answer.

Maybe that voice had come from one of the other rooms. Yes, that was probably it. In fact, now that she was paying attention, one of the doors was now closed. Even though she kept them all open as policy for the house tour. Weird. Even weirder that she didn’t notice. She walked up to it and slowly opened it, not wanting to disturb Mr. Howell if he was on a phone call or something.

The room beyond was as dark as the hallway. In the little light that came in from the window, she saw a figure standing in the middle of the room. Mr. Howell? She was about to call out to him when she realized something was wrong. Mr. Howell had showed up wearing a nice, long red coat. This figure was wearing red, but it wasn’t a coat. It was a hoodie with the hood pulled up. Maybe he’d changed? But she couldn’t even tell the figure was him, because their back was to her. And there was something...off about the way it was standing. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” the figure said. She didn’t recognize the voice. “It was an accident. But it won’t be too difficult to find them again. I can head there soon.”

The figure fell silent, but Deborah still heard a voice. Whispers, more like. Curious, she peered further into the room, and saw...another figure. Standing near the wall, a bit curled into themself, the posture of someone who’s trying to hide. But she couldn’t make out any details beyond that. Or hear their voice properly.

“Well, you can’t do it, can you?” The figure in red asked.

The shadow figure paused, then mumbled something.

“Huh? Really? How’s that work?”

More mumbling.

“Interesting. So...if I put her in a situation where she’d need to, would that work?”

Harsh whispering.

The figure in red raised their hands. The motion was accompanied by an odd crackling sound. Deborah cringed at it. The sound reminded her of cracking bones. “I wouldn’t do anything like that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how they’re off limits. Hmm...now that I’m thinking about it, she’d probably know that there wouldn’t be any actual danger.”

More whispering. This time softer, almost gentle.

“Notarzt is fine. The äµŬûĝËŇ escaping really freaked it out, so it’ll be staying in the maze for a while.” Wait, what was that word? She couldn’t quite catch it. “We...we’ll have to be careful. If Čĵĥ®Ķ¯ is really becoming more active again, and paying attention to us—and she’s still hanging around Èţ§ķőļ, too, so there might be—”

The shadowy figure cried out. It started to shout, and its words...Deborah cried out in turn and stumbled back at the strange force of its words. Even shouting, they sounded like whispers, but now these whispers were bombarding her ears.

she can’t! don’t they understand?! danger! danger! if something happened i’d die. i’m so lonely lonely lonely sad sad sad need warm warm warm—

She pressed her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, but the whispers echoed in her mind, still.

Until suddenly, they stopped. She opened her eyes—

“What did you hear?”

Deborah shrieked. The figure in red was right in front of her. And it—its hood was pulled down—she could see its face and—and—that...wasn’t...right.

“Run.”

She turned and sprinted down the hall. God, what was that thing?! Why did it—that wasn’t how things should be, why was it—she couldn’t even think about it, but she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. It made her skin crawl. It made her stomach roil. She wasn’t disgusted, but it just felt so wrong. It—it wasn’t human, it wasn’t alive, it wasn’t inhuman, it wasn’t dead, it wasn’t anything—

Her foot slipped.

...

The house’s lights turned on.

At the top of the staircase, something in a red hoodie pulled its hood back on. An indistinct figure, gray with black eyes leaking black liquid, peered around it to stare at the lump at the bottom of the stairs.

The corner of a step was stained red.

[atths--twice]

Christmas Eve, 1994

After being abducted and insisting she is fine, a month in quarantine proves that may not be entirely true. It has also been a year since her father passed away. How will Scully and her family spend the day? Will Mulder be included? 

I love Firewalker, it's one of my favorite episodes. I rewatched it recently and I love episode where they are stranded and watching out for each other. Mulder is much more protective of Scully in this episode and I love it. Some might see it as him being too pushy or overbearing, but I don't. He missed her and worried about her and he doesn't want her to get hurt. Not after she had been gone for so long and he had no idea if he would ever see her again. His worry for her is incredibly sweet in my opinion.

So, I started to think about what happened during their month long quarantine and after they came home. They would have been home about mid December with Christmas just around the corner. What kind of plans were made in the Scully family? It intrigued me and thus this story began to emerge.

I hope you enjoy! Happy Holidays!

December 15, 1994

Scully sighed as she entered her apartment, exhausted after the flight home. The air felt thick and stale as she stood and looked around, the emptiness it had experienced during their month in quarantine nearly tangible.

With a groan, she walked to the refrigerator, sure she was going to find various forms of mold growing inside of it. Opening the door, she saw it was nearly empty and she frowned before she smiled slightly.

Her mother must have come by, knowing the length of time they would be away. Thankful she had done so, she sighed and closed the refrigerator. Rolling her neck as she headed to the bathroom, intent on taking a long soak in the tub, her phone rang and she groaned.

Hoping it was not Mulder calling with some rogue case he had found, considering they had been given a week off, citing a month long quarantine where they had been poked and prodded daily, as a sufficient excuse to give them a chance to relax.

“Hello?” she said, closing her eyes and crossing her fingers.

“Dana! You’re home! I was going to leave you a message on your machine, but I’m so glad to hear you’re home.” She smiled at the happiness she heard in her mother’s voice.

“Just got home actually, not more than ten minutes ago. Your mother senses must have been activated.” Her mother laughed and Scully walked down the hall to start the bath, letting the tub fill as they continued to speak.

“Thank you for taking care of things here,” Scully said, pouring some lavender bubble bath into the warm water. Breathing in deeply, she sighed as the scent washed over her.

“Of course, honey. Umm, the reason I was going to leave you a message was about Christmas. I know you’ve just gotten back, but it’s only a few days away. I wanted to let you know Bill and Tara won’t be here as he had hoped, but Missy will be and Charlie. He has a flight on Christmas Day, but he will be here Christmas Eve. I thought… as it’s been a year since we lost your dad… it would be nice to have, if not everyone, as many as we can home this year.”

“Yeah,” Scully said softly, closing her eyes as she thought of her dad, remembering the way he behaved at Christmas, tolerating it all with a shake of his head and a small smile on his face.

“I just… I’d hoped you’d be home.”

“I’m here,” she whispered, opening her eyes and watching the bubbles rising in the tub.

“You aren’t leaving again?”

“God, I hope not.” Her mother hummed and she smiled. “No, we’re off for a few days. Time off for good behavior it seems.” This time her mother was silent and Scully sighed quietly.

“So everyone who’s in town will be there?” she asked, hoping to break the tension that had appeared.

“Yes. It’ll be good, I think.”

“I agree, Mom. What time?”

“7:30 for dinner on Christmas Eve. Oh, and please ask Fox to join us.”

__________________

Scully stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a large towel, as the water gurgled loudly down the drain. She felt flushed, her toes and fingers pruney, her hair wet and dripping down her back.

Grabbing another towel, she wrapped it around her hair, and wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror. Shaking her head as she looked at her reflection, she let out an exasperated breath.

Please ask Fox to join us.

Her mother’s words had been playing on repeat since she had hung up the phone. She knew she and Mulder had formed a bond when she was missing, her mother telling her how much it had affected him when she was gone. How he had looked every time she saw him: his disheveled appearance, the circles under his eyes, his unanimated expressions.

“He was lost, Dana,” her mother had said and Scully shook her head, not wanting to hear it.

Not after she had no memory of what did happen. And especially not after the nightmares had begun; the thought of the faceless men in the white room, a drill of some kind coming toward her, voices she could not understand, and the fear she felt at being unable to move.

She had them more while they had been in quarantine, perhaps the constant medical attention bringing them closer to the surface.

The first night it had happened, when she had woken up soaked in sweat, tears on her face, and her breathing erratic, her door had burst open and Mulder was there, the light from the hall all that filled her darkened room.

“Are you… are you okay? I heard screaming…” He had stood in the doorway, rumpled from sleep, as though unsure if he should enter any further.

“I… I don’t know. No, I… I’m fine,” she had lied and wiped at her face, turning away from him, her heart still racing.

“Like hell. You’re not fine.” She had turned her head, ready to yell at him, tell him she was perfectly capable of knowing how she felt, when the look on his face had stopped her.

He had looked exhausted and as she stared, she realized he had looked that way since before they ever came to the goddamn volcano. He had not wanted her to go, insisting she take more time off, but she had insisted more, telling him she needed to work.

During the time there, he had been overprotective and they both knew it. She understood, she did, but it had also pissed her off immensely. She could do her job and he knew that. She knew he knew that, yet it still had not stopped him from hovering or insisting she stay back and out of danger.

But as he had stood in the doorway of her room, his worry for her finally something she was ready to truly see, she had felt the anger drain out of her.

“It was a bad dream, that’s all,” she had said quietly.

“You’re okay?” She had nodded and he had run his hand through his hair, nodding as he reached for the door handle. “Okay. Good night then.”

“Wait. Would… could you… would you mind staying for a bit? Just…” She had watched the emotions cross his face and she sighed. “You don’t have to… I… I’m fine now.”

“I can stay,” he had said, letting the door close and sitting in the lone chair in the room. He had smiled slightly at her as she adjusted her pillows and laid down.

The room had been silent until he started talking about something inane, her eyes closing as she had fallen asleep to the sound of his voice.

During the month they had spent there, he had come to her room a total of ten times, when her nightmares had woken him and he wanted to be sure she was okay. Eventually he had foregone the chair, and instead laid beside her. They did not touch, but his voice was like a balm, calming her and allowing her to sleep peacefully.

Now though, they were home, and she knew they would not speak of it again. Even though they both knew how much they needed the other, this would be something that remained known, but unspoken.

Changing into her pajamas, she dried her hair, had a cup of tea and went to bed, her body and mind exhausted.

___________________

December 16, 1994

The next day she cleaned her entire apartment. She did laundry, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen, dusted and vacuumed, finding peace in creating a clean environment.

When she had finished, she went shopping, buying enough groceries for the week, knowing for certain she would be home for at least that amount of time.

She made a salad and a chicken breast for dinner, drinking a glass of red wine as she did. Glancing at the phone, she realized that she had not heard from Mulder all day.

It was not unheard of, especially considering they had just spent a month together, day in and day out, but it still felt odd. Sighing as she stared at the phone, both wishing it would and praying it did not ring, she finished her glass of wine and cleaned up the kitchen.

_____________________

December 17, 1994

In the morning, she called Ellen, who was delighted to hear from her, asking her many questions and inquiring after Mulder.

“How’s that “not jerk” partner of yours?” Ellen teased and Scully smiled, remembering the day so long ago when she had thought that way about Mulder; his stubbornness and single minded drive, overwhelming at times.

“He’s good,” she answered simply, not divulging any details.

“Still not a jerk?”

“Definitely not.”

“That’s good.”

“Hmm.”

Plans were made for lunch the next day and Scully went to bed early, her thoughts on why once again she had not heard from Mulder.

____________________

December 18, 1994

“So then I said, ‘well I’m not cleaning it up,’” Ellen said with a chuckle and the other women laughed. Scully forced a smile, her hands gripping her napkin.

When Ellen suggested lunch, Scully had not anticipated other women joining them. She did not know them and their presence had made her uncomfortable. She had been good at this once before, small talk and even gossip.

But now…

It felt commonplace and to be honest, a bit silly. She dealt in darkness and conspiracies, men who killed to protect government secrets. Listening to stories of household problems, kids who did not listen, or husbands who played too much golf, felt ridiculous and she had to fight rolling her eyes.

“I was abducted!” she wanted to yell, to see their faces when she said it. To have the table fall silent, not to continue the discussion about her abduction, but to shut them all up.

“That was fun, Dana. We need to do this more often. I know you’re busy, but we need to see each other more often,” Ellen said, hugging Dana goodbye a bit later.

“Yes, we do.” She hugged her back and closed her eyes, knowing she would not be calling, their lives far too different.

Driving away from the restaurant, she made a left instead of a right and wound up at Mulder’s apartment. Sitting in her car, she heard her mother’s words again, and she closed her eyes.

Please ask Fox to join us.

Turning off the car, she stepped out and locked the doors. Walking through his lobby, her heart began to race, not knowing why.

You’re being an idiot, she admonished herself as she stepped into the elevator. What in the hell is there to be nervous about? She shook her head and sighed as the elevator began to rise.

Clearing her throat, she knocked on his door and waited. Her fingers traced over his apartment key on her key ring that he had given her months ago, deciding if she should use it, when she heard him moving around inside. She swallowed as she stepped back and put both hands in her pockets.

“Hey,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. “I thought you were the Chinese food I ordered.”

“Sorry, no.” She smiled and he opened the door wider. She stepped in, under his arm, and stopped in the dining room, turning to look at him.

“Figured you would have been tired of seeing my ugly mug,” he teased as he closed the door. She smiled slightly and looked down. “You okay?” She nodded and raised her head. His eyes searched hers and she sighed.

“I had lunch today with some old friends. Well… an old friend who invited others to join us. I didn’t know them and…” She sighed again, shrugging her shoulders.

“You didn’t like them?”

“I don’t know. I…”

A knock sounded at the door and they both jumped. He put up a finger and she nodded as he opened the door and paid the delivery man. Closing the door again, he set the bag of food on the table and looked at her.

“Can I interest you in some egg rolls?” he asked and she shook her head. “Right, you’ve just come from lunch.” He stared at her and she took a deep breath.

“I should get going. Let you eat.”

“It’s Chinese food, it’ll keep. Always better cold anyway.”

“So you always say.” He smiled and she let out a breath. “I just felt so disconnected from them.” He nodded she shook her head. “It’s been so long since I’ve done anything with Ellen, or anyone really, I felt out of place.”

“Hmm,” he hummed with another nod.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened to me. I don’t remember it. Or… maybe I do but I don’t want to… I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it…”

“But you want them to know.” She looked up at him and let out a deep breath.

“Yes and no. It just felt mundane talking about kids and husbands who golf too much while I…” She shrugged and he nodded.

“Believe me, I understand.”

“I know you do.” She smiled and he nodded. “I don’t want to constantly have it on my mind, but how can I not?”

“Have you had any nightmares?” he asked quietly and she shook her head. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged and sighed. “Especially since I no longer have anyone around to bore me back to sleep.”

“Hmm.” He chuckled softly with a nod and she smiled.

“I should go. Let you eat.”

“You could stay. Just me here… it gets kinda quiet.”

“No, I should go.” He nodded and she sighed, walking towards the door, wanting  to stay but knowing it was best if she left.

“Sure I can’t tempt you with some egg rolls?”

“Maybe next time.” She looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. “Oh, my mother has extended an invitation for you to join us for dinner on Christmas Eve.” He stared at her and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Why?” he asked after a few seconds.

“Because it’s Christmas and she’s Maggie Scully.” She smiled and he shook his head.

“I don’t think I should. It’s a year since your father died and I… it should just be family.” An odd look crossed his face that she could not decipher, before he sighed and closed his eyes. “What time?”

“Oh… that was easier than I thought it would be,” she said in surprise.

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged and she nodded.

“7:30 at my mom’s house. I’ll write down the directions-” She started to step towards him, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.

“I know how to get there,” he said quietly and she froze. Of course he did. How many trips had he made during her absence?

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you then,” she whispered and he nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

She walked out and heard the lock clicking as she walked down the hall. As she stepped in the elevator, she suddenly felt like weeping. Covering her mouth, the doors thankfully closed before the sound of her sobs could echo down the hall.

_____________________

After that meeting, they did not speak nor see each other again. Scully spent the next few days buying and wrapping gifts, relaxing, and not thinking about her abduction.

Or at least trying not to do so.

She had a few nightmares, waking up shaking and wanting to call him, but knowing she could not. He would accept her phone call, doing whatever she asked, but she could not continue to rely on him that way; she had to do it on her own.

On Christmas Eve, she put on a new dress, put her hair up and added a pair of pearl earrings her father had given her when she graduated from college. A small spritz of perfume and she looked at her reflection, checking that she was ready. Touching her earrings, she sighed.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered and left the bathroom.

The drive over to her mother’s was spent in silence, thinking about her father and how much she missed him. Missed the way he would tell a joke and laugh before he even got to the punchline. His no nonsense attitude, but the smile that came behind it. The strict rules he adhered to, which helped shape and mold the person she had become.

“I miss you, Dad,” she said softly, turning down her mother’s street.

The house was lit up, a tree in the window, the white lights shining brightly. As she walked up to the door, she wondered who had decorated outside, it looked professional.

“Dana! Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.” Her mother held her tightly, Scully hugging her back, taking a deep breath. It smelled of spices and she closed her eyes at the familiar Christmas scent. “You’re early.”

“I thought I’d see if you needed any help.” Her mother pulled back, holding onto her upper arms as she nodded.

Half an hour later, everything was ready and people began to arrive. There were a few people from church there, people her father had held in high esteem. Charlie came in to cheers and applause. He grinned and hugged them all as Missy walked in, a serene smile on her face.

As happy as she was to see them all, Scully kept an eye on the door, wondering when Mulder would arrive, wanting to be there when he did. She did not want him to be accosted and forced to make small talk.

“He’s running a little late.”

“What?” Scully asked, looking at her mother with a frown.

“Fox. He said he would be a few minutes late.”

“When did he tell you that?” She looked at her mother, confusion on her face.

“He called earlier today and said he would be running late as he had an errand to run.”

“He called you? He has your num-“ But of course he did. Why was she surprised?

“He’ll be here.” Her mother patted her arm and smiled as she walked away.

“Yeah, Dana. He’ll be here,” Missy teased, handing Scully a tumbler glass of whiskey. They clinked their glasses and she tried not to watch the door, not wanting to hear her sister’s gloating tone.

At almost 8:00, the doorbell rang and her mother walked over to answer it. Scully heard Mulder’s low murmur and her mother’s soft laugh, and then he was in the room, his eyes finding hers immediately.

Her stomach did a flip flop and she shook her head, walking over to him as she mentally rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness.

“Hey. Sorry I was late. I was…” He stopped, looking her up and down. “Wow… you look…”

“Hello, Fox. Sorry... Mulder.” Missy said and they both turned to look at her.

“Melissa. It’s nice to see you again.” He cleared his throat and Missy looked at Scully, raising her eyebrows.

“Would you like a drink?” Missy asked and he shook his head.

“No, I’m fine.” He looked at Scully as Missy walked away. She smiled at him and he did the same. “Sorry I was late.”

“It’s okay.” Without thinking, she reached up and smoothed his tie, the knot slightly askew. When she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand, her cheeks burning.

“Thanks,” he said softly, touching his tie and she nodded. “What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey. You want some?” She offered her glass and he took it, taking a sip. He made a face and handed it back to her.

