#where are the cough-drops coming from? maybe he has a dispenser. who knows. stop trying to make my jokes make sense

[clownforce99]

💤 ☕️ 📚 for freja AND 🔫 ☁️ for beans. you don’t have to do all if that’s too much. i just want to know things please

forgot i could put asks under cuts. bask in the glory of my genius

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily?

Sometimes. Freja has to force herself to sleep according to a regular schedule, because if left to her own devices she would routinely stay awake later and later into the night until it’s not night anymore and suddenly she’s going to bed at ten in the morning. Bedtime is an elusive thing if Freja isn’t careful. Regardless, it usually takes her about an hour to actually fall asleep once she’s in bed for the night/day.

💤 SLEEPING - what helps them sleep? 

Melatonin supplements, mostly. It also helps tremendously to be lightyears away from any significant amount of sentient minds, which always press up on her mental barriers like their lives depend on it, but that’s often too much to ask.

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

Freja likes cold drinks, largely because she’s prone to impatience about foods and WILL burn her mouth. Her go-to is just water but she’ll drink it at nearly any temperature. Doesn’t find lukewarm water to be gross unless it has taken on the flavor of the cup it’s in. Will drink dusty ‘i accidentally left this on my desk for two days’ water with reckless abandon.

📚 BOOKS - how were they at school? what is their best subject? what is their worst subject? do they have a favourite subject?

During her formative education at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Freja was mostly an above average student, which was especially impressive because by the time she had been brought into the Order she had not yet been taught how to read or do much else.

Freja’s absolute best subject was Intergalactic History, however it wasn’t her favorite - that honor went to the basic Biology classes that were available to younglings. She also favored the classes that touched on landscape ecology.

Her most notable academic characteristic was, unfortunately, her near inability to do basic arithmetic. Grasping the concepts and principles behind equations and formulas and whatever else they could throw at a child under 13 wasn’t too difficult, but things like multiplication tables frustrated her to the brink of tears. At no point in her adult life is Freja without a calculator within arm’s reach.

(Subsequently, she had a bitch of a time actually getting through her math prereqs for Wildlife Bio. Some may suggest she might have cheated her way through those classes but nobody can prove anything.)

BEANS MY BOY (i should mention he belongs to the Intergalactic Zoological Society but has been assigned to Freja, so when i say “Freja’s BD Unit”, that’s how i mean it)

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum? 

He is the picture of innocence thank you next question.

People of varying quality of character come and go throughout Beans’ life, but it just never occurs to him that he shouldn’t trust them unequivocally. He Is Here To Help! after all. Just a simple BD Unit making his way through the universe. Trusting people is Beans’ default state of being. (This is problematic during wartime.)

It also never occurs to Beans that he can just... abandon others. He may be taken away, assigned elsewhere, but so far he’s never had to grapple with the choice between staying in someone’s life or leaving it of his own volition. Nobody has come close to making him think about it either.

That said, he might do things that could be considered ‘betrayal’ without viewing it in that light himself. His primary objectives involve the observation, aggregation, and distribution of field data, and the assistance of others also working towards the same goals. Perhaps he might share information that not ought to be so freely shared. Perhaps he records things that shouldn’t be recorded. Perhaps he has few, if any boundaries. Scruples? None. Malice? Also none.

It’s never a matter of intent, though. This is what gets him wiped. He’s recalled from Freja’s care and, not knowing what the IZS intends to do, she sends him back and never sees him again. Freja considers it a betrayal, both on her part and on the IZS, and is impotently furious about it for the rest of her life. If the people around her wonder why her disposition takes a nosedive halfway through the war, they need not look any further.

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon 

Here’s some mood whiplash for ya. Beans keeps watch while Freja sleeps! He perches up near her head and folds himself up all cute-like and just. Stays there. Granted the most he’s ever had to ‘protect’ Freja from was a stray ground squirrel on Yavin 4, and his main defenses are beeping loudly and scrambling about like a headless chicken... but he’s helping!

Speaking of chickens, he loves them. They don’t always love him but there was a flock that adopted him on one of the IZS campuses and he’s been chickenkin since.

More: his idea of helping when his handlers catch sick usually involves grasping a cough-drop in one foot and hopping up to their resting forms on the other and “gently” letting gravity deposit the cough-drop on their face. Space Montezuma’s Revenge? Cough-drop. Rabies? Cough-drop. Malaria? Cough-drop. Take your medicine. He’s helping.

[karlnapity]

Rejoice, Rejoice, God’s Ears are Stitches

“Drop your things in the hole,” Tommy says, and Dream feels his stomach drop. He slowly undoes the clasps on his chest plate while his eyes scour the crowd, from Punz’s fierce expression to Puffy’s tear-streaked face. Something deep and dark jolts in his chest, but he casts it aside same as his chest plate. It makes a clang! as it hits the bottom of the hole, and Tommy jumps satisfyingly.

He takes his time removing his armor, relishing in the way the crowd shuffles uncomfortably. Eventually Tommy lets out an indignant “hurry up!” and he can barely keep himself from chuckling.

Once he’s finished, they stand there in a tense silence for a few seconds before Tommy says, “All your armor, Dream.”

He tilts his head to the side. “What d’you mean?”

He has a sneaking suspicion that lets tendrils of something akin to nerves creep up his spine. They only solidify when Tommy points his sword at Dream’s face.

“Your mask. Put it in the hole.”

For a second, he considers refusing. But he imagines being held down, the mask forced off his face, and he shivers. He reaches to the clasp, hand stuttering. When was the last time he’d taken it off?

Tommy huffs. He undoes the clasp.

The mask shatters as it hits the helmet still resting on the top of the pile. He watches the shards bounce.

The audience has gone very silent. He refuses to look at them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Tommy scrutinize his face. He does not look at him.

“You’re an ugly motherfucker, you know that?” There’s little bite in Tommy’s words. He may have the upper hand right now, but he’s still only grasping at straws against Dream. He is. Dream still sneers. Low blow, to poke at the various scars littering his face, hardly leaving an unmarred spot. He opens and closes his fist where he’d usually be grasping a weapon.

Sam and Punz step forward, each of them grabbing an arm. He’s led to the elevator as he listens to the sounds of the crowd celebrating. He does not look at them. He won’t give them the satisfaction.

As the elevator rises, Sam’s hand only tightens around his arm. He wonders why, at first, but it becomes obvious as he starts to ache.

Mining fatigue. Fuck.

He focuses his attention on simply remaining upright. The bruises and cuts and the knee Tommy had almost knocked out of its socket suddenly make themselves known, and with a vengeance. He shuffles, trying to keep his legs from giving out.

Punz coughs a laugh from beside him. Dream can’t stop his eyes from straying, but it doesn’t help. He can’t read his expression.

“It’s weird being able to see what you’re thinking,” Punz says quietly. Dream quickly schools his expression. He does not respond.

The fatigue becomes almost overwhelming as they come to a stop. The two lead him out of the elevator and through the prison. He passes by more walls, doors, than he can remember. He tries to catalog information as it comes, but his mind is just as tired as his body, and black spots dance in his vision. He will not let these people see him weak, though, so he keeps his attention on keeping his expression neutral, keep his legs moving.

He watches the lava part, and his heart stutters to a stop in his chest. This is it.

He does not look at the two as he’s left alone.

>

He jolts awake, his breath catching. As he gasps on the floor he notices the heavy air, the way his hair is stuck to his face. The heat is almost scalding, and as he sits up he feels woozy. He almost laughs at himself. He’s only on his first day (or is it?) of his imprisonment and he’s already falling apart. He lets out a chuckle, coughing from dehydration.

His stomach churns from a combination of the overwhelming mining fatigue and the heat from the lava. He brushes back his hair as best as he can, ties it up, suddenly glad Sam had only let him keep a t-shirt.

He examines the cell, still dizzy but acclimating as best he can. Thankfully there’s what seems to be a dispenser in a corner, leaving him with a bottle of water and a raw potato. Not the best food, and it doesn’t help replenish any health, but he takes what he can get. He stops himself from chugging the water as much as he wants to. He doesn’t know when Sam will next leave him food, and he needs to, at the very least, stay conscious. Dying from dehydration won’t do him any good.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, and for a second he considers crushing it. He wonders, if he does, if Sam will come replace it.

He can’t risk it. The noise is loud in his ears, the only other thing in this godforsaken place aside from the sound of the lava bubbling.

He feels tears mounting in his eyes and pushes them down. No. He won’t, can’t be weak. That would mean accepting defeat, and he will leave this place. He will win.

He doesn’t feel particularly victorious with his hands over his ears, trying to block out the ticking sound of the clock.

>

It’s impossible to tell how long he’s been here, and he can feel it already prying at his mind. The clock tells him whether it’s day or night, but not much more than that, and it doesn’t make much difference to him when the only light he gets is from the lava.

He started trembling a few days ago, and he’s not even sure where it comes from. It makes it hard to do much of anything, and it’s not even like there’s much to do. He alternates dunking his head in the cauldron of water in a pitiful attempt to cool himself off, struggling to write in the books he’s been given, and laying on the floor and listening to the clock.

He’s too tired from the mining fatigue to be able to do much writing at all. His hands shake too much to hold the quill correctly, and his brain moves at a snail’s pace that annoys even him. So, instead, he lays on the floor, listens to the clock, and stares at the lava. His back hurts from the hard stone, and it holds the heat, but it’s not like he has much other choice.

Has it been a week? Two? He’s not sure. He hasn’t seen Sam since he was imprisoned. He hasn’t tried to escape. He hasn’t done anything but eat raw fucking potatoes and try not to get heatstroke. Sleeping is really the only agreeable possibility, and even then he wakes up choking on hot air.

His communicator buzzes, and he sits up so fast his head swims. All avenues have been cut off except Sam, so he knows it’s him immediately.

< You have a visitor today. >

He clambers to his feet. He hates the way his heart races at the thought. He shouldn’t be this excited for one of them to visit him. It was inevitable that, eventually, someone would. They wouldn’t be able to forget him. They need his help.

(It’s the only reason he’s alive.)

(He shakes that thought away.)

For the first time in over a week he tries to pull himself together. He fixes his ponytail, makes it as neat as possible, downs the rest of his water to try to garner some sort of energy. He’s already exhausted just from the excitement. Jesus Christ, what has this place done to him?

He sits on the lectern as he waits. Who will it be? One of his old friends? Punz? Tommy?

Soon enough, the lava starts to lower.

He makes direct eye contact with Tommy. The boy looks petrified. Good.

What will Tommy want? Will he want him to stay put together? Will he want him to be pitiful?

(Tommy will want a friend. Tommy will want soft.)

He’s not used to regulating his facial expressions. He’s had to time adjust to the lack of cover, the familiar feeling of it sitting on his skin lacking, but it’s new, having to looking people in the eye, having to appeal to them in this way. It frustrates him.

Soon enough, Tommy is facing him and the lava is already rising. He looks uncomfortable, pulling at his collar and shoving his hands in his pockets.

He looks better than Dream has seen him in a while. He looks happy enough, certainly healthier than he’s been. He wonders how pathetic he looks.

“Hey,” Tommy says, making the first move. Dream avoids his eyes.

“Hello.”

“What’ve you been up to?” Tommy asks, awkward as ever.

(Tommy will want a friend. Tommy will want him to be sorry.)

“I like watching the clock,” he answers, genuine. He keeps his voice quiet. “I’ve been going crazy in here.”

“Everyone hates you, you know?” Tommy says. That confuses him.

“Well, I’m in prison, now, so there’s no reason for anyone to hate me,” he refutes, frustration rising. That makes no sense. Why would they hate him now?

They beat him. Why would they hate him now?

“Hey, Dream, are you getting all sad? Watch this: I am your best friend, Dream, I am your friend, and I will come and visit you every day!” Tommy’s voice rises as he takes his clock off the wall, throws it in the water, turns back to him, angry as hell. “Does this remind you of anything?”

Dream stays quiet. What can he say to that?

“It’s just sad! You’ve been exiled, bitch! You’ve been imprisoned!” Tommy looks so satisfied, like he deserves this, like he’s proving a point.

It’s hard to take a deep breath when the air’s so heavy, but he has to. He clenches his hands in fists, turns around so Tommy can’t see his expression. Remember.

(Be Tommy’s friend. Be sorry.)

“Maybe I’ll be better, and then you’ll let me out,” he tries. Makes his voice as meek as possible. Makes himself smaller.

Tommy laughs. He tries harder.

“What if it’s a long time and I’m better?”

Tommy just looks at him. For the first time, his expression is unreadable. He looks stronger, now. He doesn’t look like a kid anymore.

“Tommy, I’m sorry.”

(It’s what he’s supposed to say.)

“Really?” Tommy looks genuinely taken aback, genuinely surprised. Something in his expression hurts, but he ignores it. “For what?”

He ransacks his brain for the right thing to say. He can’t think, he’s so tired.

(He wants Tommy to leave. He wants Tommy to stay.)

“Um. For everything I did to you.”

He says all the right things: I have no reason to lie. I’m glad you visited me. I’m sad.

Tommy gives him homework, and he complies obediently.

He lets Tommy make fun of him all he wants, lets Tommy laugh at him, and he doesn’t get angry.

Tommy promises he’ll be back. Dream can’t tell if he’s genuine.

“I lost my friends, and all my stuff, and my server. And you.”

He doesn’t mean to say it. It’s not part of the routine. But it works: Tommy seems genuinely interested, then, doesn’t seem to take it as manipulation as much as everything else. He tries to pull himself together, but he’s so tired. His act is falling apart.

“Who do you miss the most?” Tommy asks.

Anger flares.

“I think you should go, Tommy.”

Tommy asks again, and Dream can’t do anything but yell for Sam. Tommy just keeps asking, and Dream just wants him to leave. He drives his fingernails into his palm and he doesn't look at him.

The clock is especially loud, that day.

[aloysiavirgata]

Xenia

Title: Xenia By: Aloysia Virgata Rating: PG Category: MSR Timeline: X Cops Summary: Brunch in WIllow Park Notes: For @perplexistan​, who came up with this amazing idea.

***

He’s staring out the window into the grungy hotel courtyard when he hears the knock at the door. Mulder frowns and, against all recommendation, tucks his gun into the waistband of his boxers. He approaches the door as though it may be on fire. “Hello?” he calls.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

He puts his gun on top of the microwave, unfastens the three locks to admit Scully. “What’s up, buttercup?”

She’s snapping a pink card against her palm, scowling as she passes beneath his arm. “Brunch,” she says.

Mulder shuts the door before following her to the bed. She’s hunched there like a tiny storm cell, glowering, gathering steam. He decides against a romantic overture, though it’s been a week since she last spent the night and he wants to...to lick her.

“Brunch?” he repeats.

She holds the card out. “Sergeant Duthie has accepted an invitation on our behalf.”

Mulder, baffled, takes it from her. The card is flamingo pink, ornamented with two palm trees and two gold-rimmed champagne glasses. In careful gold calligraphy, it invites them to join Steve and Edy for BRUNCH AND BUBBLY! at 10:30.

His jaw drops. “You cannot possibly be serious.”

She snatches it back from him. “Serious as hantavirus. I hope you brought something in a nice madras.”

He sits next to her on the bed, stunned. “Why has Sergeant Duthie done this to us? We were helpful, Scully. You rendered medical aid. You did a late night autopsy out of the goodness of your heart.”

Scully, prim, tucks the card into her jacket pocket. “I did a late night autopsy because you’re bossy and demanding, but that isn’t the point.”

“Do we have to go?” he asks, like she’s his mother.

Scully glares at him. “’Do we have to go?’” she mimics in a falsetto. “Of course we have to go, we’ll look awful if we don’t. The tabloid headlines will practically write themselves. FBI SNUBS LOCAL NEIGHBORHOOD COUPLE. You wanted to go charging around on camera talking about fear monsters for the noble cause of cryptozoology and look where it got us.”

He sighs. “Well, of everyone we encountered on that little goose chase, they’re not awful. I wouldn’t want to have brunch at the crack house.”

She chews the inside of her cheek, stewing. “I can’t believe this.”

Mulder thumps her back in a comradely manner.  “The food will probably be decent, right? Probably good coffee, too. Not to mention the bubbly!”

Scully scrunches her nose, pressing her hand to her eyes. “Mulder, I swear to God…”

The event begins to take shape in his mind, Steve and Edy’s tidy home with little morsels on trays. He tries to remember the campy snacks his mother ordered for her bridge club. Lots of puff pastry and ornamental parsley.

Scully gets to her feet. “Well, shower and iron your seersucker suit,” she says gloomily. “I’ll call a cab.”

“It’ll be fun,” he says, excited as always by any novel experience. He considers too that Scully needs to be socialized more often, and it’s not like he takes her on real dates. This will be good for her. He will make her enjoy herself, he decides.

“Oh, I can’t wait for you to get halfway through your third mimosa and start dispensing relationship advice,” Scully says. “Between Edy and Hollman, maybe you should quit the FBI and start a romance column.”

“I get no kick from champaaaaaagne,” he croons.

“Mulder.”

“Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all…”

“MULDER.”

“So tell me why should it be true, that I get a kick out of you?”

His gun falls off the microwave when she slams the door.

***

The driver takes them to a decrepit looking stucco building to procure a hostess gift from what he assures them is the best bakery within 20 miles. Dubious, Mulder and Scully follow him inside. Behind the ancient formica counter, a withered old woman brandishing an immense wooden spoon speaks loudly with the cabbie for several moments in an unknown tongue. He points at his fares, gesturing broadly.

Mulder tries to look respectable, the kind of person who deserves only the finest. He nudges Scully, who offers a vague wave at the proprietress.

The old woman considers them for a moment, then chooses several items from her display case. She secures them in a tidy parcel, which she passes to Scully, who accepts it like an IED.

The woman beckons Mulder down to her and when he obliges, bent nearly double, she pinches his cheek and whacks his arm in a loving manner with the spoon.

Scully, delighted, pays and tips her generously before they get back on their way.

***

The cab stops in front of Steve and Edy’s house. Mulder, who feels this is all becoming a splendid adventure, praises the cabbie for his excellent service. He leaves an extra five on the front seat before they get out.

Scully holds the bakery box with a mournful air. “Well,” she says. “Here we are.”

Mulder opens the gate in the chain link fence, striding along the walkway to the house. He is already on the porch, examining the empty birdcage, when she trudges up.

He chucks her under the chin. “Smile pretty.”

Her nostrils flare, but there is no other response.

Mulder knocks at the door, and is greeted almost immediately by Edy. She is wearing tropical print harem pants, a purple tunic, and a white turban ornamented with a tremendous topaz brooch and a single peacock feather. She squeals delightedly and flings her arms around him.

“AY-gent Mulder,” Edy gushes. “Well don’t you look mighty handsome. And Agent Scully, child, you did NOT have to bring a GIFT.”

Mulder extricates himself from Edy’s grasp. “Thanks, uh, for having us. It wasn’t necessary.”

“No,” Scully pipes up. “It really wasn’t.”

Edy waves her elegant hand. “It is absolutely our pleasure. Now come on in.” She swans into the kitchen, leaving them stranded in the living room. The house smells gloriously of food.

Scully shuts the door with her hip. “Um,” she says.

Mulder directs his attention to a collection of ceramic animals on a shelf. A little seal balances a ball on its snout, so shiny it looks like hard candy.

