#and i know she thinks that i am too blasé about the future

[clarrissanewt]

Hey. Can u do a Harry×fem!reader (Harry is such an underrated angel) where The reader thinks Harry deserves someone much better than her, maybe Ginny? Ginny is smart,attractive,funny cool and a badass. So,She ignores Harry thinking it would make his feelings cold abt her. I don't know what I want the end like so if u can make it angsty or fluffy,Up to u.

Ps: U R AMAZING WRITER!

Pss: take care of ur self 💛

Mirror Mayhem

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and drowning

A/n: cannot agree more, Anon, Harry deserves better. On the other note, thank you for the compliment!

Ps- are you a hufflepuff? (just curious)

"Isn't this funny?"

His dead voice snapped her to reality as she clenched her eyes in the realization that she had been staring...almost for an hour.

"Sorry?" She was quick to slip the piece of mirror inside her layers of clothes.

It had been in her routine, nowadays- patrolling out of the tent in turns, few discussions about the increasingly nebulous Horcrux hunt, then getting lost within the horizon of the small mirror and sometimes striking a small conversation with Hermione. It pained her to see Hermione so brittle after Ron had left.

"I had been thinking," he repeated, his gaze sternly fixed on her, "isn't this funny that you prefer to ogle at an ordinary shard of the mirror rather than talking to someone alive?"

He didn't sound larky and joking as he did months ago...years, really.

But what he didn't know was that this mirror wasn't ordinary.

It seemed like a trick of eyes to her, at first- the way the blasé mirror didn’t stare her back like always. But thinking it was just her hallucination after the near escape from the ministry, she didn’t think about it; slipped it inside her boots for future  use.

But the next time she had to stand up to it again was when it actually tore off a portion off her feet.

Bloody mirror.

And she felt like a daft idiot picking up the blood sodden mirror (she had to blink for at least five minutes to make sure that her conscience wasn’t fooling around her) because it just didn’t show her eyes...it reflected back a pair of unsettlingly, lush green eyes along with hers.

She had to whelve the small gift by Dumbledore as her breath hitched at the sight.

She had made a decision, and she was going to stand by it.

So there was no surprise when she shot an irritated yet quick glance sideways at his amusing comment.

He had observed too, quiet from sometime, how she started diverting her path as soon as she would see him, became the first one to wake up and needless to say, the first one to leave at night, and started talking to them meagerly...like he was a stranger to her now.

He well knew that the glass she had been pouring herself over was in Dumbledore’s will. Quite useless, unless you really count the fact that it could help you slaughter something in the absence of a wand.

“Fine. It’s quite settled then,” he slowly stood up from the drawf and dusty chair he had occupied, and snatching the locket from around his neck, dropped it onto her lap. “You are welcome to talk to me when I am dead.”

She kept her head down as he left her mallowing in guilt. 

The little image of Harry and Ginny bombarded somewhere in her brain as silvery tears slided down her cold cheeks.

Ginny was definitely better that her- she had mastered the bat-bogey hex, was a member of the Slughorn club, a famous quidditch player; while she- just a simple witch who never got any attention (not like she craved it). She seemed so minimal compared to her friends that people never acknowledged her existence with them turning their group into the Golden Quadlet...just a side kick to the Golden Trio.

Honestly, it hurted.

Hurted even more than piercing stabs or nose-blowing punches. And cascading the ugly, obnoxious locket strangled her breath.

But she was at fault in all this- or, wasn’t she?

As the world felt spinning around her, she brought up her hand to wipe the stains of guilt and rage from her face, just to find it even more soaked.

And as the faint glint of moonlight struck the blood sucking mirror, her eyes were focused on a little stick figure of- oh, that was a wand. Her wand.

It was pretty stupid, in her opinion, to leave the wand behind when you are considered as ‘Undesirable No-1,’ that too this late in night, deep in the forest with death eaters all around.

Classic Potter.

And with a last glance at their figures in the mirror, she tightened her grip at a puncturing rate around the wand and strolled into the forest, silently hoping that Hermione would be safe until she returned.

As tiny specs of snow flakes amassed the layers of hers sweater, she felt her breath torturing her more than relieving. She purely had no idea where Harry was. He had to be safe, for all she knew.

She would have surpassed the dark lane down the forest without a second thought if she hadn’t heard a deafening splash from there.

In horror, she whirled on her spot, terror seizing the control of her limbs; she stomped through the spearing and serated twigs and branches, and as soon as her gaze landed on his clothes and Hagrid’s pouch. A yelp eked out of her throat involuntarily as she dived inside.

Every part of her body screamed in protest. She felt every drop of air inside her lungs freezing slowly as she drifted headlong. The cold was agonizing; almost felt like sizzling on fire.

Before she could catch up with him (who was far deeper into the lake than her), something closed tightly around her neck.

Thrashing and suffocating, her numb fingers struggled under the hilt of the locket, unable to loosen it.

With these many layers of woolens and a strangling chain constricting her windpipe, she was sure to drown and die.

And when she came facedown with the snow, she had no strength to even move her fingers, let alone thank her savior. Still choking under the puncturing grip of the horcrux, a shaking hand reached up to her throat and cut the chain into her flesh.

With trembling fingers, her hand tried to graze the blood spitting spot when her savior gripped it.

“Are-you-mental?”

His panting voice gave her enough strength to roll over on her back. He was sinking on his knees, without any clothes on his upper body which was shining blissfully in the clouded night. As if it was a reflex, she sat up with the support of her lax arms and started undoing one of her sweaters, which had turned to a very deep shade of violet from the drowning. 

Squeezing it free of water, she silently dabbed his shivering figure. At least he was safe.

“Why the hell,” he dangled the horcrux with shortened chain in front of her eyes as if in a parody of hypnosis, “did you not take this thing off before you dived? And why did you even dive?”

She couldn’t answer. Shuddering with the drenched clothes, she caught up with his pile of clothes and struggled to pull them over his head.

“Why had you dived- no, don’t pull that out.”

"I saw the sword of Gryffindor. Ron has it right now."

"Ron? Is he here?" She made a frail struggle to turn around as he continued.

"He will be back, Y/n. Take off your sweaters."

"What?"

"Take them off- never mind."

He stood on his knees and dumped her layers of drenched and dull sweaters on the placid floor of snow. And without another word, he crushed her into a desperate hug, gently moving his hands on her bare skin to soothe out the goose flesh that were creeping on to her skin.

"It's fine. I've got you. You shouldn't have jumped inside."

"And you think I'd have let you freeze inside?" She pulled away from his chest and quickly slid down his sweater as they heard frantic footsteps approaching.

He was well aware that Ron's appearance was even more blissful than the silhouette of the silvery galloping doe that brought them the sword, so there were no surprises when his two friends flung their arms onto each other, a wail erupting from Ron's throat.

"Blimey, Y/n, I almost thought you were dead. If something like that would have happened, I would not have left you in peace, mate," he called Harry out.

But he didn't smile, didn't joke back at their platonic concern. His eyes were focused on the shard of glass which had helped him cut the chain...it looked sickly familiar.

He couldn't view his own self, except, it reflected two lips moulding together, moving in synch, with a rhythmic flick inside.

He well recognized that pair- it was his and Y/n's.

"It's the mirror of Erised, isn't it?"

His question almost made her heart drop down to the stomach. There was no way he could have found it.

"Wait. Is it the one which was in Dumbledore's will?" Ron looked between them, dumbfounded as she nodded in response. "Bloody hell, I read something about this while I was on a run from the Snatchers. It accepts blood, does it?"

"It does," she asserted. "It opened like that only."

"Blimey- it's reflection makes the sword of Gryffindor stronger-"

"Then we have got some work to complete," Harry interrupted and trudged towards a flat rock, gesturing them to follow.

"Is it, er- necessary to do it right now?"

"The faster we get rid of it, the better, Ron."

He nodded and his chin dipped down as he handed the sword to Y/n in listless movements before backing away.

"Merlin Boobies, I can't!" I've already almost splinched my hand while apparation- I saw the tent nearby, by the way. Let me go and er- surprise Hermione."

She turned speechless at the betrayal and huffed out a deep breath, fixed her gaze at the raven-haired boy.

Months of ceaseless struggle had overturned him...the silence and the sternness was agonizing.

"Why don't you finish it off? I'll do the rest."

"I won't," he replied with a perfect brevity. "You can do this. Just- just be careful, it will fight back. When I tried to finish off Riddle's diary, it tried to kill me. Just be safe, okay?"

She nodded shortly as a lump started forming in her throat.

"How are you going to open it?"

"I'll ask it," he looked at her hopefully. "Using parseltongue."

As the words came out of his mouth like a hiss and a snarl, the golden gates if the locket swung open with a click.

"Stab," he murmured, holding the locket steady on the rock.

She raised the sword with her quivering hands, half terrified and half glad that it didn't put up a fight until a small voice whizzed from the horcrux.

"I've seen your heart and it's mine."

"Don't listen," Harry commanded harshly. "Stab it!"

"I've seen your dreams, Y/n L/n, your deepest desires, your sacrifices for the boy you love, and yet his denial."

"Y/n, stab it- STAB IT!"

Still transfixed, the sword tip dangled over the scarlet, slit pupiled eye of Riddle but she backed away. There was a cloud of vague built oozing out, and Harry had to retreat too as the locket brusquely turned white-hot.

And he couldn't believe what was unfolding before his eyes. It was him; and Ginny was there too. Both the pseudo figures degrading her.

"Don't listen, Y/n. Stab!" His voice echoed and rebounded from the horizon of the naked trees.

He badly wanted to look away as the Riddle-Ginny intertwined herself around his pseudo figure, and their lips met.

He swore to himself that he saw Y/n's eyes mimicking Riddle's as she let out an abrupt and frustrated cry, and stabbed the locket straight in the centre, smashing it's intricate glass window. He ducked, thinking that there would be probably blood flying off, but it was over. Everything was silent...except her. She was shaking and panting heavily, head sunk into her knees, the sword lay forgotten on the stratum of snow.

Scooping up the broken locket and the small piece of mirror, he crouched beside her, his eyes turned heavenwards.

"Don't believe anything you heard."

He heard her sniffle as she tilted her gaze towards him.

"I couldn't stop it- I'm sorry, I- I should have tried-"

"It's okay. It's gone."

And this met a silence again. a silence that none of the them dared to break.

"Y/n? Can I believe you?"

She swerved fully towards him at this question, her shaking almost at the bay now. "I thought you did."

"I do. I just- I want go know about this," he flicked the mirror into her palm. "What do you see in this? Look, don't lie. I'm quite aware about your feelings now."

She smiled sadly at his prior sentence. "My feelings could be for Ginny too," she made a brave attempt to diffuse her perturbation.

"Fair enough. What do you see?"

"Your eyes."

One side of his lips twitched at her words as he smuggled the mirror back. "Want to see what I saw?"

And before she could reply to him with an obvious yes, their lips moulded concurrently, all like the same as he saw in the mirror.

Oh well, one horcrux was down.

#harry potter oneshot #HarryPotter #harrypotterfanfic #harry james potter #harry potter x you #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter blurb #blurb #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter golden era #golden trio #golden trio era

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 3 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 2 / 4 / 5 

_________________________________________________

~Cassian~

By the time I sneak in the apartment, it’s the middle of the night. The boxes in the corner tell me my fiancé is here, has officially moved in with me, and I take a moment to appreciate how fucking weird that feels.

I might be appreciative of all things women and have definitely earned my reputation as a player, but I’ve never had a woman live in my place.

It’s... weird.

I walk quietly through the place, passing the guest room she’s sleeping in, and into my room.

Then pause, because it turns out she’s not in the guest room.

Nesta’s sprawled in my bed, on my side, hair spilling over my pillow like liquid sunshine. The moon seems to favor her, highlighting the features I have a hard enough time avoiding looking at during the day, and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I think about how much more difficult it’s going to be to sleep now.

But I refuse to leave my own room, since this very well could be a power play, so I just walk to the attached bathroom, close the door, and sigh.

Looking in the mirror proves I look like shit, and I wonder what Nesta will think when she wakes up next to me.

She probably won’t care.

I have a feeling it takes something pretty drastic to shake that blasé attitude out of her.

After taking a cold shower to minimize the bruising, I pad across the room, grab some boxers, and slide into bed next to my blushing bride to be.

She shifts and turns onto her side, and I realize she’s stolen one of my t-shirts to sleep in. It’s ridiculously big on her, falling off her shoulders, and not nearly thick enough to hide what’s underneath.

Fucking hell.

Even asleep, I can’t ignore her.

Her smell--citrus and jasmine and vanilla--is fucking all over me, stuffing itself in my nostrils and not letting me relax.

I’ve never been this attracted to how a woman smells.

Most times, perfumes and lotions and whatever other sorcery women lather on themselves has the opposite effect, actually.

But all I can think about right now is rolling over and burying my face in her neck. Then burying a different part of me in her.

Even though I should turn over and at least try to sleep, I let myself look at her.

Her lips are slightly parted and look like they’d taste like candy, and there’s a serene, peaceful expression on her face that’s so different from the fierce one she usually wears.

She wiggles, somehow sliding closer, and murmurs, “Stop staring at me.”

I chuckle, and the simple fact that we’re laying in bed whispering to each other does strange things to my head.

Nesta apparently agrees, turning over and facing away from me. I take a moment to appreciate the sweep of her hips, and she seems to know exactly what I’m looking at when she says, “Goodnight, pervert.”

A smile threatens to bloom, so I wipe my hand across my face and smother it.

Maybe marriage won’t be so bad.

~

When I wake up, I amend my statement. Marriage definitely won’t be so bad.

I’m wrapped around around Nesta--which probably happened the instant I fell asleep--and my nose is against the soft skin of her neck, allowing me to breathe in the smell of her over and over again.

She just feels... right.

She’s relaxed against me, which is surprising, considering where my hand is.

One very numb arm is under her head as a makeshift pillow, but it’s the other one that’s interesting. It’s wrapped around her narrow waist, holding her tight to my chest and ending in the hand cupping her breast.

She’ll probably kill me the second she wakes up, but it might be worth it.

Fuck, she feels good against me.

But I realize I’m acting like the pervert she accused me of being, so I slide my hand down, towards the more neutral territory of her stomach.

I’m helpless, however, to stop myself from kissing the side of her neck softly.

She stirs, and I freeze like a red-handed thief.

But she just turns over in my arms, pressing her front to mine, and slips an arm around my waist, sighing sleepily. Her hand roams over my back, nails raising goosebumps in their wake as they softly trace over my skin.

She blinks her eyes open, takes in our tangled up position, and says simply, “Huh.”

“Yeah,” I respond like a monosyllabic idiot.

Clear blue eyes on mine, she brings her hand up to my face and lightly touches the split lip I’m sure is puffy as hell.

Fucker had a fast right hook.

“You made me a lot of money last night,” she murmurs, tapping my lip once, then twice.

“What?” I ask, too turned on and dizzy to focus on what she said.

She was there? She saw me fight?

A strange sense of male pride goes through me at that, considering I won.

“I had the bookie place a bet for me,” Nesta says, stopping that caveman train of thought in its tracks.

“How’d you know?”

I keep my fighting far away from the public’s eye, going clear across town to Lucky’s. It’s a small shipping company, and Lucky, the man who runs the place, uses some empty containers to host fights every week.

He knows who I am but doesn’t care, claiming he’s too old to be scared of some “young Mafia punk.” He also doesn’t allow cell phones or recordings, and there’s no written records of the fights.

She raises an eyebrow. “You realize Alexei owns that entire shipping yard, right?”

I had not.

“Huh,” I say, stealing her line from a minute ago. “And you bet on me? Why?”

“Call it intuition.”

I remember the way her eyes tracked over me yesterday, like there wasn’t anything she didn’t see, and I realize she knew I like to fight from the second she saw me.

“Glad I could help pad your bank account,” I tell her, smiling. “And I’m glad you make yourself at home in my absence. But just for future reference... I sleep on that side of the bed.”

She leans in, lips an inch from mine, and whispers, “Not anymore, you don’t.”

A rough smile is all the warning I give her before I pull her close and turn over, practically throwing her to the other side of the bed.

I don’t know what I expect her to do, but it sure as hell isn’t jab me in the ribs, crawl over me, and retake her original spot.

Prodding my ribs, I notice she hit me right on a pressure point. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

She grins, a challenge lighting up her bright eyes and making her look even more alive.

“Oh, malyshka,” I whisper, somehow knowing calling her a pet name will piss her off. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“Bring it, stronzo,” she shoots back, calling me an asshole in my own fucking language. Disrespectful.

I grab her wrists to try and pin her, but she’s fucking fast as an adder, slipping out from underneath me and poking me in the ribs again.

I step it up a notch, and for a few moments, we’re busy wrestling in bed.

It’s honest to God the most fun I’ve had in ages.

I’ve never met a woman who knows how to fight, much less one I can’t seem to pin. I have a hundred pounds on her, yet more than once, I’m the one struggling.

She continues pressing pressure points, some I never even knew existed, and despite the fact it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, I find myself laughing.

By the time I eventually just tackle her and press her into the mattress with my weight, I’m out of breath and can’t stop laughing at how ridiculous it is.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, my legs on top of hers to keep her from doing something clever like kneeing me in the balls. “Slippery little sucker, aren’t you?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then she tilts her head back and laughs.

Watching that stony exterior crack might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.

She comes alive, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her laugh is a beautiful sound, light and airy and I can’t stop myself.

I drop down and kiss her, pressing my smile to hers.

She stops laughing.

And then she sighs, and the sound is so goddamn pretty I almost can’t take it.

She pushes up on my hands, hands wanting freedom, so I release her wrists and brace myself on my elbows above her. Nesta winds her arms around me, hands delving in my hair, and kisses me back.

I try to keep my weight off her, but she’s having none of that and wraps her legs around me and pulls me down, fusing our hips together.

I press myself against her, and she arches up in response, drawing a low sound out of my throat.

Now that my hands are free, they roam through her hair, across her sides, down her thighs.

She’s so goddamn soft.

She moves against me like it’s second nature, kisses me like she can’t get enough.

And when I move to kiss a path down her throat, inhaling that intoxicating scent as I suck on her skin, she softly moans my name. I feel like I’m on fire, and her saying my name like that that does absolutely nothing to help, so I bite on the junction between her shoulder and neck in retaliation for being so addictive.

She says my name, then again, and I notice it isn’t in the same soft tone as before.

My head snaps up, gaze finding hers to try and figure out if I did something wrong.

Her lips and cheek are rosy, blonde hair a halo around her.

“I think we should wait,” she states, even though she doesn’t make a move to leave or throw me off. And I know now she definitely could.

“For what?”

Her lips twitch. “Our wedding.”

It takes me a long time to respond. “Are you a-”

“No,” she says, looking at me with a teasing look in her eyes.

“Oh.”

“I just think it’d make it better,” she reasons.

Personally, I think it’d be perfect right the hell now, but I nod like I’m not hard enough to deform the mattress I’m pressing my hips into. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she mutters back, and we spend a moment lying there, breathing each other’s air. Until, “I should probably get up, then.”

Because I suddenly know a total of one word, I just reply, “Okay.”

I roll off of her and onto my back, putting a hand over my eyes so I’m not tempted to look at her ass as she gets up and pads to the bathroom.

I listen to her shower and get ready, all the while wondering how the absolute hell I’m going to live with her, have her sleep in my bed, without actually having sex with her.

She’s tempting enough wearing fucking work clothes, but if I wake up again with her in my arms? Fuck.

I could always go to someone else, but for some strange reason, the thought of being like every other man in the Cosa Nostra and having a mistress makes me sick. Or maybe it’s the fact that in a matter of two whole days, I’ve become completely wrapped around Nesta’s finger and don’t want to hurt her like that.

The object of my obsession comes out, walking over to the closet in a towel, and I look at the ceiling in misery.

Maybe I should stay in the guest room.

~

By the time I can breathe again and have gotten over the feeling of my balls fucking falling off, Nesta’s gone. She got dressed like nothing was the matter, asked if I was going to sit on my ass all day, and told me she’d be back later tonight as she slipped out the door.

It’s still early, and I wonder for a second where she’s going, but then shrug and stop sitting around pining.

I put on a dark suit--something I only do when I have corporate shit to do--and drive further downtown to Sera. It’s my first day, and I scheduled an all-staff to meet everyone and introduce myself.

I park and walk through the bank, nodding to the teller who opens the secondary bank door and lets me in the club. People are waiting inside, which is a little strange since I’m five minutes early, but I’m not complaining.

I take in the faces I’ve spent the past couple days memorizing as people file in. The staff is interesting, to say the least. More than a few have records, and some are from places of the world I’ve never heard of.

The investors come in last, the only corporate-looking people in the room. They come up and shake my hand while the employees choose to watch me with a strange look in their eyes.

Once everyone’s inside and seated, I smile and introduce myself.

“My name is Cassian Azara. I’m the new owner of Sera, and I just wanted to come by, introduce myself, and meet you guys.” No one smiles back or says anything, but I don’t let it bother me. “The change in management won’t impact the day to day aspect too much. I like the way things are and don’t plan on changing anything, but let me know if you need anything or have suggestions.”

One woman sitting in the back speaks up, her voice clipped and irritated. “What’s the point of taking over, if you aren’t changing anything?”

I don’t really know what to say, so I ask back, “Do you have a suggestion?”

She rolls her eyes, looking pissed as hell, and pulls out her phone.

Weird.

I stop speaking to the group, and the investors make a point to shake my head again. After they’re gone, I walk around to introduce myself individually, finding the general vibe to be... definitely not welcome.

I understand it’s weird for a stranger to come in and claim they’re the boss, but I just said it shouldn’t impact their lives too much, so I don’t understand the reaction I’m getting.

Some people ignore me, some look at me with irritation, and some just get up and leave.

I turn to the bartender, one of the only ones who didn’t act like he wants to stab me with a rusty knife, as he leaves. “Is there a reason they all hate me?”

He gives me a strange look over his shoulder. “We’re all pretty fond of the previous owner.”

Alexei? These people all like Alexei?

I’ve never heard a nice word about that man, but I guess he won their loyalty over time.

Whatever. If these people like that cold bastard, they’re sure to love me.

~

What feels like a full twenty-four hours later, I walk through the door to my apartment and realize how fucking wrong I was.

The employees of Sera do not like me. I dealt with business of my own after the quick meet and greet this morning, then came back to do management stuff at six.

Immediately, I was met with complaints and broken things and inventory problems and about a million other things I don’t have to deal with at my other properties.

I’ve never met a group of people so difficult to work with.

Nesta eyes me as I come through the door, tilting her head curiously. “You look like shit.”

There’s something... interesting about her tone, but I shrug it off.

I wish I could lie and say she looks bad, too, but she somehow looks perfect and fresh as a daisy after whatever she’s done all day.

“Long day.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at me over the top of her laptop.

“The employees at Sera, one of your dad’s old clubs, aren’t too happy with me taking over. They were a pain in the ass all day.”

Nesta looks at me for a while, something I can’t read playing in her gaze. “Huh.”

I grab a beer from the fridge and fling myself down next to her, looking over at her with my patented bedroom eyes. “You know what would make me feel so much better?” I ask, innuendo making the answer pretty obvious.

“Minet?”

My brow furrows. “I don’t know what that means.”

She sighs, getting to her feet and stretching her arms over her head in a way that makes her dress slide up her thighs. “Look it up, big boy. I’m going to bed. And before you ask, no, that isn’t an invitation.”

“Stay on your side,” I warn with a grin. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass again.”

Nesta just scoffs, taking her laptop up the stairs and disappearing into my... our room.

I look up minet, smile, and yell, “That’s exactly what I was thinking!”

She doesn’t respond, but I hear soft laughter and know she heard me.

Sighing about my lack of minet, I pull out my own computer, planning on going through some of the complaints I received tonight. But something makes me pause and remember the look on Nesta’s face when I told her about my day.

And her tone... it was amusement, I realize.

I pull up the deed and find out why.

Sera, and the building it’s hidden within, never belonged to Alexei. They were bought and built by little miss Nesta Orlov.

Interesting.

I keep digging and find out why the employees there are so loyal to her. One way or another, she saved them. All of them.

The bartender with the criminal record who struggled to find employment, the street performer who was sleeping on a park bench, the dancer who was denied a VISA until Nesta met with the governor on her behalf.

Every single employee is somehow bound to Nesta, somehow in her debt.

It’s fucking genius.

Instead of spending money to buy loyalty, she chose people who’d give it to her for the simple price of a job.

No wonder they hate me.

Maybe it’ll blow over when we announce our engagement at the party and they realize she’s still in the picture.

Although for some reason, I have the strange feeling that what happened today was just the beginning.

____________________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf #acosf fanfiction #nesta archeron #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #a court of mist and fury

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 10: You’re My Mission

Summary: The Asgardian Staff case is wrapped up but before Katie and Steve can be re-united, the Super Soldier has a mission of his own to complete. Their reunion doesn’t disappoint, and as she weighs up the events of the past few months, Katie reaches a conclusion about her future with SHIELD

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Smut (NSFW)  over 18s only thanks. Bit of bad language….

A/N: Another lovely edit from @angrybirdcr​ of Katie in action.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 9

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 Tarim. Yemen. The hottest place Steve had ever been. Ever. And a place he had no desire to go back to. Ever. 

As far as he was concerned, this whole mission had been a cluster fuck of epic proportions. The Mercs they had been sent in to deal with were slightly more ruthless than they had anticipated, taking a group of school kids from the square hostage. Evans and Rollins (in Katie’s absence) managed to contain most of them, taking them down with non-fatal injuries, as was the agreement with the Government, but one of them wasn’t going quietly and had snatched up a kid as he made a break for it.

The Yemeni Special Forces were on their way, and Steve knew that if they arrived permission to execute a kill shot would be given. But even that was dangerous, as the guy had the kid held in such a position, his back to a wall, her held across his chest, that the angle would have been impossible. Steve ordered the team to lower their weapons, and stepped forward, hoping to talk the man down. And then Rumlow had taken a shot, off-loading a bullet straight between the Merc’s eyes.

And Steve was mad, mad as a wasp.

“I gave you a direct order…” He stood, hands on his belt in the jet as he looked at Rumlow, the nerve in his jaw twitching.

“I made a call.” Rumlow shrugged “If I hadn’t they would have gotten away…”

“You put those civilians lives in danger.”

“That’s a little dramatic…”

“Yeah, come on Cap.” Rollins spoke.“The kid was fine, we got the weapons Government were ok…no harm done.”

Steve rounded on him, his blasé tone set his teeth on edge.

“That isn’t the point.” he blazed “I wouldn’t have asked Barton to take a shot like that. I wasn’t, and never will be, willing to risk anyone’s life like that, not to mention that of a child, for collateral damage, just to get what we need. It makes us no better than the people we’re trying to stop.”

“It worked didn’t it?” Rumlow shrugged

“Sheer luck.” Steve retorted.

“Well sometimes you just get lucky.” The STRIKE leader shrugged. 

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need this shit.

“Look Cap, with all due respect, I’ve been running this team for years. You don’t get to do our job without taking a bit of risk.” Rumlow looked at him. “Now I’m sorry if you feel I was challenging your authority…”

“It has nothing to do with my authority.” Steve blazed at him.

“Really? Because that’s what it looks like from my position.” Rumlow shook his head “I’m sorry you feel this way. But it isn’t as simple as that. Life isn’t split into good guys and bad guys, it ain’t black and white… more shades of grey.”

Steve didn’t reply, he simply stared at Rumlow, his eyes raging before he moved away to a seat for take-off next to Natasha.

“Let it go Rogers.” She drawled softly to him. “You’ve chewed him out…you want my advice, leave it there.”

Steve didn’t reply. He was pissed and didn’t trust himself to say anything. He hadn’t heard from Katie so far today, but he wasn’t expecting to as he’d fired her a message last night, or this morning (he had no idea what time-zone he was in anymore) to tell her he was off on an urgent mission.

It was pathetic, he knew, but being away from her was really setting him on edge. Not just because he found jerking off in the shower was far less satisfactory now than before he’d actually started sleeping with her, but more so he was missing the stupid things, like her draping her legs over his on the couch whilst she was reading, her singing when she was cooking, the way she laughed till she cried at Brooklyn Nine-Nine, even demanding he make her a grilled cheese at 02:50 am…

Steve watched with amusement as the girls walked out of the bar, a little shaky, Katie leaning on Natasha laughing at something. He’d dropped them both off earlier in the evening and said he would pick her up later, even though they said they would get a cab. He had insisted, he loved looking after her and that was what boyfriends did right? Picked their dames up. However, as they teetered over to Katie’s car, it looked like he was about to inherit a pair of drunken, giggling idiots to look after, and the thought made him smile with fondness.

“Hi baby!” Katie greeted him as she climbed into the seat. She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek and he smiled.