“No. That’s godawful. Aack.” She laughed as she took a sip, having no such reaction.

“Beautiful,” he said quietly and she frowned. “I was going to say ‘beautiful.’” She continued to frown until she drew in a deep breath and let it out as she understood what he meant.

“It’s a new dress.” She shrugged, as though implying that was all it was, her mouth feeling dry as her heart began to race.

“Mm-hmm.” He nodded as her mother called everyone to dinner. He gestured for her to go first, his hand landing on the small of her back as she did, his fingers pressing gently and then disappearing.

The meal was delicious, with a toast to her father given which caused nearly everyone to tear up. Missy sniffled beside her and Scully reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

After they ate, people sat around the table, talking about their families, friends, and plans for the new year. Mulder poured some wine into his glass and pushed it toward Scully, his arm going around and resting on the back of her chair.

As the talk turned to what had happened during the past year, Scully felt his thumb rub softly against her back, nearly imperceptible. She did not even notice how her breathing had increased until she felt his touch. Glancing at him, he kept his eyes on the person speaking, not looking her way.

Never had she been more grateful to have someone like him beside her. Someone who understood how it felt to be an outsider, while others around you carried on without a care.

His right hand was on the table and as she reached for the glass of wine, she ghosted her fingertips across his, silently thanking him. His thumb increased its pressure on her back for a second and then his touch was gone, though his arm remained on the chair.

When they moved into the living room, gifts were handed out to everyone, even Mulder, who seemed genuinely surprised by it. He held it in his lap, not opening it as everyone laughed and ripped off the ribbons and colorful paper.

“I didn’t bring a gift for everyone,” he whispered beside her and she smiled, laying the red ribbon on the sofa.

“Nor did you have to,” she said, looking at him. “My mother is my mother. This is how she says thank you. Open your gift.”

“Thank you for what?” he asked, looking down at the present lying on his lap. She said nothing and he raised his head, staring into her eyes. Neither of them said anything, but she knew he understood when he nodded, his hand brushing her knee in the pretense of moving the ribbon, and she shivered.

Laughter and thanks filled the air, people holding up their gifts for the others to see. Her mother smiled, her eyes sparkling with tears as she nodded, accepting their thanks.

Scully watched Mulder open his gift and smiled when she saw a tie and a pair of gloves. He took them out and tried them on, humming his appreciation.

“That’s the nicest looking tie you own,” she teased and he smiled with a nod, setting down the gloves and picking up the tie.

“I think you may be right.”

“Oh, I know I am.” He laughed and looked at her as she smiled.

“Do they fit alright?” Her mother stood by the sofa, smiling nervously, pointing at the gloves.

“They do, thank you, Mrs. Scully. I fear my gift wasn’t quite up to scratch.”

“No, Fox. It was perfect.” She rubbed his shoulder and walked away to speak to Charlie.

“What did you give her? I didn’t see her open anything.” He smiled and said nothing. “Mulder?”

“I gave her a Christmas Cactus. They don’t only bloom at Christmas, but I thought…. for your father and… you…” He shrugged, his leg bouncing. “I tried to find one but couldn’t until today. That’s why I was late, I found a nursery that would stay open, but it was farther than I had planned.” He shrugged and she stared at him.

“Mulder…” He looked at her and she sighed, not sure how to say what she was feeling. Nodding, he put the tie back in the box and glanced at her again. She smiled and found his hand, squeezing and letting go.

When he left, she walked with him to his car, shivering in the cold night air, despite the warmth of her coat.

“Well, I had a good time,” he stated, as though surprised, as he set his gift in the car and turned to look at her.

“Surprising, I know, considering there were no aliens or volcanic life forms.” He smiled as she raised her eyebrows and put her hands in her pockets.

“Not what I meant, but…”

“What did you mean? What were you expecting to happen?”

“Nothing to happen, per se, it’s just… I’m not family, nor exactly friendly with anyone, save you, and with your father’s anniversary, it just didn’t feel right.” He shrugged and she tilted her head, digesting his words.

“But you’re here and you agreed to be rather quickly when I asked you. You never really explained why.” He sighed and looked at the house, rubbing a hand across his mouth.

“Because of your mother.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, curious to hear his answer.

“I could say because I like her, she’s a kind person, but…”

“What?” He sighed again and put his hands in his pockets.

“When you were in the hospital, after you’d been… returned,” he said, closing his eyes. “The doctor told your mother and I about your living will, which I already knew about but never expected to have to think about so soon. When you fell below the criteria… the hospital had to abide by your decisions.”

Tears filled her eyes, imagining her mother in that situation and how she must have felt, but knowing her decisions had been right.

“It’s better to be prepared and have a plan, instead of forcing a family member to be the one to do it. To lay that guilt upon them.”

“And I agreed with you when I signed as your witness,” he said, opening his eyes. “I still feel the same way, but… seeing it in black and white and written down on paper, is different than experiencing it as you were lying there in a coma.” She nodded, wiping her cheeks, her tears warm, but cheeks cold.

“When they were walking out of the room to begin removing you from the respirator and the other life saving devices, your mother said you and I had a friendship built on respect and that while the moment was for family, I could join them if I wanted.”

He stared at her and she began to cry, unable to hold back the tears, as she understood what had made him agree to join them for dinner tonight. He stepped forward and pulled her close, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist, burying her face in his coat. Holding her as she cried, he murmured softly, his hands rubbing slowly up and down her back.

Pulling from him, she wiped her face, taking deep breaths as she did, trying to regain calm. She looked up at him and he smiled softly, his eyes searching her face, nodding as he seemed to receive the answer he was seeking.

A snowflake suddenly landed in his hair and she looked up as more began to fall. She laughed as she met his eyes again., watching the snow falling onto him, his hair filling with white flakes.

“I think you’d better get inside before you become a snowman… snow woman? Lady?” He furrowed his brow and she laughed.

But then her breath caught when, just as he had last year, he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a snowflake. His hand was warm, his touch soft and gentle.

“Merry Christmas, Dana,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes briefly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone and moving down to her chin, his fingers on her neck.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she whispered back, opening her eyes and staring at him. His eyes dropped to her lips and her heart fluttered, her hands coming up to his chest, almost of their own accord.

He began to lean in closer, when loud laughter erupted from her mother’s open door and echoed in the quiet of the night. Her hands dropped down as she pushed off of his chest, his hand moving from her cheek. He cleared his throat as the people leaving the party exclaimed over the falling snow.

“Well…” he said, stepping back and dropping his eyes.

“Be careful driving home,” she said and he nodded, raising his eyes to hers. She smiled with a nod and he let out a breath.

“You get inside, snow woman. It’s starting to come down harder. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” He held her gaze and she heard the words he was not saying.

“Okay.” She stepped back and made to walk toward the house when she turned around and stepped closer to him.

Reaching up on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek, the cold of the snowflakes falling contrasting with the warmth of his skin.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she whispered again as she pulled back. He nodded with a small smile and she smiled back.

“Get in where it’s warm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” She nodded and walked to the porch, turning around to watch him leave.

Waving goodbye, she stepped inside the house, hung up her coat, and went into the bathroom.

Fixing her hair, she smiled at the pink in her cheeks, knowing it was not only from the chill of the night.

No, it was from the man who chased monsters, believed in aliens, saw conspiracies in nearly everything, and had earned family status as a result of the care and devotion he had shown to her and her mother during her absence.

The one who, despite her very best efforts, had taken up residence in her heart and would be impossible to evict.

Not without taking part of her heart away with him.

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: T

Chapter Summary: A month after Chat Noir learns Marinette's identity, they're just vibin'

Word Count: 4388 | Chapter 2/2

Notes: Written for @chatnoirinette​ through the @mlbforblm​ charity drive!  The donations go directly to Color of Change, an organization for racial justice.  I highly recommend checking them out and reblogging/donating the mlbforblm posts if you’re able!  I have two fic request slots left as of 7/17/2020, and many other talented writers and artists are offering incentives as well

XXX

Marinette glanced over her shoulder for what had to have been the thirtieth time.  Outside her bedroom window, stormclouds were gathering over the glittering skyline. What if the weather was too dangerous for Chat to come visit tonight?  Or what if he’d gotten held up with something in his civilian life?  That happened too often, though he probably spent every moment he could with her now.  It was oddly comforting that he wanted to be around her so much, even if it was just keeping her company while she worked on homework, or deciphered the grimoire, or let the kwamis out for some fresh air.

Despite seeing him practically every day, she still managed to miss him.

“He’ll be here,” Tikki said from her perch on top of Marinette’s mannequin.  

She sighed.  “That obvious, huh?”

“You almost pinned the collar to my leg.”

Oops.  As it was, the she’d bunched up the collar of Juleka’s dress all wrong.  She’d have to remove the pins and smooth it out again unless she wanted the fabric to pucker in her sewing machine.

“Sorry Tikki.  I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

She’d survived with only seeing her partner during akuma attacks and patrols for two years now.  But in these few weeks since she’d accidentally revealed her identity, she’d come to rely on him more than ever.  Maybe too much, honestly.  She had no idea what civilian responsibilities he was carrying on his own.

Well, she had a guess, but that was better left unsaid until she knew for sure.

You could always ask him, she thought for the thousandth time, but banished it just as quickly.  

A tap at her window made her jump and prick her finger.  Even startled as she was, guilty relief flooded her.  Tikki was right; he’d shown up anyway.

She sucked on the sore spot as she ran to open the window.  “You know Papa would let you in the front door.”

“But then I’d miss getting to see you in your natural habitat, Bugaboo.”  Chat Noir grinned as he swung himself in.  Luckily it hadn’t started raining yet.  She didn’t want her room smelling like wet cat.

“My ‘natural habitat’ has too many pins on the floor.”  She scrambled to pick them up before he ended up stepping on one.  His boots would have protected his feet, but he was polite enough to remove them every time he entered, even though she’d never asked him to.

At least, she’d never asked Chat.  That was one of her flimsier evidences for his identity, though.

“I like it.  It’s cozy.”  He plopped down on her chaise, which he’d claimed for himself weeks ago.  Not that she minded.  She kept that space clear for him, even when fabric and thread was piled on every other surface.

“What about your room?  Is it this ‘cozy’?”  She asked.  It was an innocent question, not overtly fishing for information on his identity.  

“Nah.  I’m not allowed to… I have to keep things tidy.”  He frowned.

Another piece towards her theory.  She’d add that note in the conspiracy page she’d webbed out in her diary.

“Oh!  I’ve got something for you!”  He untied a plastic bag that he’d hung from his belt.  “It, um, might be a little bit squished, but hopefully it’ll still taste good.”

Her eyes widened at the small box of cupcakes he presented to her.  The frosting was pale pink, with wobbly dots of chocolate arranged to look like the spots on her yo-yo.  They were a little smushed, but still in remarkably good shape for having traveled with Chat across Paris.  She popped off the box’s translucent lid, giggling at the tiny pigeon stickers at each corner of it.

He winced.  “They look terrible, don’t they?  I know I’m not as good at baking as you, but Mr. Ramier helped so I thought they might be kind of okay—”

“They’re perfect.”  She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.  “You didn’t have to make me anything, Kitty.”

“I know, but I wanted to.  Since you’re always sharing your delicious pastries with me—”

“Maman and Papa make most of those.”

“—and because you deserve something nice, and you refuse to let me buy you anything.”

Her face warmed.  Before she’d put that rule into place, he’d tried to bring her a present every time he visited.  Considering he visited a lot, that would have taken a toll on his wallet.

Unless money wasn’t an issue for him, of course.

Stop that, she told herself.  She could hardly deny her feelings for Chat anymore, but she couldn’t keep muddling them with feelings for her first crush.  Not until she knew for sure they were one and the same.

Now if only she could stop being a coward and ask him.

“W-well thanks,” she said quickly.  “You better help me eat them.”

He winked.  “Can do, Princess.”

Before they dug in, she bundled her fabric away and pulled out the Miracle Box from its hiding place next to her sewing machine.  It was the perfect spot, now that she’d learned how disguise it as an extra sewing box rather than that Ladybug-themed egg-thing.  She’d never have been able to keep that a secret.

“Who’s coming out today?”  Chat asked.  He’d sprawled on the chaise with his hands propping up his chin.  Tikki had nestled herself in his hair, eating half of a cupcake and scattering crumbs in his golden locks.  

The kwami would probably enjoy Chat Noir’s visits more if Plagg was allowed out for her to play with.  Plagg would devour all of her parents’ cheese-filled pastries, and Marinette… Marinette would have to look into her partner’s unmasked eyes and admit she was still half in love with someone else.

Unless she wasn’t.  But what if she was?  A few hardly-lucid dreams and wishful evidence weren’t proof that Chat Noir was actually Adrien.

She shook her head.  That train of thought could do donuts in her brain if she didn’t pull the brakes.

“I was thinking Kaalki and Pollen.”  She wasn’t up for any of the rowdier kwamis tonight, even with Chat helping her “babysit.”  Plus the two of them liked sweets; they’d appreciate the cupcakes.

She pulled out the hair comb and glasses, and Chat Noir excitedly put them both on.  The miraculouses somehow managed to make him look both dorkier and cuter at the same time.  Maybe that was just because he was at his cutest when he was being a dork.

Tikki smiled wide as Kaalki and Pollen appeared in flashes of light.

“Oooh, someone glorious and famous.” Kaalki flew in circles around Chat Noir’s head, nudging a few of his tufts of hair with her hoof.  “You would make a fine holder.  Plagg wouldn’t be up for a trade, would he?”

Chat blushed beneath his mask, making Marinette giggle.

“Uh, sorry, but I’m going to have to say neigh to that.”

Pollen covered her laugh in her hands. Kaalki just harumphed.

“Fine.  Your sense of humor is far too unpolished anyway.”

Glorious and famous.  Kaalki might have been talking about his status as a hero of Paris, but Marinette still made note.

They fell into their usual routine, Chat Noir entertaining the kwamis by answering their questions about the world while Marinette went back to work.  The steady conversation was a better backdrop than any white noise or instrumental music playlists.  She only wished she had time to join them.  Unfortunately, she’d put off this dress for too long.  She only had a week before Juleka wa supposed to model the floral sundress at the school’s ameteur fashion show, and who knew how many akumas would strike between now and then?

Marinette was just getting ready to transfer the fabric from the mannequin to her sewing desk when she heard Pollen ask Chat, “How are things between you and your Princess?”

The pins slipped from her hand.  She barely noticed a couple pricking into her slipper.

Chat had sat up straight since the last time she’d glanced back, and the nervous yet hopeful smile on his face threatened to melt her.

“Uh—well—how are things between us, Marinette?”

Her mouth briefly forgot how to make words.  She knew what Pollen meant; Tikki and her gossiped about Marinette’s love life all the time. Maybe she shouldn’t have let the bee kwami out tonight.

“Well, um.”  Her fingers twitched nervously against the fabric of her pajama pants.  Say something, Marinette! “We’re—we’re best friends, right?”

She wanted to shove her fist in her mouth.  How many times had she died inside over Adrien calling her just a friend?  And no matter who Chat was beneath the mask, she didn't want to obscure her true feelings for him.

But his face still lit up even brighter.  “I’m your best friend?”

“Of course, Kitty.”  She sat on the chaise, scooting close to him.  Probably closer than even a best friend should, but it wasn’t like Chat was shy about personal space.  “I don’t let just anyone climb in my window, you know.”

“Awwww,” Pollen sighed while crossing her hands over her heart.  Tikki gave Marinette a knowing look, which she pretended to ignore.

Then Marinette shoved a cupcake into her mouth before she could say anything more incriminating.

Chat blinked.  She wondered if he was impressed—that cupcake had been about the size of her fist. Guess she could’ve fit her fist in her mouth after all, but at least the cupcake tasted better.

“Thesh ah really goo’.” 

...Well, she said she wouldn’t say anything incriminating.  She’d never ruled out saying anything stupid.

Chat Noir laughed.  “For a Princess, your table manners could use some work.”

She swallowed about half the cupcake.  It was really good, thick and chocolatey with a hint of strawberry.  It probably would’ve tasted better if she’d taken the time to savor it.  But the loss was worth it for the look on his face.

“No table manners allowed.  Only vibes.”

He blinked before bursting out a real laugh, fuller and brighter than the one before.  One that she was sounded strikingly familiar—especially with the backdrop of rain hitting the window behind them.

That truth cracked like a flash of lightning.

“You’ve been hanging out with Nino too much.”  He wiped a claw under his eye, flicking away a few drops of water.

It was him. It had to be him. She’d recognize that laugh anywhere.

“Princess, what’s a ‘vibe’?”  Pollen asked.

“I believe it’s like a, like a feeling,” Kaalki answered over the sound of Chat’s cackle.  “Perhaps there’s a kwami of vibes?  Or would that fall under Duusu’s domain?”

Marinette was too stunned from the whiplash of Adrien’s laugh and Pollen’s question to actually answer.

“Sort of,” Tikki interjected instead.  “Marinette and her friends sometimes talk about vibes like they’re feelings, but they also use ‘vibing’ as an action.  I’m still not really sure what that means though.  Maybe we should Google it?”

When she sat on Marinette’s computer keyboard, the desktop collage of Adrien’s photos flashed on the screen.  Marinette almost lunged for her kwami in horror, but Chat was still laughing too hard to notice.

“Princess—what’s a—what’s a vibe?”  He got out between tears.

Then he actually doubled over far enough that he toppled off the chaise—which made Marinette laugh so hard she choked on her remaining cupcake. 

Adrien was dressed in a catsuit, literally rolling on the floor laughing.  That was more hilarious than even the kwamis trying to understand teenage slang.

“Marinette?  Are you okay?”  Tikki hovered up to her face, her blue eyes filling Marinette’s vision.

She giggled again, coughing out crumbs stuck in the back of her throat.

“I’m—I’m straight up vibing!”  

With that, she too rolled off the chaise and fell on top of Chat.  He yelped before giggling again, wrapping his arms around her.

“Spare vibes, Princess?  Spare vibes for a poor vibeless kitty?”

“Ack!”  She flailed as he tickled her sides.  “Nooo, stop!  You’re stealing all the vibes!”  

“Were vibes in the cupcakes?”  Pollen whispered to Kaalki, prompting another giggling fit from both Marinette and Chat Noir.

“Maybe it’s a secret,” Kaalki replied.  “Like a code.  For when the two of them want to do… whatever this is.”  She waved a hoof towards where they were tangled together.

It was only then that Marinette realized what this would look like.  And the fact that the floor wasn’t that thick, and her parents might hear something any minute.

Not to mention the fact that Adrien was tickling her.