Steve emerges from the hallway, dapper in a crisp button down. “I heard her fussing from the bathroom,” he says. “She changed her outfit five times.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to feel wanted,” Mulder observes. He looks at the vase of flowers on the table, the bright cloth beneath it. The sweet domesticity tugs at him.

“We brought this,” Scully says, nearly shoving the box into Steve’s hands.

Steve takes it, smiling. “Well, isn’t that mighty nice of you? You went to Sofia, that place is real good. Bulgarian.” He places the box on the table. “Go on and take a seat, just going to help out in the kitchen.”

They sit across from one another at the table after he disappears from view. Mulder rubs his arm. “I think the bakery lady left a mark.”

“You’re probably betrothed now.” Scully toys with a crystal salt shaker. “Some old Bulgarian custom.”

“Jealous?”

She offers a moue of disdain.

Edy emerges from the kitchen with a bar cart. As predicted, there are flutes of mimosas on the top of it, and a whole pitcher besides. The rest is loaded with food. “TaDAAAAA!” Edy sings, with a grand flourish.

“Edy, this is too much,” Mulder says, rubbing his hands together. Even Scully looks impressed.

“She’s been busy all morning,” Steve says proudly, hands on her shoulders.

Edy beams, hands them each a plate of Eggs Benedict. “I make that Hollandaise myself,” she says, taking her seat as the peacock feather sways. “Grow the lemons out back, too. All this out back.” She surveys her table, a presiding empress. 

Steve unloads the rest of the cart, plates of fruit and tiny tomato sandwiches and cheese straws. A mound of home fries glossy with butter and fragrant with browned onions.

“Don’t forget the bubbly,” Edy says, scandalized. “We need a toast.”

Steve dutifully passes them each a mimosa before sitting down. 

Edy lifts her glass. “Well, I will just say thank you to our new friends from the FBI who are doing their best to keep us safe even with a bunch of skanky-ass crackheads running around, may they rest in peace. Amen.”

Scully is staring at the table, chewing hard on her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

Mulder doesn’t dare try to catch her eye. “Uh, amen,” he says, and takes a sip of his drink. He blinks; Edy has a heavy pour.

“I squeezed that juice myself too,” Edy says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You sound like the Little Red Hen, you gonna let us eat or what?”

“I told you he disrespects me,” she mutters into her glass.

Scully has recovered herself and is cutting into her egg, which spills golden yolk onto her plate. She removes a wedge of the sandwich with surgical precision and puts it into her mouth, wary. Her face brightens as she chews. “Edy, this is delicious.”

Mulder is proud of Edy.

“My Granny Minerva taught me to cook,” she says. “I grew up with her mostly, in the Lowcountry.”

Mulder perks up. “Oh, did you? My grandparents had a place in Hilton Head.”

Edy snorts. “Mmmhmmm, I bet they did. I bet you’re a trust fund baby to the cradle, you have pretty hands.”

Scully laughs around a chunk of watermelon, sputters and coughs. She presses a cloth napkin to her mouth, blushing pink as the fruit.

“You okay?” Steve asks, his brow furrowed. “You need a drink?”

Scully, still magenta, shakes her head and gulps half of her mimosa. “I’m fine,” she manages. Mouths “pretty hands” to Mulder.

Mulder scowls at her. 

“ANNNyway,” Edy continues. “I lived with Granny and I learned all her secrets.” She gestures at the tomato sandwich on Mulder’s plate. “The trick is you pat the tomatoes dry first, did you know that, Hilton Head?”

Steve refills his glass. “She lived with Granny Minerva because her mama was a runaround.”

Edy whips her head around. “I have TOLD you not to disrespect my mama.”

Steve purses his lips but says no more. 

Mulder applies himself to his Eggs Benedict, which is rich and delicious and speaks highly of Granny Minerva. Scully is nibbling a cheese straw with interest.

Edy props her chin in her palm, tapping her cheek with her fingers. “The FBI, now what is that like to do? It seems real scary to me.” She looks at Mulder through her extravagant lashes.”Real daaaangerous,” she purrs.

Scully’s lower lip is back between her teeth.

Mulder chases a potato around his plate with his fork. “Well, uh, it depends, I guess. I mean sometimes, sure, it’s pretty dangerous I guess, depending, but we have a lot of training and all and there’s paperwork mostly too, which is only dangerous if you get the math wrong and there’s an audit, haha, so…” he trails off.

“Agent Mulder just doesn’t want you to feel concerned,” Scully interjects smoothly. “Situations like the one you experienced are exactly what we’ve been trained to do, so there’s no need to be worried. We go through a pretty extensive program in the Academy.” She spears a slice of kiwi and pops it into her mouth.

Mulder could kiss her, right in front of Steve and Edy and God and everybody. Haul the camera crew back for all he cares. But he knows better. She’ll get there on her own.

Edy fans herself. “I just can’t imagine.  We are too glad you were here.”

“Baby, they brought dessert from Sofia,” Steve says. “Wasn’t that nice?”

She claps her hands happily. “Ooohhh, that little old Bulgarian lady runs that place.”

“She hit me with a spoon,” Mulder says, pointing at his arm. “About took my cheek off too.”

“That means she likes you,” Steve tells him. 

“Giiirrrl, you better watch out,” Edy warns Scully, with a knowing expression. “She’ll snap him right up.”

Scully looks alarmed. “Pardon?”

Edy smirks. “You may have trained at the A-cad-emy, but I studied theater and I can read all kinds of things in people.”

Scully’s face has gone from alarm to panic, and Mulder knows she is trying to recall every word, every movement the cameramen may have captured.

“Theater?” he asks, to divert her. “You’re an actress, Edy?”

Steve puts his head in his hands. “Lord help us.”

She gets to her feet, arms held out like a goddess on a Grecian urn. “My sister Veronica and I did this double act and my husband, Charlie, traveled around with us. Now for the last number - “

“Chicago!” Mulder exclaims, then is embarrassed.

They all look at him in surprise. 

“You like musicals, Agent Mulder?” Edy asks, practically glowing. “What’s your favorite?”

“Yes, Agent Mulder, what’s your favorite?” Scully asks, eyes dancing.

He draws little squiggles in the remains of his Hollandaise sauce. “Oh, just, my mom used to take us to shows, you know, when I was a kid.”

“But your favorite,” Scully insists, because she is mean.

“Chicago’s good,” he mumbles. He will never tell her the real answer, which is My Fair Lady.

“Honey, Chicago is the BEST.” Edy goes to a bookshelf and removes a large album.

“Ohhhh, no!” Steve asserts. “Didn’t I already tell you nobody wants to see your ass? Now go on and put that back.”

Edy glides back haughtily, places the book on the table, oriented towards Mulder. She opens it to a page with a glossy 8x10 of her as Velma Kelly, in all her black sequined bodysuited glory.

“Wow,” Mulder says, feeling sympathetic pain as he looks at the bodysuit.

“Virgin Indian hair on that wig,” Edy says, tapping the photo. She stares at Scully.

Scully leans forward to examine the photo. “You look really nice.”

Edy turns a few pages to another picture. She is luxuriating in a claw foot tub, one leg draped over the edge. The bubbly water is at a strategic depth between her legs. Mulder feels as though he should avert his eyes, but gazes on.

“Now these,” Edy says, “are from some modeling I did for a boudoir photographer.”

Steve groans. “Baby, why?”

“It is called art,” she snaps. “Now Agent Scully, girl to girl, you understand this. Sometimes you just want a record of you at your best, you want to share that with your man.” 

Scully smiles blankly. “Mm.”

Mulder studies the picture with renewed interest. “A boudoir photographer?” he asks.

Edy favors Scully with a sly glance. “See that’s what I thought.  It’s very tasteful, isn’t it?” She turns the page, displaying herself in a ruffled white corset, heeled white ankle boots, and a lace parasol. “It’s very elegant.”

It is, strangely enough. Mulder assumes there must be boudoir photographers in DC. He can import one, if necessary. From the edge of his peripheral vision, he sees Scully studiously peeling a grape.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” Steve says. “Honey, go put those pictures back so they don’t get ruined.”

Edy, looking triumphant, gives Mulder a saucy wink before sashaying back to the bookshelf.

“Lord,” Steve mumbles. He opens the bakery box, then smiles. “You tell her you were coming here?” he asks. “You got all my favorites.”

“I think the cabbie must have,” Scully says, abandoning her grape. “They were talking for a bit, but we didn’t know what they were saying. We never even mentioned your names, I guess he knew the address.”

“Musta been Anzhelo,” Edy says, settling on Steve’s lap. “That’s her grandson, he helps me with my garden a little bit. That boy is always hustling.”

Steve puts a golden pastry oozing honey onto his plate. He cuts off a morsel with his fork and feeds it to his lady, who giggles. 

Mulder smiles at them. “This, uh, this has been really wonderful, but we have to go get our stuff together for the flight home.”

Edy pouts. “Well, that’s a shame. You oughtta stay another day or so, we could show you around town. We know everybody.”

Steve moves on to a dense wedge of chocolate cake. “Lots of walnuts in this, you got any allergies?”

Scully holds up a hand. “No, thank you, I’m qui-“

“She’s gotta keep her cute figure for that boudoir photographer,” Edy says. She licks honey off of her fingers.

“Can we help you tidy up?” Scully asks, as though Edy hasn’t spoken.

“I got it,” Steve says. “That’s our system. You go on back to your hotel, I’ll call Anzhelo.” He pats Edy on the side, and she gets up so he can head to the phone.

“Where’s the restroom, please?” Scully asks.

Steve sprawls on the red velvet sofa, pointing her down the hall. He picks up the receiver and starts dialing.

Mulder watches Scully disappear around the corner, wondering if he would like to thank Edy or strangle her.

“He'll be here in just a few,” Steve says from the couch. “I called him on his cell phone, how times change.”

“You tell her not to worry,” Edy says with a wink, resting her hand on Mulder’s shoulder. “The cameras don’t get everything.”

Mulder adopts what he hopes is a confused expression and shrugs. He busies himself stacking plates, pausing to take a swipe of chocolate frosting with his finger. He downs the rest of his second mimosa, considers a third.

Scully emerges then, her hair smoothed and her lipstick freshened. “Again, thank you both for the hospitality.”

“You better call us when you’re in town again,” Edy says, wagging a stern finger. “I will hold you to that, Agents.”

There is a honk outside. “Oh, that’s our cue,” Mulder says, rising. He reaches for the small of Scully’s back but it feels conspicuous now. He converts the motion to a wave.

Edy follows them to the door, blowing kisses all the way.

They climb into the waiting cab. “You like my grandmother's baking?” Anzhelo asks, peeling away from the curb.

“Phenomenal,” Scully says, because she is kind. “We’re stuffed.”

Anzhelo smiles proudly in the rear view.

Mulder slumps against the door. “I feel like one of those big snakes after it eats a whole wildebeest. I need to sleep off all that food.”

“I was a little ambitious myself,” Scully says. She sits up straighter, eyes wide. “Oh, Mulder. Oh shit. You know Bill watches Cops?”

Of course he does, of course. Mulder makes a noise of dismay, unable to address this news on so full a stomach and so heavy a head.

“Mulder, he’s going to see every terrible minute and just snap,” she moans. “Werewolves!”

Mulder, buzzy, imagines Bill and Tara on the couch, eating Corn Nuts, when his sister appears onscreen. He imagines Bill leaping to his feet in outrage, scattering a plate of Li’l Smokies cooked in grape jelly. He starts laughing.

Scully punches him in the arm. “It’s not funny, Mulder!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads, holding up his hands in defense. He is still laughing.

“Oh my god, the Wasp Man! Mulder did you say anything awful when you were unattended?”

Tears are running down his face at this point. It’s all so ridiculous. Bill in his base housing, finding out that his sister was two hours away chasing invisible monsters and crackheads without even calling. Mulder thinks he may, if suitably provoked, let him know what else his sister has been doing.

He smiles darkly to himself.

Scully punches his arm again, harder, and he stops laughing. 

“Ow,” he says, sulky. “It’s nothing he doesn’t know.”

She hides her face in her hands. “I could just die.”

Mulder draws her onto her side, curled with her glossy head in his lap. He strokes her smooth pixie cap of hair, the color of autumn in New England.

“I hate you,” she mumbles into his thigh.

He traces her ear. “I know,” he soothes. 

“So much.”

“Yes.”

“And you can stop thinking about boudoir photographers, because it’s not happening.” She traces little shapes on his knees.

“Mmm,” he says, non-committal. Mulder pets her until they pull up at the hotel, and he has to get to his wallet. He pays Anzhelo and sends regards to his grandmother, to Steve and Edy.

They clamber out, Scully blinking in the vivid sunlight. Anzhelo waves from the window as he drives off.

“You ready to go home?” Mulder asks.

She looks up at him. “No photographer,” she says again. “But.”

He’s intrigued. “But?”

“My room has a corner tub. It’s not, uh, a claw foot or anything, but it’s pretty roomy.” Scully looks shy as she takes his hand. “This is still weird,” she confesses.

“Yeah. But it’s, I think it’s good weird, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, squeezes his fingers.

He kisses her in the bright LA sunshine, in front of the bellhop and the taxis and God and everybody. She doesn’t pull away, puts her arms around him in fact, and still the world turns and turns and turns.

[namariea]

Hello, Neighbor | VI

Since moving in you have compiled a comprehensive list on your mysterious neighbor across the way.

Do Kyungsoo, otherwise known as Asian Bobby Flay and apparently Bruno Mars’ protégé.

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Words: 2.7 k

Genre: Fluff

Previous: I II III IV V

Pushing open the door to your apartment, you crossed the threshold with a tired sigh.

 You had stayed late again after work. Thankfully it was straight-forward and did not require you to make any phone calls to other agencies, but that did not stop you from internally cussing out all of head office with language that would have made a sailor proud.

 Two hours of overtime and a 45-minute commute later, you finally returned to your beloved hovel of a sanctuary where you can finally kick back, relax, and forget all of your worr-

 Why is my sock wet.

 Confused, you fumbled against the wall searching for the switch and once the lights came on, you immediately came to two conclusions.

 Conclusion number one: Your right sock was indeed wet.

 Conclusion number two: Not only was your sock wet, but your entire main hallway was covered in water.

 Fabulous.

 Following the stream of water, you ended up squatting in front of your bathroom sink, specifically staring at the cabinet under your sink, where a steady stream of water was flowing from the cracks.

 Amazing.

“I’m sorry but maintenance is already out on a call. I’m afraid there won’t be another availability until the morning”

 Perfection.

 “Is there….anything you can do? Surely there has to be someone who can come in, my apartment is flooding” you stressed, looking at the water with growing concern. You heard the sounds of typing and clicking, then after a few moments of silence the voice came back.

 “You can contact a local plumber, however we can only cover the cost of repairs done by our maintenance staff, so you will have to pay it on your own if that is what you choose to do”

 You cheap motherfu-

 “I’ll figure something out, thank you for your time.” not bothering to wait for a reply on the other line you ended the call, dropping your cell phone onto the counter with a huff.

 “What good is a 24-hour maintenance service if you have to wait 9 hours to get help” you groaned as you looked at pot under your sink slowing filling up with water.

 Already gone through all of your towels, you were running out of absorbent materials to use, lest you crack open your closet. Sending a scared look to your closet, you picked up your phone once more, unlocking it and beginning your search for local plumbers to call. Just as you were going to press dial on a service that was the closest to your apartment complex you hesitated as you remembered something very important.

 Plumbers cost money.

 And you had limited money.

 Thus, spending money was not really an option.

 If only there was a more cost effective, convenient option...

Hmm.

"'Sup, loser."

 You blinked as your brother shoved something large and oddly soft into your arms. Looking down, you took in the rounded face of the stuffed animal. You could have sworn you've seen it before. Had you seen this online somewhere?

 "Mira and I went to the fair yesterday and she saw this at one of the vendors. She said it reminded her of Mimi, only skinnier" he explained as he walked around you, hauling his utility bag towards the bathroom.

Ah.

Meow.

Following your brother to the bathroom and having him confirm that, yes, he could indeed fix your leaking sink – thank you Baby Jesus - you left him to his devices and made your way to the kitchen to start making dinner. The wonderful thing about the relationship you had with your brother was that the two of you never talked about money. Any favors were always paid back in the form of food.

And nothing says thanks for fixing my sink like five cheese lasagna.

Placing the giant cat plushie on the counter for moral support, you set out on preparing the ingredients. Swaying to the music playing from the speakers you hummed as you worked. You were by no means a good cook, much to your dear mother's dismay. It was just not something you were ever interested in, you were much more interested in the eating rather than the preparing.

 However, if living alone has taught you anything it was that starvation was a true possibility and that no matter how loyal of a customer you were to the ramen place down the street they were never going to give you a discount. Therefore it left you with no choice but to begin your amateur cooking career.

Days since kitchen incident: 2

After a close call with the smoke detector and a half-burnt lasagna later, you set to work on putting your culinary masterpiece on the table. Your brother emerged not long after and you both tucked into the Michelin star meal you prepared.

While you ate the two of you caught up about life. Since moving out it was a rarity that the two of you saw each other, so it was nice to finally hang out and talk like you used to. Secretly you were glad that you and your brother grew up to be close, having known people who aren't as friendly with their siblings. You can't even begin to count the number of times he has been there for you, as a shoulder to cry on when the stress of school was getting to you, as an open ear for you to when life was just a pile of turds. He was always around to give advice and encourage you to do your best, even when you didn't think you could. More than your brother, he was your best friend and you didn't know what you would do without his snarky ass on speed dial.

Not like you would ever admit that to him though.

Can't let the man know you're going soft.

“So how is living on your own? Wanting to pack up and move back to mom and dad’s yet?”

 “Every day. I consider it every. day.”

 “Ahh it can’t be that bad, this is a nice place and it seems like a younger neighborhood, meet any neighbors yet?”

 You almost choked on your wine at the question, mind reeling.

 “Oh…uh, not really” you coughed, trying to act nonchalant. The last thing you needed was your brother interrogating the poor guy “I’ve just been busy with work and stuff, haven’t really been able to meet any of them yet…” trailing off you began to think about your budding friendship with your neighbor.

Once dinner was done your brother retreated back to the bathroom and you finished cleaning up. As you were putting away the dishes he emerged with a victorious look on his face.

"Well now that that is done," he started, making his way back towards the kitchen, "anything else that requires free labor?"

"Oh hush," you said, sweeping a critical eye across the kitchen "now that I think about it the ice dispenser has been furiously projecting ice cubes whenever I try to use it....but then again, I like how it keeps my reflexes sharp."

"Always on your toes, I like your style."

"Speaking of sharp reflexes, how do you feel about having your ass handed to you at some Mario Kart?"

"Oh, poor child" your brother rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves as he took a seat on your couch, "it's so great that you have dreams, but as your older brother it is my duty to crush them."

With a sleepy yawn, the sound of soft footfalls resonated through the apartment as you entered your kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights. The morning sun was peeking through the slit in the curtains, dimly illuminating the room and providing enough light to accomplish your mission. You busied yourself with preparing a much-needed caffeinated beverage, and a content sigh passed through you once the fragrant aroma started to fill the room.

Equipped with an arsenal to start the day, you walked over to the curtains and slowly pulled them back to reveal two things.

A sleeping cat, and a wall of black curtains.