“You had fun? You look like you have.”

“Fun is my middle name Rogers.” Nat winked and Katie sniggered in the seat next to him as he pulled the car off from the curb.

“Nat’s gonna stay at mine.” Katie turned to look at him, her cheeks tinged pink with the alcohol “Afterparty!”

“Don’t you think you’ve both had enough?” He teased and. Katie put her fingers to her lips and told him to shush whilst Nat leaned forward.

“Just because you can’t get drunk.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Whatever, your funeral Romanoff.” He smirked, eyes on the road.

“God he’s so sensible, how do you cope?” Nat looked at Katie. Through the corner of his eye he saw a wicked smile cross his girls face.

“He has hidden talents” She quipped, before the two women descended into fits of giggles.

Steve let out an exasperated noise through his nose, but secretly he didn’t mind. He loved that she’d had a good time, even if he had the sneaking suspicion he’d been the butt of a few jokes, probably even a few risqué girl chats too.

“Hey, yoooo wanted to come get us..” Katie picked up on the noise he had made and looked at him. “Can’t stand the heat stay the fuck out the…” she paused “erm…”

“Kitchen?” Steve supplied, looking at her, left hand on the wheel, amused grin on his face

“Yeah, that.” She pointed.

“Kitchen is very much your domain sweetheart”

“Not what I heard” Nat chipped in. “She says you make a mean grilled cheese….”

“Oh my god.” Katie said suddenly “can you make us one?”

“What, now?” he frowned.

“Well obviously not right now as this is a carrrr” She rolled her eyes, gesturing around her “But when we get home. I’m hungry.”

He looked at her “Doll, it’s almost three in the morning.”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeese Stevie.” She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him in a ridiculously over the top manner, which he couldn’t do anything but laugh at.

“Alright I’ll make you both a grilled cheese” He nodded, unable to stop the smile creeping across his face, even when he heard Natasha burp the word “bitchwhipped” from the back seat.

Emerging from his memories, Steve lay his head back against his seat, shooting a glance over at Rumlow. The man was still being deliberately obtuse about the fact he was going out with Katie and he knew full well that the disobeying of order was a direct ‘fuck you’ aimed at him. But, as he thought about it whilst they flew home, he knew Natasha was right. The more he kept going on about it, the more likely it was to cause a bigger rift. With that in mind, during the debrief with Fury, Steve remained calm and when the time came he nodded at the STRIKE leader, giving him the floor when needed, both sticking to the facts- the operation had worked (Steve didn’t go as far as to use the word success), they had managed to seize the weapons and capture the main cartel leader who was now in custody of the Yemeni Services.

“What I wanna know is why are there so many of these weapons turning up?” Evans asked. “The DODC ran an extensive clean-up operation.”

“They were littered all over the New York, spreading the entire Manhatten area.” Steve said, answering as he looked at the Texan. “The DODC did as much as it could as fast as it could but people were already out there taking bits for themselves before the Chitauri had even been stopped. Katie says they’re still tracking through any leads, sifting out those who took them for souvenirs and those who took them for less scrupulous reasons…it could take years.”

“It was always going to happen.” Natasha shrugged “Terrorists are always looking for the next big thing.”

“Which is why we will always be looking for them.” Fury drew the meeting to an end as he stood up. “Alright, written reports to me no later than forty-eight hours. Other than that, you can head home.”

“Sir” Steve nodded as everyone started to file out. Steve noticed Natasha was hanging back.

“You ok?” She asked.

“Tired, fed up…” he sighed.

“Missing your girl?”

“A little” He admitted, before deciding to ask Nat what was on his mind because he could trust her honesty “Am I being old fashioned here, you know, with not wanting people to die?”

“No.” Natasha shook her head after a pause and he could tell she was picking her words carefully “I just think sometimes…well, we have to accept that we have to take risks.”

“You think Rumlow was right?” He sighed.

“Not as such.” she shrugged, “But I understand why he did it. I don’t necessarily agree with his methods shall we say but…”

Steve ran his hands over his face and couldn’t help thinking to himself how much simpler it had been in the war. They shot at them, they shot back. He let out a deep breath.

“You still taking some time off?“ She looked at him.

Steve shrugged and then looked at his fit bit for a second, thinking to himself the stats would make interesting reading. It was 5 in the morning. He hadn’t slept now for almost twenty-two hours bar the quick nap he had gotten on the jet. At that point his phone sounded with a message from Katie. A photo taken of Galway Bay in Ireland. Smiling at the simple message “Wish you were here.” he looked back at Natasha and nodded.

 “Yeah. I think I am.”

****

“Are you sure he’s okay to go out into the field?” Katie asked Coulson, one eye on Ward’s back. The man had just slammed a case shut, making everyone jump in the hanger and he was growing increasingly broody. Despite herself, she was feeling a pang of sympathy for him. She knew how hard it had been for him to open up about his past, and holding part of the staff had really shaken him. “He’s not exactly acting like himself.” she concluded.

“But he knows it. He’ll be fine.” Coulson replied as they walked to the SUVs. It was a short ride to the Monastary which was located just outside of Galway and Katie spent the time watching the scenery. She loved Ireland, she’d been a few times when at University in the UK. Her mind wandered to her soldier, who himself had Irish roots, his mother and father hailing from Limerick. Smiling, she pulled out her phone. She knew it would be late back in the US, it was barely touching ten am where the where and the time difference would make it the middle of the night. That is if he was back from the mission yet. Still, she took a photo of the coast road they were on skirting the edge of Galway Bay which in the November sun looked stunning, the light bouncing off the calm blue sea reminding her of those deep ocean pools she loved to look into. She sent it to Steve with a simple message ‘wish you were here’ and then shoved it back into her jacket pocket. 

The monastery itself was a beautiful gothic building set into the side of a green hill. They all climbed out and checked their weapons, Coulson once more going over the plan of action before they headed to the large front door.

 “Well, it’s been a while.” Elliot said quietly as they walked into the building, Katie taking a moment to appreciate the architecture, another thing Steve would love. “I wonder – ah, yes. There it is. Still here”.

He walked to the front of the room where a book lay set up on a stand.

“Well, the nose isn’t quite right, but…”

 Katie and Coulson walked up behind him, followed by the rest of the group to see that he was looking at a drawing of a man wearing long robes and holding the staff.

“That’s you?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“Yeah, they venerated me a bit as a saint.”

“They’re idiots” Ward spat viciously. They all spun round to look at him, where he was stood a few feet behind them all.  “Where’s the staff?”

“It’s upstairs.”

Elliot led the way, the team following up a set of spiralled staircase. Katie and Coulson were directly behind him, taking the lead with May and Ward shortly behind them as deputies.

 “It’s quiet.” May said softly

“ Why do you think I trusted them with my secret?” Elliot shrugged, still walking on ahead. He Elliot stopped in front of some sort of cabinet and ran his hand down the side before he reached for the handle. “They take a vow of silence.”

“But when you get them talking, they squeal.” A low male voice said, it’s owner appearing from behind one of the walls to the left of the cabinet, holding two pieces of the staff, one in each hand.  It was the man whose mugshot Katie had seen on the tablet earlier that day, Jakob. Suddenly he held one piece up high and stabbed Elliot in the chest with it, he fell to the floor.

 He turned and advanced on the rest of them, and Katie reached for her gun, readying herself. To her left she felt someone bend down to Elliot, presumably to try and treat him.

 “No one else wants to get hurt.” Coulson spoke to Jakob, his gun raised. Jakob cocked his head to one side, looking at it before he stared back at Coulson.

 “If you want to defeat a God, you must become one”

 Suddenly there was a loud yell and a scream. Katie spun round to see Ward had bent to Elliot, only it wasn’t to treat him, it was to retrieve the piece of the staff stuck in the Asgardian man’s chest. He held it in his hand and then suddenly threw himself at Jakob, knocking Katie and May out of the way as he went. The two men fell over the banister railing to the floor below.

Katie scrambled to her feet and looked down to see Jakob recovering from the fall first. She aimed with her gun but couldn’t get a clear shot in, as he picked Ward up like he weighed nothing and slammed him back down to the ground.

 “We need to help him!” Skye said, looking at Ward before she ran off.

“Skye!” Coulson called, he was now bent over Elliot and speaking furiously into his coms for Jemma Simmons to come help. “She can’t fight, she’s not trained…”

May nodded, “We’ll get her. Stark, with me.”

Katie nodded and ran after May, the pair of them practically jumping down the stair. Ward was now on his feet and as Jakob lunged at him, he flung himself to the right out of the way.

“Skye.” May instructed as they caught up with the dark hared girl who was watching Ward now ducking and diving the swipes from Jakob “Stay outta this…”

Both Katie and May stepped forward, but as they did so, Ward paused what he was doing and bent to grasp the part of the staff that was on the floor next to him. His face contorted in rage and when Jakob came at him again, Ward punched him hard in the face, enough to cause him to fly back against the wall where he slumped to the ground before Ward rammed him straight in the chest with the staff in a fit of rage like nothing anyone could comprehend. Ward’s chest was heaving and he spun round to see the other three agents watching him cautiously. His eyes were blazing with a fire Katie had never seen before.

“Ward.” May approached, tentatively stopping when Ward held his hand up.

“Get away from me.” His face was contorted in rage.

“Grant.”  Katie tried gently, stepping forward so she was level with May. “They’re right, that thing, this isn’t you.”

 Something clearly registered in his brain and his face softened slightly but then suddenly the door was kicked open and they whirled round to see the rest of Jakob’s group enter the monastery.  The three agents regrouped and Katie took her fighting stance, weighing up their opponents. It had been a while since she had been in a full force hand to hand combat, but she was pleased to find that her training with Natasha and Steve had kept her prepared. She dodged, ducked, punched, kicked, flipped up and over people, taking them down with her using her legs as the room filled with rowdy men and women, all yelling. May was working through them almost 2 at a time and Ward, now holding two of the staff pieces from somewhere, was easily fighting off a group of them, the power he was gaining from the staff clearly visible.

Katie grabbed one man in a choke hold just as he was trying to get up, and as he stopped struggling she threw him to the ground, and looked round at the now quiet room. May nodded at her, taking a deep breath and Katie turned to see Ward who was shaking drop both pieces of the staff he was holding and collapse to his knees. Skye hurried over and knelt in front of him.

 “Are you alright?” May looked round Katie. She nodded looking giving her a small grin, reaching up to tenderly brush at her cheekbone. One of them had landed a good shot.

“Been a long time since I had a full on fight like that, not using my guns.” she said, and May’s mouth curled up at one side before she made her way over to help Skye get Ward to his feet. Just as Katie was about to join them, the door opened again. She spun round to see another face she recognised from the photos, Jakob’s girlfriend, Petra stood there, the third piece of Staff in her hand.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me” Skye said from behind Katie.

Katie looked around glanced at May who also turned her attention to Petra as she was now circling the room. Which a quick flick of her gun, Katie aimed a shot at her, but she simply whipped the piece of staff out in front of her and it tinged the bullet off to one side.

 “We’re no match for her whilst she has that” May said and instinctively Katie glanced down at the two pieces of staff on the floor near them. Grant wearily sighed and went to pick it up but Katie dropped down on one knee and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“You’re not in any state to do that.” she said not unkindly as she looked at him, “Let me help.”

“Kay…” he started to argue, the use of his nickname for her registered but now wasn’t the time to chastise him, nor did she really find she cared enough to do so. It was then that May cut in.

“She’s right. We can’t beat them unless we’re on a level playing field.” She shot him a look and he nodded.

“Okay.”

Skye helped Ward away as May and Katie watched Petra as two men from the group they had taken down earlier got to their feet. Petra looked round the room and let out an audible gasp as she saw Jakob’s body for the first time. Katie slowly and apprehensively reached out for a piece of the staff, hesitating for a moment as she had no idea what was going to happen when she did pick it up. May looked at her nodding and then the pair of them reached out, each gripping a piece.  Katie gasped as a warm sensation flooded up through her arm and then her head was like it was somewhere else. Which it was, she was back in what, according to Professor Randall, should be the worst moment of her life, only it wasn’t the moment she had initially thought of when he’d told them that…

Rhodey was on the doorstep of her Chelsea apartment at three am local time. She knew instantly that something was wrong. Without a word he entered, and told her that Tony’s ARV had been attacked and they had no idea where he was. She almost collapsed and he helped her over to the sofa where she sat still, tears falling as she listened. The room fell silent, and with a shaking hand she reached for the remote and turned the TV on to the News Channel, to see her Brother’s face plastered all over the screen.

“I’m sorry Kiddo…” Rhodey’s voice was choked and she turned to look at him “I should have been with him but he insisted on riding in the other ARV, the FunVee…” he shook his head, snorting angrily.

“Who’s taken him?” She asked, swallowing.

“We’re think it was an Ambush by the Ten Rings.” Rhodey swallowed. “We’ve not had a ransom note yet but we expect it’s a matter of time. We’ll find him.”

“It’s finding him alive that’s the issue, Rhodey” She wiped away the tears from her face, the sick feeling in her stomach threatening to overwhelm her and it felt like someone had a band over her chest that they were constricting, hard…and then it was to much, and she bolted to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet…

Gasping Katie took a deep breath and looked up sharply as one of the men flew at her. Letting out a yell of rage, pent up anger and hurt she launched forward as Petra did the same. Their pieces of staff blew against one another and soon they were battling, fiercely. Katie was fighting to kill, and she instantly understand what had made Ward run Jakob through with the staff. 

It felt good. 

She could hear and see in the corner of her eye that May was also tackling a few more members of the group, easily keeping them at bay but Katie was focussed on one thing, the woman in front of her. She was good, matching Katie blow for blow but eventually Katie’s tenacity and training started to win out and she began to get the edge. She swung forward with a huge swipe and knocked Petra to the ground causing the woman to drop her part of the staff. Automatically it joined with the piece Katie was holding in her right hand, glowing orange again.

“It’s been a month, Katie…” Obediah said “A month…I hate to say this but the chances of him coming back…”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Obi!” Katie wheeled round “Tony is alive, and until someone shows me any kind of evidence to the contrary…then things stay as they are, I don’t give a shit what the board say.”

She watched him out of the room before she dropped her head to the desk and began to cry. She didn’t stop, even when Pepper walked into the room and dropped an arm round her shoulder, the pair of them lost…

A crash caught Katie’s attention and she saw May had dispatched the remaining fighters. She glanced up, and saw what Katie was doing and instinctively threw her piece of staff over to her. Katie grabbed it, joining it with the other combined pieces completing the staff.

Katie gave a yell as once more that warm feeling spread up her arm to her chest and her memories swallowed her.

“Your government has for far too long sold weapons, manufactured by Mr Tony Stark, to our oppressors, to our enemies. This is blood in exchange for blood, death in exchange for death, meet our demands or within 48 hours the great Tony Stark is no more…”

The room came back into a bleary focus, just as Petra staggered to her feet, swaying slightly.

“I am not afraid of you.” She spoke, her accent thick.

“You should be…” Katie snarled, as she advanced towards her. Quick as a flash she let out a loud cry and struck Petra with the staff, hard in the face. She fell backwards to the floor, deadly still. 

And then a different voice spoke in Katie’s mind a clear voice. Her own voice.

“He escaped, though. And he was fine, well as fine as Tony ever is. So there’s really no need to fear this memory because that’s all it is, a memory. It all worked out in the end…”

Katie dropped the staff and fell to her knees, her entire body shaking with the exertion of wielding the Asgardian weapon. Her head was pounding with those memories, the voices, everything. Her hands flew into her hair as she bent over, trying to focus on anything but her thoughts.

“Hey…” Two hands were on either side of her face, and Katie looked up into May’s eyes. “Focus on me, Stark.” Katie took a deep breath as May’s hands slid gently down to the side of her shoulders. “Can you stand?” She asked. Katie nodded and then looked over at Petra.

“Is she…” She managed to croak out. Had she killed someone? In blind rage?

“Don’t worry about her” May shook her head, “I’ll take care of it.”

Katie got to her feet with May’s help, glancing over at Ward and Skye. Ward gave her a small nod of his head, which she acknowledged with a small incline of her own as May helped her out of the smaller Vestibule room they’d been fighting in and through to the entrance hall of the Monastery, the sun streaming through the stained glass windows.

“That thing…” Katie took a deep breath “Ward wasn’t wrong…it…”

“Tell me about it.” May’s voice was quiet, and Katie realised the normally stoic woman was shaking, although not quite as violently as her. The two of them settled on a large slab of stone. They were shortly joined by Ward as he sat besides them, the three of them didn’t talk for a while, merely lost in their own thoughts, Katie wanting nothing more than to get home to see Steve.

“When you held it…” Ward said eventually, breaking the silence. “Did you see anything?”

May nodded, and so did Katie.

“Then how, Kay? How did you hold all three?” Ward looked at her

She paused, thinking about it for a moment.

No need to fear this memory

“Because it’s a memory that I don’t need to be afraid of.” she shrugged eventually. “And I see the reason why every time I look at Tony.”

*****

Steve packed a bag. There was, sadly, one last mission standing between him and his girl. And he no idea how long this particular mission was going to take. It was completely rogue, way off SHIELD’s official radar anyway, only Fury and Natasha knew what he was doing.

Oh, and Tony. He’d enlisted the Billionaire’s help because had a somewhat personal interest in this case. So much so he’d leant him the Stark Jet, because he couldn’t use the Quinjet, and the fact that like everything Tony owned, his jet was faster and better than anything else, it had shaved a good 2 hours off what the journey would have taken had he flown full commercial, not to mention saved him a load of messing about in the meantime with bookings and check ins.

The jet was comfortable, he had flown on it a few times with Katie before back to NYC when they didn’t drive that was. As soon as he was airborne he face timed Katie using the connection on the plane and had hissed at the bruise on her cheek. She had batted off his concern and instead went on a rant about how cheap Fury was. He had to laugh at her indignant tone, apparently they had arrived at a Premier Inn a few hours ago and she had refused point blank to get out of the SUV and after a battle of wills with Coulson had upgraded the entire team to the Sheraton just outside of Galway within ten minutes. Apparently overnighters weren’t standard for the team she was working in as they had the Bus but Coulson had decided they all needed some down time after what sounded like a gruelling mission.

“And what better way to do that in a 5 star hotel with a spa, right?”

They talked for the longest time they had in the three, almost four days she had been gone and Steve loved it. She didn’t go into much detail about the mission itself, bar to say it had ended in a pretty ruthless fight and that she was mentally and physically exhausted, promising to tell him all about it when she saw him. He told her in no uncertain terms that they were both going to take some time out, Fury had cleared it and her face had lit up, but then fallen when he sadly told her he had one last mission to sort. After assuring her it wouldn’t take long, and it really wouldn’t, she had smiled and told him she couldn’t wait to see him.

“Me either Doll, me either.”

He took the opportunity to get some sleep, and was awoken by one of the stewardesses a few hours later who informed him they were an hour out. Thanking her he headed off to change out of his comfy sweats and into his specially selected outfit, one that would make him blend in a lot more than the stealth suit. Once he had arrived, cleared customs at the private airfield they had landed at, he climbed straight into the arranged official looking blacked out SUV and the driver set off, not a word spoken. The driver already knew their destination, Fury had already patched that information through before he had taken off.

It was easy to blag his way in to the building he needed to be in. Dressed in a black suit, all he had to do was quickly flash his SHIELD ID badge and the woman at the desk was only too happy to provide him the information about where he could find his target, and access to the required area. He didn’t take the elevator, it was too easy to be spotted. Instead he snuck round and found the service stairs and bolted up them two at a time to the seventh floor, his kit bag containing his shield slung over his shoulder.

****

After they had checked in to the decent hotel, not that Premier Inn (which she was sure was clean and perfectly comfortable, but she wanted fucking luxury after three nights of being in that pokey room) and she’d spoken to Steve for at least an hour, Katie showered, changed and headed off out to explore the area with Skye. The two had chatted, Katie really did like the girl, and they’d done a bit of shopping, had a late lunch, before they had headed back to the hotel and made use of the Spa. Then, she’d sat and eaten with the team, before bidding them all goodnight and retiring to her room with a bottle of Krug (because, why not?) and a long assed hot bath.

She tried to face time Steve again, but this time he didn’t answer. Probably elbow deep in whatever mission he was on this time, he’d been very vague about this one, saying it was hush hush but he would explain all in person, including what had gone down in Yemen which sounded like an utter shit-storm.

Changing for bed, Katie dropped onto the comfortable couch of the suite (ok, so she’d upgraded herself a teensy bit more than everyone else), poured herself another glass of Krug, slightly disgruntled to see the bottle was empty. So she rang down for another, fuck it.

Just as she had put the phone down, her cell called.

“Hey baby.” Steve spoke and Katie could hear the smile in his voice. “Sorry, the phone won’t let me face time for some reason.”

“Well that’s a shame because I’m naked.”

Steve groaned and Katie felt herself grin. “Don’t do that to me.”

“Sorry.” She giggled “I’m not really, just wish you were here.”

“I know.” He sighed “Me too”

“I’m taking it that seeing as you can talk your super-secret spy shit mission is done.”

“It was surprisingly easy” He mused, “Target didn’t suspect a thing and thanks to a very helpful lady I met, I got in with no fuss.”

“Helpful lady?” Katie narrowed her eyes. “How helpful?”

Steve let out a chuckle “All I had to do was flash my ID and smile”

“Coz you’re a regular charmer, aint you?” Katie laughed, and then there was a knock on the door. “Oh hang on… room service.”

She got up off the couch, made her way to the door, phone still in her hand and she pulled it open.

“Hey Doll.” Steve grinned at her and her mouth dropped open, the phone slipping out of her hand to the floor. “Surprise.”

She was a sight for sore eyes. Silk cami top and shorts, her hair falling in damp waves around her face. God he’d missed her.

“What…you…” She stammered, taking him in, the black fitted suit and tie he was wearing looked far better than it would have on anyone else and he laughed at the look of utter shock on her face “The mission, I thought…”

“You’re my mission, Sweetheart” He grinned, stepping into the room, dropping his kit bag, picking his phone up as he did so. And, no sooner had he straightened up, Katie gave a little shriek and threw herself into his arms.

“I can’t believe it.” She whispered, her hands straying to his face “You are here right? This isn’t just some weird trick my mind is playing?”

“I’m here, promise.” He placed a soft kiss to her lips. There was a clearing of a throat and Katie peeked over Steve’s shoulder to see a rather embarrassed looking hotel worker clutching the bottle of Krug she had ordered along with a fresh glass and an ice bucket. She tapped Steve’s arms and he reluctantly set her down so she could sign the receipt with a flourish. Steve smiled at the man, taking the ice bucket before closing the door. He followed Katie into the large hotel suite, and dropped the ice bucket and her phone onto the coffee table before sinking onto the couch and Katie climbed onto his lap, winding his tie around her hand.

“For the record,” she murmured as she looked him up and down, “this is a good look.”

“Glad you approve, Darlin’” He grinned as she tugged on his tie, pulling him closer to her, and she pressed her lips to his in a deep kiss.

He responded eagerly, hands creeping into her hair to hold her head in place as his tongue slid against hers, his hips rocking up before his lips dropped to her collarbone

“I missed you.” He purred as she let out a small groan, her hand sliding into his hair.

“I missed you too” She muttered, his hands gently fell to her hips, giving them a squeeze. “Take me to bed.”

Steve didn’t need asking twice. Standing easily, drawing a giggle from her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he paused and looked around.

“Trust you to get a suite that’s bigger then my apartment.”

“I have very high standards.” She shot back. “Door to the right.”

He gave a quick laugh and strode over to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the plush bedroom which was softly illuminated by the bedside lamp. Dropping her onto the huge bed he crawled over her as she once more grabbed his tie and pulled him down.

“You really do like this huh?” He arched his eyebrow,  ooking down at her as she gently slipped his jacket down his shoulders and he shrugged it off, tossing it to the floor.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a suit. Although I still think the Stealth one is better.”

“Maybe I should bring that home one night.” He muttered as his lips slid against her neck and she groaned.

“Please do. Your ass looks great in it.” She moved, pushing on his shoulders. Steve sat back on his heels and she locked her eyes on his, undoing his tie gently, a move she managed to make incredibly arousing and Steve let out a groan and he kissed her.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He whispered into her mouth

“Save it, you’re wearing too many clothes.” She replied, undoing the button on his collar and then her soft fingers made their way down his chest, her eyes following as it fell open. He shrugged it down before he fell back down on top of her and moved to pull her vest top over her head. As he tossed it aside somewhere he let out a gentle moan at the sight of her in front of him, and he wrapped his arm around her back and tugged her up slightly as his head bent to take a nipple into his mouth. He used both his hands and his mouth in a nearly coordinated attack that left her all but dying, and completely desperate for his touch elsewhere. He could read her body signals like a book and happy to oblige, one of his hands slid down, dipping into her bed shorts, finding him hot and wet for him. He groaned into her chest his fingers playing with her.

“Baby you’re soaked.”

She managed to moan in response, and then it was a race for the pair of them to get out of their remaining clothes as fast as they could. Once there was no barrier between them he kissed her hard, Katie shifting so that her legs went around his waist, pulling him flush against her, wanting to touch every inch of him possible. Steve repositioned himself slightly, gently working into her, the pair of them letting out a satisfied sigh as he bottomed out, stilling slightly just to savour the moment.

“Stevie…” Katie whispered into his ears “Please…” At her plea, he began to thrust, slowly, deeply, running his hand down Katie’s leg until his hand stopped at her knee. Katie looked at him as he seemed to hesitate for a split second before he directed her leg up, casually resting it over his shoulder so that he could go even deeper. She moaned loudly, he’d never done that before and it felt so unbelievably good, like nothing ever had before. Her fingers dug into his arm as he starting pushing a little harder, a little faster, then faster, until he had reached a relentless pace. Katie could do nothing but reach up, bracing herself on the headboard of the large bed as he continued, making her curse and leaving her short of breath, eyes closed in utter pleasure.

He slowed for a moment, making her look at him, letting out a noise of protest. “Don’t stop.” she begged, “Fuck, Stevie…”

He grinned, and it was a wicked grin, coupled with the mischievous flash in his eyes and it made her gulp slightly. She’d never seen him like this before, it was as if something had snapped and he was finally letting himself go fully, realising that after almost six months of sleeping together he didn’t have to be a gentleman all the time as she wasn’t going to break. As she stared into those baby blues, his pupils blown with desire he slowly pushed himself up so he could put her other leg over his other shoulder. 

“Oh, holy fuck-”  Her voice cut off and turned into a loud wail as he picked up the pace once again, pounding into her over and over and it wasn’t long before his name and another plethora of curses tumbled from her lips as her orgasm ripped through her like nothing she’d felt before. Her back arched, fingers dug into his back as he coaxed her through it before dropping her legs from his shoulders, laying atop her and chasing after his own end furiously. Katie held him close as she came down, gently encouraging him into his ear, his rhythm eventually stuttering and changing as he came with a frantic gasp of her name.

The pair of them were slick with sweat and absolutely spent as they laid still, no sounds coming bar the ragged gasps for air from them both. Steve buried his head in the crook of his girl’s neck and she ran her fingers through his hair, his forehead still clammy and he let out a loud hmmm of contentment.

A moment or so later, Katie broke the silence.

“Baby.” She said softly, a playful thought rising in her mind. His response was simply another hmmm because he was still utterly blissed out. This caused Katie to smile a little as she spoke again. “Did Cap just come out to play?”

She felt him grin into her neck, “I think he may have done, yeah.”

“Well you can tell him from me that was amazing?”

“I’ll be sure to let him know…” Steve mumbled, still not moving.

“In fact, I’d go so far as to say that’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Just probably?” Steve lazily raised his head to look at her and she made a show of looking upwards as if she was thinking about it.

“Ok definitely” She grinned, kissing him gently.

*****

Katie bid goodbye to Coulson’s team the next morning, Steve remained in the hotel room as he’d been under instructions from Fury not to speak to Coulson or draw attention to him in any way. Then they’d taken 3 glorious days break in Ireland, hiring a car and driving to Limerick.

As they drove, Katie told him all about the mission, what the staff had made her see, and how it had surprised her slightly what her worst memory was.

“I always thought it would be the time Tony told me mom and dad were dead” she said, softly a Steve cruised their hired Audi Q3 down the motorway. “Guess I fear losing Tony more.”

“It kinda makes sense.” Steve said, his hand straying to her knee “you were very young when the crash happened. Tony’s been your dad for, what, 22 years now? Far longer than Howard was I suppose.”

“Yeah.” she said gently, looking out of the window “I mean, I don’t remember a lot about my parents to be fair. I have memories, but sometimes I wonder how many of them are mine and how many of them are what people told me.”