“I, um, need some air!”  She burst, scrambling off from his chest.

“Huh?  Wait, Marinette!” 

He reached out a hand, but she’d already bolted up her ladder and shoved open her skylight.

Which, of course, let rain dump right into her bed.  Oops.

“What was in those cupcakes?”  She mumbled, climbing onto her balcony shutting the skylight behind her.  

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat there.  The rain wasn’t doing a quick enough job of it, even though the spring shower chilled the rest of her to the bone.  Had she flushed her last brain cell down the toilet?  What was she thinking? 

Of course, she was stupid with Chat Noir all the time.  They’d challenged each other to handstand contests, dared each other to eat spicy peppers, even one-upped each other’s Hawkmoth impersonations.  Chat might be Adrien, but that meant Adrien was still Chat. Knowing his identity didn’t change the fact that he was her ridiculous partner.

“Marinette?”  A blond head poked out of the skylight.  The glasses were askew on his nose; the golden hair comb had almost fallen out. “If you want me to leave, I can.  You don’t need to stay out here and get soaked.”

It was a bit late for that.  Even though she had ducked under the awning, the rain was blowing practically sideways.  She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.  Why had she worn her pajama tank?  Not that it mattered; Adrien had seen her in it before.  She could hardly embarrass herself more than she already had.

“N-no, of course not!  I just thought, we were being kind of loud, and it’s late, and since you didn’t come in through the front door…”

Chat winced as he climbed out onto the balcony to stand beside her.  Just a few seconds out in the rain, and his hair was already plastered to his forehead in a wet mop.  The glasses were too splattered to see through; he removed them and the bee miraculous with his free hand and put them in his pocket.

As for his other hand...

“Well, at least use this.  It might work a little better than your awning.”

...He popped open the umbrella.  Black and slick with rain, it brought her back to a moment two years ago.  Different green eyes, but the same soft gaze.  

“Of course you’d grab that one.”  She couldn’t help smiling.  It was the only umbrella she owned, and it had been sitting by her desk, but it still felt ironic.  

She reached for the umbrella, but Chat pulled it back at the last moment.

“Wait, it’s broken, isn’t it?”  He squinted up at its underside—

Just in time for it to snap shut on his head.

A laugh burst from her like a crack of thunder.  “Come on, Ad—Kitty.  It’s drier over here.” 

He disentangled himself from the umbrella and followed her to the corner of the balcony, where the rain hadn’t quite snuck under the awning.  

“Why do you have this old thing anyway?  Looks like a piece of junk.”  He twirled the now-closed umbrella like his baton, but fumbled it under her folding chair, where it promptly exploded open.  Chat scowled.  “Oh, I see how it is.  When I want you to open, you only know how to stay shut.  But when you’re out on your own you’re ready to party.”

The umbrella rolled slightly as it began to fill with rainwater.  Marinette laughed as Chat continued to glare at it.

“Be nice to that umbrella.  Someone very special gave it to me.”  She stretched out her legs, letting her heels dangle in the puddles in the brick.  Her fairy lights reflected in the water, casting the two of them in an ethereal glow.

“Oh, really?  Should I be jealous?”  He playfully wrapped an arm around her back.  Every place he touched burned, even though she knew the gesture was just part of his jealous act.

She hummed as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“...Oh.”  She felt him deflate, though he infused his voice with fake confidence.  “Well, good.  I’m a pretty territorial cat, you know.”

Gently, she tugged on the bell at his neck until he met her eyes.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” she clarified, “because I know he’s you.”

Chat Noir’s—Adrien’s—eyes widened.  But then his gaze softened, and he shook his head with a smile.

“I should’ve known you’d figure me out.  You’ve already done it once in your sleep.”

She blinked.  “I did?  And—and I’m right?”

She’d been sure, but it was still another thing to hear him admit it.

And it was yet another thing to hear “claws in.” To see green lightning crackle over over him, unmasking Adrien’s tender face.

The electricity had barely faded before she flung her arms around him.

“Woah!”  He laughed before hugging her back just as tightly.  “You know, I think I should be jealous.  You never hugged Chat Noir like this.”

“That’s not true.  I definitely hugged you tighter after we fought the Scrambler last week.”

“Huh.  I guess it just doesn’t have the same effect when I’m covered in egg whites.  Or maybe it’s because the suit isn’t in the way now.”

She was all too aware of that.  His bare hands were warm on her back, even through her pajama shirt.  Her face was tucked in the crook of his neck, where she could drink in his scent unobscured by the leather suit.

“Sniffing me again?”  He wiggled his eyebrows.

She flushed at being caught.  Adrien her friend from school might not have called her out for it, but Adrien her partner of two years would.  Well, two could play at that game.

“Oh, like you haven’t sniffed me before.  Besides, I can’t help it that you smell radiant, carefree, and dreamy.”

He looked mortified.  “That commercial was over a year ago!  Even Wayhem forgot about that!”

“Wayhem probably didn’t watch it two hundred and fifty-five times.”

“...I can’t tell which one of us should be more embarrassed about that.”

“Probably me,” she admitted.  “What was your point again?”

“Either we both get sniffing rights, or neither of us does.  That’s fair.”

She laughed, nuzzling deeper into his neck.  “Fine.  But I probably just smell wet.”

He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in, tickling the part of her hair.  “Don’t worry.  You smell perfect.”

Maybe it should’ve been an awkward compliment, but he still found herself giddy over it.

“Thank you.  You smell like cheese.”

“Hey!”  He pouted.  “What happened to ‘radiant, carefree, and dreamy’?”

“She gave you a compliment, kid. What’s more radiant than cheese?”  Plagg asked.

Marinette nearly screamed.  She should’ve realized he was there, but he’d blended into the shadows in the wake of Adrien’s detransformation.

“Plagg!”  Adrien hissed.  “Go inside with Tikki.  We’re having a moment.”

“Yeah, whatever.”  Plagg dismissively waved a paw.  “You got any cheese in there for me, Pigtails?”

“Uh—Tikki can get you some cheese-filled pastries from downstairs.  Don’t let my parents see you.”

“They’ll never know I was there.  Unless they notice a plate of those delicious treats is gone.” The kwami grinned and dove through the floor.  

Well, that was about all she could expect.  Hopefully Tikki could keep him under control.  If not, Marinette might have to fake a rat infestation.

“Sorry about him.” Adrien sighed.  “He’s always like that.”

“Could’ve been worse.  Imagine if you were stuck with Xuppu or Roarr as your kwami.”

He laughed.  “Pretty sure my father would have grounded me for life if he saw the mess.  Or he would’ve found out my identity.  Probably both.”

Chat had been there the one day Marinette decided to let the monkey and tiger kwamis outside of the miracle box.  She’d actually had to transform and use her Lucky Charm just to undo the damage.  

“Speaking of which… I knew it was only a matter of time, but how did you learn my identity?”  He asked.  “If I need to be more careful…”

She shook her head.  “It’s not that.  I… I don’t know if I can even explain it.  At first I thought it was just wishful thinking.  Ever since we spent the night at Mr. Ramier’s apartment, I…”

She blushed and bit her lip.  Getting caught sniffing him might have been embarrassing, but admitting this somehow felt more personal.

“What?” He asked.  “Is it because I smelled the same as Chat and myself?”

“Huh?  No—well, sort of?  Maybe subconsciously.”

“Oh.  That’s what you said while you were sleeptalking.”  He shrugged.

“I guess that makes sense, since… well, I’ve been dreaming about you.  Both of you.”  

She took a deep breath.  He was still waiting patiently, his hand softly stroking her back.  If he didn’t think she was crazy yet, she guessed this wouldn’t change his mind.

“You were always the same person in my dreams.  You’d switch back and forth between Adrien and Chat Noir.  “Chat” would sit in front of me at school, or “Adrien” would help me bring down a scary akuma. Either way, it was always you.

“And then I couldn’t help looking for similarities when I was awake.  I—I started writing down all the evidence I found.  The time “Chat” almost beat me at Ultimate Mecha Strike was when I started to actually believe it.  But what finally convinced for sure me was your laugh.”

She laced her fingers together in her lap to keep from fidgeting.  All of it sounded weirder when she said it out loud.  Almost like she’d been stalking him, sticking all of their casual interactions under a microscope.

“Wow,” he breathed, leaning back against the wall.  “I’m flattered that you went through all that effort, but I don’t get it.  The only reason I didn’t reveal myself sooner was because I was afraid it would put more stress on you, and you were already dealing with so much.  Why didn’t you just ask me who I was?”

She stared into his eyes, watching the pastel lights reflect in them.  He still didn’t know.  All these secrets shared, all these weights lifted, and she still hadn’t revealed the one secret she’d wanted to confess all along.

“Because…” she licked her lips, “because I didn’t want to be wrong.  If you weren’t Adrien—I didn’t want to project my old crush onto you.  You deserve better than that.  Though I guess it doesn’t matter now, since I wasn’t projecting after all, it is you and so I should. Just be able to say this.”

He blinked at her, but then his lips began to part in a slow smile.

“Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m in love with you,” she blurted before she could lose her nerve again.  “First Adrien you, then Chat Noir you, then just, well, you.  So—so jot that down.”

A startled laugh escaped him before he squeezed her tight again.

“Consider it jotted.”  He kissed the top of her head, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  As if she wasn’t going to dissolve at the faintest sign of lip-on-hair contact.  “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with all of you too.  So you can jot that down.”

It shouldn’t have undone her.  Chat Noir had confessed his love to her countless times.  Granted, all of those times had been before their battle with Miracle Queen, after which he’d obviously tried to move on.

But he still loved her.  She wasn’t too late.  

Maybe that relief was what pushed her to grab the collar of his shirt in both hands and press her mouth to his.

Her brain screamed, but her lips slowly figured out what to do, particularly when Adrien got over his shock and kissed her back.

Adrien. Holding her in his arms. Kissing her back.

She wasn’t sure if the sound she heard was the rain or the roaring in her ears or just her internal screaming. But it didn’t matter. For the first time, they were really, finally together, no secrets or fears between them. That truth was just as sweet as the kiss.

He finally pulled back, the front of his shirt damp where he’d been pressed against her. From the wide grin on his face, he didn’t mind.

“Will I get that kind of kiss every time I tell you I love you?”

“I don’t know.”  She tapped her lips. “It might be worth finding out.”

“I love you, my La—”

She cut him off with her mouth on his.

All that time waiting, every failed attempt at confessing her feelings, slipped away like the rain off the slick balcony railing.

When the sky finally cleared, she woke to them tangled together, slumped against that same railing.  She had a crick in her neck, and she’d probably end up with a cold from sleeping in her wet clothes.  But it still felt worth it to look up into Adrien’s blissful face.  Somehow she’d woken up before him—probably because her clothes had been more uncomfortable, since his were dry where his suit had covered them.

“Are you going to give me any juicy secrets in your sleep?”  She asked before kissing the side of his jaw.

His only response was to hum and hug her.

“I guess that’s a no.”  She chuckled.  “No fair.  I shouldn’t be the only one embarrassing myself in this relationship.”

Relationship.  She could’ve exploded into confetti just thinking about it.

“Mmm… love you… m’lady.”

Her breath caught at his slurred voice.

“...Well I guess I can’t complain about that.”

She rested her head back on his chest, and let the dripping remnants of rain from the gutters lull her back to sleep.

[dregstrash]

Knife in the Back

a/n: Here it is!! The @grishaversebigbang project I did with the wonderful and talented @wafflesandkruge. This was so much fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it!

Materialki: @chaosvvolf (check out this amazing piece), @throughtheruin (feast your eyes on this beauty), @cinnonym (a 10/10 work of art), @corpsecro (we literally love to see talent), @kayadoodles (her mind is galactic with this one), @saintprivateer (brilliance in a single image)

Summary: Inej is one of the best detectives the city has to offer. As she gets closer to taking down one of the largest crime syndicates in Kerch, a body turns up out of nowhere and it points to Kaz Brekker, one of Ketterdam’s most dangerous hitmen, being the killer. But as Inej investigates the murder, there might be more to it than meets the eye: the murder, the suspects, and Kaz Brekker.

Ao3 Link

Prologue and Chapter 1 under the cut!

Prologue:

It was a dark night in Ketterdam. Not that any light truly ever pierced the dark clouds that seemed to perpetually hang over the city, but under the new moon the stars weren’t strong enough to illuminate the dark cobbled street.

The regular late night revelers seemed more subdued than usual. The air chillier and the wind ripping through any brave soul that stumbled through abandoned alleys.

It was almost funny the things that are able to pass in the dark: guns hidden under coats, hands twitching with an unquenchable craving, and bodies that might never truly wake up. The pale arm sticking out of a hastily placed tarp would have passed completely, if it wasn’t for one drunken man stumbling away from his latest high. The fall came before the scream, and the sound of it echoed down the alley.

True night could have hidden most evils, but even the shadows can choose to offer some truths-- and on this dark night the truth was this: a girl half-covered with a blue tarp, her eyes set in an endless stare, and a hole punctured in the place where her heart should have been.

Chapter 1:

Ketterdam was like most metropolitan cities: busy streets, short-tempered people, and high murder rates. Inej had only been with the police department for three years, but she honestly thought she’d seen it all. Her police academy years were spent doing her regular beats in the Barrel, the sinister underbelly of the pleasure districts of Ketterdam called the Staves. She thought that coming face to face with the broken, destitute, and neglected, she had finally figured out all the little secrets of this dark city. But Ketterdam had a way of keeping you on your toes, and today was proof of that.

“It’s not pretty, Inej.” Her partner, Matthias, lifted the police tape cordoning the crime scene from the curious eyes of the general public. He handed her a cup of coffee and she took a grateful sip. They were in an alley in one of the more run-down neighborhoods, the area dark despite the morning sun.

“Tell me.” Inej said.

Matthias sighed and led her to where a corpse that was being covered with a blue tarp. Inej inhaled briefly at the sight of the massive hole punctured in the dead girl’s chest, and just as quick she exhaled. Later, she’ll give herself time to think about how young the girl looked, or the way her eyes were open and unable to be put to rest. Later, she’ll say a little prayer for the currently unnamed girl. But for now, she braced herself to take in the details, to take in the scene, to look at everything like puzzle pieces itching to be made whole.

“Victim was found at about 2 in the morning, by a drunk trying to find his way home. He tripped over the arm and let out a scream. Neighbors from up there.” He pointed up to a fifth story apartment complex, “Called about the noise complaint, and we had officers on the scene fairly quick.”

Inej opened her mouth, but Matthias beat her to it. “We already interviewed the man who discovered the body, and he’s not a person of interest. He was barely sober enough to remember where he lived, much less murder someone. We’ll have to wait until Wylan takes a closer look before, but it looks like the girl’s been dead for more than twenty-four hours.”

She nodded in understanding and took a closer look at the pale corpse. Inej peered under the tarp, and hissed out a breath.

“Shit.” Inej cursed.

Matthias raised an eyebrow, “You know her?”

“She’s one of my informants. A girl I knew from when I was younger. She was helpful in some of my bigger cases, but I hadn’t heard from her in the last six months. I just assumed she finally got out of the city.”

“And you have no idea who she would be working with that could have gotten her killed?”

She shook her head and then started looking at the crime scene itself, “There’s no blood here.” She began to pace the length of the alley. “Not on the ground or on her clothes. So we can rule out robbery gone wrong. We need to find out where she was killed”

Matthias followed closely behind her, she could feel him thinking. People always accused Matthias of being a stoic brick wall, and while Inej might agree, she almost relied on that solid silence. After being her partner for almost two years, she knew that he would only speak up if all the facts aligned and made sense. He wouldn’t waste words on any conspiracy.

“This would have to be multiple assailants.” Matthias said contemplatively. “Or one highly organized individual. We haven’t seen anything like this for a while.”

Inej swept her eyes on the crime scene and she sighed, “And we have no word on any sort of wallet or phone?”

“Hasn’t been seen, but we’re going to try to get some facial recognition off the CCTV to try and identify her.”

Inej nodded and turned over the minimal amount of detail surrounding the crime scene. There was something achingly familiar about the set up. Dead body. Simple covering. Dumping ground. For all intents and purposes, it was minimalistic and clean-- sort of like the case form three years ago-- the one with--.

Inej’s eyes widened as a realization dawned on her.

She scanned the alley more closely taking in the position of the victim, the loosely tied tarp, the time of discovery, and its location. She remembered the details of another case she had spent hours and hours pouring over. She remembered the frustrating all-nighters, and barged in at Wylan’s office at any given moment demanding he review the evidence that was submitted. It was a case that had joined the thick folder in Inej’s desk titled “Cold Case.” And while most detectives had their own grief about their stack of unsolved murders, Inej’s problem wasn’t never finding the killer, her problem was that the son of a bitch was a snake that always slithered just out of her reach.

“Okay, Matthias let’s wrap up and send the body to--”

Inej’s voice cut short as she caught sight of a chillingly familiar object unceremoniously dumped in a heap of garbage three feet away from the corpse.

She took out a rubber glove from her pocket, and approached the pile of trash with careful precision.

“What is it?” Matthias asked.

She didn’t answer. She stepped over some rotten fruit, and reached for the lone black glove that was too clean to have been thrown away, and too nice to be a forgotten clothing item.

Inej held the glove up, “See anything, detective?”

He gave her a skeptical look, but obliged by leaning in and studying the simple black glove. 

“It’s been worn a lot, but it’s not dirty. The leather is high quality, and still in good shape.”

“So why would anyone throw this away when winter is coming? Or better yet, why has no one taken it yet?”

Matthias shrugged, while Inej’s gears turned and turned. There was no way he would have been so careless. He’s never made a slip up like this before. But then again, maybe this was a message. Maybe he was finally tired of the shadows, and wanted Inej to find his glove as some sort of taunt-- or challenge. 

And he knew she would take him on it.

“Take the body to Wylan, and get the autopsy report as soon as possible. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Inej, what--”

“Also, there’s a marked folder in my desk. Grab it, and we’ll brief when I get back.”

“Where are you going?’

“I need to talk to someone.” She said distractedly.

She grabbed an evidence bag from one of the forensic agents, and stuffed the glove inside. She handed it back to the agent. “Get that tested, immediately.”

“Don’t do anything stupid without backup, Ghafa!” Matthias called after her.

She waved a hand behind her, but she was past being cautious. She folded herself back into the car and started inputting a familiar address into the GPS. If she was right about the glove, then she wasn’t letting Brekker get away from her. Not this time. She didn’t care if he was one of the deadliest assassins Ketterdam had ever seen. All men had to face justice someday, and it looked like Brekker’s time was drawing near.