Taking a long, contemplative sip from your mug, your eyes narrowed on the latter of the two, a frown forming on your face.

 You begin to replay the last week in your head, more specifically your interactions with the owner of said closed curtains.

  A tired sigh escaped you as you gazed at the rising sun, eyes squinting in silent contempt. You were by no means a morning person, however there was no mistaking that the silence of the morning was a welcome sight, especially since you were about to join the chaos of rush hour.

It was in that moment of contemplation that black curtains were pulled back, revealing a familiar face.

 Speaking of welcomed sights.

 “Good morning neighbor” taking a sip from your mug, you offered a friendly wave to the man across from you.

 He seemed taken aback by your presence, not anticipating you to be standing right there. He was wearing a fitted black sweater, which you immediately concluded looked very nice on him, and you thanked whatever higher power that his hair was unstyled, and instead hung around his face.

 He looked like he wanted to say something but was stopped when a white blob jumped up on the windowsill and made itself known. He instead offered you an odd smile, and before you could question the oddity he beat you to it.

 “Good morning” with a curt nod in your direction, he then abruptly turned around and disappeared into his apartment, leaving you bewildered in his wake.

 That was strange, you thought.

  Humming a tune as you walked into the living room, fiddling with your phone as you browsed through the daily headlines.

 Tabloids. Tabloids. Conspiracy Theory. Tabloids.

 With an uninterested swipe, you began to read about how the moon doesn’t actually exist and is actually a hologram designed by NASA. Riveting stuff. Five paragraphs and a link to the Flat Earthers Association later, a movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Turning you, saw the silhouette of your neighbour walking past the window come into view.

 Catching his eye, you gave him a friendly smile and wave, opening your mouth to greet the man.

 Only to have it caught in your throat, as you were given the same curt nod, and then the man scampered away, coat in hand as he swung it on with his back turned to you. He appeared to be in a hurry.

 Maybe later, then.

  Hopping on one foot, you slipped on your kitten heels, stumbling into your living room and picked up your keys from the coffee table. Jostling them in your hands, out of habit you cast a glance towards the window. No sign of your elusive neighbor.

 God, I’m starting to look like a creep

 Your shame was short lived, however, when you noticed the dark fabric across the way.

 Checking your watch you frowned, however that frown soon turned into panic as you realized you were most definitely going to be late this time.

 Shit.

Now, this may be a bit of a reach....and it is totally possible that you are simply imagining things...

But you are almost certain you are being avoided.

To be fair, the main reason you came to this conclusion was due to the fact that you had done the same thing not two weeks ago, but that is not important right now..

It was very much apparent that he was going through some measures to avoid you. It would seem as though subtlety was not his strong suit.

 As you were getting ready in your bedroom you would often head the faint sounds of Mimi pawing at the window, followed by a very familiar voice. However, once you pulled back the curtains you were met with closed black curtains and a shifty looking cat.

You needed a second opinion.

"Ghosted. You are being ghosted. "

"Woman, I am not being ghosted, how many times-"

"Well then clearly something happened" Seulgi deadpanned from across the table "did something happen when you guys were talking? Something other than the awkward nerdy sexual tension of course"

"Kim I will end you I swear-"

"Well it's true! If it was going as well as you said it did, you clearly must have said something"

Leaning back in your chair, you glanced around the break room pensively.

 The thought did cross your mind more than once, but he was usually just as engaged as you were. At the thought of your neighbour, you could not help the smile that slipped onto your face. Thinking of his melodic voice, how his eye lit up when he laughed and his adorable heart shaped smile-

 “Ohnonono, oi cut it out with those googoo eyes” furiously snapping her fingers in front of your face, Seulgi gave you a pointed look.

“You know he could just be busy with work and your worrying over nothing” she pointed out, and you frowed.

 “It just seems like it’s something more than that” you said, tilting your head back and staring at the ceiling.

“It just seems like he is going out of his way to not see me, you know? Which makes absolutely no sense, you would think having an hour long debate about pineapple on pizza-”

 “Wait, which side were you on?”

 “I happen to enjoy a Hawaiian pizza”

“You are the devil incarnate”

 “That was more or less his point of view as well. But I think I was this close to bringing him to the light” you said, making a gesture with your fingers, ignoring the scoff from across the table “I was preparing a pretty good pitch, but then my sink decided to do a sick impression of the Bellagio fountains and flooded my bathroom. If it weren’t for my brother fixing it I would have been living in waterworld. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if it ruined the hardwood, cause im broke as shi-”

 “Woahwoahwoah hold up” raising a hand, Seulgi looked at you with wide eyes “What did you just say?”

 Blinking at your friend, you furrowed your eyebrows “The Bellagio fountains? The ones in Las Vegas? Bruno Mars did a bit where he rode around on a jet ski in it?”

 “No not the damn fountains, idiot, before that. You’re brother was over at your apartment?” she asked, and you groaned at her overly eager expression.

 “How many times have I told you, my brother if out of your league, Kang-”

 “That’s not what I meant. Also, excuse you, I’m a solid 10” she deadpanned, and you snorted “I mean your brother was over at your house. Did he see him? Now hear me out-“ she quickly added, seeing your confused expression change to an exasperated one.

 “What if he thought your brother was...yknow” she made a gesture in the air “That would explain so much. He thought you were hanging out with your boyfriend, not knowing it was actually your brother, and then he backs off because he thinks you’re taken and feels like a fool”

 The two of you just stared at each other, Seulgi looking like she had discovered the eighth wonder of the world, and you looking like she had grown a second head.

 You were the one to break your staring contest, shaking your head in bewilderment.

 “And you said I was the lame one for watching soap operas” you muttered

 Leaning back in her chair, you could practically see the gears in her head turning, her expression looking more and more determined.

 “It literally explains everything though, why didn’t I see this before” suddenly she lets out a loud laugh.

 Arms crossed, you watched the cackling woman as she began muttering to herself about ‘being better than TV’. Frowning, you replayed her words in your head over and over, not denying that the timing of it all was coincidental. Still.

 “Even if you don’t agree with it, you can't deny the timing of it all is too much of a coincidence” she stated, voicing your exact thoughts.

 Taking advantage of your silence she pushed on, “Well there is only one thing that we can do now”

 “We?”

 “Time to test the theory.”

 You immediately regret asking for a second opinion.

[sparks-is-here]

Monsters (Darkiplier X Reader): Jealousy is a Beast (Part 4)

   Dark and I head out in his matte black McLaren P1 Spider with red interior, not only was it an expensive car, but it was gorgeous. I'm not usually one to fall in love with way over priced sports cars but this one I couldn't stop obsessing over. I was thrilled to look at it let alone ride in it, not to mention Dark was driving pretty fast, it was attractive, he knew the car, and he knew how to handle the horse power. After drooling over the car so much I look back up at Dark, realizing he looks different, his skin is no longer a pale grey, and his black eyes are brown now. "You see Y/N, I can't go out looking like a demon, now can I? I change my appearance to stay out of trouble, and to keep you safe" he says while stroking the side of my face with his hand. "So.. you wear contacts and hide your skin to help?" "You've got the idea, by the way call me Mark when we are out."

  We made it to our destination quickly, he was taking me to a mall, I had enough clothes though... "I figured you would want to pick more things out for yourself, I know your clothing style, but I don't know anything about makeup, or bra sizes or period crap... so I figured I could bring you here so you could pick it out." "That's sweet Dark, but I don't have any money, you kinda kidnapped me without my wallet." Dark laughed as we walked into the mall, "I know, I'm paying for it all, shop your heart out doll." Dark winked at me as we walked around looking for stores to shop in. We were surprisingly laughing a lot, we talked a lot about clothes and we people watched too. We talked so much about the other shoppers that I hadn't realized Dark's arm was around my waist.

  Maybe it was a protective thing, after all he has technically kidnapped me, and I'm in an area I haven't been in before. Or maybe he was confessing his true feelings for me that first night we met. But who would kidnap someone that they have feelings for against their will? Without me even meeting him beforehand? This is crazy, I should be trying to escape, not fall for his act. I look around for an escape, I can't run, it will be too obvious... I spot a bathroom close by. "Hey Da- I mean Mark?" "Yes Y/N?" "May I go to the bathroom please?" "Of course, don't be too long!" Dark smiles taking my shopping bag and sits on a couch in the center resting area in the mall. I briskly walk towards the bathrooms, I need to think of a plan and fast. I step in the bathroom and look for windows, I'm out of luck, there are none. I walk into a stall and lower the toilet seat and sit, I throw my head into my hands and I start to cry. I'm trapped... I can't escape this man... demon? He is being nice to me... and taking care of me? But I'm afraid, where do my family and friends think I am? I want to see them. It wasn't until someone knocked on my stall door that I realized how loud I was sobbing.

  "Are you okay in there sweetie?" A sweet sounding voice asks. "I-I'm okay..." I sniffle back. "It doesn't sound like you're doing okay, come on, open the door..." I reach for the lock and open it, a redheaded girl who has beautiful green eyes looks at me smiling, she leads me to the chairs on the side of the bathroom made for waiting. "I know a broken heart when I hear one, my name's Katie, what's yours?" I wipe my tears away, "I'm Y/N." Katie grabs a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and sits next to me, handing the towels to me, "Now what are you upset about?" I don't know how to explain to her that not only I have been kidnapped, but I've been taken by a demon. "It's just this guy, I have mixed feelings about him." Well... that's not a lie... "I knew it was a boy! What's the matter? Does he like another girl? Is he rude to you? Is he secretly your brother??" Katie gasps dramatically. I giggle, "No, none of those." "It's just I don't know if I can stay with him, he's sweet, but can be bipolar? I'm worried I won't be able to balance him and my family and friends?" I mean still technically not a lie... "I understand, you just need to make sure you get some you time with your other loved ones. I'm sure he will understand if you just mention it to him, everyone deserves time with other people they care about. And for the bipolar part, remember to stay calm, if you haven't had any experience with someone who is bipolar, just remember to speak in a normal voice and to breath. Things will simmer down with their emotions if you stay calm." "Thanks Katie, you're right, I just need to make sure to stay calm and talk my feelings out." "Exactly! And it's no problem, I gotta go, but here is my number if you wanna talk some more. See ya round!" Katie walks out after handing me a slip of paper with her cell number. "Bye K" I smile, K... I like that, she's pretty cool.

  I walk out of the bathroom walking towards where Dark is sat, he's still people watching. K was right, I just need to keep an open mind, he's just misunderstood. "Took you awhile, are you okay sweetheart?" Dark gets up, he has a concerned look on his face. "I'm okay, I was just talking to a really nice girl in there." I  smile up at him. "Aww, that's nice that you made a new friend." See? He's not that possessive. "Oh my god! A Sephora!" I start to pass Dark to head over to the big beauty store. Dark looks over his shoulder confused, he sighs and laughs at how excited you are about the makeup store. Dark was shocked when he found out your love for makeup, you ended up teaching a few of the girls at Sephora a few things. Makeup was an art form for you, you've been obsessed with it for as long as you can remember, he was fascinated with your knowledge. You purchased all of your basic needs for makeup and skincare and said goodbye to all of the Sephora girls, you even made a couple new friends. Maybe this won't be so bad. The atmosphere between you and Dark was changing, he was being genuinely caring to you, he listened to you and he was showing interest in what you liked.

  You suddenly noticed giant letters and glittery wallpaper out of the corner of your eye. "Vicky's Secret? I almost forgot I need new underwear..." Dark coughed looking at you with... almost fear in his eyes? I couldn't believe what I was looking at, this big tall Demon was afraid to walk into a bra and panty store? I had to hold my breath so I wouldn't start laughing. I looked at the store front and back at Dark. He stiffened up and cleared his throat, "Alright I'll go in, don't let go of my hand though." Just as I thought, a big softy, this will be fun. "Yes Mark..." I giggle. We walk into the store, Dark grips my hand and looks down at the floor, I shop like normal, looking at the different styles and colors. I make a couple of selections and head towards the back of the store, I look closer at the more intricate pieces of the store forgetting Dark is latched onto my waist waiting for me to finish shopping. I smirk, holding up a black and red set, it's cute but pretty sexy, I decide to mess with Dark a little with this one. I turn around, Dark continues to look at the floor. I hold up the lingerie set and pose. 'What do you think of these Mark baby..." Dark looks up, he blushes a deep red and looks back down, "I have no comment." I take his jaw and bring his eyes to look back up at me, "What's wrong? Is my big bad demon shy now?" Suddenly his eyes are no longer brown, they change to black, his skin goes pale again, his mouth forms into a scoul, "Test me more Y/N, you will get your punishment." I gulp, I really must have pushed him, I place down the pieces and take his hand once more, "I'm sorry Da- I mean Mark." "Let's go," Dark squeezes my hand, I blink and we are suddenly in the center of the mall. "Did we just teleport? I whisper to Dark. "Yes, now shove all of that in one of your bags." I look down at my hand and see all off the underwear we were going to buy. "Dark! We just stole this stuff!!" "Not if they notice it in your hand now put it in the bag!" He whisper yells back at me. I quickly do as he says, I look around and see no one has noticed. Dark looks at me and smirks, "Good girl, now let's go grab some food." We head towards the food court and pick a restaurant and wait in line. Suddenly while I was looking at the menu I get tapped on the shoulder.

  "I've just gotta tell you, you're so fucking hot, just wait until I get you to my place." "First of all, I'm with someone else, second have some respect for another human being you dick," I yell at the pervert. He pulls me against him by my waist, I push against his chest trying to get away yet, he's got us so close that I can't kick him in the balls.

"Get your filthy hands off of her." I hear a voice behind me. Thank you Dark, I suddenly think, hopefully he was reading my mind at that very moment. "And who are you? Piss off bro she's my taking for the night," the stranger responds to Dark, the perv pushes me further away and I fall to the ground. Dark suddenly cracks his neck, I hear ringing in my ears and he looks like his normal self again, everything goes black and white. "Call her yours one more time and you won't be able to take yourself home at night when I'm finished with you." Dark, is jealous..? The pervert looks up after shaking his head, he must be hearing the ringing too. He puts his fists up ready to fight back. Dark grabs the man by his throat and suddenly I start to see the colors red and blue start to surround him, his voice... it's almost echoing.

  Dark slowly grows taller, his hands become claws and he grows fangs, his appearance becomes less like a person and more like a giant wolf like beast, or a monster. This new demonic form Dark has taken scares me yet fascinates me so much, I'm scared to look at him, but I've only ever seen supernatural stuff like this in movies... The man tries to pry off Dark's claws from his throat, Dark drops him, and cracks his neck again. Damn... jealousy is a beast. Everything goes back to normal colors, Dark is in his human disguise again, and the man who was harassing me runs away. "What did you just do?" I whisper to Dark. "Something I hope you won't have to ever see again, he tested me and disrespected you, he won't bother us again." Dark exclaims as he takes my hand and walks us out of the mall. "Wait, did no one else notice what just happened?!" "Of course not, I stopped time temporarily so no one is aware of what just happened between me and that dickhead back there." "Damn." A moment of silence peers between us. "Uh... hey Dark?" "Yes?" the entity looks back at me trying to catch his breath with the adrenaline still running through him. "May we go home? I-It's been a long day for me... I'm feeling lightheaded..." I suddenly feel more tired, did what Dark just do in the mall, make me feel this tired? What did he do anyway... I mean he stopped time, but what powers does he have? "Dark... I think I'm going to fain-" My vision goes black. "I know it took a lot out of you to see what I did to that douche back there, soon you will build a tolerance my dear, but for now we must go home." Dark whispers to Y/N as he finishes putting her to sleep, he drives them back home for her to continue to rest.

[furinjuru]

Our Sea Of Today - Chapter 16 - Improvement

It’s only been a week since she actually met You, but Yoshiko thinks she’s got a pretty good idea of her personality. Although it would be a gross oversimplification of their characters, she feels like it wouldn’t be amiss to compare her to Chika. They’re energetic and passionate about the things they enjoy. They like helping people, but also somewhat self-sacrificing. If they were in an anime, You would fit a lot of different characters. The childhood friend, the girl-next-door, the energetic sports-loving girl, and the popular girl just to name a few.

There are, obviously, a few things about You that Yoshiko doesn’t think she’ll ever know the answers to. Like whether or not she actually has a senpai-complex. Still, she feels like she understands You enough to at least make an accurate guess (yes).

However, the You she saw on Monday morning seemed...off. She still smiled and did that salute she did often when they saw each other, but other than a brief greeting they barely talked to each other. And it’s not like Yoshiko wasn’t trying. They had a lot to talk about! They could talk about boring things like the weather and schoolwork, or something more exciting like the new popularity of Aqours, or what they can do to revive the Supernatural Club. Every time she tried to start a conversation, You would follow along for a few minutes before getting distracted again. It’s more than a little frustrating.

Her mood didn’t improve when she got off the bus, either. They just walked together in awkward silence before parting ways, Yoshiko heading to her class where Chika and Dia were waiting. Today, it seemed like they were the center of the conversation, something Yoshiko couldn’t be happier for. Riko had come over to them to congratulate them personally and seemed at least receptive to the idea of helping them write more songs. Other than You, no one else had signed up yet, but that’s fine. If they continued to impress, more people will come. Chika and Dia know this very well, already tossing ideas back and forth for their next live.

All things considered, today is a fantastic day. She just hopes You will be back to normal sooner than later.

  By lunch break, You still isn’t back to normal. In fact, Yoshiko might think that she’s gotten worse. Her, Chika, and Dia were waiting in the schoolyard when You arrived. Apparently, she forgot her lunch at home. After refusing their offers to share their lunch, she runs towards the cafeteria while promising she’ll return soon. As soon as she’s gone, Dia glares at Yoshiko. She’s not the only one who realizes that You isn’t her usual self

“Yoshiko, did you do something to her?” She asks, suspecting the worst.

“Why would you think that?” Yoshiko did nothing wrong, of course. She’s innocent, and she tries to get that fact across to Dia, who is still glaring. “Look at me! I couldn’t hurt her if I tried!” It’s humiliating to admit that a first-year probably could kick her ass in a fight, but she’s worried that Dia would actually kick her ass.

“You’re the one who takes the bus with her every day, so I thought you had something to do with it.”

“Well, I don’t. She’s been like that all morning. Even I don’t know why.” The two turn to face the third person in the group, who’s biting down on two slices of mikan simultaneously. She realizes that all of the attention is on her and nervously gulps down the fruit before asking.

“What?”

“Chika, do you know the reason You is acting like this?” Dia asks, hopefully. “It can’t be that she’s sick of us already, right?” Chika pauses, seeming to ponder the possibility of such a scenario before shaking her head.

“Nah. I think it’s just because her dad left.” Yoshiko’s jaw drops, as well as Dia’s.

“What?!” She exclaims far too loudly. “Her dad left?” Chika nods, and the other two feel a heavy weight settling in their chest. This feels like something personal, far too personal to be casually mentioned in a conversation in public. But both of them are curious, and Yoshiko takes the risk by asking the question. “D-did something happen between him and You’s mom?”

Chika gives Yoshiko a flat stare, before bursting out into laughter, startling Yoshiko and Dia. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she grins at them. “That’s not what I meant, silly!” She says, close to another bout of laughter. “Her dad is a boat captain, so he’s back to work. Didn’t I tell you two about this before?”

“I think I remember you telling us that in the past,” Dia says calmly, as if she hadn’t been panicking as well. “I see. That’s understandable.”