Reminiscing seemed to be the theme of their brief trip away. They spent a day visiting the places Steve’s Ma had told him all about, then the next day, after a lazy morning they drove up to Dublin where they had both drunk a fair amount of Guinness after Katie dragged Steve to Temple Bar, showing him the places she had spent a fair few weekends in on trips over from the UK. They forgot all about SHIELD, all about Fury, all about missions. They were just a normal couple enjoying a break, and Steve had frankly never had as much fun in his life.

It was on their last night, just after they were curled up in post coital bliss after their 3rd round that evening when Steve mentioned about how it was back to reality the day after that Katie propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him, biting her lip.

“What if I don’t want to?” She asked quietly.

“Don’t want to what, Honey?” Steve asked, kissing her head.

“Go back. To SHIELD I mean.”

Steve’s hand paused its journey up and down her spine as he turned his head to look at her, frowning. “You want to leave?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last 3 days.” she said, her fingers gently tracing over the dark blonde hair on his chest. “I can’t do it anymore Steve, I’m tired.”

“What’s brought this on?” he asked, turning so he was on his side facing her, pushing her hair back off her face.

“I can’t pin point one thing.” she said, looking down. “But…”

Steve paused, waiting for her to continue, and after a deep breath she did, her words coming almost as a jumble as she poured her heart out to him in the darkness of their hotel room.

“If I’m honest I’ve been thinking about it since we found out that they hadn’t been destroying the Chitauri weapons. Look what happened when Fury started fucking about with the Tesseract… I mean how do we know they’re not making more weapons just like they were before New York?”

Steve remained silent, that had been bubbling away in his mind too. He wasn’t best pleased about the situation but knew that Katie, who had headed up the DODC clean- up had taken it personally. She’d flipped out when Tony had told her what his latest hack into SHIELD had discovered and Steve had had to stop her marching into Fury’s office and calling him a liar there and then. He understood completely, she felt betrayed after having being told she was heading up a clean-up operation when in actual fact it turns out to be a goddamed technology harvesting operation.

“You now when Coulson died, I blamed myself. I made a decision to try to free Thor not help Coulson and I know I’d probably do it all over again because it was the right call, but the point is I blamed myself, for the past what, 18 months or so and Fury…he let me do that, he let me think he was dead…”

She was getting worked up, Steve could hear it and sense it, even if he couldn’t see her properly.

“Hey…” he said, his hand gently moving to her arm, rubbing softly as she continued her ramblings.

“And then there I get to The Bus and there’s more secrets there, not being told Ward was on the team, which to be fair wasn’t as bad as I thought but still, it’s more lies…”  

She was crying now and Steve sighed, wrapping his arms round her and pulling her to him. She pressed her face into his chest “This isn’t me Steve, it’s not who I am.”

He held her close, hand wandering up into her hair as he chewed over what she was saying. From a selfish point of view the thought of her leaving SHIELD worried him. She’d been his linchpin, his rock at the agency, and he relied on her more than she would know. He loved working with her, seeing every day and he was scared if that changed, so would their relationship. But there was a small part of him that also worried when she was on missions, and there was no doubt if she did quit she’d be a hell of a lot safer. And not all couples worked together, right?

He pulled back slightly, his large hand cupping her cheek “Hey, you know I got your 6 right? I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”

“I know.” She sniffed softly. I just feel like if I do quit, then I’m taking the easy way out, you know, I mean SHIELD is dad’s legacy.”

“Maybe once.” Steve popped his shoulder. “Times have moved on, SHIELD has changed. I doubt your dad, Peggy or Colonel Phillips would have ever imagined in a million years how it would evolve.”

“You’re telling me times have changed?” She quipped and he chuckled.

“Guess I am, but I learned pretty fast when I got that serum that you can’t live your life being who people want you to be or think you should be. You need to be true to yourself”

She nodded and stifled a yawn.

“Sleep on it.” He urged, his thumb stroking her cheek. “And then if it’s still what you want tomorrow, ’ll even write your resignation letter.”

“I got it planned” She yawned. “Dear Fury. Fuck you. Love Nova.”

Steve laughed and pulled her to him, kissing her head. “Maybe drop the Love Nova.”

****

“You sure you wanna do this?” Steve asked as they stopped outside Fury’s office. Katie nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, I’ll be right here.” He said, both his hands on her face. She gave him a smile and then turned and opened the door.

“Agent Stark.” Fury swivelled in his chair “Take a seat.”

“It’s okay Sir, this won’t take long.” She declined his offer, taking a deep breath.

“Do I need to borrow Captain Rogers SHIELD?” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “I’m assuming this is the bit where you’ve come to tell me exactly how pissed at me you are.”

“I’m not pissed” She shook her head, “I was, but not now. I’m just disappointed.”

He eyed her, and gestured for her to continue.

“I expected better from you Sir. You lied to me. You let me believe Coulson was dead. You know I blamed myself for that for months, and then if that wasn’t bad enough you sent me to a team containing my ex boyfriend…and don’t even get me started on the fact you’re secretly hiding Chitauri technology instead of destroying it.”

At that Fury’s face slipped and his face grew dark. “How do you…”

She arched an eyebrow and Fury gave a groan.

“Son of a…your brother is a liability.”

“Maybe, but at least he isn’t a liar.”  She shot back. “And neither am I. I pride myself on being honest, doing the best I can and I don’t like being used or manipulated.”

 “Agent Stark…”

“I can’t do it anymore.” She hook her head. “I’m tired of it all, the lies, the secrecy. This isn’t…it isn’t me.” she finished, shrugging.

“So what are you saying Nova?”

“That you can consider this my formal resignation.” She looked at him, eyes not moving from his and for a moment she was sure she saw a flicker of something that looked like regret flash across the Director’s face. But it disappeared as fast as it had arrived and she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders back. “I will, of course, work any formal notice period.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in me trying to change your mind?”

“No, don’t suppose there is.” She shook her head.

“In that case, there’s no notice period necessary.” Fury spoke calmly, his posture returning to normal. He took a deep breath and strode round his desk, holding out his hand. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. You’re one of the best agents I’ve had. Coulson said you worked wonders on the Staff case.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She swalloed, fighting to keep her voice from cracking. “This hasn’t been an easy decision. For the most part, it’s been an honour to serve.”

She gently reached into her pocket, pulling out her official ID and ran her fingers over the silver badge before she handed it to him. Fury took it from her, and with one last smile she took a deep breath and turned, to leave, the tears brewing in her eyes.

This had to be one of the hardest decisions she’d ever made in her life but she wasn’t backing down. She’d talked it over with Steve extensively over the last two days and Tony too for that matter, her brother telling her that he, and their father would be proud of her no matter what. Undeniably her role at SHIELD had given her everything. A purpose, a new outlook on life, Steve. But now it was time to channel that energy in a new way.

“I would like you to remain on our books, in an advisory role.” Fury’s voice stopped her in her tracks and she grinned to herself, suddenly transported back to when he had said the same thing to Tony a few years ago.

She turned back and winked. “You can’t afford me.” 

**** Chapter 11

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #Katie Stark #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

[baby-grayson]

Dirty Little Secret| Intro | Ethan

Word Count: 1.4 k

Summary: Felicity, an otherwise plain girl with hopes of being a great writer, does one bold thing at a music festival. The thrill of her one bold thing comes back to bite her the next morning.

She was aroused by the wet cold of the bathroom sink against her bare thighs. His hands ran hungrily up and down her thighs, from the skin that her skirt exposed: the flimsy fabric riding up as she straddled him from the counter. His thumbs sank into her, as if trying to pin her down in front of him. From outside, the sound of guitars and screams were muffled by the sound of his hot breaths against her neck.  She craned, exposing more skin and letting him have access to her collarbone from under her thin tank top. His kisses were wet, he pressed his tongue against her skin like he was licking sweet honey: trying not to let a single drop escape from his lips. His hands pulled her closer: wrapping around her thigh and the small of her back to press her chest along his torso. She pulled at his hair, whimpering into his ear. Making desperate, low, sexual sounds. She didn’t usually do this so soon after meeting someone: much less on the counter of a public bathroom at the Semester Kick Off Music Festival. 

For a second, she felt a shadow of guilt as she tried to remember his name. Evan? No. Ethan? Yes, definitely Ethan and it felt very good to have Ethan’s tongue gliding down her neck and teasing the top of her cleavage. If her mind was clouded by idea the idea that hooking up with a stranger was wicked, all of her thoughts were swept away in the bodily storm that was Ethan. She dropped her hands down, hanging them from his back pockets as he leaned further into her and started his tongue back up to her mouth.  She took it gladly, welcoming his tongue by sliding her own across his and feeling nothing but naughty pleasure at the sensation of the hard bulge in his pants resting near her thigh. She pulled back from their kiss, his lips swollen and pink. He was heaving ever so softly and looking down at her: a single tank top strap had fallen to the side of her shoulder in his embrace. She licked her lips and darted her eyes down to his package. She played with her tongue in her mouth for a moment while his swollen lips turned into a smirk. 

Who knows what would have resulted, had a body not barreled through the bathroom door and wretched into a toilet stall.

Something about a stranger puking three feet away from her really ruined the mood of the one sexy tryst of her college career. 

She unhooked her hands from Ethan’s back pockets and sat up straight on the bathroom counter, erecting her posture. Ethan’s smirk turned into a small frown as she reached to pull up her fallen strap and realign her top to better cover her chest. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the mess under her fingertips and looking up at him. 

He knew the moment was ruined. He knew he wasn’t getting it back. Despite everything that he wanted. His face tied strings of disappointment and frustration into a neat package of a gentlemanly facade.

She pushed forward on the counter and he stepped back, giving her enough room to dismount the sink and straighten her skirt. He looked in the mirror to analyze his own disheveled hair and the tease of his underwear peaking through wear she pulled his pants low. 

“That was uh--” she cursed herself for not having more experience, “that was good.” She mentally kicked herself, feeling awkward and unprepared for this moment. She wished desperately for an understanding of the feminine mystique, but instead she was only grossed out by the water from the bathroom floor seeping into shoes shoes.  “Yeah,” he moved in the mirror to fix his hair, “That--” she didn’t hear him finish his sentence as she swiftly pushed through the bathroom door..

She quickly found a trashcan to lean on, not minding the nauseating smell of vomit and booze in her delirious state. She felt a rush move through her, something invigorating. She felt like she had obtained the unobtainable for a girl like her: plain, average, and oh so blasé.

Making out with a stranger in the bathroom at a music festival was the most daring thing she’d done in 20 years. Not just any stranger, a hot stranger. She bit your lip and nearly moaned thinking back to it: she must have looked like intoxicated by something strong to a passing stranger.  “Felicity--Hey Felicity!” her friends called out from across the pavilion, worried by her sudden disappearance half an hour earlier. She darted her head up to find them, knocking her out of her trance. She shook her head, trying to find reality again from wherever her mind had wandered to when she was with Ethan. She bounced back to them, giggling and swaying with her dirty, little secret. 

She wore the high of the moment under her skin as a secret veil of confidence on the first day of school. After years of fading into the background, she’d done one bold thing. The feeling of his hands on her skin felt like too real a memory throughout the day. If she closed her eyes, she remembered what his voice sounded like against her neck. She remembered finger tips dragging along her inner thighs and his warm mouth at the start of her cleavage. She got goosebumps waiting in line for her morning coffee.

There was something addicting about feeling desirable.

The burn of the hot coffee on her tongue didn’t bother her as she nearly soared to the first class of her senior year in college. She flipped through her phone, scrolling across Instagram pictures of her friends on their first last day—she made a mental reminder to take a photo with the school mascot for fun. She considered searching “Ethan” blindly into the social network maze; if he was at the semester festival then he surely went to school with her, might even have some friends in common. But no, she decided not to search up her illustrious , seductive Ethan: he was best as a naughty, dauntless memory.

Looking down at a picture of her old lab partner and his roommates, her phone pinged with the first email of the semester. Her boots clacked against the pavement as she proceeded to stroll to class. She opened the email and read:

“Dear EN 4121: Shakespearean Rhetoric;

I am both sorry and elated to inform you that last night I went into pre-term labor. My newborn son, Matthew, and myself are doing wonderfully. But on account of my hospitalization, I have asked your TA to instruct today’s course-- and future courses hitherto. They will give you details, but I am expecting you all to pair up in preparation to critique each other’s very detailed analysis. I’m unsure of how long my maternity leave will be (likely at least the first half of your semester) but I am sure you are in trusty and faithful hands. I can’t wait to see all the excellent work that you do.

Regards,

Professor Clarissa Barnes”

She wondered if this was a good email or not. Barnes would supposed to be the toughest teacher around, but she was allegedly a hoot in class— acting out plays and using stuffed animals for props. She was weighing the development in her mind when she opened the classroom door and found a seat next to her  friend, Jasmine.

Jasmine immediately started chattering about her boyfriend Rowland and plans for the semester. Felicity brought her laptop out of her back and rested it on the desk, settling herself in and nestling her coffee cup at the edge of the table. She nodded along happily to Jasmine’s excited chatter. But Jasmine’s quick paced tone halted immediately when she noticed Felicity’s face, “are you alright?”

Her face has gone pale and she breathed in an unsure breath. Her left eye twitched. There was no way—this had to be a dream...or a nightmare. 

As Ethan turned around from writing “TA- Ethan Dolan” on the whiteboard he immediately found her in the crowd. His jaw formed a perfect o shape and he pushed his shoulders back, trying to feign professionalism. She was sure he recognized her when he muttered, “Oh God”

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan #fanfic #teacher #student #student teacher romance #series #fluff #smutt #angst #youtuber #influencer

[rvmmm21]

. you know who i am? .

k, so i didn’t mean for this to get so out of hand. also, my first time writing in present tense? idk how to feel about it, but i guess it’s different. it felt so different writing for like actual humans lol. my first ‘normal’ fic, this is!

please for the sake of this making sense can we all pretend jennie, joy and irene are around the same age? also look who had fun with brand names. moi.

anyways this is [badgirl/bully!joohyun ‘persuading’ clumsy freshman!seungwan to be her assignment buddy] 

...

University culture is grating.

It’s overwhelming and it suffocates her. She has no time to prepare herself for the apparent runway the halls have become, what with the stupid-rich kids treating every day like it’s a fashion show; Seungwan can barely blink from one person to the next without being smacked across the face with fur coats from Chanel, Louis Vuitton sunglasses hidden under Prada nylon bucket hats and Off-White tracksuits tucked into Balenciaga socks. She hadn’t considered a future in law enforcement, but had she done so, anyone who tucked their trousers into their socks mid-calf would find themselves behind bars with the rest of the criminal scum. End of.

Just as she dusts her hands of that smug little sentiment, Seungwan finds herself with a face full of hair, and an even bigger nose full of what smells like laundry detergent. She lets out an embarrassing squeal, and the girl turns round to face her. A ghost of a scowl brushes across her face before she fixes her with an indiscernible gaze.

That scowl is an awful colour on a face as pretty as yours, she impulsively thinks.

Seungwan knows no more about the history of art and the intricacies of sculpture than the average Joe, but she’s sure Michelangelo missed the mark with David. She inwardly laughs at the thought of the man dedicating his entire being to crafting his flimsy idea of ‘perfection’ when she’d just bumped into it; the real thing. Of course, if that was defined by forming new constellations from faded freckles on flawless skin, or vantablack tresses framing sharp features like a painting, then yes; she was, by very definition, ‘the perfect (wo)man’. Easily outdoing anyone within a 50-metre radius.

Heck, make that 500.

The girl glares intimidation and Seungwan manages to save herself the humiliation of drooling in front of the white-hot beauty and her friends with a quick gulp, already feeling crimson seeping into her cheeks.

Perfect; now that she’s watched whatever new potential friendship this was blow up in her face, all she has to do is avoid her at all costs from here on out.

She mouths a haphazard apology and zooms past before anything can come of it, keeping her head down even after she’s well out of sight. Seulgi, Seulgi, Seulgi, save me, she brisk walks and begs all the way to class.

~~~~~~~~~~

A small commotion rings through the lecture hall of keyboard clicks and lethargic shuffles, calling to attention the girl who’s just spilt her drink down her front, now frantically digging around in her backpack for anything she can use to soak it up. A few jeering giggles are stifled, meanwhile students close by donate tissues and sympathetic looks. They are gratefully accepted with rapid-fire bows and machine-gun stuttered apologies.

“That freshman’s just ruined her rep, huh?” Jennie chuckles, “blindly walking into people… can’t even keep liquid in the cup. Give her a dog collar and a sign and she’s good to go.”

“Eh, I thought it was cute.”

Jennie’s retort comes quick.

“Sooyoung, you think anything in a skirt is cute.”

“What,” the girl says, ignoring the implication, “Haetnimie doesn’t wear skirts. And she’s not even wearing one right now. Plus, I didn’t say ‘she’s cute’, I said ‘it’s cute’. Learn the difference, idiot… it’s not like I wanna have at her or anything…”

Jennie shoots her an incredulous look and Sooyoung relents the banter. They both turn their attention to the girl sitting next to them, completely un-present in the moment. Sooyoung notices who she’s looking at and leans in to nudge her.

“Joohyun,” she whispers, poking her in the ribs when it’s obvious their friend is well on her way to signing a contract with NASA with how apparently well accustomed to space she is, “what do you think of her? Or are you still mad she walked into you?”

“Nah, forget it,” Jennie waves her off before she’s even had a chance to respond, “she’s not interested. I had to literally pay her money to go on a stupid double date with me in high school. I washed five cars for her to not even hold his hand once during the movie.”

Instead of participating, Joohyun sighs, casting the girl in question a seemingly uninterested stare. Unbothered eyes take in the sight she’s presented with: frustrated brows knitted together under a wispy caramel fringe and a blot of taro milk tea the size of Canada staining her baby blue jumper.

“I want her.”

The words are so simple her friends almost miss them entirely.

Sooyoung and Jennie battle for first place in an impromptu competition of ‘who’s-the-most-shocked’.

“You’re joking! Yah, you’re so annoying seriously, now?! You couldn’t have ‘wanted’ Min-seok in year nine?! I paid good, hard cash for that stupid boy!”

Joohyun looks at her, smug as a cat.

“I did it for you, Jennie. I didn’t even remember his name was Min-ho.”

“Min-seok.”

“Yeah, right.”

Sooyoung, wide-eyed and on the verge of passing out, grabs Joohyun by the shoulders, ignoring the glare she receives for it. “Joohyun, seriously? You’re serious. You want her like want her? Or want her like you wanted that cookbook after that trial week of Food Tech during summer break?”

Joohyun regards her, absolutely blasé. “I don’t follow recipes.”

“Exactly. Are you play-”

Sooyoung’s statement dies down with the rest of the class as the lecturer walks in. Furious clicking, hurricane scribbles and flipping pages are all that remain as the lesson kicks off, Jennie and Sooyoung casually scrolling through Instagram while the professor speaks. Joohyun leans forward, elbows on desk and chin resting on interlocked fingers. Her full attention is on the poor girl on the other side of the hall, intermittently peeling the cold, damp fabric away from her body, face flushed and avoiding all eye contact. Joohyun snickers at how uncomfortable it must be to have to sit through class in a wet jumper, how awkward and squeamish she looks.

Strawberry-tinted lips curl into the faintest smirk.

Hello cutie.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Yah! Kang Seul-Gi!” Seungwan calls out to chocolate-swirly space buns and baggy gym clothes hurtling towards her from across campus grounds, “where the heck were you?!”

“Sorry sorry! Overslept!”

“What!? Your class starts at noon! … and this is like… day 1!”

The girl looks like she’s barely had the chance to screw her head on the right way as she joins Seungwan on the steps of the university entrance.

Seungwan’s sweating buckets; physically and metaphorically, both from the waves of humidity and her all-exclusive one-idiot circus show this morning in class. That little muck up makes it to the tippy top of the endless list of embarrassing things Seungwan has stored in her long-term memory.

“You okay?”

Seungwan palms rosy cheeks as she takes another mouthful of her rainbow sherbet cone.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened to me.”

Seulgi chortles as her best friend recounts her ordeal, trying to subdue the sea of smart alec remarks bubbling under her skin.

“So that was great, too. And now I’m a laughing stock. A meme. They’re probably editing my stupid face as I speak…”

Seulgi reverts back to the first incident. Of course she would.

“Sooo… not like in the dramas then?”

Seungwan hangs her head, “not at all… she looked like she wanted to kill me.”

Seulgi lets out a snort before prodding her with more curious questions. The cogs in Seungwan’s brain churn and stutter as she tries to filter as many redundant adjectives as possible, only using ones she deems absolutely necessary to describe the most beautifully terrifying girl she’s ever seen.

Just then, as if Seungwan had meant to conjure hell itself, the three girls make an appearance from round the corner, chatting amongst themselves and taking Seungwan and Seulgi by surprise. The latter glances down where steely fingers are squeezing her wrist, as if that’d activate some magical cloak of invisibility. Seungwan’s as good as swallowed her tongue, shakily motioning to the girl in the middle of the black velvet storm with her eyes and a few nose twitches.

“H-her…” she stutters, finally getting her brain into gear after they leave, “… her.”

Innocent eyes double in size at the realisation.

“Wha-wait no, her?! You bumped into… her?! Her, Bae Joohyun leader of killer senior pack Bae Joohyun?”

Seungwan’s heart only thumps faster at the panic in Seulgi’s voice, but her words still mean nothing. The other girl swipes the dangling question marks off the top of her friend’s clueless head.

“Yo Wan-ah, you have to lay low. I mean why would you even – oh geez wow you really messed up. Can’t you look where you’re – I can’t even begin to – why would you – oh my gosh!”

Seulgi’s disjointed sentences allow enlightenment to trickle in and Seungwan slaps a hand over her forehead, mortified.

Oh god no. That’s the Bae Joohyun?

She’d heard the rumours. Many, rumours. Bae Joohyun who makes her juniors cry. Bae Joohyun; precious daughter of the most elusive mafia gang leader in all of Korea. Bae Joohyun; ice queen senior, sole roost-ruler of Hanyang University and the biggest bully you’ll ever meet.

Positively preposterous, empty claims with no evidence whatsoever to back them up… she hopes.

“Pft yeah okay she’s… mean, but she’s not like… jesus or anything she can’t… like… part the Red Sea or, turn water into vodka I don’t know,” Seungwan tries and fails at consoling herself, receiving nothing but an apologetic pat on the back from the girl beside her.

“Yeah well… she’s not the messiah but everyone treats her like it. And for the sake of your own neck, you’d better start too. Watch out, Wan-ah.”

Seungwan hadn’t paid any mind to those wet-eared freshmen whom she’d overheard during orientation gossiping about Joohyun and her charming little posse; but perhaps she should have.

She gulps, too afraid to think of anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan often fantasizes at work. There has to be some way to pass the time, after all.

Deep down she’s a sucker for romance, she knows it far too well; she envisions herself ten years down the line, letting whoever she has on the other end of the phone know that she’ll be home soon, that work has just been extra grueling today, and that she cannot wait to give them a cuddle. She’ll stir the dinner pot while she tells them stories, pausing in between to remind her lover how beautiful they are. Perhaps one day, the honour will be hers, to see her soulmate walking down the aisle.

But as the tinkling of the doorbell rings through her café, Seungwan files those cloudy fantasies for later and greets her first customers with a smile.

She hasn’t been sleeping very well, worrying her mind with ridiculous thoughts and impossible scenarios. All involving Joohyun as a tick-tocky alligator and herself as none other than Captain ‘I’m-actually-innocent-why-are-you-still-trying-to-eat-me’ Hook.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s five minutes to closing time. Seungwan suppresses the yawn in her chest and blinks away the moisture in her eyes. Just zero to sixty, five times in your head. You got this, Seungwan. Gosh, there’s no one in the café and hardly anyone outside. She briefly contemplates closing early.

“Small iced Americano.”

“Coming r – aii!! Ai…!”

Seungwan’s adrenaline spikes so high she could serve it ice cold in a coffee cup right now. Caught completely off guard, she begins stammering nonsense behind the till, crinkling the leather of her dark brown work apron and then using the hem of her polo shirt to wring clammy palms none the drier. All the while her customer stands there, brow quirked and card held out between slender fingers. Her expression, although slightly amused, threatens her to take her money, or else.

Before she can open her mouth, a buttery voice snaps her out of her trance.

“Hello, Seung – wan… hey, don’t we have Korean Literature together?”

Seungwan tries not to spontaneously combust on the job as she instinctively slaps a hand over her name tag. It’s useless though, it is now known. Known to her, of all people. The notorious Bae Joohyun; dressed in Acne jeans and an over-sized midnight Balenciaga cardigan, she looks like any other young, caffeine-dependent university student. But Seungwan knows a lot better.

Oh god save me… what the hell is she doing here!? This has to be a set up. She’s here for me. I’m going to die tonight. Mummy, daddy I love you.

“J-J-Juh…”

She can’t say it. All the years of schooling; learning the alphabet and how to enunciate your words drain out through the holes in her ears. She gawks dumbly, moving her head in what could be considered to be a nod.

“Ah, I thought I recognised you,” she doesn’t even bother trying to sound surprised, “I’m Joohyun.”

Don’t I know.

All Seungwan can do is nod again, hating herself for even breathing right now.

Joohyun clicks her tongue and fiddles with the card in her hand, impatient, “soooo… is this Americano free, or…?”

Yes, yes it’s free, please just take it and go! I’ll upgrade it to an extra-large if you want, on me! If it means I’m spared for the rest of my student life, take it all! Jesus, how did you even find me?!

“Ah, yes. Sorry! Uh, yes that’ll be um two fif – two… two thirty.”

There’s a shaky exchange of a debit card and a forgotten peace treaty iced Americano before Seungwan takes an unconscious shuffle back from the register, eyes glued to the smudge on the toe of her right sneaker, unable to meet Joohyun’s piercing gaze for too long.

“Thank you, Seungwan.”

The way she lingers on the ‘S’ whispers shivers down the girl’s spine. She glances up at the worst possible time, too, nearly jumping out of her mismatched Muji socks when she sees Joohyun’s hibiscus-tinted lips bloom into a coy smirk.

“I’ll see you around.”

And with what a shivering Seungwan could’ve sworn was a terrible attempt at a wink, Joohyun is gone. Clutching at her chest, she tries to slow her accelerated heartrate, praying she doesn’t need heart surgery after what she’s just been through.

Seulgi’s so hearing about this.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Daebak,” Sooyoung scoffs, side-eyeing Joohyun as she twiddles her pen.

“What else did you say?” Jennie presses, taking a sip of her chai latte.

Joohyun merely hums, disclosing no further details of her little cafe incident. She misses Jennie’s disbelieving grin when the walking, talking definition of awkward bumbles into the lecture hall, just on time, armful of texts and messy cinnamon locks matted to her face.

Sooyoung can’t resist a jest. “Joohyun, look. It’s idiocy on legs.”

Joohyun bites back a snort as her eyes follow the girl stumbling and murmuring apologies all the way to her seat. She slumps into the chair with burning cheeks, brushing her hair back with her fingers and fiddling with her gingerbread fringe. Too cute, Joohyun thinks, gritting her teeth.

It happens about mid-way in the class. The mention of pair work triggers the uniform eye-roll, groan and grumble combo, more so from the seniors, who sure as hell don’t want to be paired with icky, snot-nosed first-years who can barely lift their spoons to their mouths. The grumbling evaporates when it is stated that, although compulsory, it is not a fixed-paired assignment.

Seungwan breathes a sigh of relief along with a few others, content to set up camp in the aisles of the library, perfectly undisturbed. But she suddenly feels paler than chalk; flashbacks of heeled boots, midnight cardigans and heart surgery flooding into her veins once more when she catches a pair of stealthy pupils regarding her from across the room. A deceptively sweet smile sparkling on those dreaded lips, breath-taking and utterly petrifying all at once. Even from the other side of a bloody lecture theatre, Bae Joohyun has Seungwan sweating bullets and unconsciously fidgeting at her collar to release steam no one else can see.

About a minute away from hurling herself out the nearest window, Seungwan diverts her attention to her notebook at the last second. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan stabs her chopstick into the egg yolk, watching it dribble all over her rice. She’s jealous of her own best friend who doesn’t have to live every waking hour with a red sniper laser dot on her back.

Should’ve majored in art too, goddamnit, she curses, poking her lunch in a dazed stupor.

“Wan-ah!”

She scoffs at the familiarity, but Seulgi’s crescent moon grin makes Seungwan momentarily forget.

~~~~~~~~~~

The black cursive of Han Kang’s literature stares up at her as she tries to digest what she’s reading, but she swears her brain allocates the worst times for that sneaky Bae Joohyun to pop up like an unwanted advertisement. Seems like now, she’s going to have to sit through an entire trilogy.

Despite the crippling dread, Seungwan can’t help but wonder. They’re so silly, but she wonders them anyway. She feels free to let her mind wander in the safety of the university library.