[winter-fox-queen]

The Wheel

Summary:  Alejandro returns to his old ways.  We learn more about his relationships -- both with You and the attendant.

Warnings:  A tiny mention of sex.  Angst. The two main characters outside of Alejandro are female.

One more part after this!  Thanks to the amazing @hnt-escape for her amazing work, both with the poem and the collage. Please read her poem here.

Heists are…tricky.

In movies they are always these well timed, meticulously planned, huge plots where every possible problem was considered, every second accounted for.

And, in movies, these things usually end with explosions and gunfire.

Alejandro was not, by nature, a guns and explosions kind of guy. His parents had been firm on their commandments. 1. If you need guns to make this work, you don’t need to get involved. 2. A target had to always be wealthy…you never messed with anyone who could be completely destroyed, or had families who could be destroyed. 3. A middleclass asshole could always be the exception. 4. You can’t con an honest person.

He put on his last clean outfit, short sleeves to match the day, and sat in the open window, and had a think.

He couldn’t contact you. You were too close to the situation, and he didn’t need anyone seeing you, connecting the dots when things happened.

He thought of his PI license that he’d tried so hard to get...and to get honestly. After all these years, taking pictures of bored spouses in cheap hotel rooms seemed positively wholesome. Relaxing, even.

There was another rule. Ruse 5: If you have two close calls within a year of each other, it is time to get out. His father had not practiced what he preached, with that one, and the third close call. Well. That had been the end. A very, very bad end.

He’d taken time off from the whole thing to take care of his mother in her last years. Spreading out their savings. Maybe that was what happened. I tried to get back into the life and I’d just…lost it. That something that separated the con men from the cons in prison.

Maybe this is going to be the third time unlucky. It would be fitting, for my luck to finally run out in Los Vegas.

The attendant is crossing the parking lot below. He raises his hand, but the cleaning cart was probably blocking her line of vision.

He grabbed his keycard from the dresser, and went out.

When he gets into the office, she are filling out a form. He can feel how tired she is from the door. He leans against the counter at his new favorite spot, and says, “Hey. Bad night?”

She shakes her head.  Silent, like the Sphinx.  There’s a chip, on the counter, with a familiar sigil.  He wondered if it was a sign.  He holds it up, arches an eyebrow.

“You never know what you’ll find.”

“Did I ever tell you why I came here?” He knows he didn’t, but it is a good an introduction as any. She shakes her head.

“I came here for a girl.” He rolls his eyes, to make her laugh. “I promised her I’d always be here if she needed me, but I feel…I don’t know. I feel like I’m risking everything, and I’m no longer sure if I still love her, or the vision of what I thought she was? I mean…she’s had years of life I was never a part of. She’s not the same person. And she made choice…” He stutters to silence.

And he remembers. He remembers a nearly empty college parking lot, train whistle in the distance. You are straddling him, and he is holding you so tight, listening to your breath as you both slow down, calm down after chasing your highs. He’s afraid if he moves even the tiniest bit he’ll slip out of you, and he doesn’t want to, he wants to stay a part of you, be wrapped around you, beside you, inside you forever.

But after a few kisses, gentle, loving, to his throat, to his forehead, to his eyes, to his mouth, you put your hands on his shoulders and push yourself back and the connection is lost.

“Don’t do it.” You say. “You only have another year and a half left. Don’t quit college…you worked so hard.”

Ah, yes. The first time he tried to go legit.

He reaches for some Kleenex and you both clean up, zip your clothes up, do buttons.

“Mom needs me. Now that dad…”

“Yeah, now that your dad’s gotten himself killed, go ahead and follow in his footsteps.”  You can’t hide the bitterness, and he winces.

“You don’t get it. She won’t survive on her own. She needs someone.”

“She can come here. Get a shitty apartment and yell at you when you come home late like a normal person does.”

He thinks about it, then shakes his head. “I suggested something like that but…”

You wrap your arms around him so tight he can barely breathe. “Let’s just go, right now. Go back to your dorm and grab your go bag. We’ll fill up the car and just go.”

When he doesn’t answer, you look up, and the slight, stifled tremor of his lower lip, the shine in the eyes that won’t meet yours is answer enough.

“It’s not fair.” You say, trying not to cry because if you do, he will, and you were both taught that you never cried.

He reaches out and draws a circle in the condensation of the window. “It’s the wheel of fortune, baby. Sometimes you’re up.” He pauses at the top, draws a little heart. “Sometimes you’re down.”

“I wish you’d be here for me.” You say, knowing it was selfish, but everything was hurting.

Finally he looks at you. “I promise. I promise if you ever need me, I’ll come to you. No matter what.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips burn like a brand, as his shoulders start shaking, and you just press into him, knowing that this was it.

He knows better than to ask you to join him. He knows you won’t do it, but for a second you wish he’d offer, give you that little piece of temptation.

But everything was breaking and neither of you could fix it.

Back at the hotel, now, he is still holding the chip, still tapping it on the counter. “It’ just too late, I think.”

The attendant gives him a confused look. She’s asking, for what? And he can’t answer – for love, perhaps. For being a good man. Maybe he never really knew how to do either. Maybe he’d been broken all along. If your best memory of your entire life is of you, clinging to the side of a pool, talking to him while he lines rose petals up along your back, then really, what can he claim to have?

“I’m not so different,” the attendant says, slowly, carefully, as if unused to talking about herself.  “I came here for a boy.  Long story short, he was an asshole, I stopped waiting and here I am.”

“His loss,”  Alejandro says, his mind speeding ahead, considering.

He holds the chip up between them. The mark for the Casablanca bright on the gold chip.

“$500,000.” He says, giving you a grin. What the hell. It was time to turn the wheel again. Shake everything off and give it the best shot he could.

“That’s a 5,000.00 chip.” She corrects him gently.

“For some people, maybe.” He puts it on the counter, and with one finger slowly scoots it across the laminate towards her. “But for you and me, baby, I can make it worth a half a million each.”

She stares at it. “What’s the catch?”

He feels a low smile cross his face. He leans away from the counter. “Oh, we just need to wander in and take it.” He leans back in, all conspiracy. “And then we run like hell.”

Taglist:  @sharkbait77​  If anyone else wanted in, I am sorry.  <3  Let me know.

[lazyangeltreemoney]

Never Doubt I Love

One Shot, Royal AU

Description : Prince James is to wed Princess Y/N of the neighbouring country after the war to try and strengthen their countries. Bucky is less than happy about it and is shamelessly rude to Y/N, one day she has enough.

Pairings: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (platonic), Prince!Bucky x Natasha, Loki x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4987

Warnings: mentions of war, arranged marriage, death, insults, swearings.

A/N: just had this idea in my head all day and I’m a sucker for AU’s. Hope y'all enjoy

Bucky hated her from the second he saw her. When she stepped out of the limo in front of the palace an instant disdain burned in him. He would say it was from how she dressed being so dull, or her hair and makeup seemingly so perfect to the point of she looked like a doll, not a real human being. Natalia looks real. She was by no means the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Natalia is beautiful. This, this was who his parents expected him to marry?

When they finally got to talking it only cemented his hate. He hated how proper and ladylike she was, a proper princess who knew all the curtseys and proper rituals, it was almost robotic. Natalia at least would talk like a real human being. She talked to his parents and said everything she was trained to say, nothing seemed real about her. Natalia has a personality.

As time went on and she would try talking to Bucky she would be able to talk circles around him, any insult he gave she was able to bat back in a moment. Natalia knew when he did and didn’t like being pushed. He didn’t like being outwitted, especially on his own turf. 

“You just hate her because you can’t marry Nat without giving your mother a heart attack.” Steve stated as he took a swing of his water. 

“No, I hate her because she’s the most boring and insufferable woman I’ve ever met, I would say human but I’ve met Sam.” Bucky commented back. 

The pair had been sparring and training. Steve was Bucky’s cousin and Head of the Royal Guard. The pair had been friends since they could talk, thick as thieves. They had gone to war together and by some miracle survived and came out stronger than ever. Bucky was the soon to be King, he had no reason to be training but some of the old army habits he was never able to kick. 

“She’s in a new country, a country she will soon have to rule, it’s a lot to take on.” Steve tried to get his friend to sympathise with Y/N. 

“Not my problem, now if we’re done here I’m going to see Nat.” Bucky retorted and walked away. 

“I’ll see you at the ball tonight!” Steve called down the hall. 

Bucky simply ignored him and kept walking on shaking his head. Of course Steve would have to remind him of that stupid ball, the one to announce Y/N’s and his engagment. Y/N had been staying in the palace for nearly over a month now, to try and not raise suspicion of an ‘arranged marriage’. Bucky had gone over his proposal speech about a thousand times to try and give it something to make it believable. Nothing worked, it all sounded robotic and cheesy to the point where the press would see right through him. 

This led to him sitting with Natalia in his bedroom trying to think of what on earth he was going to say tonight. The pair were both naked with only a sheet covering them, Bucky was sat by the window smoking a cigarette to try and clear his head. Natalia was going over what he had already written down so far. 

“-I love you to the moon and back’ oof.” Natalia laughed. 

“I know, I know, it’s awful and I’m about to make a fool out of myself in front of the whole kingdom.” Bucky huffed, stubbing out his cigarette. 

Natalia leaned forward and began to card her hands through his hair to try and comfort him. Telling him how some of it was sweet or how he could close his eyes and try to pretend it was her, he was proposing to. 

“Urgh, it doesn’t matter what I write how I can be any form of genuine when I’m proposing to an iceberg.” Bucky groaned holding his head. 

“Come on, she’s not that bad, Wanda speaks pretty highly of her.” Natalia offered. 

Bucky was so sick of everyone trying to convince him Y/N ‘wasn’t that bad’. Even Nat, apparently her and Y/N would often go into the gardens with Wanda for some form of a book club. Y/N knew full well what was going on between Nat and Bucky, she had told her in person and she gave Nat her blessing. Told her that she was simply doing right by her country and had no claim over Bucky’s heart. 

Bucky didn’t buy it, he was convinced Y/N was trying to play some bigger game. He was the only one in his conspiracy theory. 

“Nat I’m having to ask that bitch to be my wife, to stand by me, raise my heirs, how can I?” Bucky let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Because you’re a King and like it or not she is your Queen.” Nat tried to calm him. 

“Well right now I want to pretend that you are my one and only queen.” Bucky smirked and grabbed Natalia ready to ravish her again. 

So lost in the moment he had no idea Y/N was just right outside of the room, hearing their whole conversation. She had gone to talk to Bucky about tonight, about how to play in front of the press watching and just them in general. Y/N only closed her eyes and let out a small frustrated sigh as she marched back to her room. By the time she was just outside her room she didn’t know how or why but she was crying. Endless streams of tears seemed to be flooding and nothing she did could stop it, but why? Did she love Bucky? No, but at the very least she wanted him to respect her. Not call her a bitch or human iceberg. 

Rushing into her room she slammed the doors behind her. In her room were her clothes for this evening, a gorgeous gown with silver trimmings and heels to match. However the very sight of the dress made her feel sick. It was less of a gorgeous gown and more like shackles. As if she was submitting to a life of ridicule and hate from her husband. 

Falling to her knees she held herself for a second. It was never meant to be like this. It was meant to be so much kinder and happier, the life a princess was supposed to have. This however was the reality, cruel and ironic at every chance it had. 

Y/N wasn’t sure how long she had laid on the floor but she knew it had been a while and she would have to start getting ready. As she had been trained since birth, she wiped her eyes and gracefully rose from the floor, back straight and head high, thinking of all she would sacrifice for her kingdom. 

It was now only a few hours til the ball and Bucky still didn’t know what to say during his proposal. Anything he had down was tibits he had gotten from people Y/N actually talked to, like Steve or Wanda. However none of it sounded like him, he had always been vocal in the press, they knew how he talked. Defeatedly, he walked towards Y/N’s room knowing she was the only one who could fix this. 

Y/N had a way with the people, even Bucky couldn’t deny that. When the war was at its worst, it was Y/N’s speeches or public acts that seemed to give most of the soldiers and citizens hope. If anyone knew what the public wanted to hear it was Y/N. So Bucky now stood in front of her ornate door hanging his head. Letting out a frustrated sigh he knocked on the door. There was a short pause before a voice called him in. 

“Enter.” 

When he walked in he saw Y/N in her dress. It was a dark blue silk that was sleeveless, that seemed to hug her figure just right. She wore white silk gloves that had the most delicate lace and pearls wrapped around her neck. Bucky hated to admit it but he was speechless at the sight of her. Her hair was in a bun but a few loose hairs cascaded down her face shaping it perfectly. Her makeup was a lot more natural and her lips seemed to be the perfect shade. The more he looked at her the less and less she looked like the girl who first appeared in the palace. 

“Was there something you wanted to say James or are you just going to stare?” Y/N asked bringing him back to reality. 

Bucky coughed slightly and stood up a little straighter. 

“Ah yes, I came to talk to you about tonight,” Bucky began before Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh. “Something funny?” Bucky raised a brow to her. 

“Just surprised that you would want to hold an actual conversation with me is all.” Y/N spoke in that tone that made Bucky cringe. 

It was royal and regal, just the right amount of sweetness with the right amount of authority. No one had a voice like that unless they had been trained from day one. Bucky hated that even now she was playing mind games with him and talking so many circles around him his head could spin. But right now he had to let it slide because he really needed her help. 

“Look I need your help on conning an entire country that we’re in love.” Bucky tried to explain. 

“Love.” Y/N scoffed back. 

Bucky was now losing his patience. 

“Yes love.” Bucky’s tone was getting dangerously dark. 

Y/N however didn’t care, she had been pushed too far. She was too tired, tired of his arrogance, his childishness, his stubbornness and how he was convinced that Y/N wanted this. Especially when he didn’t know the first thing about her. 

“How can you when you hate me, god James I know you don’t love me and I don’t want you to but you could at least tolerate me.” Y/N exasperated, he was finally getting put in his place one way or another. 

Bucky went to argue back but Y/N was nowhere near done. 

“I tolerate you, I tolerate your lover, even befriended her but you can’t even look at me without insulting me, God, you think I want this? You think my heart doesn’t belong to someone else as well, at least you get to see your lover everyday.” Y/N ranted. 

So much information was coming at Bucky at once it was hard to process it all. His brain was almost on autopilot. 

“How does any of that help me write this?” Bucky asked. 

Of course, of fucking course, Y/N just poured her heart out to him and he still doesn’t care. Well now neither does she. 

“Say whatever the fuck you want.” Y/N yelled storming out of the room. 

Bucky was left alone in the room feeling uneasy. Y/N had never swore once in the whole time he had known her, not even with anyone. She had always tried to be the perfect lady but now that seemed to all go out of the window. Sighing, Bucky sat on Y/N’s bed and let his mind wander. The words Y/N spoke seemed to be playing on a loop until it finally hit him. 

 “You think my heart doesn’t belong to someone else as well”

It was about an hour before the ball was supposed to begin when Bucky finally found her. Y/N was on one of the balconies having a cigarette. He had no idea that she smoked, but she even made that look graceful. She seemed to be deep in thought, almost relaxed. However her little moment of peace seemed to be ruined when Bucky showed his face. She looked at him for a moment before turning away to look at the night sky. 

“So who is he?” Bucky asked, leaning on the railing. 

Y/N remained silent and took another puff of her cigarette. Her face was like a statue wanting to give nothing away. 

“Is he back in your country?” Bucky hummed. 

“He’s buried there.” Y/N finally spoke. 

Bucky looked at her in astonishment. Y/N had revealed one of her deepest secrets so casually he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. He tried to study her more to see if she was lying but he honestly couldn’t tell, until she stubbed out her cigarette. 

“His name was Loki and he was beautiful.” Y/N spoke softly with a sad smile forming on her face as the memories came flooding back. 

Thor was her usual royal guardsmen. He was a bit of a goof with more brawn than brains but Y/N got along with him just fine. Just like all the guardsmen in her country Y/N trusted them with her life. However one morning Thor greeted her before she went riding accompanied by a dark haired man. He was a lot shorter than Thor and paler. His eyes were an emerald green that seemed to be locked on Y/N from the second he walked into the stable. 

“Ah Thor, ready for our ride?” Y/N spoke enthusiastically

“Actually your Majesty will have the joy of my brother with you today.” Thor explained, gesturing to the man next to him. 

“Brother?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Adopted.” Thor explained. 

“Call me Loki.” The dark haired man introduced himself. 

“Only if you call my Y/N.” She replied. 

Loki instantly smirked at her. Something about the tone of her voice told him this was going to be fun. The pair saddled up the horses and were off into the royal woods. Y/N led the way and Loki had to try his best to not lose her. After about half an hour of riding Y/N finally stopped by a lake. Loki was exhausted and more than happy to have his own two legs on the ground. He practically collapsed off his horse and gulped some water from his bottle. 

“Anyone would think you didn’t want my protection.” Loki said breathily. 

Y/N only giggled at him and began to set up her camp. Loki noticed she was building a small fire, she then took out a metal can and took some water from the lake. With that she took out a book and a tea bag she placed into the can of water. 

“Would you care for some tea?” Y/N asked. 

Loki merely nodded and sat down beside her. The lake was beautiful, the water was so clear and glimmering, it seemed to show his reflection perfectly. The woods circled around them, it almost felt like he was in the eye of a storm. He glanced over to Y/N who was pouring him a small cup of tea. She was so beautiful as the light shone on her, regal, elegant. 

“What are you reading?” Loki mused as he took the cup. 

“Shakespeare's sonnets.” Y/N showed him the cover as her eyes went back to the pages. 

“Would you mind if you read them to me, I’ve always had a soft spot for his works.” Loki admitted. 

He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this but he felt like he could, he felt like he could tell her anything within a few minutes of knowing her. She had the air of comfort around her. Y/N nodded and began to read out loud to him. Her voice seemed to give the words meaning, as if before now they were just words on a page. The pair sat together like that for hours, eventually Loki began to read to her instead. They discussed and argued about what he truly meant when Shakespeare wrote certain rhymes. They continued to jest and tease each other on the ride home. By the time they got to the stable it was nearly sunset. 

“Thankyou for this today, usually when I go with Thor he gets bored after an hour and I have to head home.” Y/N smiled at Loki as she tied up her horse.

“Anytime, Y/N.” Loki replied smiling at her. 

Y/N wanted to scold herself for how her heart fluttered when he said her name. The two bid each other goodnight but the lingering glances were clear neither of them wanted to part ways.