“Yep,” Chika says while chewing on another mikan slice. “Her dad usually isn’t even around at the start of the school year. But since she’s starting high school, he decided to take an entire week off to see her. Usually he only comes back in summer and winter.”

Unfortunately, they’re unable to continue their conversation as You returns soon after with a few sandwiches. The way she’s acting makes more sense now that they know the reason behind it. Yoshiko’s surprised that she didn’t notice it before, but You looks more lonely rather than sad. It’s an expression she knows very well; the same expression she sometimes sees on her own face.

She knows exactly what You needs right now.

  On the bus ride home, Yoshiko confronts You about it.

“I heard from Chika,” she says, finally getting You to look at her. “You dad’s heading out to sea, right? That’s why you’re a lot...quieter today.”

“Yeah.” You smiles wistfully. “Sorry. I guess it isn’t really much fun sitting with me when I don’t really answer to anything.”

“Don’t worry.” You nods, and the two fall back into silence. You stares out of the window, while Yoshiko stares at You, concerned. “...would you mind if I talk?” She asks. “You can just listen. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” You doesn’t object, so Yoshiko continues.

“I kinda get what you’re feeling. I don’t see my dad a whole lot either, and my mom always works late. We’d probably have dinner together and then go to bed.” You turns around, facing her as if asking her to continue. “In fact, I can even remember a few times when she missed Christmas and New Years.”

“That sucks,” You says, surprising Yoshiko. She thought You would stay quiet for the entire ride. She continues.

“My mom isn’t happy about it either. But there’s not really anything she can do about it. I’m sure your dad feels the same.”

She coughs, wracking her brain for the best way to articulate her thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is, if something is bothering you, you can definitely tell me about it. You keep listening to me talk about my problems, and it feels unfair that it’s only one-way. Besides, I’m supposed to be your upperclassman, and I want you to rely on me sometimes.”

You doesn’t respond, and Yoshiko assumes the worst scenario. “B-but, you don’t have to,” she says dismissively. “I’m just saying that it’s bad to let those kinds of feelings pile up, and it wouldn’t be good if my loyal little demon was distracted by those kinds of things. So you should-” You giggles, and Yoshiko stops talking.

“Thanks, Yohane,” You smiles genuinely for the first time today. “I’m glad to hear it. Really.” Her words cause a smile to appear on Yoshiko’s features as well. The conversation dies out, but this time the silence is warm and comfortable, two friends simply enjoying each other’s comfort. In a shocking move, You breaks it. “So, I guess it gets pretty lonely at your place, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” Yoshiko replies curtly.

“Well, even though you don’t need my help with sewing or anything right now...do you want to come over to my house? I got chocolate.”

Yoshiko’s eyes widen, but she agrees without hesitation.

Maybe You wasn’t the only one who needed some company. Maybe they’re both helping each other out.

 The students of Uranohoshi live peaceful lives. After a stressful first week at school for juniors and Club Day preparation for sophomores, they're eager to relax. Seniors are enjoying their last months of freedom before starting cram school and focusing on exams. Even with the possibility of their school shutting down looming over them, few know how dire the situation actually is.

Within the halls of Uranohoshi, there's one room that has become forgotten over time. Its lack of general use and absence of people entering and exiting has caused students to ignore it. But today, the room has two people occupying it. "The constant developments in Numazu are unpredictable and ever-changing, so to assume that Uranohoshi would become irrelevant within the time span of a few years is completely idiotic." Kanan sits on one of the many comfortable chairs in the room, watching as Mari performs an oration. The normally carefree expression on her face has been replaced by a steely, yet fiery gaze as she speaks loudly and passionately.

As she finishes her speech, Kanan claps her hand. “So, was it good?” Mari asks, smiling.

“A lot better than last time.”

Mari frowns. “But still not good enough, right?” Both knew the answer already, but Kanan nods nonetheless. She lets out a tired sigh, collapsing onto her plush seat. “...I need more practice.”

“What you need is a break,” Kanan interjects, standing up and walking over to Mari. “You’ve been practicing this speech for four hours now.”

“The speech has to be perfect, Kanan,” Mari mutters. “The fate of the school rests on it. I have to take this seriously.”

“When is the presentation, by the way?” Kanan asks as she goes to the water dispenser, filling a cup with water; Mari must be thirsty after reciting the speech so many times.

“This week. I’ll be meeting up with all of the board members and see if I can get them to cancel the merging.” She sighs again, closing her eyes. “It’s stressful. They don’t take me seriously because I’m just a high school student. They say I ‘don’t get it’ even though I love this school more than they do. It’s so frustrating.”

“So that’s why you want the speech to be perfect?” Kanan sounds impressed as she places the cup on the table. Mari thanks her, taking slow sips as she lets the cold water wet her parched throat. “Because you want them to take you seriously?”

“Yes. It’s alright since it’s for Uranohoshi.”

“Then...” Kanan points to herself. “Why did you ask me to help?”

“Two reasons.” Mari smiles. “You’re the former student council president. You have experience when it comes to making speeches.”

“I’m not that good.” She answers bashfully. “And the second reason?”

“Because you’re my friend.” She stares at Mari, asking her to continue. “Dia is...serious, but she thinks of us as her older sisters. I’m worried she won’t be honest when judging me. Also...” Mari looks out of the window, staring at nothing in particular. “...I don’t want her to worry too much.”

Kanan pauses, realizing that Mari has changed more than she originally thought. She’s not the same girl she remembers from childhood. Hell, Kanan might argue that she’s not the same girl who left Uchiura over a year ago.

Still, she thinks, some things never change. She goes around the table, standing behind Mari before patting her on the shoulder. That seems to do the trick, as Mari’s pulled out of her thoughts, her eyes looking at Kanan questioningly. “You’ve always cared about her a lot. You’re like her mom.”

“Ehhh?! No way!” Mari laughs. “I’m nowhere near old enough. Besides, ever since we were kids, you’re more like her mom.”

“Aren’t I younger than you?” Kanan laughs as well, smiling as Mari’s normally cheerful expression returns. She ’s still the same happy-go-lucky girl, but she’s learned when to be serious now.

“So, do you want to start practicing again?” Mari nods, turning towards a piece of paper on her desk. There are scribbles and words all over it as Mari made corrections through the course of a few hours. Kanan leans over Mari’s shoulder to look at it, not noticing the blonde tensing up and her cheeks becoming flushed. “So, I think you should change this part here.”

“Oh?” Mari asks, her voice an octave higher than normal. “W-why is that?”

“Since you want to be taken seriously, it would be better to use polite words. When we’re not sure, better safe than sorry.” She then points towards the last part. “Also here. They won’t appreciate you calling their decision ‘completely idiotic’. I think a word like ‘asinine’ would be better.”

“You do know they mean the same thing, right?”

“That’s exactly why we should change it,” Kanan says. “Since they mean the same thing, the point of your sentence doesn’t change. But I think one sounds more polite.”

“I see....”

As Kanan helps Mari practice her speech, she can’t help but feel warmth spreading inside of her. It’s almost like their childhood days, although they’re missing Dia. But for now, this is okay. Even after two years of separation, their friendship hasn’t changed.

That’s what she thinks.

She doesn’t remember feeling so much happiness just being with Mari. She doesn’t remember the way Mari’s quirky voice gives her goosebumps. She doesn’t remember feeling happy that Dia isn’t with them.

She doesn’t remember her heart beating oddly when Mari is around.

...she’s probably just nervous. Yeah, she’s nervous for Mari’s presentation, because it could decide what happens to Uranohoshi.

Nervous. That’s what she’s experiencing. She’s just nervous.

She takes a deep breath, her eyes locked onto Mari.

She feels even warmer now.

[iscribble]

tuesday boy

pairing: wen junhui x fem!reader synopsis: you encounter him at the bakery and start seeing him every tuesday at the movie theatre where you work since then, until you feel that he wants more than just free movies and snacks.  genre(s): fluff, slice of life, strangers to lovers word count: 1,720

If you take the 07.56 train to Seongdong-gu, scurry past its sliding doors and cease before the sun-drenched, spread out streets, you would catch a glimpse of an Aporia hippia with kaleidoscopic wings fluttering no more than a little over your eyelashes. The thick furred German Shepherd now tethered to a post would flash its canines at you before softening its growl. If you turn left after the first green public bin ahead of the entrance, you would come across the hotdog stall where people would both patiently and peevishly line up in front of.

And for the past few years, Junhui had already been taking this route to college.

There is an alternative, though. If he lingers in the bakery and waits until the owner approaches him with a smile, he could ask for one pepperoni pizza bread and please a girl. She would kiss him on the cheek and fly into the doors of the movie theatre she works at. He’d have to agree to forsake the morning butterfly and the sizzling hotdogs prior to taking this route, though. 

Junhui had only discovered this a few months ago, but it had become an established route of his every Tuesday.

You were standing on your toes, pleading for a reduction on your customary breakfast as you’d left your wallet somewhere under the soft quilt at home. Your attempt would’ve been futile if it hadn’t been for that one stranger sticking around.

“I have some money left,” he handed his money in exchange for your favourite bread. He tossed it upwards and passed it to you with a heart fluttering smile. “Here you go.”

The redness on your pallid cheeks started to show, your jaw twitching as you tried to free the words scrambled on the tip of your tongue. “Y-you really didn’t have to!” 

He shrugged, “Breakfast’s the most vital meal of the day.”

You used to think people like him only existed in films. The kind souled and genuine people who greet each other and offer a hand - would it not sound very peculiar if it were to happen in real life? You were so accustomed to studying every particular in a two-hour movie that witnessing the same event materialise before you formed a horripilation on your skin. You swallowed. “C-come by the movie theatre sometime, I’ll give you free snacks. I work there.” 

“A popcorn and a drink?” He lightened up. Considering how he sounded, people near him would’ve guessed he resented diets and would prefer snacking off and on. In all honesty, the pink tinge outspread across your cheeks and the shimmer that flickered within your amber orbs had been the only ones bringing about this behaviour. 

“Sure,” you bobbed your head. After what he had done, you weren’t letting him go in possession of nothing. “Your name..?”

“Ah,” he snapped his fingers, “it’s Junhui.”

After seven suns have drowned in the horizon and the sound of hurrying trains continued to resonate in your ears, Junhui has yet to drop by the movie theatre. Did he not want something in return? But he sounded so excited the other day! Although you finally surmised he most likely failed to recall your promise, a part of you agonised over the fact that he might not want to see you again.

But when the doors to the movie theatre opened with an abrupt whirl of wind on an inclement Tuesday afternoon, you knew you shouldn’t have had anything to worry about.

“Woah,” Junhui took in his surroundings - including the uniform you bore. He took giddy steps toward the counter, eyes dilating with incredulity at the variegated refreshments available to purchase. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a cinema before,” you descried the quick glitter somewhere within his eyes. Junhui glanced at you before quietly deciding on a popcorn flavour. 

“I’ve been to several, but that’s a couple of years ago. Oh, caramel, please.” 

You grinned to yourself, stunned for a second at how surprisingly pure this boy was. You began filling the empty popcorn bucket before realising you weren’t aware of his desired size. “Large, medium, or small?”

Junhui returned his gaze at you. “I’ll take small.”

And then you offered him a drink, but he refused, saying he thought about it the other day and he didn’t pay you this much. But you insisted that he accepted your offer, telling him “breakfast’s the most vital meal of the day”, and if you had missed it, it would feel worse than losing a couple of dollars. 

The amount of people in the cinema was too little to be considered a crowd, each room being occupied by roughly ten, if not, less. You told Junhui he could watch something if he wanted to - and that he still had to pay - which he agreed to. The movie would only start an hour later though, so Junhui had enough time to keep himself busy - which he finally determined to get to know you better.

The movie - horror, he previously picked - began, and while Jun relished his two hours inside theatre four, you had theatre three free of mess. Once in a while, you would sit down on one of the seats in the back row and think about Jun and his irresistible appeals, your heart thumping an unnecessary amount of times. You were being ridiculous; you had only met Junhui twice.

As time is extended, you were so sure you had developed feelings for Jun. You realised first you had fallen in love with his eyes. Every time he scanned the menu for something more than a popcorn and a drink, you would sneakily search within them.

Junhui stopped by more than you expected him to.  He had once come with a friend, who insisted they watch the latest comedy film. He came with more friends after - four or five, you couldn’t remember - in which you had given Jun a little price cut instead of a hundred percent discount, so his friends wouldn’t be too envious. They would finish two and a half hours later, your eyes already groggy as you tried to resist the urge to shut them. You didn’t know this, but Jun would look back at you refilling drink dispensers or scrubbing the bar before catching up with his friends who are already outside. On some days your head would be tilted over your crossed arms on the far corner of the counter, as your co-workers did their portion of the job. He would fret over your weary figure, hesitating in his tracks before stepping out of the theatre. With this, Junhui had become aware that he might also be developing feelings for you.

Jun would habitually come on Tuesday afternoons, around two or three. But today, he didn’t show up until the sun had set. He’d asked you earlier if you worked the night shift. You don’t, but your co-worker had a dental appointment so you covered up for her.

He looked a little enervated. His head was hung low, his hair a tad dishevelled, and his smile didn’t stretch until the crinkle beneath his eyes emerged. You asked him why he had come this late, he replied with a quick “I had something to do”. Jun declined your treat of popcorn and a drink - which was weird - although he did pick to watch a movie.

If it hadn’t been for Jun, the theatre would’ve been completely vacant. Still, he chose to sit in the back row with nothing in hand - not a meal, not a phone, not a friend, nothing. Jun looked strange and uneasy today. He picked romance, a genre you knew he wasn’t interested in. You shrugged it off though, Jun was full of surprises.

You didn’t have much cleaning to do, as the movie theatre had been almost empty the entire day. Maybe it was finals week, you thought. 

You glanced at the doors of theatre four - the room Jun was in - and came up with a very risky idea. You pulled off the hairband that fastened your ponytail and let your hair down. You switched into a white pussy bow, paired with a leather look legging. You peeked through the doors of theatre four and made sure no one but Jun was inside before entering.

He squinted his eyes at you climbing up the aisle, trying to figure out if they were functioning well because it couldn’t be you - it shouldn’t be you. 

When you asked Jun if you could sit next to him, he nodded, feeling a lump rising in his throat. His hands were fidgety, you noticed. You stared at the widespread screen in front of you, trying to fight the urge to stop his hands from moving too restlessly. 

You weren’t into romance either, so the movie didn’t do much in piquing your interest. Your eyelids grew heavier every passing second, the view in front of you starting to blur. You were about shut your eyes for good when a hand slipped into yours, your fingers intertwined perfectly with Jun’s.

You stared at your hands impassively, still not believing your fingers were coiled around his soft and slender ones. Now you could really feel the moistness in his hand, the same one that was unsure and fidgety awhile ago. You uttered a giggle, causing Jun to nervously face you and lick his chapped lips. 

“I have a, uh,” he coughed, “a confession to make.”

You chuckled, “I like you too, Junhui.”

He grinned. He grinned with patent bliss. In fact, very widely you swore you heard his cheekbones crack. His ebony eyes returned to glistening again, the radiant joy that he used to bear now visible. 

Junhui was back to Jun, and all it took was a confession from you.

You would be waiting in front of the theatre every Tuesday, he’d be panting, droplets of sweat evident on his shirt by the time he arrived with your favourite pepperoni pizza bread in his grip. He would come back in the afternoon, hair slicked back, his espadrilles intermittently dripping with rainwater, and breath always a little minty. You would kiss him on the lips and head out on a date with your Tuesday boy.

[artificialqueens]

Make Me Your Last Dance - Chapter 1 (Farralexis/ Vaja) - Space Cat

A/N: The high school prom au that no one asked for– Alexis/Farrah-centric

Alexis yawned, pulling on her uniform. Today they were catering to a school dance, although the location was…strange. A bowling alley wasn’t her first choice for a school dance, but then again, her own school dances were just held in the gym because of budget cuts. Hundreds of bodies crowded into the small building, not at all like the huge venue she was helping to set up tonight.

Still, the place they were holding it was pretty swanky, she had to admit. With the lights dimmed and the bright colors shooting around, it almost did look like a proper venue. She smoothed out the tablecloth before scattering candies between the plates.

“Little brats,” Shea sighed affectionately. “Remember our school dance? I know it wasn’t this nice.”

“I remember,” Alexis chuckled. “Sasha convinced you to ditch early to go skinny dipping in the school pool together and left me and Peppermint to suffer alone.” She spread out the candies more evenly, thinking about the prom they had last month. “She was so pissed.” she grinned, remembering Peppermint chasing Sasha around the empty parking lot. “It was hilarious.”

Shea snickered, remembering her girlfriend’s terrified look when she saw Peppermint coming for her. She cast a longing look at the desserts. “I hope they don’t eat too much,” she admitted. “Trinity really outdid herself this time.”

“That she did,” Alexis agreed. She checked her watch. “C’mon, it’s almost time.”

–

“And? What do you think?” Valentina spun in a slow circle, showing off her long, formal dress; blue with glittering sequins, with snowflake earrings to fit in with the winter theme.

“You’re gorgeous,” Aja sighed happily. It didn’t matter that she had already seen her in the dress and said so before; Valentina looked just as happy and that was all that mattered.

Farrah sighed, resisting the urge to complain about them being a gross again. She could literally see the sparkles and hearts gliding off Aja and Valentina’s constant lovey dovey glances and small smiles they kept sending each other. Why she ever let them convince her to tag along was beyond her.

Still, she had to agree Valentina did look lovely in that gown. She pouted a little, hoping that she looked just as pretty in her red, bedazzled dress. “Alright, love birds, come on lets get going,” she cut in before Aja could give Valentina another fond look. “Although it’s only 6 o’clock right now, I’m not quite sure how long it’ll take to drive there. It’s all the way downtown, after all.”

Not quite turning away from Valentina, Aja huffed. “Alright, alright, missus perfect-timing. It’s not the end of the world if we’re half an hour late.” Finally looking up, she grinned at Farrah. “Okay then. Let’s get this show on the road.“

–

Alexis poured another bottle of soda into the fancy dispensers, surprised how many people were there already. She wasn’t sure, exactly, what the school was planning, but the DJ wasn’t going to be ready for another hour, at least. There were some groups starting to bowl, for lack of anything else to do, but most had decided to simply dig into the food. Not like she could blame them; she ate just before she came and already she was jealous of the students eating.

Valentina took her time taking in the bowling alley, appraising the place with a critical eye. “I have to admit,” she began, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair, “when they said it was gonna be a bowling alley, I wasn’t expecting much.”

“Way more sickening than I was expecting,” Aja agreed.

Farrah shrugged. “I think it looks nice. Well, this is my first school dance I’ve attended so I can’t really compare much.”

Aja looked at her strangely. “This is your first school dance? We’re seniors.” Farrah blushed and stuck out her bottom lip.

“I just never had the time to go all the other times,” Aja didn’t look convinced, but didn’t question her answer. Farrah sighed as she started towards one of the tables set up near the entrance, motioning her two friends to follow. “It looks like they’re handing out bowling shoes over there.”

There was a man standing by a table piled high with socks, who couldn’t hide the slightest disappointment from his face that he was missing the very important hockey game going on at that moment. “These are your complimentary socks, and shoes are just over there.” He gestured to the desk where a slightly overwhelmed clerk tried to find shoes for five couples at once.