Bae Joohyun; Seungwan’s mind is unchanged; she’s the most beautiful girl she’s laid eyes on. It’s a unique kind of beauty; mysteriously edgy, knife-like and femme fatale. The grin Joohyun gave her in class this morning, she knows she should be running from it, but it doesn’t stop the fact that it’s been playing in her head on repeat ever since.

Seungwan unintentionally imagines what it would be like to kiss that sunset-infused smirk right off her face.

Too bad she’s a mean one, she sighs.

She doesn’t get much further with the actual task at hand when her blood-pressure plummets; she watches leader of the killer senior pack, Bae Joohyun, artlessly sit down in the chair next to her. It’s like the world stops spinning for the second it takes their eyes to meet, and Seungwan quivers in her seat, thoughts of literature fleeing out the back of her brain.

Trying to be polite, she gives her a courteous nod and returns to her reading. But Joohyun just sits there, staring, peppering her body with smoking bullet holes – it frightens her in the weirdest way. She can’t help the tiny bubble of… excitement? At the fact that Hanyang’s notorious Bae Joohyun is sitting next to her. Probably to get close enough to kill her, of course, but she’d count her blessings, no matter how terrifying. The thread finally snaps, and Seungwan is able to channel her inner stone statue no more, wordlessly excusing herself and stumbling to the bathroom.

It’s empty and silent; exactly what she needs. She flicks some cool water over the burning in her cheeks and dabs at the heat welled in the corners of her eyes.

But just as she’s about to leave, Joohyun’s standing in the doorway; cloaked in all her intimidating aura and eclipsing her only exit.

“Bathroom break so soon?” Joohyun’s voice drips into her ears like melted honey as she observes a wry smile crawl onto her face, “we’ve barely gotten started. Let’s get back to work… partner.”

It’s kicking in only now what Joohyun is saying. And it takes everything Seungwan has to formulate a pathetic response.

“Oh right, a-about that,” she nervously chuckles, averting her gaze and scratching the back of her neck, “uh, I-I was just um… I don’t wanna drag anyone down with – you know because you’re a senior and all – was m-maybe thinking –”

She doesn’t get very far when Joohyun begins advancing, walking towards her with such sure, dominating strides Seungwan has no choice but to back away, the piercing squeaks of Adidas sneakers easily drowning out the clicking of Louboutin heeled boots. Joohyun sports that coy smirk the whole time she’s cornering poor Seungwan, further and further back, until…

A tiny yelp is torn from her as her back hits the wall. Seungwan strains up to meet her eyes, 5 inch boots are a very useful intimidation tool. Her heart feels about as fragile as sugar glass, and she thinks it would do her good to invest in those styrofoam packing peanuts and a roll of caution tape.  

Joohyun observes the little caramel-haired mouse girl she’s caught; pressed against the cool, beige tile, both hands out in front of her, quivering like a jello pile. She quickly notes the way the top of Seungwan’s head just about grazes the bottom of the wall-mounted paper towel dispenser, and it stretches her grin even further. She looks irresistible, those doe eyes the colour of warm cocoa. Who knew she had a thing for sweet faces, well-intentions and weak-hearts?

Realising her hands aren’t doing anything to keep the other girl at bay, Seungwan drops them like a tonne of bricks - she’s never felt so small and helpless in her life. The rich scent of vanilla and mint tickles her nose; Joohyun’s too close, and she really needs those fragile stickers to go over the thumping in her chest. But she also wants to nuzzle in closer to that intoxicating shampoo smell.

“P-please… I-I didn’t mean to…”

Her voice sounds so tiny and fragile, it tugs on Joohyun’s heartstrings.

“You know who I am?” she demands in somewhat of a growl, caging the smaller girl in with both arms pressed on either side of her head, causing her to gasp out, “you’ve heard?”

Seungwan shrinks a little more, petunias searing onto her milky cheeks at the proximity, but terror-stricken nonetheless. It’s burning, and it’s too much.

A small ‘mm’ and a teary nod is all she can offer.

Joohyun shoots her a challenging smirk, a kaleidoscope of obsidian pebbles flicker in her darkened eyes as she brings a single finger under the girl’s chin, tilting her so she’s forced to look up.

“And you still think you have a choice?”

Seungwan wishes she could rear up at the challenge, hammer some humility into that smug attitude in front of her; put Bae Joohyun in her place. But who is she to change the way the world works? Girls like Joohyun toy with what they want, and get what they toy with; the natural order of things Seungwan has no hope of re-routing. Her resolve, her dignity and everything she’s built up in her 20 years on earth crumbles at her feet; she doesn’t bother picking up the pieces.

With that, she looks up at the girl who still has her locked in with her eyes alone, and meekly shakes her head.

Seungwan can finally breathe when Joohyun detaches herself from the wall and runs both hands down the front of her blouse. She hears a chuckle and before she knows it, there’s an arm around her waist, moving them in tandem.

She doesn’t see the triumphant smile etched into Joohyun’s rosebud lips, like she’s swallowed a coat hanger. All she knows is that they’re now bound by this assignment, and that Joohyun is leaving with exactly what she came for.

Seungwan hides a shy grin of her own.

#wenrene #university au #bully irene #red velvet #i got carried away #seungwan the cafe worker #seungwan doesn't mind #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios

[little-miss-dumpsterfire]

I think I made you up inside my head - chapter three

Chapter three my select few darlings! Yes, it’s already on wattpad (sorry if you’ve read it already) but I like to share!

Are you ready kids?

Chapter Three - I am only what you made me. I am only a reflection of you

Trigger warning - mental health issues and blood/gore.

If you're not comfortable, please skip. 💛

******************************************

Sharp tears prickled in his hazel eyes as the ability to form coherent words seemed to escape him. He had known the minor details surrounding Lindsay's untimely death - a reality tv darling dropping dead was headline-worthy - but her family were tight-lipped about the exact circumstances of her demise. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend how Izzy had known all of this; her knowledge rivalled that of a fly on the bathroom wall. As if she could hear his innermost thoughts, Izzy answered his unspoken question.

"I knew the right people to ask," she told him, brushing the hair out from in front of her eyes, "I knew she didn't just die. I wasn't going to let her death be treated in such a blasé fashion."

Axel choked, the words lodged deeply in his throat. "Bu- I mean... how did you get the mirror?"

"I found it one day. It was in a box on my doorstep. Any sane person would leave it be, but if the media established anything, I'm clearly not seen as sane. So I opened it. I don't know who sent it to me. My money's on a producer who revels in the sadistic thrill derived from the torment and suffering we went through. I couldn't throw it away though, because what would be left of her if I did? She was already condemned to the ground. I wasn't going to be the one to throw her memory to the wind."

Izzy looked to her left, her reflection dimly lit in the glass cabinet on the far wall. "In my head... all I think of is when it's all over, is this how I'll be defined? The final victim of Total Drama... that's etched into my brain. I'll become another knick-knack in a hall of curiosities. We're no longer people in here, Axel, we're collectables."

Thoughts bounced around erratically in Axel's head - conflicting notions manifesting like an angel and a devil on his shoulder. In front of him was a woman who was struggling with the turmoil outliving all of her friends. Yet, the magnetic pull of the almighty dollar swayed his actions towards chasing stardom.

He lightly gripped her forearm, giving her his best convincing empathetic smile.

"Tell me the stories. Let the voices out of the purgatory that is your mind. Everything...one, everyone in here will not be relegated to the sidelines, I won't let that happen." Axel assured Izzy, his warm smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Ignoring the suspicion that washed over her thoughts - for the time being at least - Izzy continued walking down the aisles of shelves. Axel shadowed her, following a few paces behind, mindlessly fiddling with the items on display. Two tarnished faux-gold lockets sat near each other, the two halves of the 'BFF' heart separate from one another. As he went to push the two sections together, Izzy stopped him abruptly and pushed his hand away.

"No," she started, startling Axel with the sudden sternness. "They can't be together. They don't share a heart anymore."

"So what? They grew out of being obnoxious teenage girls and went their separate ways. Big fucking deal!"

She stared daggers into him, holding the shelving for support. "You've got no idea, kid. Just because the sun's covered, it doesn't mean your shadow's gone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as appearances were concerned, Katie and Sadie were almost each other's doubles. Matching short pigtails with bright pink hair ties, coordinated short shorts, crop-tops and wedged sandals... the two looked like they fell from opposite sides of a funhouse mirror. To all of us on the cast, and the audience at home, no doubt, the only differentiating factor between the two was their build. Katie was slim and taller than Sadie by about four inches, whereas Sadie was shorter and carried more weight.

The two 'BFFL's sat together on the stairs leading to the dock, ready to film their segment for the opening sequence. Waiting for the crew to finish setting up the camera equipment, Katie busies herself with refastening her hair ties.

"Okay girls," an unseen producer informs them, "we need your best-infatuated expression. So give up wide eyes, big smiles, the whole nine yards."

The girls nod in response, awaiting their cue. Sadie clasped her hands against her chest - a wide smile plastered on her face - and Katie bit her lip coyly.

"And.... cut. Alright, move set to the dock for Beth's fire-baton stunt. Doug, remember the extinguisher this time." The producer called about. "Great job, girls. Especially you, Katie. That lip bite was dynamic."

Sadie looked to her right at her best friend. "Wait, you bit your lip? We agreed on a wide-mouthed smile."

"It's no big deal, I just wanted to try something different," Katie shrugged, readjusting her shoulder strap. "We can't always be the same, you know?"

Personality-wise, once you got to know them separately, it was like night and day. Katie was free-spirited, leading with her heart. Her passion for all things fashion was evident through her and Sadie's matching outfits and her behind-the-scenes chats with the likes of Lindsay and Heather. Sadie, on the other hand, was more logical, leading with her head. She was more likely to be the sheep as opposed to the shepherd. And when Katie was eliminated early? It was like leading a lamb to the slaughter.

Sadie sat on a jagged log at the campfire, head in her hands violently sobbing. Bridgette futilely offered her support, attempting to coax the girl from her hysterical state.

"Hey, Sadie, it'll be okay. You've got all us Killer Bass on your side." Bridgette lightly rubbed circles on the crying girl's back.

"No!" Sadie snapped at Bridgette, tears staining her cheeks. "It's not okay! I need Katie. When she's not near me, I break out in hives. She's my everything! I need her more than oxygen! Without her... I'll just die!"

Concerned expressions flashed on the faces of their fellow teammates as Sadie's wails echoed through the woods of Camp Wawanakwa. She clutched the debris from the dock closer to her chest; small cracks formed as wooden shrapnel shattered from around the edges.

What we thought back then was just a toxic 'uber' friendship between two sixteen-year-old girls was far more deep-rooted than any of us anticipated. Regarding Sadie... the best way to sum that up is to quote my dearly missed best friend Noah: 'Sadie is a whackjob with more baggage than an airport terminal'. But I suppose that is giving her a disservice. Upon Katie's departure, Chris was notified by Sadie's therapist of the extent of her mental state. I found out too because back then, well, let's just say you couldn't leave me in the dark for too long.

Sadie's childhood wasn't easy in the slightest. Her relationship with her birth parents was relatively non-existent. Therefore, she was surrendered into the custody of the state. The conveyor belt life of passing through the foster care system took a toll on the girl, with an absence of permanent parental love leaving holes in her heart. Her talkative nature and inhibitions to talk and hug strangers lead to her first visit to the therapist. She was a clear cut case for the child behavioural scientists: disinhibited social engagement disorder, an attachment disorder. Looking back, this was evident in all her future actions, particularly those with Katie.

The bell rang on the first day of their last year of high school. Sadie - dressed as per usual in fuchsia shorts and a striped crop top - eagerly skipped over to the locker of her best friend. As the locker door slammed and her friend came into view, the excited expression on Sadie's face dropped.

"K-Katie? What's this?" Sadie questioned, holding her sticker-covered folder flush against her chest.

Katie raised an eyebrow quizzically, straightening out her paper timetable to find her first classes location.

"What do you mean, Sadie?"

"I mean that!" the shorter girl exclaimed, gesturing at Katie's outfit. The taller girl had moved away from her typical Total Drama outfit, substituting it with a pair of denim jeans and a pastel pink cardigan.

"Oh, this? I just wanted to branch out a bit. I mean, matching outfits? What are we, twins?"

Katie giggled at her observation, with Sadie clearly missing the joke.

"Anyway, I have to get to English, but I'll see you around, yeah?" Katie chirped before walking off with two other girls.

Sadie stalked over to Katie's locker, using a spare hairpin to open it. Her heart broke upon looking at its contents. Gone were the photos of her and Sadie plastered onto her locker door. Cutouts from fashion magazines and runway shows lay in their wake and stuffed under a pile of books was the BFF necklace Sadie gifted her years prior.

Following their graduation, the pair had drifted apart. Katie received an offer to the most prestigious fashion school in Canada and left their small town for Toronto. Unbeknownst to her, Sadie followed suit and got a job at a sewing goods store. Sadie became Katie's shadow, desperately following her every move. Her morning routine was memorised, her coffee order became part of her mental wallpaper. Sadie's infatuation only grew, as in her mind, distance made the heart grow fonder. If only Katie knew that this distance was all of a few metres.

A harsh squeak dripped from the tired hinges of the ladder as Sadie climbed up the rungs, fastening something onto her wall. For her neighbours, the sound had become a part of their daily lives, as day after day, Sadie adhered more photos on the apartment wall. The collage of the lush green of leaves, the yellow of the bustling taxis and blue of the cloudless sky swirled around on the wall, catching a person's attention as they entered the room. A timber coffee table was neatly placed on the left, adorned with additional photo frames and miscellaneous decorations. The centrepiece to her display shimmered brightly when the morning sun shone through the gap in the curtains. Perched in a small, open velvet lines box was one half of a golden heart-shaped 'BFF' necklace.

Sadie took a step back and tilted her head, taking in the view from as many angles as she could. She had finally achieved the pinnacle of her undying love and infatuation for her former 'BFFL'. Neatly arranged across the length of the wall was a mural, dedicated to her muse, to the reason she woke up every morning. Candid photos of Katie walking down the street, exiting cars and meeting friends for coffee dates were carefully taken by the shadow she didn't know that she had.

A year and a half passed. There was a stark dichotomy between Katie and Sadie's lives. The final year of her fashion degree was approaching quickly, and Katie was not entering it alone. I don't know how many of us predicted it - probably Noah with his impeccable 'gaydar' - but Katie had fallen in love with an architecture student called Daisy. From what was depicted on their respective social media accounts, it was clear to us that they were enamoured with one another. The presence of another woman in Katie's life infuriated Sadie, as she believed that that position was reserved for her and her alone.

Then came the drop in the ocean that caused the whole tsunami. If it wasn't for Katie's selfless nature... well, I imagine things would've turned out a lot differently.

Katie sat cross-legged on the couch, a decorative throw rug draped across her lap. Their rescue cat, Archibald - a male calico - rested behind her head, purring with content as she opened her laptop. Her fingers barely touched the trackpad as she scrolled through her Facebook feed, bypassing ads for strange items and memes about the current political climate.

"Ekaterina," an auburn-haired girl walked through the doorway, a basket of washing in her hands. "I'm making something for lunch after I finish this washing. I'll probably use what's left in the fridge and make a frittata. D'you want some?"

"Ooh, yes please, Dais," Katie smiled at her partner, who poked her tongue out at the use of her nickname.

Katie clicked on her latest post to see who had reacted and liked. A smile crept across Katie's face as she clicked onto the picture: a photoshoot in a field on flowers where a bright ring sparkled on Katie's ring finger. She looked down at her left hand, still in a state of shock at Daisy's proposal. One name stuck out as Katie scrolled through the comments. She hadn't thought of them for years now and wondered what they were getting up to.

She clicked on their profile to compose a new message. Daisy walked up behind her and scratched Archibald's head before planting a kiss behind Katie's ear.

"Oooh, who are you talking to? Not your girlfriend, I hope," Daisy taunted, giggling breathlessly.

Katie threw her head back against the couch cushion and looked up at her fiancée.

"Yeah, I'm shopping elsewhere. I need someone who appreciates my nicknames!" Katie threw back, puffing her cheeks out comically. "No, you goose. It's this girl I used to go to school with. It's been forever and a day, and I thought I'd see how she's going."

"Sadie Calhoun... isn't she that one you went on that show with?"

"Yeah... I felt like such a poser back then. I don't think I've ever squealed since," Katie responded.

"Hey, people change. I had such a crush on you when I saw you on TV, and look now!" Daisy told her before walking away towards the kitchen. "I snagged the girl of my dreams!"

Katie laughed as she typed an introductory line, sending it through before closing her laptop.

*********

A sudden buzz from her phone against the wooden table shook Sadie out of her delirium. She had been sat before her photo wall, carefully cutting out photos of her face for what could have been hours. Paper scraps lined the wooden flooring like irregular speckles of snow as Sadie rose to her feet. Picking up her phone, her eyes shone brightly with its blue light as a squeal escaped from between her lips.

On her screen - behind the myriad of cracks and scratches - sat a notification that held Sadie's heart in a tight grip: Message request from Ekaterina Byers.

If this were a sitcom, I'm sure Sadie would've pinched herself at that moment to assure that she wasn't dreaming. But with one olive branch in the form of an instant message, Katie had signed her own death warrant.

Sadie opened the notification with bated breath, her cheeks aching from the smile that was cemented in place. Her heart fluttered with anxious butterflies as she read the message.

Ekaterina Byers:

"Hi, Sadie. I wonder if you remember me, probably not! High school seems like forever ago! Haha! 😝  I just thought I'd reach out and see if you wanted to get a coffee sometime and just catch up on life!"

The words swirled and danced before Sadie, who lovingly took in every single one with deep adoration and love. Everything she had wanted to tell her, the praise she had wanted to shower Katie in bounced around in her head. She placed her phone down, forcing herself to calm down before she wrote a response.

Sadie Calhoun:

"Oh, hi! OMG! Of course, I remember you! I'd love to catch up! You're the busy fashion designer, so you pick a time when you can squeeze an old friend in! 😎 💕" Watching the three dots in the bottom left corner caused Sadie's breath to hitch in her throat. She was typing... Katie was typing. They'd finally be reunited, not just from behind a camera lens. She felt as if she was in the painting 'The Creation of Adam', just a fingers touch away from her god, her whole world.

Ekaterina Byers:

"Haha, as if! I'm not there yet 😂  Would next Friday suit? Say about 9am at the Good Coffee Co. I need to hand in my portfolio at 8:30 so that'd work well."

Impulsively, acting out of desperation alone, Sadie immediately responded.

Sadie Calhoun:

"Yes! I'll be there! See you soon, Katie! 💕"

Sadie locked her phone before focusing her attention back to her craft. She picked up her scissors, skilfully manoeuvring around the edges of the photos. She stuck the product onto the wall and gazed upon it proudly. Hundreds of small cut out photos of her head were plastered on the wall, covering up any person Katie was with, replacing them with herself.

They did meet up, that much we do know. Testimonials from five different individuals confirmed that they saw the two girls at that café on Friday the 25th. What they talked about is up for speculation, because that stayed between the two of them. Why were testimonials needed if two young adults were just catching up over a cup of coffee? Because that was the last time Sadie Calhoun and Ekaterina 'Katie' Byers were seen alive.

Katie's eyelids drooped as she sat in the passenger seat of Sadie's car. Sadie - the 'good samaritan' that she was - had offered to drive Katie home after she suddenly felt light-headed following her coffee. Sadie parked in the driveway and opened Katie's door for her, helping her up as she tiredly hobbled towards the front door. Katie wearily collapsed onto the couch, her eyes barely registering the environment around her. She could hear faint crashing and shattering sounds as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She looked down upon the couch she was dozing on and sat up with a start.

"This isn't my house," she whispered to herself, scanning the room for any familiar objects. She froze in place when she spotted something utterly recognisable to her: her face. Hundreds of different angles of her face created a mosaic, a shrine to a friendship that was never meant to last.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Sadie smiled sweetly as she entered the room. "It couldn't be anything but. Not when the subject is as exquisite as you."

Confusion washed over Katie's face as Sadie approached her, a clothed parcel delicately held in her hands. Sadie reached up to caress her old friend's cheek; Katie snaked away from the touch, petrified of the girl in front of her.

"Hmm. That's the problem, isn't it?" Sadie soliloquised, her grey eyes meeting Katie's scared onyx eyes. "You stopped being Katie. You stopped being my best friend. I know Katie is living in those photos, not 'Ekaterina'. Katie wouldn't have left me. No, not at all. Forever isn't a term to just throw around."

Black tears dripped down Katie's face as she silently sobbed. "W-we were kids. What we were wa-wasn't healthy. We're two separate people, Sadie! I couldn't live being so connected to a shadow. I wanted t-to shine on my own."

"But I don't wanna be separate people! I want to be with you... to be you. To never be apart from you!" Sadie passionately yelled as Katie started to slump down in front of her. The world around her became dark as her lids closed tightly. As her consciousness drifted, a phrase echoed through her head.

"Don't worry now. We'll never be apart again."

*********

Excruciating pain emanating from her side woke her with a jolt. A dull haze covered her field of vision, but as she pulled her hand away from her waist, she could see it as clear as day. A warm layer of blood coated her hand like a glove. Her eyes slowly settled to the room she was in. Metres ahead of her was the collage of photos, but the furniture has been removed, leaving a wide-open space.

Her fingers felt around to find the source of the pain, coming across thick strands of string attached to her waist. A scream silently bubbled up inside her, threatening to explode.

Rough, uneven strands of double-wound fishing wire had been haphazardly sewn into both her and Sadie's sides, connecting them to each other.

A groggy smile spread across Sadie's plump cheeks as she revelled in her actions. "I told you we'll never be apart again."

An extreme shock was the only emotion Katie was able to come to terms with. Her body was statuesque; set in place by a fear-driven paralysis. A dryness inhabited her mouth, inhibiting her ability to swallow the truth in front of her. The room swayed and distorted around her - a prison cell painted with her face - as she forced her eyelids shut. This couldn't be reality. It was the sick dream of a girl trapped in the suffocating world of a teenage girl.

The pain Sadie felt in her abdomen only further fuelled her pleasure, letting every wave of pain wash over her in euphoric ecstasy. Her heart felt complete again as if she had regained a long-lost limb.

"I knew we'd become one again," Sadie hummed, intoxicated by being in Katie's presence. "Daisy was just a placeholder... keeping the bed warm for me. With every thread... every stitch... our closeness is now defined. We'll never be apart again. Best friends for life."

"...for...life," Katie mumbled, fresh blood weeping from her wounds.

Night and day passed slowly, the shadows cast from the pair forming contorted, misshapen dark splotches on the walls. A sickening warmth surrounded Katie, whose heartbeat pounded heavily in her ears. Her waist was bruising a deep purple, with the surrounding blood vessels snaking across her abdomen. Sadie was shaken awake by Katie's convulsions as her body became slick with a layer of sweat.

"Katie? I'm here, it's okay."

"I don't feel good... I want Daisy," Katie slurred, lazily searching the room for her partner.

The 'tethering' procedure was as wildly unsuccessful as one could imagine. Sadie's homemade suture kit - a sharpened metal knitting needle and fishing line - only managed to pierce through Katie's large intestine. Bile and stool seeped into her abdomen, eventually finding their way into her bloodstream. The coroner estimated she died two days later of septic shock.

A thin beam of light eclipsed the drawn curtains and rested on Sadie's face as dawn broke. Her hand moved softly to caress Katie's hand; a stiff claw lay in her wake. An overwhelming panic flooded Sadie's system as she attempted to wake the other girl from her 'deep' slumber. Half-lidded blood-red eyes stared back at Sadie, a trickle of dried blood pooled at her temple. Sadie's heart shattered like a golden locket as she cradled the limp body in her arms, pulling the skin taut around her suture wounds. The shadow had won. It had succeeded in snuffing out what was left of the light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What happened to Sadie in the end?" Axel asked, taking a minute amount of sadistic glee from the story.

Izzy turned to face the young man. A single tear crept down her cheek as she fiddled with her rings. "She refused to live without Katie. She starved to death, all the while she left Katie's decomposing corpse attached to her hip like a growth."

Izzy wiped the tear from her eye, suppressing sniffles as Axel glanced around the room.

"Hmm...Alright. Who's next then?"

#td #horrorfic #katieandsadie #wowee

[vampiregirl1797]

Hopeless: Chapter Eleven

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

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‘I can’t believe the day is actually here.’ I murmured against his chest, enjoying the feel of him absent-mindedly caressing my bare back.

 ‘Neither can I, love.’

 ‘How do you feel?’ I asked, shifting so I could get a look at his expression.

 ‘Excited, determined, mournful.’ He said, his tone laced with sadness that I wasn’t expecting.

 I shifted, bringing my hand to caress the side of his face, ‘don’t be sad, Klaus. You’ve been waiting to be released from your curse for nearly five hundred years. Be happy, be excited, but don’t be mournful.’

 ‘As much as I cannot wait to be free… I know that as soon as I am, I’m going to lose you.’ His eyes were full of unshed tears and the terrified look on his face went right to my heart.

 ‘Listen to me.’ I said, my voice determined, ‘you may be losing me now, but if I have my way, we will find each other again, Klaus.’ If he remembered me or not, I planned on seeking him out at least for a little while and making sure he was happy. My free hand went to my locket, where it rested around his neck, ‘and until then, you will always have a part of me with you.’

We shared a tender kiss. It only lasted a moment but the tingling didn’t fade when we pulled apart.

 ‘Thank you, Evangeline. Thank you for coming back and helping me, even if that wasn’t your intention when you came here. Thank you for reminding me what it’s like to feel. Thank you for accepting me for the way I am, despite what my future self did to you and your family. Thank you, for everything.’ He murmured, gently wiping away the tears that fell down my cheeks.

 ‘Why do I feel like you’re saying goodbye?’ I asked in a small voice.

 ‘Because I want to make sure you have a chance to hear what I need to tell you. I don’t know how today will go and I don’t know how soon you’ll be leaving after the ritual. I need you to hear this.’ His thumb moved back and forth comfortingly across my cheek and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

 ‘I want you to know, the future you return to will be the one you deserve. I plan on turning Katarina and compelling her to believe the original story, along with Trevor and Rose.’ He murmured, and I felt my expression transform into shock.

 ‘You plan to… what?’ I couldn’t believe it.

 ‘As far as Katarina, Trevor and Rose are going to be concerned, they will forget ever meeting you. Katarina will believe that she evaded the ritual, exactly the same way she did in your time. She will think she tricked Rose into turning her in order to be rendered useless to me, and Trevor will believe he helped her escape, while Rose will believe she was tricked by the doppelgänger. They will all flee from here and will continue to flee from me until I get word of Katarina in Mystic Falls. When I find out she has turned you, I will either kill her or release her from my compulsion.’ My mind was reeling as I listened to his plan. I felt equal parts impressed and guilty. I was impressed that he had come up with it, it honestly sounded pretty flawless to me. But I felt guilty that Katherine, Trevor and Rose would be running for the next half a millennia because of me.

 ‘Why? Why are you planning to do all of this?’ I looked up to him, my eyes pleading for the truth.

 ‘I told you; I’m planning on you returning to the future you deserve. The only way to assure that almost everything happens the way it did in your time is to put the compulsion in place. I assume Trevor and Rose will still die as they did before while Katarina will live. Stefan will save your sister from the crash, as Katherine will still go on to turn the Salvatore brothers. You will still become a vampire. The only difference is you won’t have me coming to town and sacrificing your sister or aunt.’ He was in love with me. I could see it in his eyes I, could feel it from his touch and I could hear it in the way he spoke.

 ‘What about word getting out that you have broken the curse?’ I murmured, leaning into his touch as he continued to caress my face.

 ‘Those present at the ritual tonight will be the only ones who know about it. The wolf and vampire will be sacrificed and as soon as the spell is complete, I will compel the witch to forget she ever cast the spell. I will also compel those I have on the side-lines if the result is me not needing them. The only ones who will know that I am a true Hybrid are you and Elijah.’ He said, his free hand stroking my hair, ‘and it will stay that way. As far as the supernatural community will be aware, I will still be looking for a doppelgänger, which will be Katarina’s motivation for coming to Mystic Falls.’

 I lay back down on his chest, digesting the information he had given me, trying to calm the spinning wheels in my mind. I don’t know how long we were there for, but when I had fully processed everything, I couldn’t ignore my gratitude. The only way that this was possible was because of Klaus. He was doing this for me. He was turning Katarina, compelling her, lying about his curse… all so I would experience the future I’d originally set out to change. I didn’t think it was possible, but I felt myself fall a little bit more in love with him in that moment.

‘Klaus, I—thank you. For doing this for me, I know you didn’t have to, but thanks.’ I murmured, taking his hand in mine and entwining our fingers.