Them running away to the lake quickly became a little tradition between them. Even if they could only have an hour there they would wake up at the crack of dawn or dead of night to simply be in each others company. It was one of the times when they both had busy schedules the next day so they were in the dead of night Y/N’s head laid in Loki’s lap by the lake. The moonlight shining down on them. The soft neighs of horses and gentle lapping on the lake could be heard. It was the most peaceful thing Y/N had ever experienced. 

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;Doubt that the sun doth move;Doubt truth to be a liar;But never doubt I love.” Loki spoke softly

Y/N nestled into more as his words rang seemed to lull her to sleep.

“Love maybe we should head back, the sun will be coming up soon.” Loki reminded her. 

“Just a few more minutes.” Y/N sleepily mumbled back. 

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle at her sleepy stubbornness. To be completely honest, he didn’t want to leave either, this was their little sanctuary, away from their duties, the fear, the pressure. But they couldn’t hide away forever, Y/N especially would never abandon her people like that.

“Alright Love.” Loki spoke softly. 

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. By the time he finished reading the page Y/N was asleep. Her soft snores and gentle eyes closed. Loki wanted nothing more than to see that sight every night, to have her fall asleep in his arms every night. But she was a royal, the princess no less and he was not. It didn’t matter though, he had this and it was enough for now. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked. 

“The war happened.” Y/N replied. 

She had to hold back the tears as the memories played on in her mind. 

Loki had agreed to meet her at the lake early that morning. They both needed it, the war had just begun and they were both on edge. The war had barely begun and Y/N was trying to think of ways to end it. Meanwhile Loki was more scared for Y/N’s safety than ever, scared she would end up performing some act of Martyrdom just to end the war. 

Loki and Y/N had ridden in complete silence to the lake. It was weird, usually their ride together would be filled with teasing and discussing whatever book they were reading. This however was uneasy and uncomfortable. Too much was on each others mind for them to just be themselves. 

However once they reached the lake and Y/N had made the tea it was as if everything outside those woods no longer existed. Y/N laid her head on Loki’s shoulder and he began to read aloud to her, pausing occasionally to make a remark about it or flirt with Y/N. To which she would merely giggle and kiss his cheek to tell him to keep reading. 

It was one of those moments when Y/N went to kiss his cheek did he turned so to catch her lips with his. Loki dropped the book and wrapped his hands around her waist. Y/N had hers around his neck as she deepened the kiss. The two only broke apart for air, resting their foreheads against each other. 

“I’ve missed my Love.” Loki spoke breathlessly. 

“I’m sorry, I just want this war to end.” Y/N admitted guiltily. 

Y/N noticed how Loki’s face turned slightly when she mentioned the war, as if there was something he needed to tell her about it. No, surely not. 

“I got my draft letter yesterday, I ship out in a few days.” Loki almost hung his head in shame. 

Y/N broke apart from him. This couldn’t be happening, no she wouldn’t allow it. She had given almost all of herself to her people, to the crown but they couldn’t have Loki. 

“No, no, no.” She rambled pacing up and down but the lake. 

“Love.” Loki called trying to soothe her. 

“No, I won’t allow it, I decree it as the Princess of this land you will not set one foot out of the palace grounds.” Y/N tried to sound strong, use her authoritative tone so Loki wouldn't argue. 

But it was to no avail. 

“You think I want to leave you, but if I stay on your orders, what will people think?” Loki explained. 

“I don’t care what they think, I’ll marry you, you’ll be their king and adore you.” Y/N pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“We both know that’s not how this works.” Loki sighed, he hated to see her cry. 

He hated any form of sadness she had to endure. He hated how she would never be able to let it show, always internalising it and keeping it hidden. She only let her emotions go when she was with him, which made all of this hurt even more. 

Slowly he walked over to her and held her close. She sobbed into his shirt until no more tears could physically come out of her. Even after that Y/N still held him close, afraid that the second she let go he would be gone. 

“Promise me that you’ll come back to me, that no matter what happens you will come back here to this very spot.” Y/N’s voice was crackled and strained from the crying. 

Loki knew he couldn’t truly promise her that, but nonetheless he did. 

“I promise, Love.” 

Y/N watched him get shipped out. She went in disguise to kiss him goodbye on the dock. Tears were in both of their eyes. She used her spies to give him love letters and gifts of books with their favourite passages circled. Loki saw the work Y/N was doing and the speeches she made in the papers and on posters everywhere he went. He had never been so proud of her, she was truly going to make a wonderful Queen. 

It was the very last year of the war when Thor knocked on her door in full uniform with that damned letter and dog tags.No body could be recovered, there were too many hidden among them. She had locked herself into isolation after Thor had told her the knews; Simply wanting to be alone with her books and memories. Then her maid came and dropped breakfast by her door while slipping a letter under the door. 

Y/N walked towards the door and picked up the letter when she gasped at the handwriting, it was Loki’s. She felt almost feral as she tore it open, instantly checking the date, it was from three weeks ago, two weeks before…

To My Dear Y/N

I miss you my love, miss you more than you will ever know. I’ve seen your face all around the city, in the papers and although I am proud of you it does make my heart ache, a constant reminder of the distance between us. 

It is something I can bear no longer. Which is why when I keep my promise to you I will meet you at our spot and march into the palace demanding the King to make you my wife. I know I am no prince or lord but I am yours and I hope with everything in my being you are still mine. You are the only thing that makes this war worth fighting for and we both know it is drawing to a close. So please just hang on a little longer my Love. 

Soon we will have all we can desire; we will be wed; we’ll have children and take them to the lake. You will splash them in the water and then we’ll dry them while we read them stories with tea sat round the fire. Until then we will just have to read our stories apart, me around the fire here and you in front of the fire there. 

All my love, 

Loki. 

“I took his dog tags and the letters he wrote me,put them in a box and buried them by the lake, In the spot where I would always light the fire.” Y/N’s voice shook a little, she had never told anyone where she hid the letters before.

She couldn’t take them with her, if anyone ever found them there would be hell to pay. Burying them seemed like the only option and what better place than in their sanctuary. After she buried them she swore that she would never visit the lake again. About a week after she was told by her Father that she would be marrying Prince James within the next year. 

Bucky had listened to her story and his heart broke for her. He remembered all the times he thought he would never see Nat again while out in the trenches. All the time he was under heavy fire and prayed for some miracle to get him out of it. It made more and more sense now why she had such a hard time opening herself up to new people, especially him.

“I’m sorry, I get it now.” Bucky spoke softly. 

“Thankyou.” Y/N replied offering him a small smile. 

“Did you two have a favourite story in the end?” Bucky asked looking up at the stars. 

Y/N was honestly touched and surprised he had actually been listening to the story. 

“Hamlet I think, it was one we could talk about endlessly.” Y/N smiled at the memory of them. 

With that Bucky excused himself. Y/N simply thought he was allowing her sometime to herself before the big night. For the first time in a long time she let herself think of Loki and not feel too distraught about him.

The ball finally came around. All the Ladies and Lords, prime ministers and ambassadors seemed to be there. Y/N even got to finally see her Mother and Father, she knew she couldn’t but she wanted to so desperately run into her Mother's arms and stay there for the whole night. Instead she merely curtsied to them and shared a few dances with her Father. 

The party seemed to be in full swing, everyone took turns dancing with Y/N while they waited for Bucky to actually arrive. First Steve danced with her, always the gentleman, then Sam, then Pietro who kept remarking on how beautiful she looked tonight and if ‘Barnes screws up I’m more than happy to take his place.’ When Y/N was finally all danced out she sat down at one of the tables with Wanda and Natalia. 

“Do you think Bucky isn’t coming?” Wanda asked concerned. 

Nat and Y/N shared a look. Bucky had always been emotional and brash that after his and Y/N’s talk he could have decided to call off the whole engagement. As much as Y/N wished Nat and him could have a happy ending Y/N had to put her country first. Worry began to spread between the three when suddenly. 

“His Majesty Prince James.” The announcer beconned. 

Y/N looked up the the top of the room to see James and finally arrived. They made eye contact across the room and Bucky came practically bolting down the stairs towards her. Everyone watched the Prince cautiously, knowing what tonight was going to be. Bucky reached Y/N’s table and leaned down towards her. 

“Close your eyes and imagine his voice.” He whispered in her ear so only she would hear. 

Taking a fork and champagne glass he tapped the two together and the crowd instantly went silent. Bucky shot Y/N a look almost saying ‘Do you trust me?’. Y/N simply nodded and Bucky got down onto one knee as Y/N closed her eyes trying to remember Loki’s voice.

“I’ve never been good with words so I’ll leave summing up my love for Y/N to someone who is far better at it than me. Y/N, Doubt thou the stars are fire;Doubt that the sun doth move;Doubt truth to be a liar;But never doubt I love. I love you more with every book we read and every fire we light, will you do me the honor of becoming my Wife and my Queen?” 

“Yes.” Loki

Bucky got up from one knee and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek. 

“Thankyou.” Y/N whispered back at him. 

The whole crowd cheered as the sight of the newly engaged couple. It turned out all those hours Bucky had been gone he was reading Hamlet trying to find the quote Y/N had mentioned when she told him about Loki. It was the start of friendship between Bucky and Y/N and understanding. That no matter who they gave their hearts to, their country would come first. A fondness grew between them over the years, they paved the way for a long and peaceful reign. When Y/N reached the age of 86 she passed away, Bucky buried his Queen back in her homeland by the lake she had told him about, along with a marked grave stone for Loki. The gravestone read, ‘Never Doubt that I love’.

[merryfortune]

eggshells

Un-Love You Challenge: Day 20. I hate you, you bitch.

Ship: Asuka/Yuriko

Fandom: Tropical Rouge PreCure

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Revolutionary Girl Utena, Minor Animal death

Synopsis: Shrodinger’s bird is both dead and alive depending on whether its eggshell is broken. Asuka and Yuriko both wish that the bird is dead.

AN: As soon as I saw these two interact, I was instantly reminded of Juri and Shiori from RGU so I wanted to write a fic inspired by that.

   The first omen that their relationship was about to be broken beyond all repair was when the fleur-de-lis locket that Asuka had gotten for Yuriko broke. It came off the hinges unexpectedly with no forewarning. Through sheer force of will, Asuka had gotten it to click back into place but it was lopsided and as it was lopsided, Yuriko had little desire to wear it anymore. It sat awkwardly between her clavicles in a way it had never before.

   Especially not in the way Asuka had first adorned Yuriko with it. That moment of repose, in between torn gift wrapping and the intimacy, had meant a lot to them both. Asuka was delicate as the silver chain slipped into place against Yuriko’s skin. As she did so, she regaled an old wives’ tale that Yuriko hadn’t heard before about misplaced locks, whenever they went askew it meant someone was thinking of you and in the essence of that moment, Yuriko couldn’t help but sense that all Asuka was thinking about was her but… Yuriko was aware of other’s thoughts, too, as she was so damnably perceptive.

   The second omen that their relationship was about to be wounded beyond all healing was when that little black and brown sparrow had flown into the window and didn’t get up afterwards. Asuka had wanted to help it; Yuriko had wanted to allow nature to take its course. 

   They had been standing around the tennis club’s hangout, where they stored their sports gear and such, arguing or trying not to argue as they rallied around the obvious issue in the clubroom when they had heard the smack against the glass. Both had rushed outside as soon as it had happened, expecting a tennis ball. Not a bird. With Asuka taking it in her hands, against Yuriko’s harsh fussing, it was already too late. The skull was cracked, as was its beak and so all it could do was twitch in her hand with some imitation of life. Asuka’s expression was grim; Yuriko’s wasn’t even smug. Neither noticed the other, just assuming the other’s reaction.

   The third omen was that they couldn’t even look at one another. Things had become awkward. Stiff. They both knew they were headed for a brick wall but they were trying to overcome it anyway. Going through, going over, going under. Whatever it took but it was slowing down their game. They couldn’t win together as doubles with this hindered team work but they couldn’t even win either way if they were to go out as doubles. The other members of the tennis club could tell something had happened to them. Or, at the very least, something was happening between them.

   There wasn’t a fourth omen because the fourth unusual event was the end of it all. Their friendship, their love, their whatever their relationship was as more than just partners in tennis but a whole lot less than partners than lovers. After all, things tend to end at four. 

   Sometimes, they even died at four. 

   Unfortunately for Asuka and Yuriko, no matter how they wished for it, what they had didn’t die. And neither of them were the type to simply keel over and expire with their hearts in agony. So, what happened instead was some necrotic deterioration of their relationship and everything else in the way was mere canon fodder for what happened. Yuriko retreated to her own camp, finding a new tribe amongst the folk on the student representative council, and Asuka retreated to one at all, instead choosing to lick her wounds in private.

   Or at least that’s what Asuka had wanted to do. She wanted to sculpt herself as the cool girl. The loner. The girl who didn’t need anyone at all, even though it was no secret that doubles tennis was her passion - and so was any video game with co-op play, be it through multi-player or even A.I. controlled characters. And for a while it worked, she would hide out behind the school’s gymnasium or in the toilets, pretending she didn’t exist for the most part until she hit a collision with someone who was like the striking of the summer sun.

   Natsuumi Manatsu. What a girl. She was bright, bubbly, and she had an actual living mermaid living in some sort of watery genie bottle she kept in her bag - and that was to say nothing of what she could do with the ring on her finger. A ring which would soon have a sister which was gifted for Asuka and thus, Cure Flamingo was born and so was the Tropical Club and all aspirations and illusions that Asuka had of being of being a lone wolf were shattered because deep down, she liked to keep a flock of birds.

   Club President Takizawa Asuka did have a good sound to it, even if it really ought to be Manatsu. She was the central and driving force who had connected together a handful of scattered students who wouldn’t have interacted otherwise but no, no, she had humbly given up the role for Asuka. Seeing something in those bright eyes of her’s that Asuka didn’t even see in herself.

   She was thankful but it was unfortunate but she supposed her underclassmen were cute enough so she’d do anything to protect them. Beat up bullies, beat up underwater bad guys, and of course put herself in the crosshairs time and time again of the worst of the worst: young ladies like Kakuta Masami and, of course, Shiratori Yuriko.

   For so long, Asuka had managed to avoid the hawk-eyed ire of the council president. She hadn’t escaped it completely but she had minimised it but thanks to the Tropical Club, Asuka was once again the subject of that cold, hardened gaze. When it could be sustained at least.

   No matter the lecture, it did become apparent here and there within Yuriko’s behaviour that she was avoiding Asuka’s own, fierce gaze. She had all the power of fluttering wings and mermaid magic, she could handle one ex...something. Friend, girlfriend, partner. It didn’t matter; it hadn’t mattered because they felt like it would last forever so there was no need to label it. What rot that was. Now look at them. Going to war each time they gimpsed one another. Asuka could handle how Yuriko’s avian, yellow eyes slitted around her and how she had mastered the effect of looking closely, directly whilst actually not. 

   And so began their newest foray into being foes. The battleground might have changed but the battle itself hadn’t. The to and fro was far too familiar to them both as tennis pros. The rally and the volley. It was all the same to them: all a racket. Thus leading to their latest confrontation in Yuriko’s council room. 

   When it was all to themselves, like right now, they were free to get as downright nasty as they pleased: even if it was under the veneer of rather hushed voices. As much as they wanted to squawk at each other like duelling carrion birds, this was still a school so they had to keep their composure and their voices down. Besides, there were plenty more ways to pierce than just being ear-piercingly shrill in their voices.

   “You’re doing this on purpose,” Asuka insisted brusquely, “random inventory checks by the Disciplinary Committee aren’t so random if they’re only being held on the Tropical Club.”

   Yuriko shrugged, her face just a degree off from fully facing Asuka, her arms were folded in front of her, “I do not control the personal actions and decisions of Kakuta-san,” Yuriko murmured, “I merely suggest that the time is right at pure arbitrary of my own whims as they come and go between the paperwork and other scheduling that I do.”

   The dangling of the conspiracy infuriated Asuka. She growled, her hand balling into a fist by her side and in the thick of that raw noise in her throat, she hissed, “I hate you, you bitch.” Asuka knew she was right and Yuriko knew it too but was keeping it so locked and guarded and yet so out in the open just to bait Asuka. The rage that it caused seeped through and made Asuka seem redder - and madder - than her hair.

   “I hate you, too.” Yuriko smiled, oh so pleasant, her eyes crinkling in the corner with genuine joy.

   Asuka gritted her teeth and she stormed forward. She grabbed Yuriko by the lapels and shook her. Yuriko went prone with the roughness, seemingly not caring one bit at how Asuka had accosted her. Her whole body was limp, without worry, without so much as a glimmer of harshness in her eyes as they were far, far away from this brutish conversation.

   “What the hell is wrong with you?” Asuka growled. “Target me all you want, I don’t care, I can take it but leave the other girls out of it. The Tropical Club has nothing to do with us-”

   A glint of silver caught Asuka’s eye and just that tiny flash was enough to halt her tirade completely. All her anger ceased in her mouth as she was so stunned by what she saw on the pale of Yuriko’s skin. It slinked and slithered on her clavicles, mostly hidden by the turquoise of her flapping collar: the locket.

   “Y-You're still wearing it?” Asuka asked and she let go of Yuriko gingerly.

   She huffed, sorted herself out and Asuka noticed that the clasp was askew. Right by her pencil-thin neck, right where Asuka had always dreamed to leave a bruise: be it from love or from wrath, it mattered not. Especially now that Yuriko had gone and fixed it up, moving the clasp to the back of her neck, the locket moving beneath the white of her sailor shirt.

   Yuriko bore an enigmatic expression as she looked up, done with her fussing. It was distant and playful. And she reached out to Asuka, shocking her with the seeming kindness in her fingertips as they brushed past her temples, caressing her. Asuka winced and she was blinded. Yuriko’s fingers cupped her face in a way so that all she could see - and feel - was her hands. Her soft, supple hands and the spritz of a maturely scented perfume on her wrist. Asuka’s heart skipped a beat.

   Yuriko kissed her. It was a kiss that was like dry ice to Asuka’s searing mouth. It was a cold, clinical kiss that was fit to leave a blister on Asuka’s skin. She tried not to kiss back but all her soul wanted to. She had yearned to kiss Yuriko for so long, so why did this have to be the circumstance? When a kiss was not a kiss but a way in which to kill instead.

   Especially… Especially knowing the last time that Asuka could recall before this incident wherein she and Yuriko had locked eyes, firmly and strongly, for the last time. The event which had been foretold by the various omens of things breaking apart, getting wounded, and even dying. When Asuka had seen Yuriko kissing someone else through the crack of an ajar door at the tennis club room. The memory and recollection made Asuka sick and to think of it now, at such a pertinent moment, sullied the seconds that Yuriko spended on her, kissing her with such stringent luxury that it was calculated to the edge of her sigh on her sharp mouth.