Thanking the man for the socks, Farrah turned to her friends. “So, we want to go bowling first, or what?” She gave a little hop.

Aja shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you want to do, babe?” She gently tugged on her girlfriend’s arm to attract her attention. Valentina was rather occupied by the different colors of socks she could chose from.

“Hmm? Um, I don’t know.” She hummed distractedly, not really listening. She looked up, holding a blue polka-dotted sock in one hand and a light green striped sock in the other. “What do you think? Which one should I choose?” She weighed each option carefully, completely disregarding the previous question.

“Polka dot is totally your thing,” Aja assured her. She took the green one and grinned suddenly. “Hey! We could switch one of them and match!”

Valentina clapped her hands together excitedly, swapping one blue sock with one green sock.

Farrah sighed heavily, holding her own socks in her hand. Unlike Valentina and Aja however, hers were a plain red with no patterns whatsoever. “Guys… can we please focus now? Please? I wanna go bowling.” The last word was childishly drawn out with a high pitched whine.

Aja looked over, after switching socks with her enthusiastic girlfriend. “Oh, right. Sorry, Farrah! I almost forgot about you.”  

“Aja!” Valentina gasped and smacked her in the shoulder.

Aja held her hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry! I was just kidding.” she apologized, through fits of giggles. Valentina couldn’t help but crack up as well.

“You guys are the worst friends,” Farrah bit her bottom lip. “Bowling now, or bowling later? Just–urgh, make up your mind, dammit.” She almost stomped her foot in frustration.

Valentina shrugged. “We have the socks; might as well get the shoes.”

The line for the shoes was surprisingly longer than the three of them expected. They weren’t waiting for long before Valentina started to wonder if bowling was really such a great idea.

“I spent so long trying to match my shoes with my dress,” she sighed, ignoring the fact that both her girlfriend and Farrah were there for the nearly three hour event. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Aw, who cares if your shoes match your dress? You still look drop-dead gorgeous,” Aja assured her. “And I mean, there’s not a lot of people who can pull off the whole mismatching socks and shoes look. You’re practically an endangered species.”

Valentina blushed. “Flattery will get you nowhere, buster,” she scolded her, but Aja gave her a look of mocking surprise. “Who said anything about flattery?”

Neither of them noticed that the line ahead of them had disappeared, or that the clerk behind the desk was staring at them impatiently.

Farrah, her shoes already in hand, coughed loudly. “Uh, guys, I hate to break it to you, but we don’t have all day.” She tried not to roll her eyes at them.

As the two lovebirds finally broke apart and got their shoes, Farrah impatiently started ahead, stomping indignantly to the nearest bowling lane. Huffing in frustration, she unceremoniously dumped her stuff into a empty seat, and plopped down on another right next to it.

Flushed now with mortification, Valentina rushed back over. “I’m really sorry,” she apologized, “but see, Aja was being an idiot, so it’s all her fault–”

“Was not,” Aja protested.

“It’s okay.” Farrah finally sighed, “I don’t even know how to bowl.”

“We’ll get food,” Aja decided. “Everybody loves food.” After Valentina agreed, she winked at Farrah. “And then we can find a hot chick to teach you how to bowl.”

“Aja!” Farrah felt her face flush red as she let out a shrill indignant sound. Slightly out of embarrassment, she tried laughing it off. “Stop suggesting the impossible.” She replied weakly.

“Anything’s possible if you believe,” Aja insisted. Farrah just sighed as Valentina ushered her girlfriend towards the buffet table.

She made her own way to the buffet, and was lost her thought when she tripped and almost bumped into someone. She caught herself just in time. “Sorry about th–” She looked up and was met face to face with the most beautiful, perfect round ass she had ever seen.

–

Alexis had leaned over to pick up some spilled food. No matter who they catered to, nobody ever managed to eat neatly. She heard a small squeak behind her and snapped up, whirling around to find a redfaced teen staring at her.

“Sorry about that,” Alexis chuckled. ‘I didn’t just have my ass in her face, did I? Shit, that’s embarrassing.’

“Peanuts!” Farrah yelped panickedly without thinking. She pulled back and flushed, “I-I mean… I mean..” She looked frantically around for her friends, but they were suddenly nowhere to be found. Straining her neck, she could faintly see a blue dress that looked a awful lot like Valentina’s disappear around the corner. Fuck. Farrah looked back to the beautiful girl who was staring at her with a surprised look.

Alexis raised an eyebrow. “Peanuts?” ‘Is this kid okay? She looks–kind of terrified? Cute, but terrified. Do I look terrifying? Okay, besides the point. Peanuts–peanuts?’ “Do you have…allergies?” she offered with an encouraging smile. ‘Okay, Alexis, try not to look so intimidating to her.’

Finally looking up to meet eyes with Alexis, Farrah almost didn’t hear her question. All she could think of was ‘Wow, she has pretty eyes.’ before realizing Alexis was expecting an answer. She squeaked again. “Yes!” She said impulsively. It took her a few moments to catch up to reality because wait… no, that was incorrect. She didn’t have any allergies! Out of sheer embarrassment, she decided to roll with it. Okay, Farrah, okay. Play it cool.  “Uh.. yeah, I do, t-thanks for asking.” Fuck! Thanks for asking? Wow Farrah, that was not cool at all. She mentally smacked herself.

Alexis grinned. This kid was hilarious, not to mention adorable with the way her eyebrows furrowed as she was thinking to herself. “Well, I don’t think you have to worry. I don’t think there’s any peanuts in the mac ‘n cheese–tell you what though, I’ll go to the kitchen and make sure. Just in case,” she chuckled. “Trinity does love to be creative with her food, after all.” She walked over to the kitchen and burst through the doors to announced her entrance. “Is there any peanut in the mac ‘n cheese?” she called.

“What do you think?” Trinity screamed back. She was not having a good day: teenagers were much more voracious than she remembered, and they were gobbling up the food almost faster than she could make it. Of course, she loved that they enjoyed her food. She didn’t love having to cook under pressure.

“Somebody wants to know,” Alexis called back. “C’mon, Trin–”

“No! Now get out of the kitchen!”

Satisfied, Alexis strolled back to the table where the dishes were being displayed. “You’re good, kid,” she said, clapping her hand onto Farrah’s shoulder. “D’you need anything else?”

Farrah was doing her best impression of a fish out of water. Trying to compose herself, she shook her head. “I’m fine.” She said in a high pitched voice. Alexis arched a brow and laughed.

“Alright then, enjoy the rest of your night.” And with that, Alexis went off to help Eureka handle the drinks at the juice bar.

Farrah Moan was left in a daze, and it wasn’t until after she could finally breath normally again did she realize she never got a name. Damn. She was gorgeous. ’And intimidating’, Farrah added to her thoughts.

Her body moved on it’s own, grabbing a spoon and shoveling a generous amount of the ‘peanut-free’ macaroni onto her paper plate. She slowly made her way back to her friends, a little shell shocked by her awkward encounter.

Valentina and Aja were whispering to each other when she returned, and as soon as they saw her, they stopped talking and straightened, looking at each other before looking at Farrah. Farrah gave them a weird look. “Uh, guys?” Valentina squinted at her, which confused her even more. “What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face? Am I wearing too much highlighter again?” She said uneasily.

Valentina pursed her lips and grabbed both of Farrah’s hands, pulling her down to sit down next to them. The latina girl squeezed both of Farrah’s hands and was suddenly talking very excitedly and very fast. “Tell me all about her? Who was that you were talking to? You two looked so cute together! Did you know each other or did you just meet? Did you flirt with her? Did she flirt with you?” She looked up to Farrah with big doe eyes, anticipation practically radiating off her.

It took a moment for Farrah to register what she meant. And when she did, her face immediately flushed with both embarrassment and mortification. “You saw that?” She gasped. Oh god.

Valentina nodded. “What did you say? Did you start talking to her first or was it the other way around?” Farrah let out a relieved breath. Okay. Valentina didn’t see the whole thing. Apparently she couldn’t hear what they were saying either.

“Uh, it wasn’t really anything special, I just asked her to uhhhh… compliment the chef. Cause this is really good.” Farrah immediately shoved a spoonful of the cheesy macaroni into her mouth. “See? Yum.” She said in between bites. Aja rolled her eyes.  

“That is so not true, you weren’t holding that plate when you were chatting.” Aja pointed out. Valentina nodded in agreement.

“Yes, yes! And you were looking at her with hearts in your eyes!” She added. “It’s the same look I’ve seen when you were crushing over Cynthia Lee Fontaine last year before she graduated.”

Farrah groaned, putting her plate down. She closed her eyes, ready for her friends to laugh at her. “Listen guys, really. I just bumped into her– well, not really, but I almost did, and it was a weird awkward conversation and I stumbled over my words and embarrassed myself like always and yes, I think she’s pretty and everything, but that’s that.” She confessed. “She probably thinks I’m crazy.”

But instead of laughing like Farrah had expected, Valentina squared her shoulders and straightened her back. She grabbed Farrah’s hand again, holding it in hers as she looked the blonde straight in the eye.

“Listen, I’m going to be that one bitch. You are a senior and this is your last prom. Your last, girl! As much as I hate to say it, I know you’re not having fun with me and Aja.” Valentina admitted. “I apologize for that and I’ll make it up to you another day, but for tonight I want you to have fun. Get wild, go talk to the cute girl you’re afraid to talk to and ask her to teach you to bowl or something.”

Aja grinned and kissed Valentina’s cheek. “That’s not a bad idea, babe.” She looked at Farrah. “Try it. Don’t regret not talking to her later.”  

Farrah gulped, eyes wide and nervous. “But I don’t know what to say.” She protested. “I don’t know what to do.” She stuck out her bottom lip.

Aja shrugged. “Try some pickup lines,” she suggested. “No one can resist a good pick-up line.” Farrah frowned.

“I don’t know any pickup lines.”

Aja grinned, shooting finger guns at her. “You’re lucky cause your girl, Aja here, has some great ones.” Valentina groaned and Aja held her finger up. “Shhh, babe just listen to the great master at work. I’m an amazing wingman.”

“I personally think this is a bad idea,” Valentina said. “Pickup lines can easily fall through and be really embarrassing or cringy.”

Aja rolled her eyes at her girlfriend. “Just listen to this one, Val, I swear it’s good. There’s no way Farrah can fuck up this one.” Aja flexed her fingers and winked at Farrah.

“Are your legs made of Nutella?” Aja asked. “Because I’d love to spread them.” Valentina gasped, smacking her girlfriend’s shoulder. Farrah just gawked.

“Aja!” She hissed. “That’s not a good pickup line.” Aja smirked.

“Yeah it is, it’s pretty smooth.”

Farrah shook her head. “There’s no way I’m gonna say that! I would sound so creepy. I want to talk to her, not make her run in the other direction.” She whined, making a face. Aja sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine, how about this one?” She cleared her throat. “I may not go down on history…” She paused for a dramatic effect. “But I’ll go down on you.” She finished, unable to contain her laughter. Valentina threw her hands up in the air and Farrah groaned loudly. Both girls had their head in their hands. Aja looked satisfied.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Valentina glared at her girlfriend, who only grinned back.

“But you still love me, don’t you?” Aja leaned forwards. Valentina’s glare softened and cracked a small smile, unable to stay angry at her girlfriend.

“You bet I do.”

Aja cupped her hand against Valentina’s cheek and was about to kiss her affectionately when Farrah interrupted, groaning loudly. “Guys! I’m still here.” She reminded them. They paused and Valentina was about to say something when they were interrupted with a polite cough.

Alexis hoped she wasn’t interrupting anything between the pretty girl she met earlier (who she called her ‘Peanut’ since she didn’t get a chance to get her name), and her friends. She was just trying to do her job. And maybe also find an excuse to talk to ‘Peanut’ again. But of course, if anyone asked her, she’d deny it. “Can I help you with anything?” She only glanced at the friends for a few seconds before turning to ‘Peanut’, giving her a smile smile. “Hi again, how is everything? I’m supposed to make sure everyone is enjoying themselves.”

Farrah tried not to stutter as she replied, suddenly overwhelmed again by the really attractive girl she met earlier. “Yes! I mean, yes I’m enjoying myself, and not ‘Yes, I need something.’” She clarified, not wanting there to be a misunderstanding. “I don’t need anything, I’m good.” Wait, was that rude to say? “I don’t mean that like in a rude way or anything. Just– just….” She babbled. “Everything is good, thank you for asking.” She shut her mouth and internally groaned, covering her eyes with her hands, unable to look back at Alexis out of utter embarrassment.

Alexis started to laugh, trying to stifle it with a hand. She held up her other hand in a ‘give me a moment’ gesture. “I’m not,” she wheezed, “I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

Farrah uncovered her eyes, looking up at Alexis, surprised. She was shocked. Shocked at her smile, her dimples that popped when she laughed and how she didn’t seem like she was making fun of Farrah. “Was… was that funny?” Farrah asked bravely.

Alexis, still trying to calm her laughter could only nod. Farrah wasn’t sure what to do. It was then, she remember her friends were also right there, and she turned to look at them. Valentina had her face in Aja’s shoulder, crying from laughter, and Aja was trying to keep a straight face. She gave Farrah a thumbs up.

When Alexis finally recovered, she grinned at at the shorter girl. “Don’t be so nervous, I promise I won’t bite.” Farrah blushed. Was she flirting with her? She was about to respond when Aja cut in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

Alexis straightened as her attention shifted to Aja, back into business mode. “Yes, how may I help you?” She said politely.

Aja grinned. “My friend Farrah,” She pointed at the blonde. “Is not only super hot and super single, but she also doesn’t know how to bowl. Isn’t it tragic? She doesn’t know how to bowl– it’s like the easiest sport on the planet. Anyways, can you teach her?”

Silence. No one said a word. Farrah’s jaw had dropped and her entire neck and face turned bright red and she felt as if she were about to explode. This is so embarrassing, oh my god! She put her head in her hands once again. Just when she thought she was gonna strike up a decent conversation with the nice, pretty girl, Aja had decided to blow it for her. She internally screamed at the void. She couldn’t bare to look up at Alexis, afraid of her expression. There was a few more moments of dreadful silence, then Alexis finally spoke.

“Sure, I’d love to teach her.” Farrah’s head shot up and her mouth fell open. She said yes. She actually said yes. Farrah gaped at her, her head spinning.

Holy son of a bowling pin, she said yes.  

[kamen-rider-zed]

Do You Believe in Miracles? Chapter 4

I’d like to first of all apologize for how long it’s taken to get this chapter published. Lots of irl crap happening to me in the last 7 months. I’d also like to give a big thanks to @ageisia​ for beta reading this and helping me get this fic out of hiatus.

Last of all, I’d like to thank tumblr for being so janky as to require some BS workaround just to get my work to appear in tag searches. So yeah, thanks tumblr you pile of utmost garbage.

AO3 FF

Chapter 4: Long Live the Queen

“Chloé, do you have an explanation for where you were during the evacuation?” Miss Bustier demanded the moment the girl in question stepped back into the classroom. “And for the first–” she looked at her watch “–twenty minutes of class?”

“I told you before I stepped outside,” Chloé mumbled, ignoring the eyes on her as she made her way to her desk. “Restroom.”

“Well,” Miss Bustier planted her fists on her hips, “you should know that when the fire alarm goes off, evacuation takes priority over powdering your nose.”

“There wasn't a fire.” She sat in her seat, rolling her shoulders again, and dug her tablet from her bag. “Some kid from another class pulled the alarm. Probably another one of Kim's stupid dares.”

“I-I had nothing to do with it!” Kim jumped from his seat and waved his hands. “I only make dares with Alix! A-and nothing reckless like pulling a fire alarm!”

“I realize that Kim, and thank you.” Miss Bustier turned her gaze back to the front row. “Now, Chloé, I can't just overlook something like thi–”

“Su-su-success!” The entire class turned to the door only to see Alya leaned against the frame, panting. She coughed and took a deep breath, then held her phone aloft, a wide grin upon her face. “F-first footage of the *pant* t- the new hero!”

“You alright Alya?” Nino asked.

“Pe-pedaled fast as I could to get back in t-time for class.” She swallowed and gasped. “G-g-gonna die now.” She fell over, thankfully towards Nino, who jumped from his seat to catch her.

“Friggin drama queen,” Chloé muttered with none of her usual fire. Why wouldn't Alya be excited to interview a new hero? Especially if said hero was Paris' beloved Chloé Bourgeois? Not that anyone would ever know that if Ladybug had her way. Maybe once all this was over and Hawkmoth was behind bars.

“Alya, what did I tell you about chasing after Akumas?” Miss Bustier bellowed.

“Uh,” Alya coughed and offered the teacher a sheepish smile. “D-don't?”

She nodded. “And that's why you'll be joining Chloé in detention. Now–”

“Wait, what?” Chloé jumped to her feet and slammed her hands on her desk. “I walk in a few minutes late because I had to use the restroom and you're giving me detention? I’ll have you know that when Daddy…” She stopped. Miss Bustier gave her a knowing look and Chloé remembered her father was no longer in her corner. “Well...at least I didn't leave the building!”

“It's not just tardiness, Chloé. It's tardiness during a fire evacuation.”

“Uh, what's this about detention?” Adrien now stood in the doorway, looking from an angry Miss Bustier down to Alya who still hadn't recovered from her exhaustion enough to acknowledge her punishment, to Chloé whose fingernails were digging into the wooden desktop. “Am I too late?”

“Miss Sancouer forwarded your photoshoot schedule to me earlier, Adrien. You're excused.”

“Oh, okay,” he shrugged. “I'll just–”

“Sorry! Sorry I'm late, I–” came a cry from behind Adrien. He turned only for a blur of pink and gray to slam into his chest and knock him backwards. He landed hard on his back and his assailant landed with her face squished against his chest and her legs on either side of him. Marinette shook her head and pushed herself up. When she realized just who she had attacked, and who she was currently straddling, all the blood in her body teleported to her face and she scrambled away from him with a shrill whine.

“S-sorry! I mean'nt did I mean didn't mean to Tadrien, uh, t-tackle Adrien I'm so sorry!”

“So if I get detention for coming in late,” Chloé started, “does that mean Marinette gets two detentions for coming in late and assaulting my Adrikins?”

“I'll dispense the discipline, Chloé,” Miss Bustier scolded. “Marinette will receive detention along with you and Alya, but only one since it seems Marinette's, er, clumsiness just got the better of her.” She turned to see Adrien standing and offering Marinette his hand. She shakily accepted it with a wide grin and he pulled her to her feet. “See? No harm done.”

'No harm done. Who does she think she is? Maritrash could have ruined Adrien's million euro face and Miss Bustier would let her off with a slap on the wrist. At least she still gets detention. And maybe someday I'll get to rub being a superhero in her stupid little face.'

(#)

Chloé should have been working on the essay. It was due in two days and she hadn't even started. Yes, she had taken some half-hearted notes, read (more like skimmed) a few articles, and was still waiting for Sabrina's assistance. And being in detention with Alya and Marinette should have been the perfect time to catch up on her work.

Unfortunately, she was too focused on the phone she had hidden under the desk.