 ‘Of course, love.’ He kissed my hair, ‘now today, I’m going to be gone until sunset. I was hoping you could watch Katarina. I know I have Trevor compelled not to betray me and you assured me Elijah wouldn’t jeopardise the ritual, but I would feel more comfortable if you were the one to stay with her.’

 ‘I won’t let her out of my sight.’ I promised him, sitting up so that I could face him more fully.

 ‘I believe you.’ He smiled a half smile, making one of his dimples flash, ‘just before the sun sets, I need you to slip her this.’ He pulled out a vial filled with purple liquid from his bedside drawer and handed it to me, ‘it’s a powerful sleeping draught and it should make transferring her much easier. It’s also laced with my blood, so it’s important she ingests it.’

 ‘She will,’ I said, my voice sure.

 ‘I will come back to the house once the sun has completely set and before the moon has risen to its apex, which is when the spell will take place.’ He kissed my forehead and stood from the bed, moving around his room and getting dressed.

 ‘Everything will go according to plan, Klaus.’ I assured him, watching him change with my head resting on my knees.

 ‘I hope you’re right, love.’ He smiled; now ready to face the day. He came over to me and kissed me in a way that left me breathless before leaving the room to attend to the details that needed to be finalised for the ritual.

 I lay back on the pillows with a sigh. As blissful as it had been to live in ignorance since Katherine arrived, her purpose couldn’t be ignored any longer. It was the day of the ritual and to say I was nervous was an understatement. Waking up in Klaus’ bed again this morning, a place I’d barely left it the past twenty-four hours, had kept my nerves on ice. Well at least until he had walked out of the door, now my fear, worry, excitement and anxiousness has all returned by force and I was freaking out. Mainly internally. As I took deep breaths, I kept reminding myself of everything Klaus had told me. He had a witch he trusted and a back up witch if that one betrayed him. He had two vampires and two werewolves guarded in two different locations. He had the moonstone on his person and promised he wouldn’t let it out of sight, Katherine was in the study—I could hear her reading aloud—and Trevor was with Klaus. Everything was going perfectly according to plan.

 I took a deep breath as I walked down the stairs, trying to look less suspicious encase I accidentally projected my concerns onto Katherine. She was the last person we needed to be worried right now. I needed her to stay calm and completely ignorant to the hectic atmosphere that was festering around her. A part of me was on guard around her anyway, mainly because she was too calm, collected and reserved. I knew Katherine Pierce, her survival streak was stronger than Klaus’ strength and I wouldn’t be fooled by her blasé demeanour. I had a feeling that was why Klaus had asked me to watch her until the ritual rather than Trevor or Elijah; I wasn’t as easily led astray by a pretty face. I knew what she could really be like, what she had the potential to become, while Trevor and Elijah saw her as a weak damsel in distress that they would try and save if they were given the opportunity.

 ‘Good afternoon.’ I greeted Katherine, my tone as polite as I could manage.

 ‘Good afternoon, Lady Evangeline.’ She bowed her head slightly before she continued to read.

 I took a seat on the free armchair and grabbed a random book off the table beside me. I assumed one of the brothers had accumulated the pile, my money was on Elijah. The book was written in a different language, but I opened it to the first page anyway, pretending to read while I was really watching Katherine from the corner of my eye.

 ‘Do you know where your brothers have gotten off to today?’ Katherine asked, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

 ‘I’m afraid not. Whatever their plans are, they were very sudden, as I had no knowledge of a trip today. They must have decided in the early hours of this morning.’ I lied, proud that I sounded so convincing. Usually, I couldn’t lie to save my life, but I had a feeling my strong desire for this ritual to take place was inspiring me not to act suspicious.

 ‘I see.’ She pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with my answer.

 ‘Although I believe Niklaus mentioned looking for a diamond ring.’ I mentioned casually, hiding a smirk when her gaze shot up to mine.

 ‘A diamond ring? Really?’ the excitement in her voice was unmistakeable and I almost felt a little bad, but it was better to lead her far away from what was actually happening. I’d rather think I was getting engaged rather than sacrificed.

 ‘Yes. Though don’t tell anyone I told you. My brother would have my head,’ I said, trying not to cringe when calling Klaus my “brother”. It was all kinds of wrong.

 ‘I won’t. Thank you for telling me, Lady Evangeline.’ Katherine smiled and looked back down at her book, though it was clear she wasn’t really seeing it.

 ‘Of course.’ I sighed, glancing over to the ticking clock.

 Xxx

 I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of attacks or attempts to escape during the day. Though, I probably shouldn’t have been; this was what I came back to stop, so a peaceful day was assurance that everything was going to plan. By the time night fell, Katherine was looking a little drowsy, which might have had something to do with the sleeping draught I’d slipped her that Klaus had left behind. She hadn’t even flinched when she drank the spiked water and I wondered if she had even tasted it.

 I was snapped out of my thoughts by a thud and looked over to Katherine to see her slumped over in her chair, the book she had been reading now on the floor. I went over to her, lifting her and lying her down on the couch. I busied myself as I waited for Klaus to arrive by clearing away the books that Katherine and I had gathered around the room throughout the day. I was starting to get anxious energy flowing through me; I was incredibly eager for the day to be over. I wanted, needed this to go well and time seemed to be taunting me by ticking by unbearably slowly.

 ‘What is that you’re humming?’ I jumped at the sound of Klaus’ voice. I span around from the bookcase I had been rearranging and came face to face with him, leaning against the door room, observing me with a curious glint in his eye.

 ‘I was humming?’ I frowned, smiling as he walked over to me, taking my hands in his own.

 ‘You were,’ he bought me close and I couldn’t help but inhale deeply as my head rested against his chest. My eyes fluttered shut when he began humming a very familiar tune and I felt myself relax all the way down to my bones.

 ‘La Vie En Rose’ I murmured, wondering when we had started dancing, ‘I heard the song when I was a little girl and I fell in love with it immediately. For whatever reason it’s always made me want to go to Paris.’ I smiled softly, memories of the first time I heard the song washing over me.

 ‘I’m not familiar with it yet, but I know that when I hear it, I’ll think of you.’ He said, his breath tickling the skin of my neck.

 When he takes me in his arms

He speaks to me in a very low voice,

I see life as if it were rose-tinted.

 ‘Me too.’ My arms tightened around him and I inhaled again, desperately trying to commit his scent, his touch to memory, and not wanting to let him, or this moment, go.

 Xxx.

 I stood at the edge of the forest and watched with Elijah. We were both tasked with making sure that no one came to disrupt the ritual and honestly I was almost hoping that someone would so that I could dispose of some of the nervous energy that was bouncing around inside of me. Klaus had just killed the werewolf and the vampire and now he was waiting for the signal to kill Katherine. She had woken up not long ago and was very confused as to what was happening; the bodies around her weren’t helping keep her calm but at the same time she couldn’t acknowledge she was about to be used in a ritual because she had been compelled to ignore anything to do with a ritual and sacrifice.

 Thankfully, she hadn’t been very chatty or otherwise I think I would have had a problem with keeping Elijah from interfering; he was making a point of not looking in her direction. I hated the bitch, but I couldn’t imagine how hard this must have been for him.

 ‘Now.’ The calm voice of Klaus’ witch echoed across the clearing and the soon to be hybrid made his way over to the doppelgänger. He ignored Katherine when she tried to flinch away from him and pulled her to stand, easily bringing her over to the alter.

 I’ll admit, I had to look away when he started to drain her, the fact that she was essentially my sisters twin was too much, making a small part of me itch to interfere. But I simply reminded myself of the reality of the situation and I settled; I even managed to look back over to see her drop to the ground, dead. Elijah quickly swooped in, gathered her body and handed her to me. Elijah didn’t know that Katherine was going to come back, something I was sure Klaus would fill him in on soon enough. But I was a little concerned over how I was going to react—if Elijah didn’t want to go along with it, it would all go to hell.

 I offered the elder Mikaelson what I hoped was a comforting smile as I took the dead doppelgänger back to the house, where she would stay until she woke up. I was tasked with looking after her because Elijah needed to follow Klaus around and clear up any messes he made in his wolf form. It was much more dangerous for me to be around Klaus while he was transitioned; the chances are that he wouldn’t recognise me and if he bit me I would be screwed if Klaus didn’t turn back before the poison killed me.

 I sighed, both relieved and frustrated when I made it back to the house. I was happy the ritual had actually been successful—Klaus was a hybrid now. I was irritated that I was once again tasked with waiting.  I placed her in the same room she had been staying—if we were lucky she would think the whole thing was a dream. But that was unlikely seeing as all of the compulsion that had been placed on her will have broken with her death. She was going to remember everything, at least for a little while. I just needed to make sure she didn’t leave before Klaus got back so he could alter her memories.

 The sun was rising when I heard Klaus and Elijah return. I felt my face break into a smile at the happiness I could hear in the hybrid’s voice.

 ‘It was incredible Elijah, I’ve never felt so free, so at peace.’ It sounded as though he was making his way upstairs. I wondered if it was so he could change or so he could see Katherine and I.

 ‘I’m glad we were finally able to break your curse brother.’ I could hear the smile in the elder Mikaelson’s voice. It was nice to see and hear them acting like brothers.

 A groan from the bed gained my attention and I saw that Katherine was waking up, again. She had been waking up on and off all night—I had already fed her some human blood so her transition was complete. I also might have been snapping her neck on and off since then so that I could assure she didn’t have the time to escape.

 ‘What is happening?’ she muttered and I grinned in amusement when I noticed her English accent was absent. She looked over to me and the fear in her expression was clear, ‘stay away from me.’

 I rolled my eyes, in amusement and annoyance but my attention was once again interrupted as the bedroom door swung open, revealing Klaus with a huge smile on his face. But before either of us could say anything, Katherine’s voice drew my gaze to her.

 ‘Please, just let me go.’ She whimpered, inching further and further up the bed until her back was against the headboard.

 I looked over to Klaus to see him rolling his eyes and before I could blink he was next to the doppelgänger, leaning over to compel her.

 ‘You will not remember taking part in the ritual, instead you will believe that you found out about it when you were still human and you ran after taking the moonstone. Trevor helped you escape and told you to go to his home in the forest, where you met his sister, Rose. She was planning to bring you back when night fell but you didn’t want to, so you stabbed yourself, when she healed you with her blood you killed yourself in order to become a vampire and thus useless in the ritual. After you completed the transition, you ran from Rose and Trevor and you will continue running as you will believe you have betrayed Elijah and I. You will not remember ever meeting Evangeline either. This compulsion will remain in place until I myself take it away. Do you understand?’

 ‘I understand,’ She answered robotically and when she had recovered, Nik quickly snapped her neck.

 ‘When she wakes we will be long gone and the compulsion will take place. I’ve already compelled Rose and Trevor. They are getting ready to run as soon as the sun sets.’ He answered the silent question in my eyes.

 ‘How do you feel?’ I asked him before I started to step towards him; my hands gripped his forearms as I looked up into his warm blue eyes.

 ‘Free.’ He answered with a grin that made my un-dead heart skip a beat.

 ‘I can’t believe we actually did it.’ I breathed, my forehead resting against his shoulder and my hands around his waist.

 ‘Neither can I,’ he whispered, his hands caressing my waist, ‘I’ve waited for this moment for nearly five hundred years, and while a part of me is consumed with joy, the other part almost wishes we hadn’t been successful.’

 I moved back to look him in the eye and I felt my eyes tear over at the despair in his gaze. I bought a hand up to caress the side of his face, and when he leaned into my touch, I smiled softly.

 ‘Don’t regret this because of me, Klaus, you’ve wanted this for five centuries and you deserve to be free.’ I told him, keeping my voice low because I was afraid it would crack with emotion, ‘I’m happy for you, but I wish I didn’t have to go now.’

 He sighed deeply, resting his forehead against mine and closing his eyes.

 ‘How do you return to your time?’ he asked, but I had a feeling that wasn’t what he really wanted to say, ‘do you need a witch?’

 ‘No…I need to die.’ I admitted, biting my lip when his eyes snapped open in disbelief.

 ‘What?’ he demanded, his grip tightening on my waist as if he were about to refuse to let me go.

 ‘Bonnie told me that in order to return I’d have to die. I was planning on taking my daylight ring off and—,’ he cut me off with a furious look.

 ‘What if it doesn’t work? What if you stay dead?’ He said, releasing me to pace back and forth, a hand running though his hair.

 ‘I trust Bonnie, she’s like a sister to me and she assured me that I wouldn’t stay dead.’ I told him softly, knowing that he was clearly struggling right now.

 ‘Love—,’ he stopped abruptly and turned to face me, but before he could speak I flashed in front of him, taking his hands in mine.

 ‘Trust me, Klaus; I wouldn’t even consider doing this if I thought I would stay dead. I trust Bonnie and I trust that this is the way to send me back to my time.’ I said, imploring him to listen to me.

 I could see the emotions swirling behind his gaze; he was reluctant, scared, angry, but I could see the emotion that won out: trust. He did trust me, despite the drastic measures that were needed to get me home. I couldn’t blame him for being reluctant—I would have been the same way.

 ‘Alright, love. But if you do stay dead and I don’t get a word of you in the future, I’m going to find and kill the witch.’ He said, the promise in his voice made me smile and roll my eyes.

 ‘I believe you.’ I kissed his cheek and looked over to Katherine with a sigh, ‘we should do it now, if you want to be gone before she wakes up.’

 ‘Evangeline,’ he waited until I met his gaze again and I was overtaken by the emotion I saw in his gorgeous blue eyes, ‘I love you.’

 I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly at first, but the adoration in his gaze couldn’t be mistaken. I had suspected he loved me, but hearing him say it was something else, something I didn’t think would ever happen. I felt my expression soften and I leaned forward and captured his lips with mine. The kiss was full of passion, love and reluctance to let each other go.

 When I did pull back, it was with great difficulty, and my forehead remained against his as I whispered, ‘I love you too.’

 His eyes lit up with happiness that made my heart warm and my eyes fill with tears—I felt selfish. How could I do this to him? I came into his life, helped him break the curse, we unwittingly fell in love with each other and now I was leaving him, making him live without me for five hundred years. But I brushed the emotion away; I still couldn’t believe that he would still want me when I returned to my time. It was my own insecurity—Klaus was afraid of being alone, but I was used to being forgotten and I was finding it hard to believe that this time would be any different.

 His lips captured mine again and this time, he was the one to pull away, his hands coming to caress each side of my face and his eyes staring at me as if he were trying to commit me to memory. After what felt like hours, we reluctantly made our way outside, but before we exited the house, I pulled Klaus to a stop.

 ‘I don’t want you to watch me die.’ I murmured, squeezing his hand gently.

 ‘I’m not leaving you, love.’ He said, his voice firm.

 ‘I don’t want your last memory of me to be me going up in flames in front of you.’ I said, my own voice thick with determination, ‘I want you to remember me like this, happy to be with you, happy for you to be free, happy to be in love with you.’

 His eyes filled with tears again, and when one fell down his cheek, I kissed it away, winding my arms around his neck and kissing him gentler then I ever had.

 ‘Forgive me,’ I murmured when I pulled away and I snapped his neck in one swift movement, a pained gasp escaping my lips when his body crumpled and fell to the floor. I carried him over to the living room and lay him on the sofa. I focused my hearing and knew Katherine wasn’t awake yet, and Elijah didn’t seem to be around either, but I assumed he was compelling the “extras” Klaus had got for the ritual.

 My gaze returned to Klaus and I smiled softly as I brushed his hair away from my face. Despite having his neck snapped after, his age would assure that he recovered faster than the doppelgänger and would be able to leave before her. After placing a kiss to his forehead I forced myself to leave him and stop lingering. With one last glance at Klaus I took off my daylight ring and placed it into his hand.

 I took a deep breath and flashed out into the morning sun, allowing the flames to consume me.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #Klaus Mikaelson x OC #the originals #the vampire diaries

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

So I saw a post about the Two Towers movie portraying Éowyn's cooking as inedible (by Aragorn of all people, a Ranger) and it got me on this huge tangent. Firstly, Éowyn doesn't have to be a warrior because she can't do the domestic tasks--she's good at both, but she's expected to only do things like cook and serve and manage the house. She rejects these things because she resents how people look down on her and try to box her in, put her in a "cage", and would keep her there until she's unable to leave it. She wants people, the men in particular, to see her as an equal, and to stop determining her role for her. Éowyn isn't bad at doing what she's "supposed" to, she's consciously rejecting it because she wants it to be her choice.

In the books she has a really great confrontation with Aragorn, in which she calls him out for basically telling her that she can't go fight because someone has to stay behind to look after everyone else. She says that he's only saying that she should stay because she's a woman, but "when the men have died and have no more need of the house, then you have the right to be burned with the house" as though it's an honor. She wants to DO something, and she's constantly told not to, as though she's less capable than the men beside her, and their expectations become a prison for her.

But in a way, her role as a shieldmaiden becomes another prison. She makes that role her identity, in a way, but in doing so becomes cynical, disillusioned with life, and is on several accounts implied to be suicidal (or at least blasé about her potential death). She fought so hard for her right to win renown and glory, but even after slaying the Captain of the Nazgûl, she's not satisfied. Heck, I'll say it, her battle with the Nazgûl represents her fighting, and supposedly triumphing over, the expectations of others: the Nazgûl embodied the expectation of warrior = man, which resulted in the epic "I am no living man!" scene (yes I used the book quote, deal with it). But then directly after this, Théoden dies without knowing that she's on the battlefield and had killed the Nazgûl; rather, he assumes HE did it, inadvertently taking credit for her accomplishment. No shade to Théoden, but this is intended to show that despite Éowyn's efforts, some people will never change their impression of her, and will never believe she's as competent as they are. So even in victory, she doesn't find the recognition of her abilities that she's been searching for. (The defeat of the Captain does mark the turning point where some people begin to respect her, though, and she no longer has to pretend to be a man in order to be seen as a warrior/move outside the "role of a woman", so the victory is not completely sullied.)

Anyways moving on, Aragorn is another example of men's willingness to overrule and talk over Éowyn. In the discussion referenced earlier, he dismisses her skill as a warrior and tells her to "mind the house" (in her words). This infuriates her, and it's made even worse because she has feelings for him (mostly our of admiration for his renown as a leader and warrior himself). But he doesn't return her feelings, and instead of respecting her wishes to fight beside him, he pities her. (Éowyn consistently resents pity because in order to pity someone, you must think yourself above them, and she does not want to be looked down upon.) This crushes her, because the combination of all these factors results in Aragorn seeming to reject her as not worthy of his love or respect.

Faramir serves as a contrast to this. He's familiar with having to deal with the expectations of a father/father-figure who doesn't see your full potential, with being compared to your more "warrior-like" brother; he knows how much it hurts to feel like no one understands you and no one allows you to do all that you can. He understands her. And he has no expectations of her. He says he would love her regardless of her situation, whether she was sorrowful or whether she had no cares and was Queen--in other words, whatever role she chooses to fill, it doesn't change his respect and love for her.

He also has a great conversation with her about pity. He says, "Do not reject pity that comes from a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity." He says that he had pitied her, but not because he saw her as lesser; rather, he was moved by her situation, because it pained him to see someone so good suffer so much. In this conversation he tells her he knows that she is not someone to be protected out of pity (and thus looked down on and assumed to be weaker), but that he loves her because of who she is. He also shows he's willing to adapt his perception of her when he learns more about her character (he had pitied her, but does not anymore).

Not only that, many times he makes clear that he wants to follow her preferences. Even in their first interaction, he asks what she wants him to do; he asks permission to speak plainly before calling her beautiful. He is respectful of her initial rejection, and is considerate when talking with her about whether she loves Aragorn or himself. He asks her several times what her decision is, and even when talking about their future, he says "I will wed the White Lady of Rohan, if she wills it" and again says something like "and if it be her will, in brighter days we will live in Ithilien and have a garden! ..." Basically the man is SUPER CONSISTENT with indicating that her opinion and voice matter, and that he's going to respect whatever decision she makes. This is more than she's gotten from almost everyone who's interacted with her this entire time.

And another big change: Éowyn has constantly been trying to get away from wherever she is, be that Rohan or the healing house in Gondor--she always feels imprisoned, and in essentially every scene she asks permission to leave her current area (usually to fight). Then when the Warden releases her (to Faramir's care, and then to her brother's, again maintaining the men's position of control over her life) it could have gone badly. But because Faramir recognizes the importance of Éowyn's autonomy, and wouldn't force her to stay if she tried to leave and go to battle, Éowyn says, "Now that I have leave to go, I would stay" in Gondor--now, finally, it is her choice what she will do, and who she will be.

And I think that's why "her heart changed then, or perhaps she came to understand it" and she accepts Faramir's offer. She realizes what she's been looking for isn't honor or glory or death in battle--it's the freedom to choose who she will be. She had some love for the fighting life, but she had chosen it mostly to resist the role that men had foisted on her. But when she's given the chance to choose, she finds happiness in peace instead of war. And when Faramir shows her to the Warden and says "Now she is healed," he is right; but it is not only the physical wound that has been mended. Her heart has been, too.

#the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #eowyn #faramir #meta #yes i absolutely did take a post about eowyn's cooking and turn it into a post about why she is an icon and faramir and her are great #didn't think i could make that leap or get all of it out there because clearly i have had a lot of thoughts but look! i did #my meta posts #quality meta seal of approval #kay can i just catch my breath for a second #aragorn #theoden #as a psa: this is not intended to be aragorn (or theoden) critical. just needed to use them for contrast. i love them #kay has a party in the tags #quotes #faramir is the one good man!! he is a quality dude!!

[skelffricat]

Uppa (Mother)Hoods

I have never given birth, yet I have made three children. At the cosy NCT* group in the Ormeau Library, where I went with my first child (when I managed to get up early enough) I felt ashamed of this. The mothers there were Proper Mothers, with scars in their vaginas; tits out for milking; organic rice cakes for snacks; and great pride in their beautiful birth stories. They were horrific to me (the stories, not the mothers). I couldn’t talk about my birth experience without crying. I even made my GP cry, telling her about it. My eldest was whisked out of my unconscious middle in a now-derelict hospital in South Wales, while my legs were stirruped up (I once made the mistake of visiting the Erotic Museum in Amsterdam- the Sex Museum is better- whilst very stoned. One tends to be stoned, in Amsterdam, I suppose. The floors were confusingly slanted, giving me a sinking feeling, and the top floor’s “sexy” scene was a hospital one. Mannequins in stirrups do NOT turn me on. I had to immediately leave. I may have wept.) There was a student in the hospital room, with horror on his young face, gawping between my legs, and a nurse was urging the doctor to wait for me to go fully under the anaesthetic before he sliced my layers open with the scalpel. My eldest’s father had already been bade to leave. I think he signed something as he left. Signed our lives away?

I learnt later, whilst perusing my eldest’s little red book**, that her lung had collapsed. (I asked why they hadn’t told me. Oh, but it’s fairly common, they said. One in ten thousand. Not worth mentioning, really. Wtf?!) She had pooed in my womb (how rude!) and inhaled some of her own meconium. Meconium. Meconium. I had already learnt that word as a teen, from the band James, in their brilliant song, Gold Mother.

Then I had three friends- well, six, really- who had had stillborn children, at full term, and stopped feeling ashamed of how my child had made her clumsy entrance to the world, and merely relieved that she was alive and kicking, and proud of her. The biggest, reddest, loudest, baby in SCBU***. (“How will I know which one is mine?” I had croaked. Then, it was so obvious, I’d laughed.) I can also feel smug about not pissing myself on trampolines, or every time I sneeze, like most of the women I know who’ve had natural births. Perhaps I’ll start an Unnatural Childbirth Trust. Do your pelvic floor exercises. Now. 

TRIGGER WARNING: I am going to talk about teenage suicide.

Now my youngest child has died, by suicide, just short of her 15th birthday, and I try to feel relief that she is at peace, and that I got 15 glorious years with her. If I think about birthdays like the Chinese people do, I can call it 16****. Almost a woman.

I found her. She arranged that I would, I suppose because she thought I could cope with it better than her father could (she was right, of course. She was usually right. She was very wise. I miss her wisdom, and her unfailing ability to open any jar I couldn’t. She was strong.) I don’t know how to feel about that. People keep telling me that I’m strong, but it seems strangely shameful to be strong at this time (and I still can’t open jars). Perhaps the anti-depressants are working too well? I wonder. I worry that my blasé attitude to death made her decision easier (though I understand that it is pointless to worry about these things now. It won’t bring her back.) We tended to talk about death a lot. Some of my friends had died by suicide, and I would discuss with my mother, her granny, around the children, how suicide was no longer a shameful thing. How you shouldn’t say “committed” in front of it, because it hasn’t been a crime in the UK since 1961. It shouldn’t be a crime anywhere. We went to funerals in brightly coloured clothes. I celebrated dead people’s wonderful lives with them. 

She was hanging from the trapeze I’d had built for her, in our quiet back garden, from a hammock that I had bought for her. I had wondered about the hammock being out there in winter, and thought it was tied in a funny way, a few days before, but not done anything about that. I try not to regret that either. My logic comforts me thus: at least these things could be taken from the garden, and destroyed (the hammock) or used again (the trapeze) and I didn’t have to cut down any trees. I said to myself- she would have done it anyway, somewhere else, at some time. She did it with her things. She used to do amazing things on them. She could soar and swoop gracefully from that trapeze, and even the hammock got strung up high and spun from. 

I had been drinking the night before with my lovely Scottish lover. We watched Wild at Heart, and drank red wine. I thoroughly christened the new bright yellow carpet with a full glass of it, oops. Tried to clean it with a sock. My youngest child was baking in the kitchen. She made a vegan chocolate cake. At one point I went in to her and she was sat on the floor, looking at the cake in the oven. Her head was practically in there. When I was a child, we had electric, not gas, and I thought that people who killed themselves by putting their heads in the oven were cooking themselves to death. How did all the heat not escape, I wondered? How long would that take?! Those thoughts went through my head as I looked at her. She had attempted suicide before, around a month ago. We had been to the hospital. She convinced them (and me) that she wasn’t suicidal, and was sent home. I am not angry at this. What is the point in being angry? She is gone. She was a good actress. A cry for help? She had been to CAMHS that very day. I felt hopeful. She was making cake! She was going to try school tomorrow, in her own comfortable clothes. She hadn’t been for ages. She was too anxious, about uniform, about what to learn, about the future. I asked her what she was doing and we laughed about her proximity to the oven.

He and I ate the cake, later, with natural yoghurt. It was delicious. We called her to join us and she wouldn’t. The last time I saw my youngest daughter alive I was thinking about her killing herself, in a jocular way. Then she did. In a jugular way. Fuck, sorry. I find myself saying the most inappropriate things. 

Sometimes I imagine her last breath. Or dream of disembodied heads. I wonder did she change her mind at the last minute, or feel resolute, and pleased with herself, her escape? Did she make a noise? Did she call out to me, to anyone? I guess you probably can’t call out...? At first, the shock was so severe, I couldn’t think about it without feeling a massive surge of pure panic. I saw my face in the mirror that morning, and it was ashen grey. Later, my eldest described the sensation as a perpetual feeling of dread. Impending doom. Yes, I said, like we’re waiting for something horrific to happen! Then we would realise it already had. My heart thumped so viciously hard inside of me, it felt like it was going to jump right out of my chest. Proving its aliveness. Until I calmed it with (mostly) legal drugs. In the next few weeks, I liked to listen to hearts beating, breath flowing. People being alive, alive- oh. 

My lover had left that night, as he was to go on a walk early the next day. I am so relieved that he had. He has his own demons. He never went on that walk, of course, but at least he didn’t have to find her. He left at around 3am. Her bedroom door was closed. 

I awoke just before 6am. I’m not sure why. I expect I needed water, because I’d been drinking wine. Her door was open. The light was on, and I could see her bed was empty. I got water, and went to her room and saw there was a note on the bed. It was written in green biro, on an A4 file page, folded twice. There was a little cheeky red smiley face with its tongue out on the outside. It was a suicide note. Full of love. Was it a suicide note? So much love. It can’t be a suicide note. I started to look for her, around the house. It was still very dark. I was switching on the light in a room and looking around it and switching the light off and looking in another room. I couldn’t find her. I looked in some rooms twice. I even opened the compartment under her bed. I looked in the cupboard under the stairs, like Harry Potter’s room, that she and her friend had once shut themselves into, to see each other’s glow-in-the-dark bicycle helmets. Where is she? I thought. This is the worst game of Hide-and-Go-Seek ever! Perhaps it’s not a suicide note. Perhaps she has run away? I got dressed. 