   But in the darkness of her hands, that’s all Asuka could see and it all but killed her. She wished that it killed her.

[sceptilemasterr]

Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 2, Scene 2 - Private Tutoring

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Shreya helps Fiora to catch up on her knowledge of the Stoicheal Realm.

Previous Scene: Impossibilities

Masterlist: Link

INT. FLETCHLY HALL ROOM 108 - COMMON AREA - DAY

Some time later, Fiora is sitting on the couch in the common area, flipping through a book. The door shimmers and swings open, and Shreya steps through, two large shopping bags clutched in her hands.

SHREYA: Ah, there you are, Fiora!

FIORA: Oh, hey, Shreya.

Shreya sets her bags on the floor and crosses over to join Fiora on the couch. She glances at Fiora’s book curiously.

SHREYA: So, everything okay? What are you reading?

FIORA: History of the Stoicheal Orders. I found it in the library.

SHREYA: Hmm. Sounds dull, if I may be quite honest.

Fiora sighs and closes the book.

FIORA: Every time I think I understand everything about this world, the Stoicheal Realm throws another curveball at me. I didn’t even know the Stoicheal Orders existed till yesterday!

Shreya wraps an arm around Fiora’s shoulders.

SHREYA: I can’t say I understand what you’re going through right now. I can only imagine it’s much more difficult, having been raised Tuneless your entire life.

FIORA (muttering): That’s for sure.

SHREYA: Listen, Fiora. I’m here for you. You shouldn’t be afraid to ask questions if there’s anything you don’t know! I may not know everything about our world, but--and forgive me for saying this--I probably know more than you.

FIORA (laughs): I think you’re right. I just... I feel so overwhelmed. I don’t even know where to start.

Shreya adjusts her body, still sitting on the couch, so she is facing Fiora.

SHREYA: Literally, start anywhere. I’m an open book. Ask anything!

Fiora smiles briefly, then hesitates as she thinks of a question to ask.

FIORA: ...Okay, so, I know Dr. Religast has taught us all about it, but I’m still super confused about the Primal Stoicheal Forces. Which is awkward, considering I have one of them. Attuned to one. Whatever.

SHREYA: An understandable question. Unfortunately, the professors here teach assuming we students have all already gotten the basics on a lot of these concepts before enrollment. You, naturally, haven’t. Through no fault of your own!

FIORA: Yeah, I know...

SHREYA: Fret not! I, Professor Shreya Mistry, shall clear up all confusion!

Fiora giggles in spite of herself.

SHREYA: Okay, so, how much do you understand about the six-element stoicheal model? I know we’ve talked about it in class--

FIORA: I think I understand. There’s six elements that we can be Attuned to: fire, earth, air, water, wood, and metal, right?

SHREYA: Precisely. They interact in a variety of ways, but any Attuned you meet will have one of these six elements.

FIORA: Right. So, the Primal Forces are... like, super-advanced versions of our normal Attunements?

Shreya takes a moment to ponder Fiora’s question.

SHREYA: Well... yes and no. In terms of learning our Attunements, yes. Myself, for example. If I study and practice intensely for a long time, I will eventually be able to master Light Stoichi. This is true for any Attuned and their corresponding Primal Force. But in terms of the existence of Attunements, it’s the other way around. The Primal Forces came first, and from their Sources, our own Attunements were birthed.

FIORA: ...Okay, you’ve lost me. What?

SHREYA: You... you don’t know what Sourcism is, do you?

Fiora frowns.

FIORA: No, sorry.

SHREYA: Don’t apologize! I can’t imagine many Tuneless know about it. I’d honestly have been more shocked if you’d said “yes.” Sourcism is the biggest religion among we Attuned. Personally, I’m a Sourcist myself, so I admit I may be a bit biased.

FIORA: Gotcha. That’s okay! Tell me about it, I’m curious!

SHREYA: Okay, sure! So, what we know for certain is that six powerful beings emerged into the Archikial Realm in the far-distant past. Each of them possessed a different Primal Stoicheal Force, which they used to create and shape the Stoicheal Realm as we know it today.

FIORA: Wait, is this fact, or belief?

SHREYA (laughs): This part is fact, Fiora. Records of the Six Sources date back to ancient Egypt. The “belief” part is that these Sources still walk today, and that through focusing and devoting ourselves to our specific Attunement, we can gain our respective Source’s blessing in our own life. Some even believe in a seventh and eighth Source, but this has never been proven.

FIORA: Like Zeph, right? He said something about Time and Space Sources?

Shreya nods.

SHREYA: Exactly. Though that’s a fringe belief. Personally, I think it’s just the Six Sources. And I think they’re still around today.

FIORA: So as Fire-Attuned, our Primal Force is Light, right? What’s the “blessing” there?

SHREYA: Light brings clarity and fortune into one’s life. The Blessing of Light grants its bearer a life filled with positive encounters and understanding, illuminating all unknowns in one’s path.

FIORA: Sounds like a horoscope book.

SHREYA: ...Sorry, what’s a “horoscope?”

FIORA: It’s a... you know what, never mind. It’s a Tuneless thing.

SHREYA: I see.

There is a long silence as Shreya and Fiora look into each other’s eyes.

SHREYA: So, anything else you wanted to ask?

FIORA: You cleared a lot up, thanks! Not to be mean to Zeph, but what’s up with that stuff he’s been talking about? Time and Space Sources?

Shreya sighs and massages her temples before continuing.

SHREYA: To be quite honest... he’s one of those fringe idiots. There’s been a persistent belief in a Time and Space Source, who arrived here with the other Sources but were separated somehow. Where the Six Sources created the Stoicheal Realm and shepherded the first Attuned, these other two just... didn’t.

FIORA: So where did they go? What are their Attunement equivalents?

SHREYA (skeptically): Who knows? They just... went away, apparently. Never gave their gifts to anyone and just vanished. Personally, I think it’s more likely they never existed at all. No one’s ever met a Time- or Space-Attuned, nor some new element that might be their offshoot. It’s all just a fairy tale that idiots like to believe in. That’s all.

Shreya seems to catch herself and gasps in surprise.

SHREYA (flustered): Not--not that Zeph’s an idiot, that’s not what I meant! It’s just... well, a lot of the people who do believe this seem to think--

FIORA (laughs): It’s okay, I get it. Believe it or not, we Tuneless have our own set of conspiracy theorists too. Still, it doesn’t mean we can’t be nice to them.

SHREYA: Right, of course. I’m glad you understand. The last thing I want is for you to think any less of Zeph!

FIORA: Wouldn’t dream of it!

SHREYA: So, back to our original discussion... your Light Attunement is essentially the originator of the Fire Attunement. Hence why you can naturally do both right away.

FIORA: I think I understand now. Like Dr. Religast said: the Primal Attunements are on top, and they give rise to the normal Attunements. Normal ones are more common, but anyone can get the equivalent Primal one if they work hard enough?

SHREYA (proudly): Exactly, Fiora! You really catch on quick.

FIORA: Hey, I had a great teacher.

Shreya blushes and looks away.

SHREYA: It’s nothing. Really. I just want to make sure you’re ready for--

FIORA: --Our induction, right?

SHREYA: Yes.

FIORA: So... what exactly is it?

SHREYA: Honestly? I can’t say. But it’s not anything to be worried about. I’ve never heard of anyone being rejected from one of the Orders. Though...

Shreya pauses, lost in thought. After a moment, she sighs and continues.

SHREYA: ...I still don’t understand why they chose us. Or rather, more specifically, me.

Fiora recoils in astonishment.

FIORA: What? But you’re Shreya Mistry! Why wouldn’t they chose you?!

SHREYA (laughs): Ha, ha. You’re right, of course. But the Orders aren’t about who someone is or what their family has done. They rely entirely on one’s own innate talents. For you, it’s obvious: you’re a Light-Att, of course they’d pick you! But me... going out of their way to pick me as a first-year inductee? I’ve no idea why.

Fiora pulls Shreya into a comforting hug.

FIORA: Can’t say that I know. But just look at you. I bet you’ve got a lot of unique talents that the Defenders identified before even you yourself realized it. Like you said, why else would they pick you? It’s not because you’re a Mistry, right?

SHREYA: Right, of course not.

FIORA: See? You answered your own question.

Shreya smiles and looks gratefully at Fiora.

SHREYA: Thanks. I guess... well... we’ll both understand a lot more a month from now, huh?

FIORA: You’re probably right. Thanks, Shreya.

SHREYA: Anytime. What kind of roommate would I be otherwise?

FIORA: Not “the perfect roommate,” that’s for sure.

SHREYA (laughing): Oh, stop.

FIORA: Well, anyway... did you want to work together on our History of Attuned Society essay?

SHREYA (groans): Can that class go away? Please?

FIORA (laughs): Don’t we wish. Here, let’s start.

She pulls out a few pieces of parchment from her backpack and lays them on the table.

FIORA: “Question 1: Describe the effects of the Separation on Attuned society from 1621-1655.” Okay, so, according to our textbook...

Shreya leans in for a closer look at Fiora’s notes as they start reading together. They start muttering to themselves, jotting down notes on blank pieces of parchment...

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Scene Notes: Not a whole lot going on here, just a chance for Fiora to get some clarification on everything. The biggest contribution here is the discussion on Sourcism, which, as Shreya states, is the primary religion among Attuned. (Sharp-eyed readers might have noticed Zeph shouting “Holy Source” earlier!) As Shreya stated, the Six Sources arrived into the Archikial Realm from another world some time ago, and created the Stoicheal Realm. As for how accurate this is... I’ll just say, it’s more accurate than you might think at first. That’s all for now! 😉

_______________________

Next: The Induction

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady

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[amarauder]

Percy is a Boiled Egg (Part One) - Percy Jackson x Reader

004. percy is a boiled egg (part one)

PAIRING; Percy Jackson x Reader

REQUEST; "Are you nervous, love?"/ reader comes along in the son of Neptune quest and they fall in love

GODLY PARENT; Mars (reader is roman, ares in greek)

DATE; May 19th, 2020

WORD COUNT; 6467

WARNING; keep in mind that reader curses using food terms so you're not confused, also, because this is based so much off the book, I already have a disclaimer at the introduction part, but I just feel like it needs another one.

A/N; So, I basically wrote this whole thing in a day? Also, this is only part one because well, I needed to get something out and it's so long already. But I knew this request was going to be long so. It might be two parts, three parts, whatever. Anyway, this is not my best work but I like it. So... Also, I hope I didn't rush Percy's relationship with reader too much, especially considering they actually didn't introduce themselves. But here's the thing, I am probably going to go back and add in the war games part. (it will be in a flashback sort of thing though) I just kind of skipped over it because originally the one shot started after the war games but then I realized that the requester wanted some other things before that. So...

TRAILER; in which reader is forced to tag along on the quest.

REQUESTED BY; becca_unheart

-

 Y/N was more pissed off than worried as she entered Camp Jupiter once again. It had been around two months of merely surviving on a quest, well, actually, two days of trying to complete the quest and the rest was just attempting to survive.

 Her and a group of other idiotic demigods, while sprinkling in a few amazons only led to trouble. Y/N should have known that when she accepted the quest to find Jason Grace, but all she found was that the Gods had miraculously decided to stop talking to them, of course, right after their beloved Praetor left. Oh, and the only way she knew how to kill monsters was now apparently not working, despite it have continued on for millennias. But you know priorities.

"Come on, you pork chops," Y/N said as they crossed the Nile River, "I gotta give Renya the run down of the quest, and she's not gonna be happy. So I suggest you shower and get some sleep while you can."

The campers nodded and went their own way, with a chorus of thanks between them.

The walk to the Principa should have been calming, but Y/N was going to meet Renya at the Principa to tell her they had not found Jason Grace which was almost equivalent to a march of death.

But it seemed marching to her death had been too monotonous because when she got there Renya was already there gliding across the floor like an eagle about to grab it's prey. It made her stumble of her panic, she had expected Renya to be out and about, it would give Y/N some time to think about how she could try and make the situation seem better.

Fortunately, Hazel stood in front of Renya, along with a boy who looked around her age. Their time with Reyna would hopefully give her more time to think. It was odd seeing the two together, and Y/N wondered how the boy and Hazel had become acquaintances considering their age difference. Well, what she guessed was their age difference, they were facing Renya and the only thing she could point out was that he had dark hair and was tall. But boys don't usually grow until their late teens.

It wasn't until that Argentum and Aurum nuzzled against her hands did she turn her attention back to Renya.

Renya had never looked so relieved to see Y/N and it wavered her nerves for a second. But then her eyes flickered past Y/N and she saw no Jason Grace, and Y/N saw the corner of Renya's lips dip down again. "Y/N," Renya boomed, interrupting Hazel and causing both the boy and Hazel to look over at her, "It's about time you came home." Y/N opened her mouth to speak but Renya beat her to it, "We will discuss that matter later, as for now, there are more important things to discuss. Hazel take Percy outside, Y/N will join you both to Temple Hill and explain the legion. Good luck with the augury, Percy Jackson. If Octavian lets you live, perhaps we can compare notes... about your past."

Hazel and the boy, Percy Jackson, walked past her. She gave Hazel a smile, and studied Percy. He was rather cute considering his filthiness, he looked exhausted but managed to get out of Renya's wrath without collapsing. Y/N should have been impressed but all she got was an odd feeling about him, as if he was an omen, a quick warning, but she couldn't tell if it was a good one or a bad one.

The second they exited the Principa, Renya collasped in her chair, "No sign of Jason, then?"

"Nothing," Y/N replied after some hesitation, "It doesn't make sense Renya. No clues, no nothing. None of the amazons have seen him, or Lupa. It's almost as if he disappeared in thin air. But the Gods aren't talking to us, and it either has something to do with the monsters not dying or Jason disappearing... maybe even both."

Renya was quiet after her mini speech, but she didn't look shocked as if she had been expecting all of this but didn't want to admit it. Her silence made Y/N nervous. Holy Mars' chicken wings,  Camp Jupiter just made her anxious in general.

"I, um," Renya started and then cleared her throat. It was when Y/N took a step closer did she realize that her Praetor had been close to tears. Y/N didn't know what to do, in normal circumstances, she would go up and comfort Renya. But Renya wasn't just anyone, she was her Praetor and she didn't know the guidelines for this protocol. Plus, what was she supposed to say? I'm sorry that Jason disappeared right when you guys were going to become a couple, even though it's illegal and I am not supposed to know that but basically the entire camp knows.

Fortunately, Renya calmed down during Y/N's mini panic attack and picked herself up, "Keep an eye on Percy Jackson, Y/N. There is... He is... I think he has something to do with Jason missing."

Y/N raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. That boy that she just saw has something to do with Jason? What was Renya going on about? "That doesn't make sense."

"He's lost his memory, Y/N."

"And?"

Renya hesitated before breathing out a sigh and gesturing for Y/N to come closer, "I've met him before. Back when I..." she trailed off and gave Y/N a look. Back when she had been working on Circe's Island. "Ya, before I became Praetor, I met him there. He's a Gracceus, Y/N. A son of Poseidon, a son of the big three, just like Jason."

Y/N sat down her heart pounding in her ears as her mind fluttered around thousands and thousands of different possibilities. Was Percy dangerous? Had the Gods sent him here on purpose? What were they trying to pull? Was Jason okay? Where was he? Was there a Greek legion just like them? Were they trying to send them a warning by kidnapping Jason?

"So, you're saying that Percy's Greek and-" Renya startled her by clapping a hand over her mouth, she hadn't even said it that loud!

"You have to be quiet about these things, Y/N. What if Octavian found out? Or worse, Percy."

So, Percy doesn't know he is a Greek demigod, and Renya thinks that is worse than Octavian finding out and killing everyone. Makes sense, obviously.

"Ya, priorities, right?" Y/N scoffed with a roll of her eyes once Renya took her hand off her mouth. "But explain to me what you know, so we are on the same page."

"Percy Jackson is a son of Poseidon and Jason is a son of Jupiter. They are both one of the only known sons of the big three." What about Nico and Hazel, Y/N thought, but just as she was about to open her mouth to ask she closed it. Hades had always been shunned away, maybe his children didn't count? "Percy has no memory but somehow has survived for sixteen years despite the fact that he is a son of Neptune-sorry, Poseidon-and has no markings on his wrist and just recently visited Lupa. What if the Greek demigods never went extinct after the war?"

The idea was so ridiculous that Y/N started to laugh. Her hysterical laughter was more like a panic attack, but Renya just sat her down. "There's no way Renya. No way. The Greeks went extinct after the war, they don't have their own legion. Percy probably just got really lucky and Jason may have gone looking for his sister, ya know? Remember the girl, Thalia, he used to always talk about."

"But Mount Othrys, we wouldn't have been able to take down Kronos' black throne without-"

"No," Y/N snapped at her, realization dawning on her like finding the answer to a previous question on a test after reading a new question. She got up before she would dive head first into Renya's conspiracy theories. "No, there's no way. There can't be."

"Just think about it."

"Why? To stress me out more?"

"No, because what if Jason's there?"

"And if Jason has no memory of us then we are absolutely, positively screwed."

"What? Why?"

"Renya, we do not have the resources right now for a war."

"Who said they would attack us?" Renya snapped back, hurt by her friend disclosing her idea before it had really even started.

"Well, we would. Who's to say they are any different?"

"If Jason was there... I would never, could never," Renya rambled on, her arms wrapping around her stomach. For a few seconds Y/N felt guilty. She knew she would never be able to fight, hell, kill demigods. But she had to nip this bud before it bloomed. False hope never led to anything good.

"I know, but Octavian would." Renya looked up as she said that, and before Renya could mention anything about Y/N running against Octavian for Praetor she left.

-

"Who's Jason?" she heard Percy ask Hazel before they came into view. It was a nice day, the sun warmed her up nicely and she fought against the urge to just drop down on the grassy area and just sun bathe, maybe forget about life for a while. She probably would have if Jason wasn't brought up.

Y/N and Jason had somewhat gotten along. She respected him and he respected her, but Jason had always been way too serious and had seemed to bring out a sobering part of her that Y/N hadn't even realized she had.

Before Jason had decided to be a little sardine and disappear on everyone, life had been great. She had been working up the ranks and finally had been just about to become apart of the Senate when Jason decided that the fifth cohort needed a different centurion. Jason had left the day after she was appointed the second centurion of the fifth cohort, which according to Jason was an honor but Y/N never believed him.