Fred Haprele was in charge of watching them for the next hour, but had been called away for some irrelevant reason, so Chloé took this opportunity to, shall we say, catch up on current events. Her eyes sparkled as she reviewed Alya's footage of the Akuma fight. Shaky as it was, it still captivated her. Alya had focused entirely on Queen Bee from the moment Shockra blasted her in the chest. From flying away with her and Emelie to protecting them from the lightning clones, Chloé couldn't tear her eyes away. That was her. She was Queen Bee. She was a hero.

“Thought you weren't much of a Queen Bee fan.”

Chloé turned to look over her shoulder and caught Alya smirking at her. “I never said that,” Chloé whispered. “She can't hold a candle to Ladybug, but I have to admit.” She smiled back down at her phone. “Queen Bee has style.”

“She is so cool!” Alya giggled. “I mean, it's obvious she's new to this, but her powers are awesome! She can fly, she has that wicked sword, she summons these drones that follow...”

“Alya,” Marinette interrupted, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder. “Maybe you should save gushing about the new hero until after detention.”

“Yeah,” Chloé remarked before she realized she had actually agreed with Marinette. “Don't want to get held up any longer than you have to. You're already gonna be late to your interview with Queen Bee.”

“Yeah I guess you're...wait...how did you know about the interview?”

Chloé tensed slightly in her seat. That's right. She wasn't supposed to know about that. By some great fortune, the video on her phone had just showed footage of Queen Bee setting the time and place for Alya's exclusive interview. She held up her phone and said, “Y-you just mentioned it. See?”

Alya nodded and smiled, accepting the small lie which wasn't entirely a lie. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Mr. Haprele chose that moment to poke his head back into the classroom and check on them. Luckily, Chloé's phone zipped back under her desk before he could see it. She pretended to dig something from her bag, and Mr. Haprele seemed content with the student's behavior. When he left, Chloé dropped the book she'd lifted from her bag and turned her eyes back to her phone.

'Essay.'

'Oh, please. There's plenty of time to get it done.'

'Essay.'

'Sabrina promised she'd help. I don't want to do all of the work only for her to finally pull through when I've done everything.'

'...essay.'

'Okay, why does my mind keep going back to that?'

A squirming in her purse gave her the answer she sought.

‘...lets me get inside you…’

Vii.

The voice in her mind constantly reminding her of the essay, the voice that had tried to convince her to leave the school without Alya, the voice that had told her to protect Emelie rather than help Ladybug. Chloé's fingers curled around her phone, her nails scraping into its case. How dare that little insect mess with her mind like that? What was she trying to pull? Vii fidgeted a bit too much in Chloé's bag and the girl slapped it. Chloé was a queen, and that meant that Vii needed to learn her place.

About twenty minutes later, Mr. Haprèle dismissed the trio from detention early, claiming some emergency with Mylène. Chloé smiled at her fortune as she gathered her bag and dashed from the room before Marinette and Alya could even rise from their seats. She didn't have time to dawdle. She had to get to Notre Dame before Alya. If she arrived late, Alya might get suspicious. Just outside the classroom, Chloé came upon Sabrina sitting on the top steps, her eyes focused lazily on her phone.

“What are you still doing here?” Chloé demanded.

Sabrina jumped at her friend's voice. “Oh, Chloé!” She stood and brushed off her shorts. “I needed to talk to you. It's...it's about the essay...”

“Not you too,” Chloé groaned. When Sabrina raised a brow, Chloé waved her off. “Never mind. Listen, just email me some references later. I'm busy.”

Sabrina shuffled on her feet, unable to meet Chloé's eye. “No, Chloé, about that...”

“Sabrina, I don't have time to work on this stupid essay right now. Honestly? It'd be a lot better if you just did it for me. Some...personal stuff came up that I need to take care of.” Sabrina opened her mouth to argue, but Chloé was already making her way down the stairs. “Just explain to your grandparents you owe a friend a favor. I'm sure they'll understand.”

Chloé smiled to herself as she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Francois-Dupont. That's how it's done. That's how a queen manages her domain. Now, if only Vii could get with the program.

“That was rude, you know,” came a tiny voice from just behind her head, likely nested in her ponytail.

Speak of the devil...

“You don't know my relationship with Sabrina,” Chloé whispered. “She has no problems helping me out. In fact, she'd have even fewer problems with it if I told her I'm a superhero now.”

“You remember what Ladybug said: no one can know your identity.”

“I know, I know. But once I hand Hawkmoth his own butt, I'll tell her and she'll realize this was all worth it.” Chloé smiled wider. “She'll get the satisfaction of knowing she's been helping a superhero this whole time.”

“But right now, all she sees is her supposed friend abusing her and–”

“Listen here, Vii!” Chloé said a bit too loud. A few people turned to look at her, but she simply glanced down at her phone and put a finger to her ear, pretending to fidget with a Bluetooth earpiece. “I know what you've been doing in my head.”

“I...” Vii began slowly, “haven't...been doing any–”

“Save it!” Chloé hissed. “I keep hearing this voice in my head trying to tell me what to do and I know you have something to do with it! You said I was chosen to be a hero, so whoever chose me trusts my judgment. Just let me be a hero and stop trying to be my conscience!”

Not another sound came from behind her head while she searched for a suitable place to transform. However, for all her searching, she failed to notice an old man in a Hawaiian shirt standing just outside the school, hunched over his cane with sorrow stretching his features.

“Master, again I must protest,” came a small voice from just over his shoulder. “She is abusing Vii, mistreating her friends, and prioritizing her own fame above the city’s safety. I believe it was unwise to entrust her with the Bee Miraculous.”

“You cannot plant a garden in the evening and hope to eat at dawn. Besides,” Fu glanced back over his shoulder, “you know the nature of the Bee demands such a wielder.”

“But how can anything grow in her hardened heart?”

Fu remained silent for but a moment, then lowered his head and sighed. “There are two forces at war within her, Wayzz: a desire for love and a desire for security and safety. She craves the love she is denied due to her mother's absence and her father's neglect.”

“I’d hardly say the mayor neglects her,” Wayzz argued.

“Though he believes he is doing right by his daughter, enabling her behavior and placating her with material possessions are no substitutions for a father’s love,” Fu countered. “But however much she may desire to be loved, opening herself to that love would leave her exposed and vulnerable. Losing her mother, the person she loved above all others, was the greatest pain she has ever felt, and so she has shut herself off, made herself cold and cruel. She would rather be alone than face that pain again. However, misery loves company, as they say, so she inflicts the pain she feels on others, just to have something in common with someone else.”

Fu heard a set of slow footsteps descend the steps in front of Francois-Dupont and turned his head to see Sabrina with her head low and tears threatening the corners of her eyes. Her face brightened when her father pulled his police cruiser up to the sidewalk, but the sorrow never left her eyes.

“In Miss Raincomprix,” Fu continued, “Chloé has found a submissive soul who accepts the pain and still stands by her side. Though Chloé does not know it, she has opened her heart to the girl, and left a hole in her armor. If Sabrina were to ever abandon Chloé, it would shatter her.”

“You are only reinforcing my point, Master.” Wayzz floated up to glance at the red-haired girl climbing in the car. “If Chloé is so fragile and unstable, then how can we expect her to--”

“You asked how anything could grow in her hardened heart,” Fu interrupted. “Look beneath us, at the cobblestones in the sidewalk. Hard, cold stone. Yet in some places--” he gestured towards a tuft of weeds with his cane “--life has found a way. It grows through the cracks, through the weaknesses in the stone, and so for anything to grow within Miss Bourgeois, she must be like the stones beneath us. For her to become the hero she is destined to be…” His eyes followed a streak of gold flying off to the west, then turned and strode back towards his shop.

“...she must break.”

(#)

Queen Bee sat hidden between the columns and gargoyles perched atop Notre Dame, awaiting Alya’s arrival. She blew a puff of air between her lips and groaned, rolling some more kinks out of her neck. She knew she could fly fast, but she didn’t think she had this much of a head start. Vii was proving a poor conversational partner, not saying a word since Chloé snapped at her before transforming. Something inside her told her to apologize, but it was likely just that obnoxious voice Vii had planted in her mind. Bee wasn’t at fault. She knew what she was doing and just needed the opportunity to prove that, not only to Ladybug and Vii, but to the whole city.

A beeping from her stinger interrupted her thoughts, and upon pressing the button, saw the caller as a red circle with five red spots in it. Queen Bee answered and hummed, “Hello Ladybug! Is there another Akuma somewhere? Need my aerial expertise?”

“No Akumas, Bee,” came Ladybug’s calm yet stern voice. “It’s actually about your interview with Alya…���

“Oh, called to congratulate me on getting my first interview so soon?”

“I didn’t call to congratulate you.” Queen Bee’s face sank. “There’s a reason Chat and I wanted to arrange the interview for you. We wanted to brief you beforehand. We need to make sure you don’t give away any secrets or answer any telling questions; Alya’s quite the journalist and she’s been hounding us for our secrets for months.”

“I know, secret identities, don’t let any weaknesses slip, typical superhero stuff.”

“There’s more to it than that, Bee. We need to--”

A blip of red hair on a bicycle steadily growing in the distance caught Queen Bee’s attention and she grinned. “Got to go, Ladybug. The Ladyblogger’s here.”

“Wait, Bee, we need--”

“Don’t worry so much, Ladybug,” Queen Bee interrupted, each of her words clipping short Ladybug’s protests. “You and Vii just need to trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Her thumb found the button on her stinger and severed their connection.

At almost twenty minutes past 5, Alya rolled up on her bike and glanced around. A small crowd had already formed before the towering face of Notre Dame, many of them with cameras trained on the skies. Bee smiled, knowing every one of them had seen the livestream from early that morning. Everyone was here for her. When Alya swung a leg off her bike and dug her phone from her bag, Queen Bee threw out her wings and gently glided over to her.

“Running late, are we?” Queen Bee asked once she was within earshot, floating above Alya with her arms crossed and a smug grin on her face.

Alya turned her eyes from her phone to the voice that came from above her. “Uh, y-yeah!” She stuttered with her phone already focused on the floating heroine. “Got stuck in detention for sneaking out of class to stream the attack this morning.”

“Detention? Why should you be punished for what you do?” Bee shrugged. “Who else will get such up close coverage of Akuma attacks? Most news crews are too afraid, or the news networks won't allow any--” she threw up air quotes “--’unnecessary damage’ to their equipment.”

Alya smiled even wider. “Thank you! Finally someone gets it!”

Queen Bee descended into a lightning storm of camera flashes and glanced about her. “Care to go someplace a little quieter? After all…” She extended her hand to Alya. “Isn’t this supposed to be an ‘exclusive’ interview?”

The only way Alya could have looked more excited that she was in that moment would be if Ladybug had asked her that exact question. When she accepted Queen Bee’s hand, the heroine lifted her from the ground and flew her up into the northern bell tower, leaving behind a disappointed crowd.

When Alya’s sneakers touched the worn wooden planks inside the belltower, Bee released her hand and said, “Not exactly the most glamorous place for an interview. But then again, any locale would appear dingy and grungy when compared to me.”

“It’s quiet and secluded; that’s all I care about,” Alya said as she fiddled with some of the settings on her phone. “So how do you want to do this? Record and edit, or livestream?”

“Darling, I know how to handle myself in front of a camera,” Queen Bee bragged. “I only need one take.”

“Livestream it is!” She tapped another button and held up her phone. “Goooood Evening, Paris! Alya Cesaire coming to you live from the belltowers of Notre Dame with a Ladyblog exclusive! Hate to disappoint the die-hard Ladybug fans out there, but today we have an interview with a whole new breed of bug. Paris, say hello to Queen Bee!” Bee tilted her nose up and settled her hands on her hips.

“So, Queenie, tell us: when did you get your powers?”

“Would you believe yesterday? And I’ve already faced my first Akuma. Impressive, no?”

“Yeah it was! For those who missed the livestream this morning, first of all, shame on you, second, Queen Bee protected me and another civilian from an electrifying Akuma tearing up the 8th arrondissement.”

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to help Ladybug like I wanted, so she had to contend with the Akuma by herself.”

Alya opened her mouth to respond, but instead quirked up her brow. “Wait, wasn’t?...no...Chat was there. I know he was.”

“Of course he was,” Queen Bee scoffed with a dismissive wave. “Getting in the way, as usual. Next question.”

Alya’s mouth popped open and closed, like a fish out of water, but she refocused her mind and figured it was best to keep Bee talking about herself so she couldn’t insult her teammates. “Okay, um...w-what can you tell us about your powers?”

Queen Bee smiled wider. Now, this was her opportunity to show off. “I’m sure you caught most of it this morning. My electric stinger-” she gestured to the hilt on her hip “-my drones, and Vii tells me I’m the fastest among all of the Miraculous heroes.”

“All of the Miraculous heroes?” Alya shrieked, causing Bee to jump back a little. A great smile bloomed on the journalist’s face. “Th-there’s more? How many? A-are they all animals? What are their powers? Who’s Vii”

Queen Bee cleared her throat. “I-I...don’t know the answers most of those questions, but if you must know, Vii is my kwammmmm…” She blinked. “Mmmmmmmmmm!” She grunted and groaned, bringing her hands to her mouth when her lips refused to part.

^You can’t let people know about me!^

‘Oh, so this is your doing!’ Queen Bee screamed in her mind.

^This is exactly what Ladybug was talking about! You let my existence slip and now that girl’s curious!^

‘Okay okay, fine, I won’t blab! Just give me my mouth back!’

Queen Bee’s lips popped apart and she drew in a deep breath. Alya looked on in wonder and shock, unsure of what just happened. Bee gave an awkward grin and said, “Uh, it seems m-my powers prevent me from giving away too many secrets. S-sorry.”

“Sooo…” Alya purred with a fox-like grin, “if I were to ask you for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s identities…”

“I’d say ‘nice try’,” Bee smirked. “Besides, it’s not like we know each other’s identities anyway…”

“Wait,” Alya leaned forward, “you don’t know each other’s identities?”

“Unfortunately no, even though Ladybug and I would be the bestest of besties if she knew who I was.” Bee pouted and crossed her arms. “I think she’s just paranoid because of the number of times Chat’s been brainwashed, useless cat.”

“Uh,” Alya looked down to her phone, still streaming with several thousand viewers tuning in. Well, Bee said she wanted to do this live… “Would, uh, would you mind sharing what you have against Chat Noir?”

“Please, you’re at every fight and even you can’t see how much he gets in Ladybug’s way?” Bee rolled her eyes and strolled closer to an opening in the tower. She peered down and smiled at the explosion of camera flashes, twinkling like earthbound stars. “He’s a show off. He doesn’t take his duties as a hero seriously, he puns every chance he gets, and flirting with Ladybug just distracts her from her job. That’s clearly why I was given a Miraculous; Ladybug needs help and the alley cat’s not cutting it.”

“You know she’d disagree with you.”

“Of course she would, but only because she doesn’t know any better.”

Alya raised a brow. “And you think you can do better?”

Queen Bee whirled around and fixed Alya with a frightening glare. “Oh, I know I can do better than that mangy feline. I just need a chance to prove it.”

Alya sat in stunned silence for a few seconds while Bee impatiently tapped her foot. That couldn’t be it. Usually the Alya had piles of questions, but this? This was a sorry excuse for a debut interview.  Her stinger beeped once again and only served to further ruin her mood. “Hold on, Miss Ladyblogger, I need to take this.” She pressed the button and when her antennae swung in front of her face, she smirked a little when Alya lifted her phone again and muttered, ‘so cool’ under her breath.

“Hey, Ladybug. Listen, I’m in the middle of--”

“Akuma, just west of the Louvre.”

Queen Bee’s face and mood immediately  brightened. “On my way!” Another button press and she turned back to Alya. “Duty calls. Rain check on the rest of the interview?” She threw out her wings, buzzed them to life, and flew towards the nearest window, oblivious to Alya yelling behind her about how she was supposed to get down from the tower.

(#)

The setting sun in her eyes, Queen Bee settled down on a rooftop just west of the museum barely a minute later. She glanced around, but only took in silence and calm. No screams, no sounds of destruction, no wicked laughter. She began to wonder just what kind of Akuma this could be when Ladybug stepped from behind a chimney with her arms crossed and eyes locked on Bee. Chat followed her close, his hands on his hips, but his eyes off to the side, focusing on nothing.

“So, where’s the Akuma?” Queen Bee asked, likely a little too giddy to be fighting a supervillain.

Ladybug turned her eyes to the roof beneath them and sighed. “There’s...no Akuma. I...I was watching the interview and I...lied to get you away from Alya.”

Shock spiked through Bee’s heart and her mouth dropped open. Her hero...the one person in Paris she knew, knew, could do no wrong, had...lied to her?

“I’m sorry. But again, there’s a reason we wanted to talk about the interview first. We’re lucky Vii managed to stop you from mentioning what a kwami is, but everything else…”

“H-hey!” Queen Bee shouted defensively. “I didn’t give away any secrets! Yeah, I accidentally mentioned Vii’s name, but I didn’t--”

“You said we don’t know each other’s identities,” Chat finally spoke. “While it’s true…”

“What does it matter?” Bee scoffed. “What difference does it make, you stupid cat?”

Chat recoiled and Ladybug’s nails dug into her suit, her brow furrowing. She swallowed hard and said, “It matters because now Hawkmoth knows he can send an Akuma disguised as a civilian to one of us, claiming to be me or Chat or even you, and we won’t know the difference.” She lifted her eyes back up to Bee, and the striped heroine flinched at the level of anger within them. “Every secret we let slip, every detail about our powers gives Hawkmoth an advantage, and he already has the ultimate advantage in that we have no idea where he is! We’ve been playing defense for months and you just --” She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips, as though trying to hold back her words. She drew a breath in her nose and gently eased it out her mouth.

“We need to act more like a team,” Ladybug continued, her previous point dropped. “And that means listening to each other, respecting each other.” She looked back at her old partner, then forward to her new one, her look of anger gone, replaced by gentle intensity. “No more insulting each other.” Which Bee took to mean ‘no more insulting my partner.’ “The people can’t think there’s any friction between us. If people start doubting us, Hawkmoth has yet another advantage.” She held out her fist and managed a meek smile. “We’re equals in this, Bee. No one is better or worse than anyone else. Teammates, partners, not sidekicks.” Chat’s fist rose to join Ladybug’s and the pair looked expectantly at Queen Bee.

She sneered at the pair of gloved fists being held out to her. What did they mean ‘equals’? She was a Queen, and though Ladybug was a friggin Empress in her eyes, there was no way Bee would put herself on the same level as the stray. But...she needed to smooth things over with Ladybug, or her superhero career would become far too brief. Best to just play along for now, let Ladybug see the light in her own time. Queen Bee turned away and lightly bumped her fist against the others.

“There, see?” Chat said with a grin. “We’re all friends here. Now…” He spread his arms wide. “Comb over her and give us a hug!”

A groan and a giggle echoed into the evening.

(#)

Queen Bee landed back in her room just a few minutes after convincing Ladybug she’d be more ‘civil’ around Chat. Her transformation fell away and Chloé dropped into one of her chairs while Vii spiraled into a bowl of pretzels the hotel staff had refilled earlier that day. Chloé flicked through her phone, noticing zero texts from Sabrina about her progress on the essay and one text from Daddy about his disappointment that she got detention. She groaned and dropped her phone on the floor, pain burning in her shoulders from all the flying.

“I wouldn't have to be your conscience if you had one of your own.”