Then I found her, in our dark and silent back garden. As she was on the far side of the trapeze to me, her feet were level with the safety mat under the trapeze. I thought for a second that she was just standing there, very still. I was still hoping it was all a joke. A mistake. One of our white garden chairs was beside her. When I realised she was hanging, I swung her slightly. This movement haunts me. Her face... her face was distorted. Her tongue lolling out. I hope you never have to see that on anyone. Especially not your child. My friend hanged herself years ago and my daughter’s face reminded me of her dead one. So, I was thinking, she is dead, in one layer of my mind, and in another, I was thinking, I shall save her. I was calling her, and caressing her freezing face. She was so cold. Dead cold. I ran into the kitchen, got a serrated knife. I am unsure of the order of things. Had I already phoned 999? Was I trying to talk on the phone whilst doing all of this? I cut rapidly through the hammock- it was easy. She flopped into the muck. It was so mucky. I was trying to pull her by the arms onto the trapeze mat, away from the cloying mud, but she was a dead weight. Dead dead dead. No help there. I couldn’t move her. She was so ungainly. I felt inept and weak. I tried to put her in the recovery position. Then I thought, oh wait, no, I need to do chest compressions- I can’t do that on a soft mat anyway. I kept dropping the phone in the mud, and the man on the end of the line was almost shouting at me. 

I put her on her back and was doing chest compressions and he was asking, “is she breathing?” 

She seemed to breathe when I pressed her. I thought, oh! She’s alive? I kept pressing, and dropping the phone in the mud, and I was all mucky too, and she wasn’t breathing- I was just pushing air through her- but I had a glimmer of hope, and the 999 man was counting with me through my mucky mobile phone, and I heard the ambulance coming, and I said to him, I have to let them in! and he said, NO! Keep pressing! I said, I have to, my garden is inaccessible, and I let them in. Two ambulances, filling my dark quiet street with noise and lights and hope. 

They took over. They asked for towels to kneel on in the muck. I’d never thought of that- I got them, as quick as I could. I paced, and watched, and walked away then watched again, and the cat jumped and wheedled around everything. Did he see her die? I wondered? Why didn’t you come get me, cat, like Lassie, or Skippy, or fucking Flipper!? She must have shut the kitchen door and kept him away. They tried and tried, and I paced. They did the defibrillators. Then her breasts became visible and I baulked at the indignity of it, whilst knowing it was entirely necessary, and just... human. They did the adrenaline shots. Four of them, taking turns. Is there any hope? I asked one. Not really, he said. We’re trying because she is young. She’s been there a while. At least I could feel less guilty about getting dressed. I kept thinking, why did I get dressed? I got dressed to go find my dead daughter. 

Was it starting to get light? It was going to be a beautiful morning, I thought, what a pity she can’t see it. I changed out of my mucky clothes. Layered up. It was so cold. There was time, while they tried to save her.

They tried for 20 minutes before they pronounced her dead. There was mud everywhere. They put the mucky towels in a shopping basket I had outside to light fires in. The ambulance people all told me they were very sorry for my loss.

I don’t like euphemisms for death. 

Saying I’ve lost her implies I could find her again. I suppose I find her in my dreams. Though I dreamt of different, unknown, children last night. Two little mixed race boys that I was minding in the (huge dream version) of the Carnival Centre. They kept running away and messing about. At one point we were all on top of a huge concrete topped lift (elevator), that lurched away from beneath us so that we flew into the air. It was falling faster than us. How is that possible? We couldn’t catch up with gravity. Griefity? We weren’t falling fast enough. I keep dreaming of losing children. Not children dying. I dreamt I lost my son the other night too. He was led into a room I wasn’t allowed in. I could see him through the window of the door I couldn’t go through. Then he went out of my sight and I woke up, shaking, horrified.

I recently found my daughter alive again, in a dream. She was very wee- three or four. Before her first haircut. She was being really bold and naughty. She kept running away from me, and she had pooed herself a little, and was rubbing the poo on things, half on purpose. I was trying to catch her and clean her and her hands. We were on holiday? Maybe on a big ferry? I think we had to catch a flight. She had run into a swimming pool room and climbed into a pile of boxes and upset the boxes, and pulled another little girl on top of her and hurt her too. I was trying to pull them out, without hurting them, without losing my temper. I was really trying hard to keep my temper. I was thinking as I woke, if this keeps up, she'll be taken off me. It was so vivid that as I came to, I thought, I must text the Woodcarver; I must text my youngest daughter, to see if she's ok. It was quite a while before I awoke properly and thought, of course she's not ok, she's dead. She's already away. Then I got upset, and cried, but I was glad I got upset because I've been taking anti-depressants and not feeling anything much, so it was a relief to feel sad. I accidentally hadn't taken any for a couple of days at that point.  

Saying she has passed annoys me more. Passed what? Her exams? Wind? (That’s always funny.) She has passed tense? She is past tense.

It wasn’t until she was pronounced officially dead that I phoned her father, the Woodcarver. I thought, there is no point in giving him false hope like mine. He made a loud guttural noise, like a wounded animal, on the other end of the line. It woke my son, who was staying with him. He thought his father was dying. Wrong relative.

It was a brightening cold morning by now. The police came. Her father came. He kicked the white chair she had used, and broke it. This satisfied and disturbed me in equal measure. He hit his head off the sink. I was frightened by him, despite the police presence. I was frightened for him.

The police were very kind. A man and a woman. The man was comfortingly camp. They had masks on. There’s a pandemic, it is said. They took their hats off, but left the masks on. No-one else really bothered with masks, for the next while. I was fascinated by the police officers’ dark green peaked hats- one for boys, and one for girls- on my kitchen table. I made myself tea and put sugar in it. I never take sugar in tea. I’d heard it was good for shock.

My dead daughter’s father’s brother came. He told me to phone my mum. I said I would wait until she normally got up. What is the sense of breaking your last peaceful night’s sleep early, to find out something that won’t be any less dreadful half an hour later? He had brought my son; my daughter’s father’s mother; my daughter’s father’s girlfriend. This is starting to read like Anna Burns’ The Milkman. My daughter’s grandma was also fascinated by the police officers’ hats. She said that one wanted mending, and she wished she had a needle and thread. I didn’t think to fetch her one. I asked if it is true that pregnant women are allowed to pee in police officers’ hats, but they hadn’t heard that before. I kept checking the time on my phone, every few minutes, and drinking sweet tea. I was waiting for the real morning to begin. Nothing has felt real ever since, though.

When I did ring my mother at 8am, she didn’t wake. My little brother did, though. He went and told her in person, and when she arrived, she was bawling, and had forgotten her glasses. She looked tiny. She was due to see everyone the next day. She had been quarantining as she was not long back from Spain. I deeply regret not bringing the children to wave at her in the garden. She hadn’t seen them for months. 

We were flitting between my house and our friends’ house round the corner. My garden was now a crime scene. My daughter’s father didn’t like this. He wanted to hold her lifeless body’s hand. At that point, I thought I never wanted to see her lifeless body again, but I changed my mind a few days later, and that was alright. I saw her in her casket and her face looked... Dead, but not distorted any more. She looked peaceful, I suppose, and very beautiful, in a sad way. She was surrounded by toys, trinkets, food she loved. Dried mango. Finn and Jake. Her elder sister tucked her pride flag around her. She hadn’t seen her for ten months. 

There were many people now, milling inside, and out in the sunshine, between the two houses. The neighbours were out and about, too. I had made horrendous phone calls to a workmate and a couple of friends and the word was spreading. I had phoned my eldest daughter in Wales. To spread the word. The bad word. The worst words. I have had Joshua Burnside’s song, The Good Word, in my head a lot, this last while.

“Last night I dreamed

We were running for our lives

From robots in the jungle

Helicopters in the sky

But the ground opened up and I

Couldn't save her

Couldn't save her

Couldn't save her again

Oh no

No sir

Not this time

Glory hallelujah.”

My lover came down and was of the utmost comfort to me. When the coroner had been and they were to take her away, the Woodcarver’s biggest brother- he that had been there first- came to me in the other house and asked did I want to say goodbye to her body? I said, no, I do not, that is not my daughter any more.

I sought comfort in words. We read poems on her bed. 

Various people told us of a humanist celebrant. She offered to help us for free, and she did, and I am so grateful. 

A friend gave me valium. At some point, someone went to the offy. More and more people came. The lovely camp police officer returned, with my daughter’s bank card, and people panicked, because of Covid, but he didn’t say anything. He only wanted to help.

The next while was a blur...

*National Childbirth Trust- it was the only secular one. I also enjoyed the ones in churches, with their cream teas, and knitted religious folks, trying not to try to convert you and yours. It perhaps could’ve been called the Natural Childbirth Trust, because they kept banging on about it...

**The NHS issue these red books as personal child health records. 

***SCBU- the Special Care Baby Unit. They pronounced it Skiboo, in their lovely Welsh lilts. My doctor looked like a child. She had been working for 24 hours straight, and was still charming and kind.

****Age reckoning originated in China, where it's believed that a baby's age starts from its time in the mother's womb. The practice is also common in Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Vietnam.

#suicide #scbu #nct #death #motherhood #uppahoods #teenagesuicide

[mimymomo]

Love Is War ~ Orphydice

So I came up with this idea after listening to an English cover of the Kaguya-sama Love is War opening (that’s not important to the story at all). Also, I wrote half of this story in the middle of the night so...enjoy!

Eurydice was at battle. A hardened soldier in a losing war. Each day was getting harder and harder to fight, to resist her ever-growing urges to throw down her weapons and give in to temptation. If only the side she was fighting against actually knew they were at war...

“Heads up,” Persephone grinned cheekily, sliding into her seat next to Eurydice’s, “Orpheus is definitely gonna try and ask you out today!”

Eurydice groaned, “again? That’s gotta be the third time this week!” These fruitless attempts were becoming more frequent by the week. “Persephone, I know it’s you who keeps pushing him to do this. You’ve got to stop encouraging him to keep asking.”

Persephone was Eurydice’s closest, and maybe only, friend. She was in her late thirties yet acted like she was no older than twenty-five. Eurydice met Seph in her last class in the fall quarter of her freshman year.

Eurydice was exhausted―four classes a day had been a terrible idea, and by class number four, she was truly feeling it. She shuffled into the classroom at the end of the hall. And immediately, her eye was caught by a lady in a vibrant green dress.

Her wild, curly hair flowed in endless waves. Stray strands of gray hair perfectly contrasted against the brown. Sun-kissed skin shines under the harsh, fluorescent lights. She was older, Eurydice knew as such, but by how many years? Not a clue. It could range from one to twenty; the numbers never blended better. A spotlight shone through the one open window, somehow impeccably highlighting her frame. She looked as if she was a goddess. Eurydice couldn’t help but be drawn to the woman, taking a step to the empty seat next to her. One step, then another and another. Next thing she knew, she was seated in the chair and talking to the woman with an infectious smile and laughing for the first time that day.

Persephone, she had introduced herself. An ex-botany now wine studies major student, she originally enrolled in college years ago but dropped out after one year to marry her high school sweetheart. After a near divorce, she was looking for a new start and believed going back and getting her degree would help do just that.

“Sucks that starting next year I’ll be attending the same school as my baby nephew, but at least I’ll get to lovingly, embarrass him, so there’s a silver lining!”

From that moment on, the two grew extremely close. Eurydice gained a friend she could talk to and trust. Or at least she thought she could trust.

“Well maybe you stop forcing yourself to reject him, then he’ll stop asking you,” the older woman prodded. Eurydice just shook her head; she couldn’t do it, not again, not after every other man before. She had been hurt too many times, bruised and broken beyond repair- no one, not even sweeter than fresh cream Orpheus could fix that.

Orpheus Thrace, second-year and Persephone’s younger nephew? Cousin? She wasn’t exactly sure; there were too many halves and steps and god family relations involved to keep track. Eurydice had been smitten with the boy from the moment she first laid eyes on him. She could remember that day perfectly- walking into her poetry 107 class at the beginning of the fall semester last year. She was already irritated that day due to one, having to take a poetry class when it had nothing to do with her major (economics), two, the only time it was being offered, and it didn’t affect her schedule was at eight am, and three, adding sprinkles on top of the already burnt as shit cake, she had missed her alarm and was running late. So to say she was more than a little aggravated walking into the lecture that morning would’ve been an understatement.

She barged into class, her obvious bed head wild and sticking up and out in every direction, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead. The professor stopped speaking and nearly every head spun towards her direction.

“Well good morning and thank you for arriving fashionably late and gracing us with your presence Ms...”

“Mendoza.”

The elder man scoured over his attendance sheet before giving Eurydice a few quick up and down glances. “Ahh, yes, Ms. Mendoza,” he said slowly. “In the future, plan to show up on time for these lectures. Now, take a seat.”

Eurydice rolled her eyes at her professor’s belittlement and slunk over to the first open seat she could find- an aisle seat near the back of the room. Throwing herself into the seat, she brought her hands up to her face and sighed. Great start to the year... she thought bitterly.

“Now as I was saying before the...interruption, please take a look at the learning criteria for this course on the bottom of your syllabus,” Professor whatever his name was announced.

“Shit,” Eurydice muttered onto her hands. She didn’t have a syllabus and she definitely wasn’t going to ask for one now and risk yet another callous remark from the old coot.

“Um, excuse me?” a whisper caught her ear.

Eurydice groaned again, turning to the voice, and immediately she felt her breathing hitch. Oh shit, he’s cute.

The first thing she noticed was his eyes- what color were they? Hazelnut brown? Maybe a faded green? Was that a hint of pale blue in there? Whatever they were, they were enchanting. Eurydice felt herself drowning in them, swirling around unwillingly in their pool.

The tips of his straight, dark, brown hair just reached the top of his eyes a soft, hesitant smile painted his pink lips. Oh god, his lips, pretty pink and plump…

Eurydice shook her head, trying to get the picture of this stranger's model lips out her mind, “I’m sorry what did you say?”

The stranger smiled, his teeth were perfectly straight and pearly white, “sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to know if you wanted to share this syllabus with me? Since I knew you came in late and don’t have one.” He adjusted the front of one of his brown leather suspenders. Suspenders, a white shirt, and a...red bandanna? The man had an interesting style, that’s for sure. But Eurydice couldn’t help but be drawn to him despite that.

“Yes, please,” She whispered brightly, “thank you so much.” She flashed him a smile and his cheeks flushed a dusty shade of magenta.

“N-no problem.”

“Now, where are we?”

“Right! Uhh, we’re right,” the boy scooted closer to Eurydice, setting the stack of stoked paper in the center of them. He smelt of something warm, sweet with a hint of musk, like from being surrounded by old books. Was that his cologne or just his natural scent? Eurydice felt heart flutter in her chest, what the heck? “Right here,” the boy pointed at a stray bullet point midway down the page.

Eurydice spent the remainder of the fifty minutes struggling to pay attention to the monotonous voice of her professor or keep track of the never-ending words on the page, while her attention seemed to travel elsewhere. On a certain someone to be more precise.

By the time the bell tolled, Eurydice was spent. The cute stranger was packing up his things and slinging a...guitar? Over his shoulder. Had that always been there? I wonder if he’s good? Shit, I think he’s talking to you! Quit spacing out!

“I’m sorry?” Eurydice said, shaking her head trying to turn her attention the bandana banded boy.

He smiled a nervous smile, “I was just wondering if you would like to go get something to drink with me?”

“Ain’t it a bit early to be drinking?”

“Oh, oh no,” he scrambled, waving his hands in a cute, semi-frantic gesture. “I meant like go get tea or something. The student cafe isn’t too far from here I think. And I don’t have my next class until three pm.”

This boy...just giving away such personal information to someone he just met. Sure, she didn’t have another class until noon but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend her free time with some eccentric stranger she only met an hour earlier. Even if he was undeniably attractive. Eurydice smirked, doing her best to keep up her blasé appearance. “I’m more of a coffee person myself.”

“I’m sure they have coffee as well,” he assured. “My aunt who goes here said the scones are to die for.” His aunt? Eurydice paid no mind.

“I don’t even know your name,” she countered. She didn’t know why she was fighting so hard, or even giving his random man her attention, but there was just...something about him she could resist.

The man gave her the biggest, dopey smile, damn, no person should ever be allowed to be that cute. “I’m Orpheus.”

Orpheus. Orpheus. Orpheus, she repeated in her head.

“Hello Orpheus,” she loved the way his name rolled off her tongue, sweet like honeysuckle and molasses.

And against her better judgment, she replied, “I’m Eurydice.”

The two made their way out the double doors, and down the cement paths to the student cafe in the center of campus. They passed towering buildings and pushed through the bustling crowd of manic students coming in every direction. As they walked over a small bridge, Eurydice glanced at the tall willow trees that veiled over the river that ran throughout the campus. Colorful leaves floating on top of the dark water.

By the time they walked into the cafe, most students had left for class leaving the place nearly deserted. The two ordered their drinks - one tea and one caramel macchiato with an extra espresso shot - then sat in large, cushioned chairs near an electric fireplace.

They sat and chatted about everything and nothing. Where they’re from (both grew up locally but on different sides of the city- Orpheus on the east side, Eurydice on the west), what grades and majors they were (Orpheus: first-year music. Eurydice: second-year economics), and before they knew it, hours had passed.

In the middle of a heated chat over what Beatles album was superior (the White Album obviously), Orpheus’ phone began to buzz on the table. He picked the cell up and began typing away, his nimble fingers tap-tapping on the tiny keys. “Sorry,” he said placing the screen face down, “my aunt was texting me. Asked how my first class was.”

“You have a nice aunt,” Eurydice remarked, head in hand, elbow on the tabletop.

“She’s something,” Orpheus sighed, his smile slightly waning. “But I love her.”

Eurydice felt something twinge in her chest. Listening to stories of Orpheus and his loving family stung just the tiniest bit. She’d had enough time over the years to come to terms with her complicated family drama but it didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt sometimes.

“She said she wanted to stop by and check on me, face to face, I hope you don’t mind,” Orpheus groaned, his face scrunching up like an embarrassed child’s.

Eurydice shrugged, “‘course not.”

At that moment the jingle from the door could be heard and a familiar voice rang through the cafe walls: “Orpheus!”

“Lady Persephone,” Orpheus grinned, waving her over to the table.

“Poet, what have I told you about the Lady Persephone crap? I’ve known you since you were in the single digits and your parental guardian is my brother, just call me aunt Seph already.”

“Hey, I still call Mister Hermes, Mister Hermes!” Orpheus whined. “And besides you yelled at me the first time I called you aunt Seph!”

“That was years ago!”

“It was traumatizing!”

“Persephone?” a flabbergasted Eurydice cried out, deriving the attention to her and away from the twos ridiculous argument.

“Songbird! I see you’ve met my nephew Orpheus?”

“Nephew?”

Persephone quickly explained how Orpheus, as a small child, had been adopted by her older half-brother Hermes after his mother left. So, he had terrible parents too? Maybe they were more similar than she once believed.

From that day on, Orpheus joined the twos small friend group. And since that day to the present, Eurydice had been stuck at the ultimate crossroad. It was obvious that Orpheus had a thing for her, subtly was not one of his defining traits. And his constant invitations to go and do various activities with him wasn’t helping hide that fact either. And while Eurydice knew deep, deep down inside (well maybe not too deep), that she felt the same way. But she never could find her able to take that step, to cross that bridge. Each relationship before Orpheus had taken a piece of her, smashed her bridge to broken pieces, even chucked some down the raging stream. It had taken her so many years just to reassemble that bridge to some semblance of its former glory, she couldn’t risk having it damaged once more, especially by someone who came across as caring as Orpheus. His blow would shatter her past restoration.

“Quick here he comes,” Persephone whispered, dragging Eurydice’s attention back to the present, just as Orpheus bounded his way in front of the girl's table.

“H-hello Eurydice,” etched out across his face was a pure, innocent smile. The nerves in Eurydice’s gut fluttered about, batting against her stomach.

“Oh, uh, what do ya want Orpheus?” Eurydice cringed at how harsh her attempt at tonal indifference came out. She knew Orpheus didn’t deserve it, the poor boy too sweet and mirthful for his, and her, own good. But damn, did Eurydice not want to give Persephone the satisfaction of being correct on the status of her intense infatuation with the young musician.

He paid no mind, “I’m playing a gig at Mister Hermes bar in a couple of days, I was just wondering if you’d want to, maybe, come as well? Or maybe just help me practice? I could always use an audience.” Copious amounts of unfiltered hope and adoration bled through every word. Eurydice knew she should be annoyed by Orpheus' persistence, his blatant disregard of her previous refusals and body language. But she couldn’t bring herself to be; she knew the boy was not the quickest when it came to picking up on social cues. Plus Eurydice had a large suspicion that some aunt of his was pushing him to continue his trivial pursuit.

Ahh, so he’s taking a more gentle approach this time? she thought. No longer attempting to sweep her off her feet with bombastic musical performances or bouquets of expensive flowers that all mean love and heavy infatuation. Eurydice refused every offer- big or small- no matter how hard she wanted to agree. Today would be no different.

“Sorry Orpheus,” she said, fiddling with specks of nonexistent dirt under her nails. “I can’t.”

His shoulder sagged and smile all but vanished. Eurydice instantly felt bad for shooting the boy down that quick, but it had to be done, for both their sakes.

“Oh...okay,” his voice gummy and discouraged, like a stepped-on marshmallow.

“Oh give me a break,” Persephone snapped, slapping her hands down against the flat surface. “You can make it to that show, I know it, you know it too. Why are you lying?”

Eurydice felt something boil inside her, a pot left too long on high was now began to simmer over, spilling all its contents for the world to see. “I don’t see how this pertains to you,” she bit back, glaring the older woman down with eyes of steel.

“Well, you’re my friend and you’re lying to a member of my family, I think this does pertain to me,” Persephone said calmly, her carrying a twinge of an edge.

“Well, I’ve told you countless times to stop encouraging all these stupid advances!” Eurydice shouted, not noticing nor caring if she disturbed any passer biers. “I'm never going to say yes no matter how many times you get him to ask, and you of all people should understand that. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” Why did Persephone not get that this was hard in her? Why did she not understand that every time she had to turn down Orpheus, another piece of her heart chipped away, drifting downstream until it inevitably sank, never to be seen again? It hurt, it hurt so badly. But she had to do this, she couldn’t lose Orpheus, she couldn’t go through the pain of heartbreak again. She was a lone wolf on the field, she didn’t have time for a partner.

“But-”

“Aunt Seph, it’s fine.” The two turned their attention to the man of their conversation, both having forgotten he was even present. His face was blank, eyes glossy, staring down, off into space. “Eurydice is right. We should stop this.”

“But Orpheus-”

“It’s fine,” he asserted. He shifted the guitar case strap on his back, fingertips white from clutching on so tight. “I’m gonna go, class.” That was a lie. Eurydice knew his schedule like the back of her hand, Orpheus didn’t have another class for another hour, usually joining her and Persephone in a quick run to the student cafe for a fast breakfast. But Eurydice has no energy to correct him. She wanted to scream, to tell him he had the wrong idea, that she felt the same way. But she kept her mouth closed, biting her lip close to breaking the skin. She watched as Orpheus shuffled out the door, head hanging low, carrying himself like a scolded puppy running from the scene of an accident.

“Aunt Seph.”

“What?” Eurydice said blankly.

“He called me Aunt Seph,” Persephone scoffed. Eurydice felt something crawl in her stomach when Seph brought this significant word change to her attention. To many, saying ‘aunt’ and not ‘lady’ was no big deal, but to them, it meant everything.

The two sat in deafening silence until Eurydice tore away and all but sprinted out the door.

…

A few days after the disastrous incident, Eurydice found her racing through the crowded streets to a familiar bar. Hermes.

When she arrived, Hermes directed her upstairs to his and Orpheus’ living quarters where Seph was supposedly waiting. She raced up the stairs and down to the second door on the left: Seph’s guest bedroom.

“Songbird!” Persephone smiled, swinging the door wide open.

“Seph,” Eurydice yelled, charging in past the older woman. “What’s the emergency?” Eurydice was stewing alone in her apartment, trying and failing not to think about the young musician whom she guarded her heart against when she received a confusing text from the lady of spring telling her to get here quick.

She had been too worried about Persephone’s cryptic message to even consider the implications of standing in the home of the man whose heart she just recently broke. But Persephone looked...fine? Giddy even. What was happening here? “Seph, what’s going on here? I thought there was an emergency?”

“Oh, there is,” she grinned and Eurydice felt a chill travel up her spine. She didn’t like that smile, a hint of glimmering mischievous shining through the cracks. “Come on, the problems down the hall.”

Persephone guided her down the hall to a wooden door lit by the hall lights, a room Eurydice had never ventured through. “I lost an important paper for Hades when I was staying here and now I can’t find it. That brother of mine said he might’ve moved some stuff in here.”

“You called me here, thinking it was some huge emergency, just to help you look for some paper?” Eurydice gaped.

Persephone gave a quick nod, “like I said it’s an important document. And I figured two bodies would find it faster than one.”

“Did it not come across your brain that I could’ve been busy?”

Persephone pulled out a key and began to twist the lock, “if you were that busy, you wouldn’t have been here this quick. I know you’ve been holed up in your room think about that boy.”

Eurydice folded her arms, “you're the one who caused all this. I was fine keeping my distance but you kept pushing him to ask me out.”

Persephone unlocked the door, yanking out the key, “yeah, yeah, songbird, but think of this as me trying to fix things.”

“What do you mean, trying to fix-” Persephone sharply jerked the door open, light flooding in the dark. And there in the darkness, kneeled on the floor was a tall, skinny figure Eurydice instantly recognized.

“Orpheus?”

The young man tilted his head up, slowly standing, “Eurydice…?”

Suddenly, Eurydice felt a forceful shove on her back and she tumbled into the closet, falling into Orpheus’ arms. Slam! Then it was dark.

“Persephone!” Eurydice screamed, breaking away from Orpheus. She turned the knob- locked. She banged on what she hoped was the door. “What the hell? Let us out!”

“No can do Songbird,” she chirped through the other side of the wooden door. “You two need to handle whatever’s going on between you.”

“Seph,” Eurydice grumbled lowly, irritation seeping through her tone. Hard as the strongest steel, sharper than a razor blade. “Let me out NOW!”

“I told you Eurydice, I’m not letting you out until you and Poet figure out that relationship of yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hades and I have a date. The counselor said it’d be good for us. ‘Bonding’ or some craziness like that. See you two in a few hours!” And with that, the two young adults listened to the sound of their freedom step down and out of the hall.

Eurydice continued to bang on the door, yelling for someone, anyone to come and answer her pleads, to come and open the door. She reached in her pants pocket, hoping she could use her cell to call Mr. Hermes to let them out. Nothing. She checked the other, then the backs, all empty. She must have left it back in her room.

“Great, just great!” Eurydice wallowed, slumping to the carpeted ground. She tucked her knees to her chest, “I can’t believe she locked me in here-”

“With me?”

Eurydice whipped her head in the direction of Orpheus’ voice. Even in the dark, his shadowy figure was easy to pick out- hunched over, fingers tugging at the loose ends of the old carpet. “What?”

Orpheus scoffed, “I’m sorry. I know you’d probably want to be anywhere else besides being stuck in a stuffy closet with me, the loser who apparently can’t take no for an answer. Who, even after being rejected, again and again, is still helplessly in love with you.” Orpheus sniffled, and Eurydice watched as he wiped cascading tears off his cheeks. “I told Lady Persephone that you didn’t feel the same, but just kept telling me to keep trying, that I was wrong, that I had a chance. And like a fool- I believed her. I kept trying, even though in my heart I knew the truth. I knew I stood no chance of winning your heart. You’re too good for me,” he gave her a wet, smile, eyes shut tight and throat clogged from holding back sobs. “But I still tried. And I ruined it.”

Eurydice felt her tears began to spring in her eyes as well, clawing at the back of her throat. Pricking needles on her tongue, “Orpheus-”

“I ruined it.” He wasn’t listening. “I ruined everything. Now, you don’t even want to be in the same room as me. I’m sorry Eurydice. I’m to blame for all this.”

“You’re wrong,” Eurydice sobbed, cutting the manic boy’s lament short. She shook her head, “you’re wrong. This isn’t your fault.”

“Eurydice,” Orpheus whispered half-heartedly.

“No,” Eurydice bawled, rising to her knees, dragging them over to Orpheus. She took his hands in her own, squeezing them, “you did nothing wrong. You, you were right all along.”

With a deep breath, Eurydice felt her battle armor slowly start to peel off, falling to the dirty, trodden ground. She was raising her white flag, why was she still trying to convince herself that fighting this exhausting battle was worth it? Why was so certain that she didn’t deserve love? Happiness? Him? She was done. Screw it, if this bomb blew up in her face, she’ll gladly accept the blow. This feeling and this man in front of her were worth the risk.

“I love you.”