Besides that, Renya had been her best friend before he left. But now, she didn't know where they stood, not after that fight they had about Jason the day before he left. Y/N really didn't want to become centurion of the fifth cohort, they got the worst weapons, the worst bedding and bathing times. It had been more of an insult than a honor. But Renya had just mindlessly agreed with anything he said, like a lost puppy. It was ridiculous and Renya should have known that, but then he had to go and disappear, and now, Y/N regretted that fight more than ever.

Her and Jason Grace weren't on the best terms at the moment but that didn't stop her from snapping at the boy who was causing even more problems. Why was it always boys?

"No one," Y/N spat and started walking towards Temple Hill without checking to see if they were following.

Instead of cowering away like most of the campers did, all Percy said was, "You remind me of someone."

"Well, if they are anything like me then they must hate you a lot," Y/N growled and threw her hair up in a ponytail. It was knotted and greasy from lack of hygiene, but lack of hygiene had never been one of her top priorities on her quest, on any quest for that matter.  

"You remember someone?" Hazel asked, "Who?" Y/N had almost forgotten he had lost his memory. Losing memories isn't common in a demigod life, but concussions were.

"My Mom," Percy said wistfully, then turned to Y/N, "She's not who you remind me of though. I don't know who that is."

Y/N nodded and rolled her eyes, then why did he even mention his Mom, "Have you always had memories of your Mother?"

"Ya, her names Sally and I remember some brief memories of when I was young but that's about it."

"Have you had him checked for a concussion yet, Hazel?" Y/N asked.

"No-"

"Why does it even matter," Percy moped, "I'm going to die thanks to Octavian anyway."

Y/N laughed, "Don't worry about him. Everyone is just stressed, no one is going to die."

"Ya," Hazel added with a teasing smile, "Besides Octavian has a soft spot for Y/N. I think that's why Renya sent her with us."  

-

Y/N had just finished roll call when she saw Hazel skid into line. Fortunately, Dakota hadn't reached the end of his list of names and Hazel had made it just in time to squeak out, "Present!" The younger girl had nectar dripping off her fingertips and she had half a mind to go ask her if everything was okay before Octavian started.

"Colors!" he shouted and the standard-bearers stepped forward. Each drenched in lion-skin and poles with each cohort's emblem. When her cohort presented their own pole, Y/N flinched from embarassment. The stupid eagle was still missing, and Y/N would be damned if entire career at the fifth cohort went by without finding it.

Despite everyone snickering about the eagleless pole, Renya carried on, "Romans!" she called. "You've probably heard about the incursion today. Two gorgons were swept into the river by this newcomer, Percy Jackson. Juno herself guided him here, and proclaimed him as a son of Neptune."

Glancing up at Percy, she found herself shocked at his modesty. He had been led to Camp by a goddess, and not just any goddess, the queen of gods herself. Then, he managed to slash two gorgons, and merely raised his hand and said, "Hi."

Something fishy was going on. She couldn't name one guy who wouldn't flaunt this feat, even Jason had been one to brag about taking down Kronos' throne during dinners.

"He seeks to join the legion," Renya continued. "What do the auguries say?"

"I have read the entrails," Octavian announced, his eyes were locked on her form and Y/N almost stumbled back in surprise. She hadn't been expecting him to be looking straight at her when he said that. Before Y/N could turn to Dakota and see if he had noticed anything odd about that encounter too, even though it probably wouldn't have done any good, Octavian remarked, "The auguries are favorable. He is qualified to serve."

The campers all shouted, "Ave!" One kid in the third court screamed it so loud that Y/N stopped glaring holes into Octavian's head to look at him. Him and his friends had only snickered.

Renya gestured for the centurions to come forward and with a sigh, Y/N took a few steps forward with a roll of her eyes. How was she supposed to take this seriously when she was stuck in the fifth cohort?

It wasn't until Renya had glared at her did Y/N start to pay attention to what was going on.

Percy shifted. "Letters? Um, no."

Octavian smirked and wrinkled his nose. She noticed him glancing at her again and she scoffed, loudly. Octavian did a double take and it seemed that this had gotten the rest of the camper's attentions too because everyone was staring at her.

"Do you have anything to say for the fifth cohort, Y/N?" Octavian asked, his smile widening when everyone started to laugh.

Y/N glanced at Renya. She sighed and then looked at Percy, then sighed again, "I don't mean to interupt, Senior Centurion," Y/N mocked, Octavian's own eyes narrowing. If there was one thing in the world that Octavian wanted, it was to be Praetor. He wasn't yet and Y/N prayed to every God and Goddess there ever was that he would never become one. "But Juno did purposely lead Percy here, and if the Queen of Gods decides to take the time out of her day to bring Percy to us... Then, I mean, what better recommendation could you really want?"

Octavian fumed when murmured agreements were heard throughout the cohorts. Y/N looked at Percy, who was looking back at her with a type of sincerity that made felt her stomach flutter. Her hand subconsciously made it's way to brush back some of her hair that was still wet from the baths, and she noticed her cheek felt warm from under her fingertips. She was just thankful that she couldn't blush. (or, if you can then, She was just hoping that everyone took her embarrassment from all the attention she had received in such a short amount of time.)

"No letters," Octavian said regretfully and Y/N's mouth dropped open, appalled, "Will any legionnaires stand for him?"

"I will!" She heard Frank from behind her, "He saved my life!"

Almost immediately, there were shouts of protest from every cohort. Renya raised her hand for silence and glared daggers at Frank, "Frank Zhang, for the second time today, I remind you that you are on probatio. Your godly parent has not claimed you yet. You're not elgible to stand for another camper until you've earned your first stripe."

But before anyone could open their mouth to stand for Percy, Hazel took over, "What Frank means is that Percy saved both our lives. I am a member of the legion. I will stand for Percy Jackson."

However, other campers started to whisper between themselves again. Hazel was barely eligible. She had only gotten her first stripe a week or two ago, and her 'act of valor' had been more of an accident than anything.

It seemed Renya realized that too because she looked at Y/N for help, and once again Y/N sighed. "I will stand for Perseus Jackson." Y/N said, quietening everyone down to silence. Twice that day Y/N had stood up for Percy, it was enough to make rumors circle around. "I am not only a full member of the legion, but also a centurion. Perseus Jackson will be in good hands, if you do not accept Hazel's then accept mine."

Over the chaos that had ensued after he speech, she thought she heard Percy say, "It's Percy, not Perseus." But Y/N couldn't bring herself to care, especially when they had decided Y/N would be most eligible to stand for him.

-

Her chest burned as she stared at the idiot in front of her. Dakota and Renya glanced at each other uneasily out of the corner of her eye but she paid them no attention, Mike Kahale was the only thing on her mind. He was rolling his eyes as if no one's lives mattered except for the legions.

"Come on, L/N," he said after no one dared to say anything, "Why don't you calm down? Have some of Dakota's pathetic kool-aid."

"Hey," Dakota remarked looking appalled, "Leave the kool-aid out of this!"

"It's bologna! Octavian obviously killed her!"

"I could do for a bologna cheese sandwich right now," Someone that sounded suspiciously like Percy said behind her.

"Ya," Dakota remarked, "Y/N, your curse words always make me hungry."

Mike took another step towards her as if to try and intimidate Y/N. Her hand trembled beside her as she fought against the urge to punch him in the face. , "Don't make assumptions, L/N. You have no clue what you are talking about."

"Well, it's remarkable that the plium belongs to the first cohort, and Octavian had managed to lose his right before this happened," Y/N hissed as she turned to look at the man himself, "Did you drop it on the floor, or no let me guess. Did one of your stuffed bears hit Gwen with the plium?"

Octavian only stared at her silently, which only fueled her anger. How could he just stand there after he killed another camper? Shaking her head, she turned to Renya who looked to be on the verge of tears.

The sick feeling in her stomach worsened, and she felt as if she was about to throw up and scream at the same time.

She felt Mike brush against her as she walked over to Renya and whispered, "We all know you are upset just because I took your place in the senate and your place as centurion in the first cohort. How does it feel to step down to the fifth cohort, Y/N? I'm sure you are happy. Afterall, you are with your pathetic greek boyfriend."

Y/N froze, how does Mike of all people know about Percy's potential past? Did he overhear Renya? Oh gods, does Octavian know? She is going to die because of her stupid decision to stand for the fish prince.

"Well, are you?"

Just as Y/N was about to tackle Mike to the ground she felt a grip on her hand. It was Percy, who looked just as shocked to be holding her hand as she did. He quickly removed it and rubbed his neck, "Uhh, Gwen, I think that's her name, ya, Gwen is alive."

A flood of relief washed over her. But it didn't make sense, and soon the grief was back just as quick. Percy had to be wrong. She was dead, they had all seen her die. The medic had announced her dead. But all Y/N could manage was a, "What?"

He nodded and Y/N looked over to see Gwen looking as if she had never been dead in the first place. Her mind raced, and suddenly Y/N felt dizzy, as if she had been the one dying. She will be, if what she thinks is true.

"Who are you," Y/N hissed and grabbed his arm bringing him closer, "Who are you really?"

Percy looked completely alarmed by her sudden closeness and he shook his head wildly, "I'd tell you if I knew, honest."

She searched his eyes as if she would find the answers in there, but found none. They looked remarkably like the ocean, probably something to do with being the son of Neptune, or Poseidon, or... either one. Ugh, she was just so confused.

"Alright," Y/N said and took her grip off his arm, then reached for his hand instead to pull him away from the crowd,"I believe you, but I'm not sure everyone else will."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Y/N paused for a second to get her bearings as to where the crowd ended and started, "It means that strange things are happening, Percy. And you seem to be in the middle of it. People are going to want to blame you. You show up with a goddess on your back who talks about a prophecy, defeated gorgons single handedly, and you have no memory what so ever, but still managed to live to sixteen years old without coming to camp. Plus, you are a son of Neptune which is never a good thing."

"Wait, wait," Percy said and stopped her from moving any further. But that meant they had to get very close to talk so no one else would hear. She couldn't really move to face him because of the amount of campers around, so it left Percy muttering in her ear. His breath felt so warm against her neck yet still managed to give her shivers, her hand throbbed from his contact, and she noticed he smelled distinctly of the ocean.  It all somehow made her feel very calm and dizzy at the same time.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and it such a strange and unfamiliar feeling yet Y/N managed to feel comfortable the whole time. What was he doing to her? Was it a part of his powers he had inherited from Poseidon?

Y/N didn't think so, she had only felt like this when she was near Venus' children. Only this time it seemed to draw her in more and more until she would lose her train of thought.

When Percy turned to her, she realized he had been speaking the entire time. She turned to face him (the kid that had been blocking her finally moved) but was met by a disgruntled Percy. He was looking far in the distance as if sensing something. Y/N wondered what he was doing, but she didn't have time to think about it.

A thunderous voice rolled across the field: Death loses its hold. This is only the beginning.

Campers drew weapons. Hannibal trumpeted nervously. Renya's pegasus reared, almost throwing her off. Percy's hand squeezed hers tighter, almost like an attempt to ground her, but Y/N barely registered it. The voice angered her more than she could comprehend.

"I know that voice," Percy said. He didn't sound pleased. Y/N couldn't agree more, a visit from her Father was never a enjoyable experience.

An explosion boomed throughout the camp, close enough for Y/N to feel it but far enough to not catch fire. Everyone scrambled backwards as a huge soldier stepped out from the flames.

There stood Mars, weapons and all. Y/N only glared, but he didn't seem to notice her, he never had.

As everyone stepped back, Y/N stepped forward and it was only until she felt Percy's hand yank her back that she realized what she had been doing. Maybe drawing her in was part of being a daughter of Ares. Whatever it was didn't matter because a second later Frank knelt in front of him. Y/N followed suit as many other people had started too.

"That's good," Mars said. "Kneeling is good. it's been a long time since I've visited Camp Jupiter."

Y/N noticed that her hand had slipped from Percy's. It didn't matter too much as they barely knew each other and Y/N felt more embarrassment than anything for holding his hand for that long. What bothered her the most was that Percy remained standing. He was the only one not kneeling. His sword was still in his other hand, and he glared at Mars. Y/N yanked on his shirt as if to try to remind him to kneel next to her.

"You're Ares," Percy said. "What do you want?"

Oh Gods, Y/N thought, of all the times to pick to be Greek he had to choose now? Why, oh why, did Renya choose her to take care of Percy? She was going to get blasted to bits and at the hands of her Father, it really couldn't get any worse.

Y/N wanted to do something, maybe yank Percy down or say something to excuse him, but she didn't know what.

However, instead the god grinned.

"You've got spunk, demigod," he said. "Ares is my Greek form. But to these followers, to the children of Rome, I am Mars-patron of the empire, divine Father of Romulus and Remus."

Y/N wanted to yell out, "You're my Father too! It would do you some good to remember that!" But she didn't.

"We've met," Percy said. "We... we had a fight..."

Y/N wanted to cry. She choose to risk her life to this idiot, who lacked the brains to not only pick a fight with her Father, but tempt fate to do it again?

Instead of picking a fight, Mars, Ares, whatever, scratched his chin, as if trying to recall. "I fight a lot of people. But I assure you-you've never fought me as Mars. If you had, you'd be dead. Now, kneel, as befits a child of Rome, before you test my patience."

Y/N felt herself start to nod and agree with her Father before she remembered that she was in charge of Percy.

"Percy," she whispered, hastily taking hold of his shirt, "please."

Percy glanced at her, then looked back at Ares. He clearly didn't like it, but he knelt next to her.

"Romans, lend me your ears!" He bellowed with a laugh, "I've always wanted to say that. I come from Olympus with a message. Jupiter doesn't like us communicating directly with mortals, especially nowadays, but he has allowed this exception, as you Romans have always been my special people. I'm only permitted to speak for a few minutes so listen up."

He pointed at Gwen. "That one should be dead, yet she's not. The monsters you fight no longer return to Tartarus when they are slain. Thanatos has been chained. The Doors of Death have been forced open and no one is policing them. Gaea allows our enemies to pour forth into the world of morals. Her sons the giants are mustering armies against you-armies that you will not be able to kill. You must find Thanatos and free him from the giants. Only he can reverse the tide."

An unconscious smile made it's way onto her face. A quest? This would be the perfect time for her to show her true potential to the senate and maybe finally, finally join them and achieve her dream.

Mars looked around as if in a trance, and realized everyone was still kneeling. "Oh you can get up now. Any questions?"

Renya got up slowly, "Lord Mars, we are honored."

"Beyond honored," said Octavian. "So far beyond honored-"

"Well?" Mars snapped.

"Well," Renya said, "People will stop dying, therefore Gwen returned?"

"If left unchecked," Mars said with a nod, "even mortals will eventually find it impossible to die. Can you imagine a world in which no one died-ever?"

Octavian raised his hand. "But, ah, mighty all-powerful Lord Mars, if we can't die, isn't that a good thing? If we can stay alive indefinitely-"

Y/N snickered quietly, a world without Octavian was a good one. But then she realized what she had thought, and mentally smacked herself a few times. She would never with death upon anyone, not even Octavian and his creepy staring.

"Don't be foolish, boy!" Mars bellowed. "Endless slaughter with no conclusion? Carnage without any point? Enemies that rise again and again and can never be killed? Is that what you want?"

"You're the god of war," Percy spoke up. "Don't you want endless carnage?"

Y/N's eyes widened and she almost wanted to smack Percy on the back of the head. Again, Y/N waited for the god to strike both of them down, but Mars just grinned like they were two old buddies talking trash.

"Insolent, aren't you? Perhaps I have fought you before. I can understand why I'd want to kill you." Ya, Y/N could understand too. Absolute idiot. "I'm the god of Rome, child. I am the god of military might used for a righteous cause. I protect the legions. I am happy to crush my enemies underfoot, but I don't fight without a reason. I don't want war without end. You will discover this. You will serve me."

"Not likely," Percy said.

Y/N finally found he voice again and scoffed, "Did you not just hear anything he said before the last comment?" Percy turned towards her blankly, "Boys!"

The god laughed, "But you know that it's not just boys, don't you, my daughter?" Y/N's breath hitched. She felt like all the blood in her body had seeped down to her feet. Her Father was talking to her. "I order a quest! You will go north and find Thanatos in the land beyond the gods. You will free him and thwart the plans of the giants. Beware Gaea! Beware her son, the eldest giant! Perhaps if the quest succeeds, and you return by the Feast of Fortuna.. perhaps then your honor will be restored. If you don't succeed, there won't be any camp left to return too. So my advice is: Don't fail."

Percy moved to face her and she felt her hand go along with him before realizing she still had her grip on his shirt. She quickly let go, but Percy didn't seem to notice. He only muttered, "I still don't get what's so great about this feast for tuna."

Y/N burst out laughing and quickly placed her hands over her mouth to stop her giggles. It had been so loud that even Mars turned towards her with a well placed brow but then turned towards Octavian again. "It's feast fortuna, Percy."

"Ya, that's what I said."

"No," Y/N said shaking her head and still laughing, "It's latin for... something. I forget. But the feast is not for tuna, specifically."

"Oh," Percy nodded with a hint of a smile, "That would be cool, though."

"Ya, it would be," Y/N said agreeing, even though she really didn't think having a feast for the worst kind of fish would not be very nice. Actually, catfish would be worse.

Before she could voice her idea about catfish, campers started screaming and she realized that Ares was holding a grenade. Percy pulled Y/N behind him as if she hadn't been trained for this and he was grenade proof.

She stepped around him with a roll of her eyes, Percy smiled sheepishly. Y/N just glared at him.

"There!" Mars finished writing and threw a scroll at Octavian. When did he get a scroll? "A prophecy. You can add it to your books, engrave it on your floor, whatever."

Octavian read the scroll. It seemed he was confused because he looked up at the scroll then to Mars and back again. Y/N wasn't suprised, Mars should have given him a stuffed bear, Octavian seems to understand that more. "This says, 'Go to Alaska. Find Thanatos and free him. Come back by sundown on June twenty-fourth or die."

"Yes," Mars said. "Is that not clear?"

"Well, my lord... usually prophecies are unclear. They're wrapped in riddles. They rhyme, and..."

Mars casually popped another grenade off his belt, "Yes?"

"The prophecy is clear!" Octavian announced quickly, "A quest!"

"Good answer. Thought I was gonna have to blast you, which would have been fun, but you like my daughter, so I have to give you that or Venus will- Nevermind." He tapped his chin. "Now, what else? There was something else... Oh, yes."

Octavian turned bright red. He grabbed the scroll, and then turned around only to look at Y/N again. He sure was looking at her a lot, it was creepy.

She had been so confused about Octavian's actions that she had barely noticed Frank finally get claimed by Ares. She smiled, Frank was her brother! He was a good kid, and an even better friend to Hazel. Y/N liked him.