Chloé’s eyes snapped open and she glared hard at her kwami. “What did you say to me?”

Vii floated upwards and glared right back. “I said you don’t have a conscience. You hate Chat Noir for literally no reason, you shove all of your responsibilities on others while soaking in the glory, you mistreat your only friend--”

“I have plenty of friends!” Chloé snapped. “Everyone adores me!”

“--and I'm not entirely sure she wants anything to do with you anymore!”

“Sabrina loves me! We've been besties for years! And besides, if I was such a terrible person, like you claim, then why did this ‘Guardian'--” she mocked with air quotes “-- pick me to be a superhero?”

Vii crossed her arms. “You know, I'm beginning to wonder if Fu hasn't made a mistake this time. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I should take the comb back to him. You're proving to be more of a pain than any of my other wielders.” She grumbled to herself, “Even Arista wasn't this bad and she...” Vii paused when she noticed Chloé holding out the comb, her hair down and an expectant look on her face.

“Well? Aren't you going to take it?” Vii froze. Her hesitation enticed Chloé, and a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Go ahead. Take it.” She waited a few more seconds, but when Vii didn’t move, she said, “Except...you can't, can you? If you could, you would have by now.” Vii turned away and Chloé cackled in victory. “It has to be me, doesn’t it? No one else can be the Bee! It’s destiny or fate or whatever, but it has to be me!”

She secured the comb back in her hair and stood, making her way to her closet to change into her pajamas, even though it was barely seven in the evening. “Tomorrow starts a new day for us, Vii. As soon as school is out, you’re giving me all the juicy details about my powers.”

The fluff around Vii’s neck stood on end and she zipped into Chloé’s face, pressing their foreheads together. “What did I tell you about bossing me arou--”

“Back off!” Chloé shouted, cutting Vii off. She smirked and added, “That’s an order.”

Vii trembled as she held her position, but soon backed away, her eyes filled with rage. Chloé strode forward, grinning wider when Vii moved out of her way. “You’re finally in your place, little bug.” Her hand moved towards a hanger bearing red silk coated in black spots, but she paused, and moved towards a pair of black silken pants and a yellow tank top. “It’s good to be the Queen.”

While Chloé changed and settled in her bed to flit around on her phone with some mindless time-waster of a game, ignoring every thought about the essay that crossed her mind, Vii looked down at her charge. Her chosen. Her...master. She sighed and whispered, “I wish they didn’t have to be this way.”

[ladyfogg]

Sick Like Me - Part 14/20

Sick Like Me - Part 14/20

Fic Summary: With unfinished business hanging over your head, being locked up in Arkham is holding you back. However, you have your eye on a certain red-haired maniac, who may be just the person to help you escape and realize your true potential.  Fic Song. Fic Playlist. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, for a complete list of warnings, visit AO3.

A/N: Still working on drafting future chapters but I just got a fic commission so I'm gonna be tied up with that for a bit. So the next update to this won't be for about two weeks. Enjoy!

Greenwood is not pleased.

As soon as the four of you step into the penthouse, he rips the earpiece out and rounds on you. “A kill switch?!” he exclaims.

Glaring, you cross your arms. “Yeah, a kill switch,” you say. “Dobkins was going to rat on us the second they got him to the precinct. I did what I had to do.”

“A brilliant decision, as always,” Jerome commends, giving you a slight bow. He removes his earpiece and hands it back to you.

“How can you be okay with this?” Greenwood demands as Aaron also hands over his communicator. “She can kill us at any time when we wear these!”

“You're assuming I can’t kill you at any time period,” you say. “Greenwood, I could have had you choked to death the second I met you.”

“You can’t--”

“I can.” You snap your fingers. “Aaron, take care of Greenwood.”

The giant man doesn't even hesitate. He reaches out and wraps his large hand around Greenwood’s neck. Behind you, Jerome moves in close. His chest touches your back, rising and falling with excited harsh breathing.

“Finish it. Please,” he whispers in your ear.

Tempting.

As Greenwood struggles however, you decide not to kill him. Not yet anyway. He's still useful to Jerome as a lackey. “Aaron, that's enough,” you order.

Aaron looks confused but releases Greenwood, who collapses onto the ground as he coughs violently. Jerome makes a noise of disappointment. You ignore him in favor of stepping forward, kneeling down to Greenwood’s level.

“You keep making the mistake of underestimating me,” you say. “If I wanted to get my hands dirty, I wouldn't even have Aaron do it. I'd do it myself.”

It's amazing that after everything he's witnessed, he still thinks he’s better than you. Hilarious.

“I’m in charge here. I got us out. I am hiding us from the GCPD. And if one of you is going to turn on me, I will get rid of you. I don't like loose ends. I told you once before that you needed to prove yourself useful. And you have. But make no mistake; you are dispensable. Clear?”

Greenwood clenches his jaw, eyes downcast. Silently, he nods.

Jerome claps excitedly. “Glad we got that sorted out!” he exclaims. “Great job team! Now, I know Dobkins botched the execution. But that just means we need to plan something even bigger and better for next time. We need something grand. A showstopper.”

“There’s a benefit dinner happening in a few weeks,” you say, standing straight. “Gotham’s elite will be there. The richest of the rich.”

Jerome's eyes shine and he starts to pace. You can see that his mind is going a mile a minute as he brainstorms ideas. “So many plans so little time!” he grins.

“You can focus on that,” you say. “In a few days I move on my stepmother.”

“What do you need from us?” Greenwood croaks as he stands.

“Nothing. Not on this one,” you say. “It's personal. I'd rather handle it myself.”

Jerome's smile fades and he looks put out. “I want to be there when you kill the bitch,” he says.

You had considered bringing him with along. The need to have him close by your side is great. However, with the GCPD on high alert, you think it's best he sit this one out.

“Too risky,” you say, removing your jacket. “Besides, if things go south then you need to be here to run the show.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a servant appears with a bow. “The visitor you sent for has arrived.”

Perfect. Your contact has finally pulled through.

“Excellent, show him to my study,” you say. The servant leaves and you address the men. “Don't interrupt unless it's an emergency.”

You know Jerome is angry with the dismissal, and bristling at the idea of you having a visitor, but you've waited quite impatiently for this person and you're not going to wait longer than you have to. Which is why you arranged for him to be picked up and brought to you. When you arrive, the room is empty, so you take time to make yourself presentable.

A few seconds later, the door opens and Oswald Cobblepot limps in, a thick envelope clutched in his hand.

“Oswald! Nice to see you again,” you say, crossing to meet him.

“Were the black bag and muscled bodyguards necessary for this visit?” he asks, annoyed.

“Of course,” you say. “Can't just let anyone know my super secret hideout.”

Oswald adjusts his suit jacket with indignation. “You're looking well,” he says with a forced smile. “It's Queenie now, right?”

You share an air kiss to each cheek. “It is,” you say. “Man, how long has it been? Last time I saw you, my father had dragged me and that wife of his to Fish's club.”

“Yes, it has been long,” Oswald comments. “And look at us now. You murdered your father, and I run that club.”

“We were always the smart ones,” you grin.

Despite the familiarity and light conversation, you're no fool. You and Oswald aren't friends. Not by a long shot. There's a tone of distrust under the false pleasantries. This is a business relationship. One you need to cash in on.

“Please, have a seat,” you offer, gesturing to the armchairs by the window.

“I can’t stay, unfortunately,” he declines. “I have a club to run, as you know.”

There's a beat, both of you trying to feel the other out. With anyone else you would insist they stay, maybe pout if you have to. However, you can sense Oswald won't back down, so you don't bother dragging this out. “Did you come across any trouble?” you ask.

“Please,” he scoffs. “You insult me.” You extend your hand for the envelope, but he looks at it with amusement and raises his eyebrows. “Our agreement first.”

“Of course.” You force a smile and draw your phone out of your pocket. Oswald watches carefully as you make a show of transferring the agreed upon money to his account. “There. All set.”

Oswald smiles back, slapping the envelope into your hand. “Pleasure,” he says, offering you a slight bow. “Never liked that woman. Too handsy.”

You draw out the photos of your stepmother. “Among other things,” you agree, carrying the packet to your desk. “Security still tight?”

Oswald follows. “Seems so,” he says. He shuffles through the photos as you spread them out. “These were taken a few days ago. She has a full team. Patrols like clockwork.”

“Any sign of the GCPD?” you ask.

Oswald nods, selecting one or two images that show the unmarked police cars. “There are surveillance vans everywhere. I'd be careful.”

“But where's the fun in that?” you smirk.

Oswald gives a genuine grin at your response. “I thought you might like the challenge,” he says. “Are you bringing the ginger maniac with you?”

“No,” you say, flipping through the photos. “You said these were taken a few days ago?”

“Yes. I had my men back-off when Jim Gordon stopped by.”

“That man just can't mind his own business,” you growl.

“Agreed,” Oswald grumbles. “Well, as lovely as this was, I must be going.” He limps to the door before stopping to look back your way. “Once things calm down, feel free to pay the club a visit.”

“Oh I will,” you assure him. “Save a booth for me.”

As soon as he leaves, you sit down in your chair and get to work examining the photos more closely. You become so engrossed in your work, that not even the soft click of the study door opening is enough to draw your attention.

Now that you have some visual assistance, you're able to begin constructing a plan.

Jerome suddenly drops across your desk, scattering the photos. “Pay attention to me,” he demands.

Torn between amusement and annoyance, you glare. “You get all my attention at night,” you say. “What do you want? Also don't you have your own planning to do?”

“I'm coming with you,” he announces. “You need me.”

Amused, you lean back in your chair. “Oh do I?” you question.

Jerome glares, swinging his legs around to rest on either side of you. “Yes, you do,” he growls. “And I don't appreciate being dismissed.”

“Oh boo hoo,” you mock. “Look who's all butt-hurt.”

You move to stand, but as soon as you do Jerome grabs you, arms and legs wrapping around you to secure you in place. “Don't mock me,” he demands. “You're not leaving my sight. I'm going with you.”

You reach up to grab his cock through his pants, and though he jerks with surprise, he doesn't let you go. “And do what?” you question. As you lean in, lips brushing his cheek, you give him a hard rub. “What are you gonna do for me, J?”

“Whatever you need,” Jerome grunts.

You consider his words and look back down at the photos. There’s a chance this is all a trap. Gordon was poking around the place, and you trust Oswald about as far as you can throw him. Having Jerome with you could provide an edge. Plus, you do need a way to draw security’s attention.

“I need a distraction,” you conclude.

“I'm good at those, remember?” Jerome grins. He turns his head so your lips are touching.

You laugh, slipping your arms around his neck and completing the kiss. “Clearly.”

Jerome hungrily bites at your lips, letting out an obscene grunt. “We're more dangerous together than apart,” he pants between kisses. “We shouldn't separate. Not now.”

“It could be a setup,” you say, pushing against him until he's laying on the desk.

“That's what makes it even more fun!” Jerome laughs, yanking you on top of him. “Now ride me. I've wanted you bouncing on my dick since this morning.”

--- 

The house looks exactly the same. It's enough to give you that tightening feeling in your chest and stab of anger. You watch from the hedges in the backyard, Jerome at your side.

“Keep in contact when you can,” you remind him, fiddling with your earpiece. “If all else fails, we meet back here.”

Jerome nods with understanding. He grabs your face and slips you the tongue, before yanking away with a grin. “Give her hell, doll face.”

“Make them run, puddin’.”

Another grin flashed your way and then he's gone in the direction of the garage. You're left alone, waiting for Jerome to do his part.

This is it. The last couple of days have been torture. You’ve wanted this moment for so long; your hands are practically twitching. The pistol strapped to your ankle feels heavy. You resist the urge to grab it. Not yet. You’d rather do this with a knife anyways. More poetic you think.

After another minute of waiting, you grin as smoke starts to rise from the direction of the garage. Security guards rush to check out the source, and Jerome’s voice sings in your ear, “Yourrrrrr turrrnnnnn!”

You make your move.

The vines leading up to your window are still strong and you climb them swiftly. Using your knife, you manage to pop the lock, and slip into the house.

What was once your bedroom is now a home gym, complete with a full range of equipment. You snort with disbelief and carefully tip-toe across the room. With a strange feeling of deja vu, you crack open the door and peek into the hall.

No one in sight.

The house is different, and yet the same as you slowly creep along. Now that you're inside, that sick feeling in your stomach is back. The sooner you're out of this place, the better. You have to duck into the hall closet when you hear voices, but they fade as quickly as they come.

“In the house,” you whisper to Jerome. “What's your position?”

“Not under, above, in front, or behind you, so very boring actually,” Jerome says. “Oops. Guard ahead. Gotta go.”

He's not the only one who needs to keep moving.

You slip out of the closet and continue on. Downstairs, you hear the fire alarm is going off in the garage on the other side of the house. It's drawing the attention of the guards, allowing you to move with relative ease.

And then you see her. At least from the back.

She's standing with one of the guards, wringing her hands as they wait for a status report.

“Get her to the study,” someone says over the walkie-talkie. “She may need to be evacuated.”

Silent as a mouse, you sprint down the hall and into the room they're heading toward.

Your father's study is large with two exits. One is being guarded, but you sneak up on the man and slit his throat with no problem. Dragging him into a corner, you have mere seconds to lock one door and hurry to wait behind the other.

You just get into position when you hear the knob on the locked door turn, followed by retreating footsteps. Excellent. They're going around.

Your excitement cannot be contained and you grin, clutching the knife. The door creaks open and your stepmother walks into the room. Without warning you slam the door shut and lock it. She jumps and spins around. You grab her, slamming her against the wall as hard as possible. But as you press the tip of the knife under her chin, the wig slips away and you find yourself staring at Lee.

She glares back defiantly. “Hello, Queenie,” she says.

Surprised, angry, and slightly amused, you give a dark chuckle. “Well, well, hello, to you too, beautiful,” you say.

Behind you there's a click and you glance over your shoulder to find Jim pointing his gun. “We were expecting you,” he says.

No one speaks for a moment. Fucking Oswald. He's so on your list.

“Hello, Detective Gordon,” you eventually say. “You look dashing, as always.”

Jim steps away from the secret door behind the bookcase. “Put the knife down, Queenie,” he orders. “It's over. We have you.”

“I see you found the back entrance,” you giggle. Over the earpiece, Jerome giggles as well.

“I'm trying,” he says, making you grin wider.

Jim doesn't look amused and Lee even rolls her eyes. You yank her forward and spin so she's between you and Gordon, your knife still at her throat. “So what have you done with the bitch?” you ask, ignoring his warning.

“She safe from you,” Lee snaps. “Away from this place.”

“Away from the house maybe. But I know she's still in Gotham. She’d never leave. Can't say I'm exactly surprised to see you here, Jim,” you drawl. “I am, however, delighted to see you again, Lee.”

You lean in close, nuzzling her neck. She freezes in place and Jim's grip on his gun tightens.

“If you knew this was a trap, why did you come?” Jim questions.

You press your cheek to Lee's as you mockingly ponder his inquiry. “Hmmm. Well, many reasons, really,” you say. “Curiosity. Ambition. Boredom. Take your pick. Mostly it was because I didn't know for sure and I couldn't pass up a chance if she was here.”

Lee’s body is radiating warmth and you carefully press your free hand on her stomach, drawing her closer. She's still frozen in place and Jim is gripping his gun so tight, his knuckles are white. The doctor smells wonderful. Like vanilla and honey.

You feel your body tingling and you brush your lips against her ear as you say, “You know, I'm feeling very into you right now. If I was capable of an erection, it would be poking you persistently.”

“I've said it before and I'll say it one more time,” Lee grumbles. “I'm not having sex with you.”

“Are you sure?” you purr, hand sliding downward.

Before you can touch any lower, Jim cocks his gun. “Queenie, let her go,” he orders. “Back up will be here any second. You're done.”

“But she's so soft and warm,” you say.

Lee suddenly grips your wrist with one hand and elbows you in the stomach. You stumble backwards, dropping the knife and giving her enough leeway to break free. She tries to get out of the line of fire, but you dive tackle her to the ground.

Jim moves in close to intervene, however you manage to gain the upper hand. Rolling onto your back you wrap your arms and legs around Lee, once again putting her in the way of Jim's gun. This time you seize your pistol and press the barrel to her temple.

“Okay, I came out to have a good time and am honestly feeling so attacked right now,” you pant. “Next time you see Oswald, tell him we are going to sit down and have a chat.”

“Where are Jerome and the others?” Jim demands.

Great question. Jerome must have heard because his voice comes into your ear. “Ask and you shall receive.”

“Why don't you just take the shot, Jimmy?” you egg Gordon on. “What? You afraid of hitting her?”

It's true. He's terrified, though masking it very well. He's so focused on you, he doesn't sense the bookcase door move behind him.

“How did you escape?” he demands, chancing another step closer. “We know you had outside help. I want names!”

“Oh I can give you a fuck ton of names,” you say, struggling to maintain your hold on Lee as she fights you. “Whether or not they'll help you is irrelevant.” Lee presses into you in her attempt to escape and you groan slightly. “Keep that up, Doc, and you're going to have to finish what you're starting.”

In the distance you hear sirens and it makes you pout.

Jim smirks. “See? I told you,” he says.

“Well, looks like we better hurry then,” you say.

“Jim!” Lee shouts suddenly.

Jim turns around to find Jerome standing behind him. “Surprise!” the redhead grins.

He hits the detective across the face with a heavy book, knocking him out cold. Jim falls to the ground with a thud. Jerome whistles as he tosses the book onto the desk. When he looks down at you and Lee, he giggles.

“Don't you two look close,” he notes.

“You're both insane,” Lee spits. “And you'll get what's coming to you.”

Jerome shrugs and scoops up Jim's gun. “Blah, blah, blah,” he says. “You done playing, doll face? We've got company coming. Seems this was a trap after all.”

“Wish I could play more, but she's not into it. Shame,” you say. Jerome points the gun at her and you let her go. “Up you get, Doc.”

Carefully Lee gets to her feet, hands in the air. You hop up and dust yourself off. “Well, pleasurable as always, Lee,” you say, saluting with your pistol.

You hear the sound of the doors on either side being pounded on.

“Time to go,” Jerome says, yanking you in close. “Do you want to take her with us?”

Lee pales, lips pursed tightly. You consider it for a moment before shaking your head. “It's no fun if she's not willing,” you say. “We're criminals not animals. Though she does have a nasty habit of getting in our way.”

Jerome presses his lips to your ear. “We should probably kill her then,” he whispers.

One of the doors give a dangerous crack. “No time,” you say, pulling him toward the bookcase. “Plus, she'll be useful later. Let's get out of here.”

With eyes still trained on Lee, you and Jerome back out through the secret door, shutting it behind you.

Whistling, he pulls the small bottle of accelerant out of his pocket. He sprays it across the back of the bookcase and creates a puddle on the floor. You both back up as he lights the lighter and tosses it.

The door goes up in flames and he laughs while you yank on his hand, pulling him along to make your escape.

[pitviperofdoom]

BH6/ROTG: A Friend in the Dark, 23/23

Title: A Friend in the Dark

Summary: Callaghan is behind bars, but Tadashi’s work is far from over. The Man in the Moon thrust him into this position for a reason but failed to let him know what that reason was, and once again he finds himself muddling along for answers as Nightmares run rampant through the streets. But it takes more than fire and magic to make a Guardian, and when a new (yet old) threat threatens those that Tadashi holds dear, he comes to understand just what he is capable of, and what it means for everyone he loves. (Sequel to Lighting Candles)

This fic now has a tv tropes page!