Orpheus gasped, eyes so bugged out they looked as if they’d fall right out of their sockets. Eurydice wanted to laugh at his expression, but she couldn’t. She needed to focus. “I love you. Orpheus, I love you,” Eurydice sobbed, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have for a long time now. I was just too scared to admit that, to you, to Persephone, to myself...I’ve been hurt by so many people, more times than I can count. I just, I just-”

Orpheus wrapped his arms snuggly around Eurydice’s shoulders, holding her close as she cried, body wracked with wet heaves. He held her and held her and held her, running his hands up and down her back, letting every single salty tear spill.

When she finally calmed down, she pulled no more than an inch away. Orpheus places his forehead on hers, burning hot. They sat there quietly, just taking the other in.

“Is it true?” Eurydice stared into his eyes, a sliver of hope piercing through, “what you said, is it true? That you, that you love me?”

Eurydice cupped the sides of his face, fingers brushing against bristly, unshaven stubble. Her heart pounding- ba thump, ba thump, ba thump. With a nod, she gave him a warm smile, “it’s true. I do.”

A large grin overtook Orpheus’ face, “I love you too, Eurydice!”

Pink in the face from embarrassing excitement, Eurydice released a shaky breath, “I know Orpheus, you've told me plenty of times.”

“And I’ll tell you dozens more,” he chirped, a song of love filling his heart and head. He brought her in for a serried hug, their heartbeats thumping in a synchronized rhythm. Maybe laying down her weapons wasn’t sure a terrible decision in the end?

Then a horrifying thought popped into her head, “shoot.”

“What’s wrong?” Orpheus shot back panicked, had Eurydice already changed her mind?

“I just realized, Seph's never gonna let this go! Her being right, that is! She’s gonna tease us to high heaven once we pop outta this closet and she learns we’re dating…”

“Wait, we’re dating?” Orpheus asked gobsmacked.

Eurydice tensed, “o-oh, did you not want to? I just assumed-”

“No, no, no! I do!” He yelled. He couldn’t let her think about that reality, and he definitely couldn’t let her speak it into existence.

Eurydice smiled, “okay then. Now all that’s left is to seal the deal.”

“Seal the deal?” Orpheus asked voiced laced with confusion.

Eurydice nodded her head. With her eyes still locked with the taller boy’s and a sultry smile, she brought the tip of her pointer finger up to her lips and gave them a few quick taps. Even in the dark, Eurydice could tell Orpheus was blushing. She imagined the shades of pink that shadowed his cheeks and the redden tips of his ears. Due to their proximity, the young girl swore she could feel a warm heat radiating from the boy’s face.

“O-oohh...I see,” Orpheus stuttered, breaking his eyes away from Eurydice’s fervent stare.

She giggled at his nervousness and placed her hands gently to his cheeks, rubbing the pads of her thumbs over smooth skin. She had dreamed about this moment for over a year. Now, she finally had her chance, she wasn’t going to waste it. “I mean, they did lock us in here. We might as well take advantage of it.” And before he could reply, Eurydice closed her eyes, stood to the very tips of her toes and surged forward, pulling Orpheus’ head down slightly down in the process.

So hot, was Eurydice’s first thought as the two’s lips met. His lips- soft, hot, scalding even. After a few, too short, seconds passed, she pulled away. “Shit, I’m sorry. Was that okay...?”

Orpheus swiftly nodded his head. “Oh Gods, yes,” he whispered before swooping down and recapturing her his with his. Love and eagerness bleeding through his lips.

Eurydice placed her arms around Orpheus’s neck and ran her fingers through his brown locks, while he snuggly wrapped his around her waist. They stayed that way for a while then Eurydice had a sneaky idea. She brought one of her hands down and placed it at the hem of Orpheus’ shirt; glacially slipping her fingers under the fabric the teeniest bit, running them over a smooth patch of pale skin causing Orpheus to jump at the feeling.

“Is this okay?” Eurydice asked a fraction of a centimeter away, not wanting to separate their lips. Orpheus left out a huff and a fast nod, his eyes glossy and lips just starting to get puffy.

Eurydice smiled and brought their lips back together. “You know you can touch me too,” she teased through their kisses and continued with her touch; her feather-light strokes reaching farther, getting longer. She could feel Orpheus reach out to do the same but stopping just as he grazed her shirt. Sensing his hesitance Eurydice pulled her hand out and grabbed hold of Orpheus’, giving the long fingers, calloused from strenuous guitar practices, a few good squeezes, and rubs, before bringing it behind her back and up her shirt. She gasped at the sensation of delicate fingertips circling her lower back and sides, then up and down gently over the dip of her spine. Damn, this was getting much more intimate than she ever imagined it would.

Orpheus pulled back breathing heavy, swollen red lips wet and puffy, “that okay?”

Eurydice nodded, eyes glazed over, desperate to feel his touch again. She reeled him once more and continued their tango.

She doesn’t know how long they spend interlocked in the closet but she can’t bring herself to care. They shared searing kisses all over their mouths, necks, and throats, tongues battling for dominance. Frantic yet exquisite touches over and under clothes, nibbles on ears and collarbones and heavy breathing filled the room. A fiery ball of heat and jitters burned in the pit of Eurydice’s stomach. Months of longing, intense internal turmoil, and tiptoeing around feelings now poured out through their every action. The feeling coursed through her body, affecting every nerve and every sense until Orpheus and his lips, his touch, his scent, was all she could think of. Orpheus. Orpheus. Orpheus.

Suddenly, a long creak rang out and a blinding light shone in their faces. Both young adults pulled back from their make out and squinted, shielding their eyes from the onslaught of brightness before them.

“Well, what do we have here?” the voice snickered. They immediately recognized the saccharine, sing-songy tone. The same voice that they heard from the other side of the door just hours? Minutes? However long ago: Persephone.

Another voice sighed. With squinted eyes, Eurydice peeked back into the light and saw three shadowy figures- one an elderly man, the other two still older but not as much. “You wanna tell me why my boy and his girl were locked in the closet?” Hermes asked the room, exasperation oozing out into the air.

“My wife was acting juvenile once again,” Hades impossibly deep voice cut in.

“Shut it Hades!” she blurted hotly at her husband’s disapproval.

Flushed red with embarrassment from being caught in such a compromising position, the two young adults fully broke apart, scooting away to the opposite side on the confined closet. Eurydice felt her heart pounding in her throat as she sputtered about, trying to get some form of an explanation out in the air. “We, I mean, what happened was-”

Persephone laughed, her back bending forward from full-body chuckles, “we know what happened Songbird. You’re faces and necks are enough proof.”

Eurydice glanced over to Orpheus, his hair messily sticking up from where her fingers were threaded. Purple-red bite marks littered his neck and lipstick stains covered his flushed cheeks, lips bright pink and swollen. She placed her hands on her burning cheeks and neck, trying to cover where she was sure similar marks lingered.

Hermes swing the door open further, “you two come on outta there.” Orpheus and Eurydice stood to the feet and awkwardly marched out the closet, still too nervous to engage any form of contact. “Now, you two clean yourselves up, you look like you’re having a wrestling match in there.”

“They basically were…” Persephone muttered under her breath. Eurydice glared at her while Orpheus kept his eyes in every other direction.

Hermes paid his younger sister no attention, “just tidy yourselves up. And you,” he directed his focus to Orpheus, “you start in ten.”

“Oh yeah, your shows tonight,” Eurydice suddenly remembered.

Orpheus gave a quick nod, “will you stay and watch?” A hint of hesitancy detected in his voice.

A small, warm smile tugged at the ends of Eurydice’s mouth, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Orpheus gave her a cheeky grin, all traces of worry had melted away. He reached out and took her hand in his, intertwining his bony fingers with her plump ones.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to get fixed up,” Hermes said. “Come on, now,” he gestured to Hades and Persephone and the two followed him in succession down the winding stairs.

Orpheus and Eurydice headed to Orpheus’ room and straightened out their clothes and fixed their stray hairs. Orpheus tied his bandanna snuggly around his neck, hiding the numerous colorful marks in the process. “Well, I’ll see you downstairs,” Eurydice spoke while brushing down her bangs, turning to the door.

“Wait, hold on a second,” he chimed, lightly pulling her back. He snatched something off his dresser and handed it over to Eurydice: a spare bandanna. “I keep extras,” he shyly smiled, “I thought maybe you’d want something to cover up, you know.” He waved his hand over the area of her neck.

“Ahh, you don’t want people to see all your handy work, Orpheus?” she teased. Orpheus sputtered about, no words besides half-formed fragments and various sounds came tumbling out. Eurydice laughed, kisses his cheek and took the red bandanna from his hands. She folded it and wrapped it nicely around her neck, “there. Now we match.” She glanced at Orpheus, his mouth agape with a star-struck expression glued to his face. This felt intimate in a way neither had realized. Like they were connected, a true pair.

Eurydice took his hand once more and pulled him out the door and headed towards the stairs. She was heading towards a new battle, a fight she once thought she’d never be brave enough to face. But with Orpheus at her partner, maybe this battle would be worth the fight? Who knows, only the future could tell. But she prayed that her future included her dopey musician boyfriend close by her side.

#hadestown #orphydice #orpheus x eurydice #hadestown fanfic #my fic

[frgmcnts]

as promised, below is a rundown + some wanted connections for my gal, and if you’re interested in plotting, you know the drill! 

misc: stats / bio

STORY

kantarra ismaren / 27 / badass thief / 🐍

insp: the lovely ladies of z nation (my first love), ada wong, villanelle 

essentially grew up on the streets of kessel and had no clue who her parents were. there was a rumour floating around that they might’ve been trafficked across to work in the mines, but no one really bothered to confirm this since y’know, street kid and all. considered the other outcasts of society as her family members.

reluctantly resorted to crime to survive. to overcome the initial guilt, she realised that exceptions could be made, especially if it involved accessing the basic necessities such as food/shelter. (safe to say, the guilt doesn’t weigh so heavily on her anymore.)

eventually hitched a ride outta kessel when it became clear that she had no future sticking around, and at least if she left, she had more of a chance of getting her shit together—although it definitely wasn’t in the way she’d expected. 

travelled across the planets and worked herself up the ranks to become a talented + ruthless thief for hire, stealing important artefacts/documents/anything valuable for powerful clients. however the more “popular” she became, the more people wanted her dead. 

successes were outweighed by the following: betrayals, tortures, loss of a limb (no thanks to that jackass from cantonica), loss of friends—the list goes on. while kantarra might be pleased that she hasn’t yet met her demise, that doesn’t mean she’s overlooked the struggle to get this far. 

so, what exactly is she doing on the ship? chased by pirates is what she’ll tell you (”they stabbed me, don’t you see?”) except her true goal is entirely different. for starters, you know that it was a self inflicted wound, right? 👀 

comes across as a friendly, flirtatious and chill kinda gal who’s always down for a good time, regardless of how risky it is. kantarra? shame? they don’t go together and they never will. she adheres by the belief that being serious is more exhausting than it is to just let certain things go— much to the annoyance of those who are under the impression that she’s being too blasé.

sure, she might frequently joke around but that doesn’t mean she should be underestimated. she’s capable of extreme violence and possesses a twisted sense of fun, so don’t 👏 make 👏 her 👏 mad 👏

her loyalty is to herself at the end of the day, don’t be fooled into thinking otherwise. she might help you out today, however you can’t say the same for tomorrow. will certainly sell you out for a potato chip if she had the chance. 

despite coming across as rather nonchalant towards the latest gossip, she’s always listening, always keeping an eye out, always mentally keeping a record of everything for future reference. of course she remembers when you messed up @ 3:31 am. 

in summary: your fun-loving thief who’s perfectly capable of kicking your ass and taking everything you own, all while being a dapper mofo 👍

TRIVIA

isn’t ashamed of her bionic arm; if anything, she’s damn proud of it. does make an effort to cover it up when leaving the ship, otherwise it’s totally fine if you choose to comment on it.

boasts impressive ability/stamina/flexibility due to her time on the streets + on the run. say something about it and she’ll claim it comes in handy for “other things”. 

possesses a high pain tolerance from the various injuries she’s accumulated over the years. i wouldn’t go as far as saying she’s a masochist but — she might just be idk.

if you’re interested in a new drinking game, take a shot for every person she’s taken down. passing out guaranteed.

she doesn’t hide her talents with weapons/thievery, but will be vague about where she picked up said talents. the responses change every time. 

kantarra, soaked in blood and casually stepping onboard: sup fam. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

the bad influence: let her corrupt you in the most entertaining and memorable way possible. of course, she’ll probably leave you high and dry when/if things go to shit, but at least you’ll have some fun on the way there, hm?

the dream team: gimme me a group of pals who get up to all kinds of shenanigans. like yeah, she’s a terrible person but she’s got some interesting drinking games to make up for it though!

the flashback: another kessel kid who recognises her from the streets? she’d be caught between “omg it’s you!” to “oh fuck it’s you”. stress levels would skyrocket knowing someone could ruin her plans :’) 

the chase: someone who are curious to find out who she is??? investigate her shady ass, please and thank you. a cat and mouse chase to give her some entertainment in the meantime.

“didn’t you steal something from me back then???” “yeah life’s not fair, what can you do” 

pls hmu for brainstorming ily 

#ooc. #tw: murder #tw: gore #tw: blood #tw: trafficking #i forgot i have to wake up @ 5 am tmrw #will get to msgs after i see u #💖

[abundantchewtoys]

Homestuck Candy p24-27 (timeskip!)

Page 24

Wooooow.

Okay, as dark as the subject matter became, this was almost a reprieve from the previous action.

So, Terezi and John are both depressed. Terezi struggles with the same issues we heard John get more into. Of course, it's just a matter of question now whether this Terezi is in fact the same one that Meat John met. I'm inclined to say yes, as the Furthest Ring is supposed to be outside of timelines.

Thus that means she was able to hang on long enough to recover (via shaving cream and tobacco) from exhaustion. To meet up with John and have "a moment". Only to lose him in the end. :(

But even so, she would have hung on. In any case, I like how it delves further into the actual problem for John and Terezi. Their Ultimate Reward doesn't feel like one. I think John and Terezi share something, a feeling of enjoying the chase, the taste of adventure, I should say. But what could they find that fills this hole? Exploring Universe C together, maybe?

In any case, Aradia and Sollux have appointed themselves as part of Calliope's court. Or acolytes. I think Calliope might be the drive behind the narration of the Candy path, even if her personality doesn't leak through.

So, more information about what's she's doing here! She seems to be building up strength to rescue people from Dirk's influence. Now that Lord English is dead, she's found another one worthy of her opposition, someone that has too great an influence on too many innocent lives.

I mean, I remember I didn't 100% trust her in the Meat timeline, since in the end she still has an alien look on life. But it's a worthy cause, I would say.

It seems that Calliope has retreated, or at least, migrated to this timeline, up until she's ready to take over the narration of the Meat path.

This, together with John and Terezi's feeling that nothing is real anymore, is one of the most meta things to happen in these epilogues.

So, does that mean that the Postscriptum of Meat took place on Candy Earth C? And then, is that Davebot a ghost from the dreambubbles or not? ... Hey, in fact...

Does that mean that, every ghost of the dreambubbles was "saved" by Alt Calliope by moving them outside of canon, outside of Dirk's influence? Wow. It's like the theory that went around in late Act 6, that maybe the kids would move into blankspace to escape the influence of the Green Sun!

Now, Blaperile already theorized Vriska's ghost might end up on Earth C. It could happen. Though, if Vriska would survive the journey, wouldn't Davepeta and Lord English have as well? Maybe it only works on ghosts?

I mean, I'm pretty sure that the Feferi and Eridan making out in one of the previous pages were (alt) ghosts.

---

Page 25

Ooooooooh!!!!

I didn't know I needed Karkat the tortured grassroot rebel leader in my life, but here I am.

They're trying to get the Mother Grub to safety. I can see how it is THE most important asset fought over in this war. (And whatever propaganda Jane has going for her, this IS a war, she's just delusional about it.)

Jezus, the fate of that top analyst. It's like a Hunger Games thingy. Jake's just a figurehead to improve Jane's image at this point, while she doles out corporeal punishments...

Swifer Eggmop continues to be comedy gold.

The fact that bucket taboo is now blasé, hahahahahah.

And then.

The mystery arrival.

By all accounts I thought it would have been Vriska.

But Meenah? How did it even work, the fact that Lord English' server connects to Earth C? ... Okay, fair enough, he's fated to grow up on the planet in the future, and Candy Earth C is looking to be more and more like the timeline it'll happen in. But still.

Still.

Wow.

She's so supportive for a battle hardened Karkat, it's adorable!

His commanding her around does make me wonder... Are they good for each other as kismeses?????

Meenah is so punk, she doesn't really care she can't be in command, hahah.

It'll be a big shock for Jane to see Karkat got his grubby paws on an alternate Condesce though. That MIGHT hurt her image as well, or her self image. She's been influenced by Condy into this ruthless business persona, she just doesn't realize it. To see a version of Condesce reject her policies might be world shattering news.

Still unsure if we're going to see Vriska, Davepeta and LE land on this Earth as well. If so, how would LE even be able to be defeated, I mean... He would have survived a black hole and all prophecies thrown as his life. Outside of canon, but not powerless.

... Still, think of the irony.

John thought he had chosen to AVOID fighting Lord English by staying on Earth.

How do you expect to avoid him, when he's ALREADY HERE? :o)

---

Page 26

Wow.

Another powerful page.

The Candy path is really much more existential than I could've expected. And, it's very much more of a continuation of the Meat path than vice versa.

So, Meat John's car ended up sucked into the black hole after who knows how long, after he and Terezi zapped to Earth C.

And Candy John is here to find it, more questions asked than answered. Just like how the meteors sent all this anachronistic crap back into time, hurling to the Earth for people to ponder over, like Nanna's note to John in the joke book.

Wow, John.

I think it's good he's in the Troll Kingdom, he might be able to catch up to Karkat.

But... Really now.

If this means Vriska, Davepeta and Lord English will end up here, and only Dead-Jade, Davebot and Aradia escape back into "canon"... What is going to be everyone else's fate.

I mean, I don't think Adult Jade is going to open a portal just like Dead-Jade.

---

Page 27

wow.

that

I was always surprised before of every long timeskip.

But 10 years. TEN. YEARS.

Though it is cool to see their kids growing up, I'd say. Of course Vriska would be looking forward to her sixteenth birthday, it's the equivalent of 8 sweeps!

Seems that despite everything, Vriska and Tavros and Harry Anderson too can keep in touch right under Jane's nose.

It's all kinds of weird and awesome, to see a Vriska that's kind of balanced. You can see the influence Kanaya has on her Quite Clearly, when she emphasizes her words.

Karkat got an eyepatch - actually, seeing the role he fills, it's quite fitting. Karkat grew into an admirable, suave leader figure, who knew?

Calliope emphasizes again, that what happens on this Earth won't matter for canon. Though I wonder then, what her plan was, why she had to wait so long to leave.

From the Postscriptum, it seemed as if she devoured bodies to charge up, so why did it take so long, and whose did she eat? Other Space players like Kanaya, Porrim and Jade?

Meanwhile, Dave and Jade illicitly support the rebellion too! It's weird to see them be so awkward about their breakup, but at least they put that all besides them and focused on the bigger picture. And hey, Dave and Rose, and Maryam and Vantas, united in a rebellion against a condescending figure... Time really does repeat itself.

John still suffers from the feeling it all doesn't matter. But it's very intense to read all this. So, only when he's 44 does he do away with Terezi's picture.

And through it all, he has suffered from the same ennui and desolation he has felt since he came to Earth C. In the Meat timeline, he felt as if he let time pass him by. But we see now that, without a purpose, John is just as lost.

And Meenah and Karkat are an item now. Contrary to what seems to be the popular belief, I think they're not <3, but rather <3< or <>, but who even knows. No references were made to more ghosts arriving on Earth C, which merits attention.

It's just such a strange world, both alien and so far removed from Homestuck, and in other ways, exactly what the doctor ordered.

It was cool to get a visual description of Harry Anderson. I’m looking forward to the first image I’ll come across from him.

Now I’d just like one from Tavros, to get an idea in what manner his appearance differs from John.

#homestuck #reaction #homestuck candy #homestuck epilogues #liveblogging homestuck #john egbert #harry anderson egbert #vriska lalonde #dave strider #karkat vantas #swifer eggmop #kanaya maryam

[whitebear-ofthe-watertribe]

That Which Holds Us - Chapter 7

Pairing(s): Adrien / Marinette, Nino / Alya

Summary: It has been several months since Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered their true identities. Now that they are not trapped by secrets, they can finally be their full selves around each other and have never been closer. Marinette is going into her final year at university, Adrien is exploring new classes and passions, and their friends Alya and Nino seem to be moving towards a happy future together. It all feels like things could not be better.

But of course, nothing in life is quite so perfect.

When Adrien starts having vivid nightmares and visions about his mother, old questions begin to resurface. Will he be able to find the answers, or will these ghosts from the past tear apart the heroes of Paris for good?

Reminder, you can also read / follow this fic at AO3 here, and FF.net here.

Previous Chapters

Chapter Word Count: 5,820

Enjoy!!!

The venue that Nino was to perform at was conveniently near campus. The small old theater – location of hundreds, if not thousands, of plays and concerts over the years – stood on one side of a large courtyard. A grand fountain lay at the center of the courtyard, its water glistening in the soft beams of evening sunlight that streamed through the gaps between trees and buildings.

Marinette and Adrien made their way along the school’s pathways towards a small corner restaurant that they frequented for study dates. The air was comfortably warm, as if the heat of summer was trying to make one last appearance before the weather officially cooled.

Marinette shot Adrien a sideways glance, trying to discern what was going on in his mind. There were dark circles under his eyes, and though he concealed it well, she could sense the tension coming off him.

“So…” she ventured, feeling out whether he wanted to talk about serious things or not. “How was your day?”

Adrien shrugged.

“Shockingly normal,” he said smoothly. And unhelpfully.

Marinette frowned as she waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, she pressed on.

“Well, normal is completely subjective, so what does normal look like for Adrien Agreste, superhero-slash-model.”

Adrien sighed, giving her a look that said he knew exactly what she was getting at.

“Fine,” he relented. “It was full of people complaining about how last night was a disaster, and how Chat Noir let everyone down. And then my father showed his face in the office for no other reason than to be snippy with me about disappearing before the dinner course had even been served. So, all in all, pretty normal.”

He put on a forced smile as they waited for a group of people to pass in front of them.

Marinette bit her lip in frustration. Adrien’s new blasé behavior wasn’t fooling her.

“Adrien, you know they’re all wrong about you, right?” she said finally, slowing to a stop on the sidewalk.

Adrien turned to look at her. His jaw tightened a little when he saw her expression.

“I’m alright, Mar,” he said, with a shrug and another forced smile. “I couldn’t care less about what they say, I’m just glad they’re finally catching on.”

“Catching on?” Marinette squinted at him suspiciously. “Catching on to what, exactly?”

“To the fact that I, the shinning son of Gabriel Agreste, am absolutely useless,” he chuckled humorlessly, avoiding her gaze as he turned to continue walking. “I mean it’s about time, right? Maybe I should consider retiring soon!”

 “Adrien, this isn’t something to joke about,” Marinette said, her feet carrying her forward once more to follow him. “You deserve none of that garbage, and you know it.”

“Don’t I?” he called over his shoulder with a wry smile.

And with that, Marinette was done.

Lengthening her stride, she shot passed him and whirled to face him directly, cutting him off mid step.

“Enough!” she snapped.

Taken aback, Adrien froze as he looked down at her.

“Don’t you dare start thinking you deserve any of what they’re saying!” she said, stepping right up to him and poking a finger into his chest. “You are incredible, and brave, and so strong. You’ve given so much for them, and they have no idea! But I do!” Her voice shook a little. She could feel furious tears welling up, but she forced them away. “I’ve been defending how worthy you are to everyone else today, now please don’t make me fight you, too.”

He stared at her as she glowered up at him.

She hated how he did this; after so many years of bottling up his emotions, there were always hurdles she needed to cross before he would open up. He had learned enough to eventually take down his guard and actually talk to her, but not before trying to pretend that everything was fine. She knew the part of him that didn’t want to put any burden on her would almost always be struggling with the part of him that wanted to be fully known and accept her help.

The longer she held his gaze, the more she saw his walls crumble. Finally, for the first time that evening, she saw his genuine emotions crack through the façade.

“I – I’m sorry,” he said finally, reaching a hand up to sheepishly rub at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Marinette. You’re right, I shouldn’t be joking about it.”

“It’s not that you’re joking about it,” she countered. “It’s that you’re joking to cover up the fact that you’ve taken their words to heart. That’s what is pissing me off.”

Adrien’s expression darkened as he considered her words. For a moment she thought he might dispute her point, but finally his shoulders slumped in resignation.

“I suppose that’s not… entirely… untrue,” he said finally.

Marinette’s anger began to melt as she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

She could feel his heartbeat as she buried her face into his chest.

“When are you going to realize that I’m always right?” she said, her words muffled into his shirt.

Adrien let out a snort.

“Almost always,” he said.

She smiled. “Ok fine, almost always. But that’s still pretty close to always!”

“Fair enough,” Adrien pulled away to rub her arms affectionately as he gave her a grateful smile. “You’re at least ninety percent right on this particular subject.”

“Nope,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m at a full one hundred percent on this one, and you can’t change my mind.”

Adrien’s grin broadened at this, and he didn’t try to argue further. Then, taking her hands, the scrap of fabric she’d been pressing into her palm finally caught his eye.

“Hey, wait. What’s this?”

Raising her hand up to eye level, he frowned as he pulled the fabric away and discovered the place where the needle had punctured her. The skin was still flaming red, but the bleeding had mostly stopped.

“You’re hurt?” he scolded, examining the mark closely.

“It’s nothing,” she sighed impatiently. “I’m fine, really.”

He tore his gaze from her palm to shoot her a frustrated look.

“Oh, come on. You know I’ve had worse than this,” she snapped, trying to tug her hand back.

Adrien held tightly at her wrist.

“We fight supervillains on a near daily basis,” he said with exasperation, “and yet you still manage to inflict injuries on yourself doing schoolwork.”

“In case you hadn’t realized, any poise or grace I have as Ladybug is purely thanks to Tikki. I’ve always been a walking disaster outside the suit.”

“That’s not true!” he argued, but the incredulous look she threw him made him rethink his words. “Ok fine, that’s not completely true.”

“Only mostly true,” she said, nodding with finality.

Adrien rolled his eyes with a snort but didn’t press the point.

Marinette was relieved to see some of his tension begin to fall away a little as they joked. It was a small victory, but she would take what she could.

“It’s completely normal, you know,” she said as they walked towards the restaurant’s patio, her thoughts returning to their previous conversation. “To feel like you’re… not enough.”

Adrien sighed as they took their seats, but Marinette noticed that he had at least dropped his sardonic expression. She scooted her chair around the table so that she could sit closer beside him.

“I mean, you know more than anyone how much I’ve struggle with that, right?” she pressed on.

The corner of Adrien’s mouth twitched into a hesitant smile and he nodded.

“And do you remember how you always encouraged me, even when I was ready to completely give up on being Ladybug?”

“I can be painfully optimistic,” he snorted.

Marinette smiled.

“Yes, sometimes,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that everything you said back then wasn’t true. We’ve always had to do some incredibly difficult things, and I supposed we’ve been doing this long enough that it’s easy to get tunnel vision.”

She reached out and pulled Adrien’s hand into hers.

“But the important thing is to remember who we are and what we fight for. The people of this city rely on us because we were chosen to do what they can’t. And when it all feels like too heavy a burden to carry, please remember that you aren’t in this alone.”

“I know,” Adrien nodded, his thumb running soft circles along the back of her hand. “I know that we’re always going to be there for one another, I just…” he sighed again, scrunching his nose as he struggled to find the right words. “I guess… now that I know that Hawkmoth has this power over me… maybe that’s what’s been making it so easy to just give in to those dark thoughts.”

Marinette’s grip on his hand tightened.

A waiter approached their table with bread and olive oil.

Marinette gave him a grateful nod and quickly ordered a house wine and some hors d'oeuvres she knew they both liked.

Adrien said nothing while she did this, merely nodding in agreement when she glanced his way for approval. He took some vinegar that sat on their table and poured a bit into the oil.

When the waiter left, she said, “You know how Master Fu always talks about balance? How our Miraculous were made to be used in tandem, equal parts of the same powers. They must always be used together in one way or another, or else things fall out of alignment.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that the whole balance thing extends beyond what we do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. We have been friends… partners… for so long that I feel like we have become as much a part of that balance as the power in the Miraculous, you know?”

She pulled one hand away from Adrien’s to tear off a piece of bread and dip it pensively into the oil and vinegar, watching as the two substances created a swirled pattern on the plate.