"My kid Frank Zhang is gonna lead the quest to free Thanatos, unless there are any objections?"

Of course, no one said a word, but she saw Hazel look even more worried. "You can take two companions. Those are the rules. One of them needs to be this kid." He pointed at Percy, "He's gonna learn some respect for Mars on this trip, or die trying. As for the second, wait, isn't there one of this dumb rules where the legionnaires who stand for him have to make sure he doesn't die, or something? I don't really remember. Whatever. Who stands for Percy?"

No, Y/N thought. Her legs turned wobbly. A sense of dread settled over her, worse than the day she had arrived at Camp for the very first time.

She knew what was coming, but she couldn't stop it. She stepped forward against her will.

Mars grinned, "Ahh, yes, my daughter. Nice job taking Kronos' throne, kid. I haven't seen that kind of bravery in a while. I remember mocking Jupiter about his son's job paling in comparison to mine. That was my kid, I said to him. Then, he got Senate instead of you. Who's Prateor?"

Renya raised her hand.

"You were there, weren't you? Unless, you were blind, that was an MVP play. You're not blind, are you?"

Renya looked like she was trying to swallow a mouse. "No, Lord Mars."

"Then make sure she gets her place on the Senate. If anyone has earned it, it's her. Not some cheap lousy job in the Fifth Cohort. We can't have Jupiter's stupid son stopping her potential because he's jealous, can we? Especially now that he's gone." he yelled at the legion, in case anyone hadn't heard which was impossible, she was pretty sure the entire world had heard. Y/N wanted to melt into the dirt and just die. He entire body trembled. She wasn't sure whether to be happy that he noticed her or die form embarrassment and mortification, that he was happy Jason was gone, all because of her.

Mars seemed to realize his mistake too late because his image flickered. Lightning cracked across the sky. "Ugh, well, he's pissed. Whatever. Y/N can be the third, or the fourth. I don't care. You can add another companion because Y/N has to be there for the sea slug. Pick whomever you want. Have one of your senate debates. You all are good at those. Until next time, Romans! Do not disappoint me!"

The second he was gone, Y/N felt a overwhelming amount of eyes on her.

"Holy cucumber sandwich."

[angrylizardjacket]

wishful drinking // Charlotte&Lola

Summary: After Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen go missing, everyone else believes they're dead. Everyone but Lola and Tommy. It's difficult to cope and hope at the same time, and sometimes it even reopens old wounds.

A/N: Wow a song fic, christ. Loosely based on Wishful Drinking by Tessa Violet which just gives me so many emotions about Lola. Ido believe this is the single angstiest thing I've ever written on this blog. @misscharlottelee @peachonscreen I'm so very sorry this is so sad and dark jfc. WARNINGS: Focuses on alcohol addiction as a coping mechanism, there is a funeral, acute references to Lola's childhood trauma, a panic attack, and heroin use right at the end there, and there is some very mild implied suicidal ideation

----

separate me from the rest of the herd so I can run away from all of my hurt oh

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Everyone keeps saying they're dead, but there's no proof so how can they sound so certain?

Lola's already halfway through a bottle of rum, as Charlotte's parents scowl their way through a list of rules that sound more like demands, of what the band is and isn't allowed to do at Charlotte's funeral. For which their is no body. Lola rolls her eyes and takes another drink.

This is the second speech like this that they've had to sit through this week, since Peach and Eileen's parents seemed equally sceptical of the band's ability to behave appropriately at their daughters' funeral. Which was a farce with no bodies. Lola takes another drink and squeezes her eyes shut.

Nikki's got a hand on her thigh, and Tommy's got an arm around her, the three of them squeezed onto a sofa probably built for two.

Nikki was fucked up out of his mind on more drugs than Lola had ever known him to take. Losing Charlotte had broken something inside of him, and when Lola had told him that she and the other girls had gone missing, he'd sworn until his voice was hoarse, crying more genuinely than she'd ever seen him do before. He was terrified of being lucid, of remembering his reality and reacting like that again.

"I wasn't... I was never in love with Charlie, but I really did love her, you know, like I love Tommy; he's like my brother, but she... she was good for us. Better than any of us ever deserved."

Lola takes another drink.

Tommy's lucid and full of rage, two cans of beer and a line of coke before lunch is all he takes now since she's gone, high off anger, demanding people find her, reading maps, triangulating where she could possibly have gotten lost, trying to put together search parties. He, like Lola, won't believe she's gone until he knows for certain, but unlike Lola, he won't take 'her plane disappeared in the mountains of another country, there's nothing we can really do, I'm so sorry' as an answer.

He holds Lola tighter when Charlotte's parents level a teary-eyed glare at him and spit that he's not allowed to start spouting his conspiracy bullshit about her still being alive, at the funeral. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns, pressing his face into Lola's hair and heaving an irritated sigh.

"I know," Lola mumbles back, words spilling into each other. Tommy's breathing is deep and level in a way that's completely controlled, like he's working on subduing his feelings. Nikki gives Lola's thigh a squeeze, but she's not quite sure if he meant to, it could have been a hand twitch. Lola leans against Tommy just a little more, "I know."

She takes another drink.

None of them are allowed to make a speech; Charlotte's mother and Tommy's sister will both be reading eulogies, but if any of the band speaks up, they will be removed from the ceremony.

"What about Razzle?" Vince is the one to speak up, and Lola's breath catches in her throat.

"Nicholas..." Charlotte's mother finally softens her tone, and casts a look to her father, a silent question.

"Nicholas will do his best to prepare an address, but has also told us that he will decide on the day if he will be able to present it," its the fairest thing they've said all day. Their sensitivity to Razzle and his situation keeps Lola from hurling her bottle at them; if they'd shit-talked Charlotte's grieving fiance, she'd have no qualms beating up her missing friend's parents there and then. Instead, all Lola can picture is Razzle, overwhelmingly upset to the point that he can't even bring himself to read a eulogy at his fiance's sham of a funeral.

As much as Lola believes its a sham, she won't push that on Razzle, either way, Charlotte's not here; it hurts like a fresh wound, she can't even begin to imagine how he must be feeling if he really believes she's gone for good.

Lola's bottle is emptying quickly.

"Is Penny okay?" Vince asks, voice soft and concerned for the missing woman's two-year-old daughter.

"She's with Nicholas," Charlotte's mother says, but tears well in her eyes and the words catch in her throat. Charlotte's father puts his arm around her, drawing her in close.

"She keeps asking for Charlotte," his voice cracks, "and... and none of us know what to tell her."

weave a story so I don't have to talk, no, it's not a problem if I never get caught oh

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Charlotte would either be right furious, or annoyingly understanding, about the fact that Lola is wine drunk and trying to act sober at her funeral. But if Charlotte has a problem with Lola's behaviour at her sham funeral, she should come home and tell Lola herself.

The only people who Lola isn't glowering at are Razzle and Penny. Razzle's in the quietest outfit she's ever seen him in, all black, not a hint of flair or personality, and Penny's been put in a little, frilly black dress, with a black headband which she has thrown on the ground, since she's in the middle of a screaming fit.

Razzle is desperately trying to hold himself together while Penny demands to see her mother at the top of her lungs. Tommy, for all he loathes the pageantry of this funeral, feeling as though it's being put on to make Charlotte's extended friends and family feel less guilty about giving up the search for her, has nothing but kindness and gentle understanding for the man he considered to practically be his brother-in-law.

Kneeling in front of where Razzle's bouncing Penny on his knee, Tommy lays a gentle hand on his other knee, and when Razzle looks to him, as if startled out of focusing entirely on his daughter, there's tears in his eyes. He can't even form words, mouth opening and closing like a fish, but he quickly stills moving Penny, who tries to throw herself on him, her little fists beating his hands insistently, somehow getting louder with her demands.

"I miss mommy! I want mommy!"

Tommy quickly scoops Penny from her father's hands, and Razzle doesn't stop him, just looks on with a painfully helpless expression, like he's not sure what to do with himself now. Tommy chatters away to Penny, hugging her as he takes her to walk around in the sunshine, away from the other guests, and Razzle's lip trembles as his eyes refuse to focus on anything but the beautiful picture of Charlotte her parents chose to display for the event.

Right as he bursts into tears, Lola slides into the seat beside him. No words pass between them, but she wraps him up in a hug, and he holds her tight in response, nails digging into her, apologies babbles almost incoherently, and Lola feels a wave of guilt sweep through her.

The night she'd found out Charlotte had gone missing, she'd gone to Razzle's hotel in tears, full of fury, looking for answers, for anything, knowing only that he and Charlotte had fought right before Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen had taken the spontaneous flight on which they had gone missing. She'd blamed him, at the time, for Charlotte leaving. She'd blamed him, at the time, for Charlotte going missing.

Lola whispers apologies back as best she can in her quietly drunken state, rubbing his back, wishing she'd thought to being her flask; maybe it would have helped ease some of his pain, she knew it definitely would have eased some of hers.

She can't find the words to tell him that she knows its not his fault, not before Tommy comes back right before the ceremony starts, and sits himself on Razzle's other side, Penny quiet in his arms.

When Razzle turns to see his daughter, he sees her reach out with both her arms, asking for a hug. Razzle holds her close, holds her tight, and looks to Tommy with question in his eyes.

"Told her that it was like when you went back to Finland to make music, but a bit longer."

"Momma was sad," Penny's little voice was muffled against Razzle as she refused to let go of her father. Tommy nodded sagely, and Razzle's lip trembled.

"Charlie needed a lot of hugs from Pennylope while you were away; told Penny that you'd need a lot of hugs too, now." Tommy's voice was quiet, his tone gentle like he was still explaining to Penny, and Razzle pulled his daughter back a little, giving her as much of a smile as he could muster.

"You're too good to me, Pennylope; I do need a lot of hugs," and he holds her close again, taking a deep, shake breath, "I'm never gonna let you go."

oh, wishful drinking

tell myself that I'm not thinking bout how I could drown

drown drown drown

wishful drinking

Perhaps part of the reason why Lola can't believe Charlotte's really dead is the fact that Lola had kind of always assumed Charlotte would outlive her. Its morbid, but its not ab inherently false assumption to make, considering Lola drinks probably more spirits than water and gets into fights for fun. Statistically, she should already be dead. So why was she at a funeral for Charlotte.

She finishes her glass of wine and reminds herself firmly that the funeral's a sham.

She can't actually remember how she got to the bar of the hotel that she and Nikki we're staying at in Charlotte and Tommy's home town, but a majority of the people from the funeral were there, to drink and pay their final respects, so Lola assumes one of them had brought her.

She sits at the bar and orders drinks in rapid succession, while Tommy mulls over the same glass of JD for half an hour beside her while chain-smoking and people watching. It feels like they're the only two on the same page, knowing intrinsically that Charlotte's still out there any everyone who refuses to believe that is betraying her.

"Why her?" Lola mumbles into her drink.

"She's not dead, don't you start talking like she is, too," Tommy frowns into his glass. Lola finishes her drink and pushes it out of the way as she rests her arms on the bar, and her head on her arms, looking at Tommy with a strangely blank expression.

"I know, but she's still not here; why any of them? None of them deserve it, deserve to be missing, deserve to have people stop caring about looking for them," Lola's brow creased into the barest frown, "but if people knew that they weren't gone and were just missing, just needed to be found, they'd know they still need the girls," and she gives a forlorn sigh, "they don't deserve this, people still need them."

Behind her, Tommy sees where all of Hanoi Rocks has crowded into a booth with Razzle to keep him company, doing their best to cheer him, to comfort him, each of them taking it in turn to entertain Penny, who was overjoyed at seeing her band-uncles again. The picture looked incomplete without Charlotte.

"Why them?" Lola said softly, sitting back up and ordering another drink, and Tommy hears what she really means this time, the way she implies 'it should have been me'.

go ahead and stop your thinking now

and throw it down

down down down

wishful drinking now

Lola develops a new game over the following weeks, where every time someone mentions Charlotte, she takes a shot. Or four.

Nikki's getting back to normal faster than Lola is, just says that Charlie wouldn't want to see them moping around.

Vince and Mick, still shaken by the loss of Peach and Eileen respectively, agree.

Tommy's still looking for ways to try and find them in his spare time, but focuses on the band so Charlotte will be able to come back and be proud; something about his reasoning makes bile rise in the back of Lola's throat for reasons she can't quite put her finger on.

Lola drinks, because she's come to realise she's useless. She doesn't have the actual band resources to put into helping find the girls, and Doc only keeps her on the payroll because the band won't let him fire her, he doesn't need an assistant.

The only person she would felt safe talking about all of this to was missing.

So Lola drinks.

What else is there to do?

hide your demons where no one can see em, outta sight but in your mind you believe em

drink what you want, be what they want, say what they want you to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Lola knows now why Tommy's desperate playing to make sure Charlotte's happy upon her return makes Lola feel sick.

He kept mentioning it, kept asking whether the others thought their new album would be as good as their old stuff, the stuff Charlotte liked, and Nikki had snapped, fed up.

Lola had been in the kitchen when he'd started yelling that she wasn't coming back, and when Tommy hollered that he was an asshole at the top of his lungs.

"If she was alive, she'd be here! But she's fucking not!" Nikki's words rung through the air and were met with stunned silence, "you know why she's not here?" He hissed venomously, and Lola drops the glass she'd been holding, recognising that tone from almost a decade ago.

Nikki, in the present, snaps that its because Charlotte's gone for good, but Lola doesn't hear that. Lola hears her mother.

Lola hears that her father's never coming back because she's a disappointment, because shes not good enough, or kind enough, or talented enough.

The wrong wires connect in Lola's brain in a way that's all too familiar, in a way that makes her scars ache and tears well in her eyes.

And in another moment its gone, and Lola sees the shards on the ground and knows that Charlotte would hate a dirty kitchen. She sweeps them up.

Later, Tommy will find her, and before he can even open his mouth, she's holding his face in her hands, reassuring him that Charlotte would love their new music. His expression brightens, and he kisses her in thanks; something eases in Lola's chest.

No matter where Charlotte is, Lola will never let Tommy believe what was beaten into her for years, she'll never let him believe that he is the reason Charlotte's not here. Nobody deserves to believe that... And yet a voice in the back of Lola's mind tells her she has to do better, for Charlotte.

The voice sounds like her mother's.

do you think do you think that they notice

I keep a bottle by my bed it's the focus

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

After a while, Doc stops praising Lola for showing up to the studio on time and sober - she's absolutely not sober, but she's also not had enough to drink for it to effect her composure. When he stops praising her, she worries that he knows she's always a little buzzed, and then she gets annoyed, thinking that he's just an asshole. It takes her a full week to realise that it's neither, in fact, its just that she's been doing it consistently enough that he's come to expect it of her.

People note her improved work ethic, compliment her even, and its nice, and she knows that if Charlotte were here that she'd be saying nice things right along side everyone else.

Nikki had been right, Charlotte wouldn't want to mope around, so Lola had to actually do well so when Charlotte came back, she could prove that she hadn't been moping.

Sometimes that voice in the back of her mind gets harsh, tells her she's not doing enough, but Lola reminds that voice that Charlotte would roll her eyes at Lola's antics, but she'd somehow always be understanding in the end. Lola didn't need to be perfect, she just needed to be better.

And she was!

She takes a shot to quiet the voice down in those moments anyways, just for good measure.

No-one seems to notice if she's four shots in before noon, one more won't hurt.

this is not a problem if I don't want it to stop

can't call it a problem if I never let a plate drop

this is not a problem if convincing that it's not

don't call it a problem it's the only thing that I still got

Nikki is spiralling into his heroin addiction of his own accord, but Lola knows Charlotte would think they're both better than that; Lola won't be able to convince Nikki, but she can keep herself away from it.

Her job's going well, and she and Tommy are still close, and she is allowed to babysit Penny on nights when Vince takes Razzle out partying. Its trust earned, that she never would have been able to earn if she hadn't been trying to do good for when Charlotte gets back.

But the world goes to hell in a single night.

What the fuck are they meant to tell Penny?

Her dad is dead.

Another thing Charlotte can't come back to.

Turns out they don't have to be the ones to tell Penny; Razzle's parents come to pick up her and their son's body, and though Tommy begs for them not to take her, they're terrified of her ending up just like her parents -

"Charlotte's not dead -"

"Wake up, Thomas, you're putting false hope into this girl's head, it'll ruin her mind if you don't let her live in reality!" Razzle's mother spits, while his father has already taken Penny out to the car to take her to the airport.

Tommy's in tears when he calls Lola.

The pair of them are devastated.

Why would Charlotte come back here if Penny and Razzle weren't here? The only person she'd loved more than Razzle was Penny, and now they were both -

"Lo, what's the point?"

"The point?"

"Of being all good and shit, for Charlie?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's not gonna come back to us," Tommy sighed, sniffling, "she's out there, but she'd go to Penny before any of us, and now..."

"Please don't say that," Lola's voice trembled, her heart beating in an erratic staccato in her chest.

"There's nothing worth coming back here for -"

Lola drops the receiver, curling in on herself, shaking all over as his words play over and over and over in her mind while all she can think about is the fact that yet again, she's not enough for someone she loved and felt safe with.

She's gasping for air, chest tight and tears stinging her eyes, heart beating in her ears while she's shaking like a leaf, in the full throes of a panic attack.

It takes her a long while to calm down, to ground herself in the feel of the carpet beneath her and the sound of the ocean outside, and the cars and the wind and the smell of the sea.

The first thing she does after she stands, is to get a drink, and then another, and then another, then to take the bottle into the bedroom, in to Nikki.

"Babe -?" He sees her red rimmed eyes first as she jostles him awake, and he wants to ask questions.

"I need something to get me out of my fucking mind, please, anything," she begs, lip trembling as she tries to focus on Nikki and not Tommy's words on loop in her mind.

"You sure?"

"Anything, the world is a fucking nightmare, and nothing fucking matters," and Nikki leans over to his nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a kit Lola knew was his heroin kit. Now it didn't seem like a bad choice.

"Is this about Razz?" Nikki asks, making quick work of preparing the drug for her. Lola swallows hard, and sits on the bed.

"Neither of them fucking deserved it," and Nikki knows immediately that she's referring to both Charlotte and Razzle, and he pauses, "the world needs people like them."

The room is very quiet for the few moments where Nikki cooks the powder to a liquid, pulling it up into his syringe. He instructs Lola on how to tie off her arm, and carefully injects her after double checking that its what she wanted.

As the tie around her arm is loosened, and the drug hits, Lola laughs, but there's no humour in it, her head tipping back, bottle still clutched firmly in her other hand.

"Its a fucking joke that the world is stuck with people like me."