(AN: And that’s all she wrote.)

Chapter 23: Second Chances

AO3

“So,” Bunnymund said grimly. “You said you’d explain everything later.” He flipped a boomerang over one paw. “It’s later. So maybe you can explain why we aren’t tearing this one a new arsehole before he gets the drop on us?”

For a moment Tadashi stared blearily at him, still weighed down by his half-conscious professor. “Give me a second.”

“No I won’t give you a bloody second,” the rabbit said sharply. “You breezed in here with that tosser trotting behind you and you expect us to—”

“Give me a second, please,” Tadashi snapped. “Look, I just relived my own death for the… wow, you know what? I can’t actually remember how many times I’ve relived my own death, but I promise you it’s too many, so give me a second.”

“Tadashi!”

He almost sagged with relief as his friends—his original friends—came running, with Hiro not far behind. Callaghan was nearly half conscious, but Tadashi managed to heave him upright. “Hey guys—can you take him real quick? He’s kinda heavy.”

Willing hands lifted Callaghan away from him and helped the old man to the nearest bench to sit. No longer burdened, Tadashi stood up straight and tried to pull his brain back together into something resembling organization.

Things looked… tense. The entire area was crowded, with both nightmares and Sandman’s golden dream horses. Pitch had dismounted from his horse and was pointedly ignoring the others while he patted its dark muzzle. North looked every bit as thunderous as Bunnymund. Toothiana seemed nervous as she glanced from one face to the next. The Sandman was watching Pitch with just as much curiosity as hostility. And Jack was leaning on his staff and looking expectantly to Tadashi.

Tadashi was tired. He was not quite as tired as he had been the day he’d crawled out of a collapsing portal. Or the day he’d crawled out of the wreckage of the SFIT auditorium. But he was far too tired for it to be reasonable to demand things of him.

But he had a job to do, and he’d promised to do it. In a moment of whimsy, he tilted his head back to the silver disc high above. “I’m gonna trust you to back me up on this, all right?” he said.

When he looked down again, he saw that North had followed his gaze to the moon. “This involves the Man in the Moon?” he said, with a glance to Tadashi. His bushy eyebrows came together in a suspicious frown at Pitch. “What sort of plan is this?”

“The sort of plan that involves not flinging swords around,” Tadashi replied. “Or boomerangs. Or… what have you.”

The rabbit scowled. “Sounds like a rubbish plan to me.”

“Honestly, I think she explained it better than I can, but I’ll do my best.” He took a deep breath. “The, eh, Man in the Moon asked me to set Pitch free and help him take the Nightmares back.”

“What?!” Bunnymund barked.

There was a snort of disgust from Pitch. “Oh can we dispense with that ridiculous moniker? Three of us here already know she’s a woman.”

“Come again?” Jack broke in.

“Look, okay,” Tadashi went on. “That’s—okay, fine. I had a talk with her while I was unconscious, and she asked me to do this.”

“Why just you?” Bunnymund demanded. “Something this bloody important, why’d she ask the newbie?”

“Because I’m the only one who didn’t know Pitch that well, so I don’t have a grudge against him,” Tadashi answered. He shot a pointed look at the bogeyman. “Yet.”

Pitch rolled his eyes, but the look on his face was a wary one.

“They used to be friends,” Tadashi went on. “But she… did something selfish. Something that hurt him. And this whole thing, this whole conflict—it’s basically just built off that one grudge. So she figured the best way to get started on solving the fighting was to try to mend fences.” He placed his hands on his hips. “And lucky me, I got appointed to make sure you all don’t kill each other in the process.” He raised his head, looking each one of them in the eye. “Look. I know you guys have been fighting for a long, long time. I know you all have your own grudges. I know he’s hurt you all of you, and you’re not gonna forgive him easily—and at this point in time he doesn’t really deserve it yet.” Pitch snorted contemptuously again. “But I know we’re all in it for the kids—except Pitch, I don’t really know what he’s in it for—and the best way we can help kids is by coexisting.” He paused. “I keep hearing that there are way worse things than nightmares out there, and frankly I’d rather not waste time with shadowy sand horses if we have bigger things to worry about.”

“You are asking an awful lot, Tadashi,” North said severely. He towered over Tadashi, making full use of his height.

“That’s the beauty of it, though,” Tadashi said. “I’m not the only one asking. Look, I hate to name-drop, but at this point I think your best bet is to take it up with the lady upstairs. I’m just here to grease the wheels.” He pointed to Pitch. “And also set him on fire if he acts up.”

North looked as if he wanted to say more, but stopped. He glanced down to find the Sandman placing a placating hand over his. The Guardian of Wonder fell silent with a thoughtful frown.

“What’s this grudge?’ Toothiana spoke up, hovering closer. “What did he—er, she—do to him?” She shot a nervous glance at Pitch, who scowled back.

“She told me that my domain was not important,” the Nightmare King growled. Overhead, the light of the moon seemed to dim. “And she convinced the rest of you that fear has no place in the world.”

“Yeah, ‘cos it doesn’t,” Bunnymund snarled.

“It does, though,” Tadashi said. “It does have a place.”

The Guardians stared at him. Bunnymund looked furious. The Sandman and Tooth Fairy looked confused. Jack and North were… hard to read.

“Like it or not, fear’s just as important to childhood as the rest of us,” he said. “Every child gets scared. That’s what keeps them safe from the things that might hurt them.”

“He’s the one creating the things that frighten them,” Jack said flatly.

“But they’re harmless, by themselves,” Tadashi pointed out. “Nightmares. Bad dreams. Being scared of the dark. Everyone’s been there. I know I have. And as long as there isn’t too much fear, and it isn’t used the wrong way… there’s value to that.”

One of North’s thick eyebrows rose dubiously. “There is value to creating fear?”

“There can be,” Pitch broke in. “If you do it right.��� The others turned to stare at him, all with varying levels of suspicion. “My terms are simple: let me have my piece of the world, and I’ll do it right. Simple as that.”

“I don’t see how there’s a right way to give children bad dreams,” Toothiana challenged him. “You’re talking like children need fear to be happy.”

Pitch smiled thinly. “No. Children need fear to be children, and then to be more.”

“With bad dreams?” Toothiana demanded. “Things that go bump in the night? Monsters in closets?”

“It’s practice, you see,” said Pitch. “I understand that now. They start out learning to be afraid of the little horrors.”

“Oh, what, so they can be afraid of the big ones later on?” Bunnymund growled.

“Of course,” the Nightmare King replied. “Loneliness. Failure. Death. Loss. That sort of thing.”

“They’re not the same, Pitch!” Toothiana burst out.

“You think so? Perhaps.” Pitch stroked the nightmare’s nose. “The fears change when they aren’t children anymore. But the fear itself? That remains. Children are smart little things, and they remember. So they learn young—when fear comes, what do you do? Cower and run? Perhaps at first. So isn’t it good that the first things to frighten them are nothing more than bad dreams?”

Toothiana went still, and her bristling feathers began to lie flat again as her eyes widened. “You’re saying…”

“It’s good to be afraid of things that aren’t real,” said Pitch. “How else do you learn to face the things that are?”

Silence fell in the dark garden, broken only by the odd nicker from a spectral horse. A breeze ran through, cool but not chilly. High overhead, the glow of the moon brightened.

“See,” said Jack, breaking the silence. “If you’d pitched that to me, instead of the whole ‘hey-let’s-rule-together-in-an-empire-of-fear’ thing, I might’ve considered it.”

Pitch gave him a baleful stare. “I’ve had a lot of time alone to think recently. Haven’t been able to do much else.” For the briefest instant, his eyes flickered toward Tadashi, and he tipped an almost imperceptible nod.

From off to the side, there came a cough.

All eyes turned to Hiro, who stood battered and dirty not far from where a shell-shocked Callaghan still sat, guarded by the rest of the heroes. He jumped at the sudden attention, fidgeting awkwardly. “Um. Sorry, were you still—? I mean you looked like you sort of reached an agreement, so I thought…”

North gave a sigh. Not a tired one, or an irritated one. Mostly he just sounded amused. “What is it, little Hiro?”

“Is it… is it over?” Hiro glanced around cautiously, mindful of all the shadowy horses gathered around the shrine. “I mean, the whole… nightmare crisis.”

“Hm.” North turned to give Pitch a long, considering look. “Is hard to say. Things like these, can we say they are ever truly ‘over’? But… for now, the danger is past. The children are safe once more.” He turned to Hiro again with a nod and a smile. “You are safe once more. And we thank you for your help.”

Hiro nodded back. “What about Callaghan?”

North sighed again.

“Physically he should be fine,” Pitch spoke up. “A little dehydrated, I’ll wager. Mentally, that’s another story. He’s spent weeks with a supernatural hurricane in his head.”

“Can you help him?” Hiro pressed.

Honey moved forward to stand with him. “Whatever he’s done—” She shot a look at Tadashi. “Whatever he’s done in the past, he didn’t deserve all this. And everything that’s happened… it was the Nightmares that did it, wasn’t it? He’ll be punished for all the things they made him do, like breaking out and attacking all those people and…” She wrung her hands.

“It just doesn’t seem fair,” Hiro finished.

Tadashi saw the Guardians exchange glances.

“Kids have a point,” Bunnymund muttered.

“We don’t usually step in when adults are involved,” Toothiana said.

“Because adults usually aren’t involved,” Jack pointed out.

“I doubt he can return to human society anyway,” Pitch drawled. “After what he’s seen? Adult minds aren’t pliable like the little ones. Children have a way of snapping back—not so much for people like him.” His horse tossed its head. “And besides, the Nightmares probably left his head a mess. He’ll have horrors from all over the realms crawling over him to get an in.”

Tadashi tried not to shudder. It was a valiant effort.

It was North who stepped forward, past Hiro and Honey until he stood before the hunched form of Professor Callaghan. For a long while, he simply stood over the broken man and watched him with a severe look on his face.

Callaghan broke the silence first. “Whatever you see fit,” he said, nearly too quietly to hear.

“Hm.” North gave a thoughtful noise. “You are a maker.”

The old man raised his head to look at him, confused.

“You build. Invent. Create. Mind like sketchbook never runs out of pages. Yes?”

Hesitantly, Callaghan nodded.

The moment he did, North looked up and met Tadashi’s eyes. Tadashi blinked back at him, perplexed, until he realized what the other Guardian was doing. The question was clear on Santa Claus’s face—he was looking to Tadashi for approval. He was looking for permission to deal with Callaghan as he saw fit.

Tadashi gave a nod, and a welcoming motion with one hand.

North turned back to Callaghan with a rumble of laughter. “Good! I have use for you, then. Mind is terrible to waste.” He gave Callaghan a clap on the shoulder—a gentle one, judging by the fact that it didn’t knock Callaghan out of his seat. “You come with me, Callaghan.”

Callaghan bowed his head.

“This is not punishment,” North told him. “You do not need punishment, but healing. This, I can do. Or at least keep you busy.” Reaching down, he helped the old man to his feet. “Come. Where I take you, I think you will like.”

“So… what happens now?” Hiro had moved closer to Tadashi and caught hold of his sleeve. “Are you… I mean…”

“I’m sticking around,” Tadashi assured him. “I meant what I said. I won’t leave you. But…” He looked around at the other Guardians, and Pitch, and the nightmares. “Looks like I’ll be keeping busy, too. But no matter what, I’ll always come back, because this? This is home.” He squeezed his little brother’s shoulder. “My place is near you, buddy.”

“Okay.” Hiro seemed to steel himself. “Okay. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Good. Keep me honest.”

“We should be going,” Toothiana said at last. “I think… we all have a lot to talk about.”

“R-right.” Tadashi hesitated. “Um. Could you guys… go on ahead?” He motioned vaguely to his friends. “I just gotta…”

North laughed again, startling everyone. “Very well. You say your hellos. But catch up soon, yes? Help us deal with… your new friend.”

“We aren’t friends,” Pitch said waspishly. He turned away. “I’ll be rebuilding my home. When you’re ready to talk—” He stopped, and cast a glance upward at the shining moon. “Or when she’s ready to talk. Well. You know where to find me.” With that, he swung up onto his horse once more. The dark beast reared, the other horses rallied around it, and Pitch rode off into the night. He was gone in a gust of wind.

“We’ll meet you back at the North Pole?” Toothiana said, looking at Tadashi.

“Yeah, definitely.”

The sleigh coasted down to the ground, and the other Guardians, plus a dazed Robert Callaghan, climbed in. Jack was the last to follow.

“I was worried for a second there,” he said, locking eyes with Tadashi. “Pitch tried to cozy up to me, once. I was wondering if you’d gotten taken in or something.”

“God no, he’s an asshole,” Tadashi said. “I’m doing this because she finally cut the crap and started giving me straight answers.” He pointed upwards. “And she asked nicely.”

“O-oh. Right. Him—I mean, her.” Jack’s face twitched as he fought to suppress a powerful emotion. It looked like many things at once—envy, regret, sorrow. “Good talk, I take it?”

“You can have one too,” Tadashi said.

Jack blinked. “W-what?”

“That was one of my terms, when I agreed to what she said,” Tadashi told him. “I told her it wasn’t fair that she left you alone for three hundred years, so at the very least she owed you a conversation. So… that’s an offer open, if you want it.”

For a moment, Jack stared at him, dumbfounded. His jaw moved, but his mouth failed to form words. At last, he shook his head and punched Tadashi lightly in the shoulder. “God, you’re such a mother hen. I’ll see you at the North Pole, fluff.”

Tadashi grinned. “It was no problem, Jack.”

The sleigh lifted off, leaving the rest of them alone in the Tea Garden.

Tadashi took a deep breath. He turned on his heel. Tears were already gathering in his eyes as he caught Hiro’s shoulder and pulled him along into the waiting arms of his friends.

---

“So how’re things?” Hiro asked.

Tadashi stepped in through the window and landed lightly on the floor of their attic bedroom. “Busy, like I said. I’m spending most of my time keeping Pitch and Bunny from going for each other’s throats.”

Hiro laughed. “I still can’t believe that a rabbit that goes around handing out chocolate eggs in the springtime is, like, Conan the Barbarian.”

“It surprised me at first, too,” Tadashi admitted. “He didn’t like me much, back then. I guess rabbits just aren’t meant to get along with foxes.”

Hiro nodded, humming thoughtfully. “Hey, Tadashi…” He looked over his shoulder at Baymax’s charging station and case, which lay deactivated in the corner of the room.. “You’re sure you don’t need your… your soul? I mean, we would’ve been in a lot of trouble if Baymax hadn’t yanked it out and given it to you back then.”

“I might, someday,” Tadashi said. “If we ever see something that big and dangerous again. But until then…” He shot Baymax a grin. “It’s like I can be in two places at once, you know?”

“Guess so. Double the mother-hen. Lucky me.” Hiro’s voice was dry, but there was a smirk on his face. Tadashi reached up to mess up his hair. “And how’s… uh… how’s Callaghan?”

Tadashi grinned wryly. “North’s been putting him to work at the workshop. The elves keep pranking him, but I think he gets along okay with the Yetis. And… man, if he was something when he just had science, adding magic into the mix has turned out some wild stuff.”

Hiro hummed softly. “Is he… okay, then?”

“…Yeah. He’s okay.” Tadashi stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I think that’s about the best he can be, after everything that’s happened. He’s somewhere he can do things, and make things, instead of just… languish. He’s still getting used to the magic, though.”

“I don’t blame him.”

For a moment, they lapsed into a thoughtful silence, before Tadashi perked up again. “Oh, speaking of magic. I found out something cool.” Reaching beneath his jacket, he dug out a small folded stack of papers. “So, it turns out Nozomi and her friends have been spreading stories around the schoolyard, and look what I’ve found.” He unfolded the pages, revealing children’s crayon drawings, most of them colorfully simple depictions of foxes. Scrawled beneath the drawings, or on the back, were little notes.

“Are you getting fan mail?” Hiro’s smirk widened. “Like Santa?”

“Not quite. These are more like… ema, almost.” Tadashi shuffled through the pages, admiring them. “The kids who made these wrote wishes and hung them in their windows. So far it’s been stuff like being scared of the dark, or having bad dreams. And when they put them up, I felt it. It was like a string pulling me there. I think they’ve found a way to call me.”

“Cool!” Hiro laughed. “Looks like they’re already making legends about you, bro.”

“Heh, maybe.”

“I gotta ask, though—bad dreams? Doesn’t that kinda pit you against Pitch?”

“Not yet. Mostly it’s been scraps of nightmares that haven’t figured out Pitch is King again.” Tadashi folded up the notes and put them away again. “Maybe it will, someday. I’m okay with a rivalry, though. Doesn’t mean we can’t still get along.”

“You get along with the bogeyman?”

“Sort of.” Tadashi paused. “Well. We don’t not get along. That’s really all I ask at this point. But enough about me—how’s the hero work?”

“Same old, same old, I guess,” Hiro replied. “No archenemies yet. Maybe when I’m older.” He paused. “It’s just… weird, though.”

“What’s weird?”

“What isn’t weird?” Hiro laughed, a little humorlessly. “We both ended up in just… the wildest positions. You know? We’re both heroes. Just… different kinds. You do the magic stuff, I do the science stuff.”

“Not where I thought my life was going, that’s for sure,” Tadashi said softly.

“And… Aunt Cass is still mourning you,” Hiro murmured. “And I wish… I just wish there was a way to tell her, that you’re still here. And not just still-in-her-memory still here, I mean…”

“I know.” Tadashi slung an arm around his shoulders. “I know, and maybe… maybe someday.”

“That’s a pretty big maybe.”

“I know. But it’s not impossible. She could find a way to believe in me, and see me. Maybe we just need to have a little faith.”

“Hm.” Hiro raised an eyebrow. “And trust?”

“Sure. And if I find some pixie dust, I’ll let you know.” Tadashi ruffled his little brother’s hair again. “But for now, I… I’m just really glad you can see me.”

Hiro grinned. “Me too, bro. Oh hey, before you have to fly off again—” He darted toward the corner of the room nearest the stairs. “Sorry, it’s just—you look weird, running around without it.” Reaching up, he plucked the baseball cap from the hat rack and ran back. It was a bit of a stretch to plop it on Tadashi’s head, but he managed it. “I dunno if it fits your whole kitsune ghost mystique thing you have going, but…”

“Heh.” Tadashi reached up and straightened it. “I’ll admit, I have missed this old… thing…” His voice trailed off, and he looked over his shoulder. “Huh. Think I’m feeling it again.”

“Another kid having bad dreams?”

“Something like that.” Tadashi looked back, opening his mouth to say something.

Hiro stepped closer and wrapped him in a hug before he had the chance. Without a word, Tadashi returned it.

There didn’t need to be words. I missed you went without saying, and so did I love you and I’m glad you’re here.

“Well,” Hiro said at last, his voice muffled into his brother’s chest. “Don’t let me hold you up. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure thing, little bro.”

Hiro followed him to the window and watched him leap out of it. With his hands braced against the sill, he leaned forward and followed his brother’s path. As he stayed by the window, he watched the little form of a swiftly running fox as it darted out into the night, over and under the golden trails of dream sand beneath a dark, jeweled sky and a steadfast, ever-watchful Moon.