“Adrien, you are the one who has held me in balance all this time,” she said quietly, surprising even herself with the emotion in her voice. She inhaled a deep breath and continued. “You have always been there to pull me back into sync whenever something bad happens or when I’m doubting myself. When I’ve fallen apart, you held all my pieces together. You’re like… my personal solid rock. From the very beginning, when I knew there was no way I could be a hero, you knew that I had what it took. You held me together and helped me become Ladybug. And… I just want you to know that I’m here for you in the same way you’ve always been there for me. I know that I can’t fully understand the battle you’ve been forced to fight, but please know that I… I’m always going to be by your side, to help you balance out that darkness and to help you fight.”

Adrien’s eyes softened as he stared at her, and she felt her face growing hot at the depth of her own words. Clearing her throat, Marinette turned to the menu, trying to make it seem like she was suddenly engrossed in the scrawling words, but not actually taking in anything they said.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she heard Adrien say softly.

Before Marinette could respond, she found herself being wrapped into his arms.

“You have always been there for me,” he said, and she felt his warm breath as he buried his face into her hair. “Even from the beginning, when you didn’t know me that well and had no reason to care, you were still there for me. You hold me together, too.”

After another long moment, Adrien pulled back, his eyes brighter than they had been earlier.

Marinette smiled, running her hand affectionately down his arm.

The sun was setting below the city’s horizon, and the clouds towering high above were painted with the pinks and golds of its last light.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Marinette exclaimed, tearing off another bite of bread. “You were trying to tell me something after you left your father’s office last night, right?”

To her surprise, Adrien’s face had darkened again, a crease appearing between his brows.

“What?” she asked, swallowing quickly and leaning towards him. “What happened? Was it something bad?”

But Adrien shook his head, taking a piece of bread for himself as he quickly schooled his features into a mask of unconcern.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Marinette gazed at him thoughtfully.

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty… I dunno, shaken?”

“Nah, it was just my father being his usual self,” Adrien shrugged, though he still didn’t quite meet her eye. “It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“Ok…” Marinette said finally, though still not entirely convinced. “Suit yourself.”

*******

“Tonight’s gonna be a good one, eh boys?” Nino said, grinning.

He, John, and Antoine were crossing the large square. It was full of people enjoying what promised to be one of the last warm evenings of the season.

“I’m really looking forward to doing that new song, Antoine,” he continued. “It’ll be a total hit!”

Antoine gave him a halfhearted smile, shrugging.

“Eh, I guess,” he said, his attention turning to a couple young kids chasing each other around the large fountain.

Nino raised an eyebrow at John, who shrugged in response.

Antoine had been in a weird mood for days now. His enthusiasm during their rehearsal that afternoon had been rather lacking, and he wasn’t nearly as jazzed as usual about their upcoming show. He hadn’t said anything to either of them, but Nino could tell something was weighing on his mind.

“Seriously, you ok, man?” Nino asked, peering curiously at him.

Antoine shrugged again, not meeting his eye.

“Yeah, totally,” he said flatly.

Nino frowned. As they neared the fountain, he turned to John.

“Hey man, you want to go ahead and make sure everything’s ready?” he gave John a meaningful look.

John nodded, understanding passing across his face.

“No problem! See you guys in a bit.”

He hurried off, weaving between groups of wandering people before disappearing into the theater.

Antoine gave Nino a confused look as he steered them towards the fountain and pulled him down to sit at the edge of the water.

“Ok, talk,” Nino said, gazing expectantly at him.

Antoine frowned before turning away and shaking his head.

“It’s really nothing. You don’t need to make a big deal of it.”

“Oh, I’m not make a big deal of it,” Nino said lightly, leaning back on his hands. The marble beneath his palms was flecked with water droplets. “But whatever ‘it’ is, it’s clearly dragging on you, and I want to make sure my friend is actually ok before he has to entertain hundreds of people.”

He gave Antoine a sideways look.

Antoine gritted his teeth. After a long moment, though, his shoulders slumped. Leaning forward onto his knees, he turned his head to look at Nino.

“I’m sorry, man, I guess I’ve just been in a weird headspace lately.”

“Weird how?” Nino asked, frowning.

He waved a hand in the air, trying to find the right words.

“I dunno, it’s like… I’m not sure if I really get much joy out of doing these concerts anymore.”

He avoided Nino’s gaze.

Nino said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“Like… I still enjoy doing music, but this just doesn’t feel like what I want to do anymore. I feel like I don’t know where I want to go in life, but regardless it isn’t this.”

Nino nodded, leaning his head back to look up at the towering clouds high above them. The last rays of sunlight framed them in brilliant gold. A gentle breeze picked up some of the spray from the fountain, blowing a soft mist onto the back of his neck and arms.

“I’d been wondering if you were feeling that way,” Nino said finally. “I mean, I know you’ve still been writing songs and all, but lately it just felt like your heart wasn’t in it as much as it used to be.”

“That’s fair,” Antoine said, his voice full of resignation. “I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine what else I could be doing with my life. Like, we’ve been doing this since high school. This is what I know how to do. So, does that mean I’ve already put myself into a corner?”

Nino gave a snort.

Antoine turned to him again, his eyes reproachful, but Nino just reached out to clap him lightly on the back.

“Dude, are you serious?” Nino said with a grin. “You’re one of the most talented people I know! You can do whatever you set your sights on.”

Antoine let out an irritated huff, rolling his eyes at Nino’s words.

“Are you sure you’re not just talking about yourself?” he asked.

Nino listed his head, frowning.

“I mean,” Antoine continued. “You have all these amazing dreams, plus the skills to meet them. You just got signed for that movie soundtrack, for crying out loud! You seem like you have everything figured out and I just… I want to know what that feels like.”

Sighing, Nino leaned forward to mirror Antoine’s posture.

“Dude, I don’t have shit figured out,” he said.

Antoine glanced at him, incredulous.

“I know it seems like I do, but it’s true!” Nino insisted. “I mean I’ve always wanted to do music and movies, but do you seriously think there aren’t times where I wonder if I’m doing it all wrong and need to be pursuing something else?”

“You always seem so happy to be doing what you do, though,” Antoine argued, his hands balling into fists. “You seem to love all the traveling and the performing, and I… I used to enjoy it, but I can’t get on that same level anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I still love visiting new people and places! I’ve always loved making music, so this just seemed the most obvious path. But it just doesn’t feel as fulfilling, I suppose. Like we crossed that line of ‘making it big’ and now what else is there to achieve?”

“Duh, selling out the biggest stadiums in the world?”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Antoine deadpanned. “As incredible as that is, it’s not quite the sense of achievement I think I need.”

“I get it,” Nino said, shooting him a grin. “You’ve always been one to shy away from the things a lot of people might find superficial.”

“I don’t even know if I can call it that,” Antoine shrugged. “I think it’s more about having set goals to reach, obstacles to overcome… something tangible to work towards.”

“Well then,” Nino hedged. “When was the last time you felt that sense of achievement?”

Antoine inhaled deeply, lifting his gaze up to the sky as he thought.

“I dunno… I’ve been teaching my cousin to play her guitar these last few months, and that’s been pretty rewarding.”

“Have you given professionally teaching people music any thought before?”

“Not seriously,” Antoine tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s ever really crossed my mind. I mean I had a lot of fun with it before, and it was totally amazing to see her get better and have that fresh excitement about it… but what if that isn’t right for me either? What if I get bored, or stop liking it? What if I end up right back here not knowing what I want to do with my –”

“Dude, you’re overthinking this,” Nino broke in, stifling a chuckle. “You’re treat all of this as if any decision you make will be the end-all be-all. But what’s stopping you from trying out a whole bunch of different things?”

“But how do I even start something like teaching?” Antoine asked, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

“I think the only thing stopping you is your fear of failure,” Nino supplied, slowly considering his words. “It’s like… you’ve got it in your head that everything in life has to be linear, and that if you go down one path then that means you suddenly block off all the other paths. And I think that is what you need to forget about.”

“How will I even know if teaching will make me happy?”

“The only way you can know that is just giving it a shot. And if it turns out that teaching also isn’t the right fit, then what’s to stop you from moving on to something new? You just gotta keep moving forward, man. Even if you do something and it doesn’t fulfill all your expectations, at least you’re still living life! And someday, after you’ve tried all these new things, maybe you’ll be able to look around and realize that’s where you’re supposed to be. And if you hadn’t tried all those things then you might have never discovered it.”

Looking around at Antoine, Nino could see a sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Damn. You should be a motivational speaker with speeches like that.”

Nino snorted and elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m serious, man!” he said as they both laughed. “I know it sounds like some gushy, optimistic bumper sticker or something, but really the best thing you can do in life is follow your joy. Follow your joy by trying new things, and then share that joy with others where you can. Don’t give up on yourself.”

Antoine shook his head, but the grin he wore was genuine.

“Thanks,” he said after a long moment. “I appreciate your trying to help. I’m sorry for how off I’ve been lately.”

“No worries,” Nino shrugged. “We all had a feeling you were dealing with some stuff. I’m just glad you finally decided to talk about it.”

They sat there for several quiet minutes, listening to the conversations and laughter around them. Another breeze blew mist onto Nino’s back, and he relished the cool feeling.

“It’s getting late,” Antoine finally said. “We should probably get going. Don’t want John going out onstage by himself.”

“Ah, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Nino waved his hand, grinning. “He’ll probably have so much fun that he’ll decided he needs to go solo.”

“Let’s not feed his ego that much,” Antoine laughed.

Standing up from the fountain, they moved to leave when a familiar voice called out across the square.

“Nino!”

Turning, Nino spotted Adrien and Marinette sitting at one of the patio tables of a nearby restaurant. They waved and smiled as a waiter dropped off their bill.

Nino and Antoine returned the wave.

“Why don’t you go on ahead,” Nino said, sitting down once more on the fountain’s ledge and leaning back on his hands. “I’m going to say hi to those guys real quick, it’ll only be a minute. You can go help John make sure everything’s alright if you’d like.”

Antoine nodded.

“Tell them ‘hi’ from me,” he said before jogging off to the theater.

Nino let out a long breath, wishing he could do more to help Antoine. There had been plenty of times in his own life where he’d been stuck with similar doubts about his choices, but at least Alya had always been there to help talk him through things.

“Those were some very wise words,” said a voice beside him.

Turning, Nino found a tiny old man standing a few feet away from him, smiling kindly. He wore a bright floral shirt and his arms were fully occupied with brown paper bags full of groceries.

“Pardon?”

“Forgive my eavesdropping,” the man said, taking a step closer. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. It is very kind of you to encourage him like that.”

Nino couldn’t help but grin.

“Thank you, Monsieur,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’m just glad I was able to talk him through some stuff.”

“It is hard for everyone to navigate the many different paths that life takes us on,” the man said, nodding sagely. “It is important to have good friends to help you through it, and it is clear to me that you are, indeed, a very good friend. The people close to you are certainly fortunate to have you to rely on.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nino grinned, feeling heat flood his cheeks at such high praise. “I’m Nino by the way.”

“It is good to meet you, Nino,” the man said, returning his smile. “My name is –”

“Master Fu?”

Turning, Nino saw that Adrien and Marinette had finished paying for their meal and were now standing beside them, looking curiously between himself and the man.

“Do you two know each other?” Marinette asked, smiling as she stepped forward to quickly peck Nino on the cheeks.

“Not officially,” the man said, smiling benignly. “We were just getting acquainted by chance.”

“What a coincidence!” Adrien said with a grin. “Master Fu has been a… well, a sort of life coach to both Marinette and I for years now.”

Nino noticed that Adrien was sporting dark circles under his eyes.

“Really?” he turned curiously to look at the man. “What kind of life coach?”

“Well, certainly not one you seem to need,” Master Fu said, shooting him a conspiratorial look. “It sounds like you have quite some words of wisdom under your own belt.”

Nino laughed.

“Only for my friends. I myself can always use whatever advice I can get.”

“And that, in itself, is an excellent form of wisdom,” Fu grinned. “Well, I’d better be off. Can’t let this butter pecan gelato go to waste!”

“Yes, I’d better get going as well,” Nino said, standing up and realizing that he towered over the tiny man. “I’m playing that theater tonight, and my bandmates are waiting for me.”

“We’ll stop by for tea soon, Master,” Marinette said.

Though her words sounded light, Nino thought he saw an oddly grave expression cross her face. But when he looked more closely, her light smile had returned.

“My door is always open. And that goes for you as well, Nino,” Fu said, turning to him. “I would greatly look forward to speaking with you more in the future. I’m sure there are… many things we could discuss.”

“I look forward to it,” Nino said, smiling and ducking his head in a quick bow of farewell. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Fu.”

“The honor was all mine.”

Master Fu shifted the bags in his arms to wave goodbye.

As he raised his arm, Nino caught sight of a familiar jade bracelet tied around his wrist. He froze, staring at it.

There was a glint of secret amusement in Master Fu’s eyes as he turned to leave, tucking his bracelet out of sight once again.

And as Nino made his way towards the theater with Marinette and Adrien, he had the sneaking suspicion that his friends were getting much more than simply “life coaching” from the old man.

*******

The air inside the theater pulsed with loud music from one of the opening bands as Marinette led Adrien through the lobby.

Nino had parted with them at the entrance, hurrying backstage to join his band.

As they rounded a corner, Adrien spotted the stage raised above a large cheering crowd. Fog and bright colored lights flashing through the otherwise darkened hall, giving the performers a neon glow. 

Marinette tugged him forward, her fingers entwined with his. She wove a path through the crowd and up to the front where it was standing room only. Finally coming to a stop, she let out a whoop and raised her arms to start swaying in time with the music.

Adrien gazed around, taking it all in.

The air was hot and humid, thick with a range of floral scents. A bar in one of the back corners was advertising a range of cocktails, and hundreds of people pressed in tightly together, some carrying drinks as they danced.

The band on stage was made up of four women wearing eclectic outfits that dripped with shimmering jewelry. Two of them were singing in a language he didn’t know.

The final notes of their last song rang through the hall, replaced quickly by a tidal wave of cheers. The performers bowed to them all before moving off stage. The cheering continued, pulsating in Adrien’s ears until it crescendoed to a deafening volume as Nino and his bandmates came into view.

Beside him, Marinette jumped into the air and waved her arms, shouting her praise.

Nino flashed a grin at the crowd. He pulled his keyboard into position at the front microphone.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” he asked, his voice magnified to echo through the room.

He was met with a fresh wave of enthusiastic screams.

“We’re gonna play you a few of our songs,” he continued as he thrummed a few melodic notes. “We hope you’ll like them!”

A momentary hush fell over the room, broken by a couple scattered whoops, before Nino brought both hands down on the keys and filled the space with an upbeat rhythm. Once again, the hall erupted with screams and hollers of approval as people began jumping and dancing to the music.

Adrien and Marinette were pushed tighter together as the crowd surged forwards in excitement, drawing them closer to the stage.

Looking down at her, Adrien grinned as Marinette paid no mind to the tight space – she was using the little room they had to dance along with everyone else.

His eyes were drawn the curves of her waist and the entrancing way her dark hair caught the lights. Her cheeks flushed with excitement and her soft lips were turned into a beaming smile, dazzling him.

‘How is she so beautiful?’ he thought, momentarily in awe that he had her in his life.

Everything weighing on his shoulders seemed to evaporate as he focused on her. The joy she exuded was contagious.

He reached a hand out to wrap around her other side and pull her into a spin.

Marinette gave a squeak of surprise before dissolving into laughter as she caught on to what he was doing. Taking hold of one of his fingers, she lifted their hands high up and allowed him to spin her again, twice, three more times before draping her arms over his shoulders.

Adrien placed his hands on her hips, his fingers brushing along the soft, warm skin where her shirt rode up. He pulled her close, enjoying the feel of her against him and grinning as she closed her eyes and flowed with the music. For the first time in days, he forgot the troubles that awaited them outside. In that moment, the only thing he let himself focus on was the woman he had given his whole heart to.

As song after song played, they danced together in the little space they shared, beaming whenever they caught each other’s eye.

“Hey!” Marinette called to him after a while, raising her voice for him to hear her above the music. “Can you bend your knees for a sec?”

“Wha- why?” he inquired, tilting his head in confusion.

“Just do it!”

“… Ok?”

Adrien did as he was told, lowering himself until he was at eye level with her.

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers laced into his hair as she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.

He melted into her touch.

Her breath was soft and warm on his mouth, and his whole body tingled as he returned the kiss. He tightened his own arms around her waist and straightened, pulling her against him as her feet left the ground.

Marinette laughed, breaking the kiss and drawing back a little to look at him.

Adrien returned her smile before burying his face in her neck. He inhaled deeply and held her there for a long moment before setting her back down again.

“I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve you,” he murmured into her ear. “But I hope you know I’m more thankful to have you in my life than I could ever put into words.”

“You’ve never had to do anything to deserve me, mon chaton,” she hummed back, reaching her thumb up to gently caress his cheek. “You’ve always underestimated how truly good you are, you know that? You deserve every happiness in the world just by being yourself.”

Adrien shook his head but allowed himself a small smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, knowing she could read the words on his lips.

“I love you too,” she said, her own words drowned out by loud cheers as Nino’s band pounded the last chords of a song before immediately jumping into the next one.

They held each other tightly. Her head rested against his chest as they swayed slowly in place, ignoring whatever tempo the crowd was dancing to as the music thrummed around them.

Adrien had no idea how long they stayed like that, safe in each other’s arms, but a sudden buzz from his pocket pulled him back to the present. Reaching to retrieve his phone, he checked it over Marinette’s head, careful to not disturb her as they continued to sway.

The message was from Master Fu. It seems he had been able to set up Adrien’s travel plans faster than expected – his flight to Tibet would depart in a little over one week’s time.

Once again, Adrien’s mind was flooded with doubt.

There was a part of him that deeply regretted not just telling Marinette everything he had learned about his father and the Peafowl Miraculous. It would have been so easy, and he knew that telling her would likely release of some of the burden.

But Master Fu had been right; Marinette had theorized that his father was Hawkmoth all those years ago. So, if he told her everything now, she likely would come to a similar conclusion once more.

He knew it might be unwise to keep Marinette in the dark, but this just hit far too close to home. What if she jumped right into action? What if she went immediately to his father’s office, demanding he hand the Miraculous over? What if she took him directly to the police under the possibility that he was aiding Hawkmoth? For that, he was not ready. He needed solid proof before he could bring himself to accuse his father of such villainy.

No, he could not tell her, not yet. Adrien needed to discover the truth on his own first.

Lol can you see where I had a self-therapy sesh with my writing in this chapter?

This was a pretty calm one in the midst of... well, everything that has happened and (no spoilers) everything that's coming, so I hope you guys enjoyed it! To the handful of you still reading my stuff after a million years of hiatus, thank you so much for you comments!! You have no idea how much I LOVE hearing form you!!!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #twhu fic #adrinette #marichat #ladynoir #ladrien #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Sweet Dreams Chapter Two

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just…darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time…she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 7.3k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hello! I’m trying out links for this chapter to see if Tumblr eats it, since I don’t know if links are working now. But anyway, here’s chapter two! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Namjoon

I rubbed my eyes as the breaking morning light filtered in through the swaying curtains beside my bed. Sighing, I pushed myself up onto my forearms, then onto my legs, then onto my feet. I padded over to the window, stifling a yawn, and grabbed the frame. I’d left the thing open all night, having fallen asleep too suddenly to remember to close it properly, and now mosquitos flew in lopsided circles around my lamp. Also left on overnight. I groaned and pulled the window shut, shooing the mosquitos with squinted eyes. I checked the clock on my black wall. 4:03 AM.

Quietly, I followed the scent of coffee and sauntered out into the living room where Yoongi sat, legs crossed on the couch, flipping through a book on Greek mythology with one hand and holding a mug in the other.

“Morning,” I said, like every morning.

“Mm,” he replied, like every morning.

I suspected Yoongi hadn’t even bothered to go to sleep, and the purplish bags beneath his eyes didn’t help. The apartment was spotless as usual. Yoongi wasn’t one to let mess pile up, and I was grateful at least for that. What he lacked in socializing, he made up for in peace and cleanliness. I slipped along the cool wood floor and wandered into the kitchen, pouring myself a generous cup of coffee from the pot Yoongi had left on.

“Crazy dream?” asked Yoongi. I found the heart of his question in the words he didn’t say. You never wake up before noon. You okay?

I hummed and settled down at the table, running my finger along the polished trim. Everything in this apartment was pristine, lined with precision and placed with care. That’s how Yoongi was. Even before we met at his studio, he struck me as the diligent type.

I guess I felt like I could learn something from someone like him.

With a sigh I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t remember.”

“Hm,” said Yoongi with a gruff cough, pausing to flip the page in his book.

And that was that. With a few words exchanged between us, I was left to watch the morning sun arc across the blemishes sky outside the wall of windows facing the ocean. I was left to think.

Sometimes I wished he was more talkative…

The bus rattled down the sun-drenched street and I watched buildings pass by in silence. Normally, I’d have worn headphones but at Yoongi’s request, I’d left them behind so he could work on a beat at home. I rested my head against the window and shut my eyes with a heavy sigh. Why don’t you just talk to him? Those were the words replaying in my mind. Hoseok always was startlingly astute, in an oblivious sort of way. Of course, my friend of twenty years could say something so blasé like that without knowing what it meant for me. Tell him you wanna write music.

Just tell him.

A pang rang through the bus, signaling the approach of my stop, and I gathered my backpack and cell phone, standing with my hand on the rail overhead. “Ah, sorry,” I mumbled as an older woman stood beside me, stumbling with the unsteady stall of the bus.

She turned to me with a weathered smile and patted my arm. “Thank you,” she said, gently sliding down the aisle with both arms swung out as if she could fall over at any moment.

I watched her, uneasy, as she made her way to the exit. But as she exited, someone else entered and in their haste, they brushed a shoulder against the old woman’s chest, knocking her back slightly. I jumped, rushing to catch up to her, as she grabbed hold of the rail beside the exit. I placed a hand on her forearm to steady her, and again she offered a smile.

“Hey,” I shouted, turning to see the perpetrator was staring at the scene, eyes covered with a ball cap, short, curling black hair sprouting from underneath.

Upon closer inspection, the hapless bus-rider was a young girl, although with her face downturned it was hard to tell much about her beside her unimposing height. I scanned her from head to toe. Narrow shoulders, drowning in a shirt three sizes too big, shorts just barely visible underneath the hem, tanned legs and dirty tennis shoes. But my eyes lingered on her hands. Small, balled into fists, her index fingers were digging into the skin of her thumbs, picking as she stared at the old woman in the exit.

“I-,” she began, and her voice was almost too soft to hear over the engine.

“You gonna pay?” asked the bus driver, eyeing her impatiently.

The girl jumped and turned to him, swiping her pass and shuffling with her shoulders pinched and her head down until she found an empty spot. The spot I’d taken before. I sighed and stepped down toward the woman, offering my arm to help her out onto the street.

“Oh thank you, son,” she said once the both of us were safely on the sidewalk.

Sparing no time, the bus sped off down the road. I watched it for half a second before returning my attention to the woman with a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, bowing. “Sorry about that,” I added, and I wasn’t sure why I apologized for that stranger. It wasn’t my apology to make, anyway.

She shook her head. “No, that’s alright,” she said with a simple smile before turning on her heel and waving goodbye. “Take care, sweetheart!”

I returned the smile along with the wave, but something wasn’t sitting quite right with me. As I turned on my heel towards the studio a block down, it hit me.

That girl on the bus was oddly familiar.

“How’s the project coming along?” asked Jisoo as he stood over my shoulder, gazing at the monitor with his specs sliding down the bridge of his nose.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “It’s good. The music will be automatically triggered when the player walks past this line, so I made sure to line it up properly,” I said, pointing with an index finger at the screen.

Sound design in video games was laborious work, and even more so when the sound is music. Footsteps, fighting noises, slashing sounds: those could be left to the programmers without a second thought. But music? That was the sort of thing that had to be implemented by somebody who understood dramatic tension, timing, placement. Of course, should the programmers decide they don’t need the help of an indie commercial freelance company for their music design, they could probably do a great job. But contracting us was a convenient way to take nonessential work and pass it to someone qualified to handle it.

In my case, overqualified.

“Good,” said Jisoo, but it was clear he was only half-listening as he stirred his coffee with a grimace. “That scene gonna be ready by tomorrow?”

“I mean…,” I began. It was the first I’d heard of such a short deadline. Quietly, I settled my nerves and met Jisoo’s eyes through the glare of his glasses. “Sure,” I said, reluctant.

His face split in a smile, wrinkles around his lips deepening as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Great,” he said, patting my shoulder once. “We’re counting on you, Joon.”

Joon.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, turning back to my computer with a tense smile. “I’ll get to it then,” I said as he gave me a thumbs up and meandered down the hallway, out of my tiny, shared office.

I sighed, resting my cheek in my hand, and stared at the screen. Tiny characters idled in a wide, green field, awaiting my command to test if I’d placed the song correctly. I already knew I had. Of course, I should have been grateful to have a job in the first place. Albeit unfulfilling, the work gave me a steady income and despite the well of disappointment in my chest whenever Yoongi left to work in his own studio with real musical artists, I shouldn’t have been sighing all the time.

“Yikes,” said Jungkook from beside me, a young programmer who’d snagged the job at our company straight out of college.

He eyed me from his desk, only feet away from mine, and pushed his headphones back to rest against his collarbone. He was still a kid, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to work on games for the rest of his life. Really, working with a producing company was probably the best option for him. And every day you could see it in the way he moved that he was passionate. His round, inquisitive eyes were always landing on something new on his monitor, nimble fingers always typing away.

I doubted the kid had ever been apathetic about anything in his life.

“Yeah,” I breathed, glancing out the window to my right. Fresh sunlight poured in from outside. A fine day…

“You really gonna get it done in time?” he asked, refocusing on his screen as he popped a convenience store sausage in his mouth. He chewed on it, never looking away from the monitor, eyes alight.

I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. “Guess I gotta,” I said, still watching the day. In the distance, just below the horizon, I watched the train tracks as the afternoon train chugged by, windows glinting in the light. “It’s a crime to be inside on a day like this, though,” I remarked with a sigh.

Jungkook chuckled. “That’s what old people say,” he said, still munching.

I rolled my eyes and propped my headphones back up against my ears. “Everyone seems old to you,” I said. “Because you’re still a baby.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow and shot me a petulant look. “I’m a grown man.”

I chuckled and nodded, waving my hand to dismiss him. “Sure thing, big guy,” I said, continuing to set the music trigger just so.

The evening sun had long descended by the time my feet hit the pavement outside, and my hands and mind were exhausted. I wrung my wrists a little as I sighed into the nighttime air. The city was quiet, quieter than Seoul at any rate, and as I meandered toward the bus stop the simple sound of my cell phone ringing had me jumping. I fumbled with the phone for a moment as I fished it from my back pocket and slowly peered down at it.

Hani, displayed the screen and I raised my brows.

“Hello?” I asked as a white hatchback sped past, kicking up dirt on the street.

“Joonie,” she whined, and I could tell she was drunk. “I miss you.”

I gripped the bridge of my nose and nodded once, shutting my eyes against the yellow glow of the streetlamp overhead. “Uh-huh…”

“Come get me?”

I felt my chest constrict just a little. My mistake for answering in the first place. My mistake like always. “Where are you?” I asked carefully.

She mumbled something, words slurring together, before returning her attention to our phone call. “I’m at that bar by the beach. The pretty one.”

I knew the one. Sighing, I nodded. “Be there in ten,” I said, not awaiting a response as I pocketed the phone and began jogging down an alleyway, following a straight path to the shoreline.

Hani was right about one thing, anyway. The bar was pretty. In the summertime, when the air is fine and the clouds don’t linger too long, the beachside bar opens its windowed doors and extends its seating to the patio, right along the sand. The entrance was nestled deep beneath a canopy of light, sun-bleached wood beams and curling greenery, twinkling lights glowing on strings that wrapped around the entire patio.

Didn’t need to be a genius to know where she was. Quietly, I maneuvered around dancing bar patrons milling about in the gaps between tables and lounge chairs and made my way inside. The interior was dark. Not my style, really. But Hani always liked it here, which meant I spent plenty of drunk nights here. I approached the bar on the far wall and that was when I saw her.

Back on display from the low cut of her black dress, her brown hair waved over one slender shoulder and I saw her smile in profile. Perfect teeth, full cheeks rosy with alcohol and youth, eyes half-shut as she slapped a man’s arm. Gently, I approached her from behind and placed a hand on the small of her back, creating a wall between her and the man beside her. Her bright eyes landed on me and her smile went wider. She laughed, a loud, reverberating sound that pierced my ears even over the bumping music. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and held tight, standing to her feet.

“You’re smashed,” I remarked as I smelled the alcohol on her breath.

She giggled, running her fingers along the skin of my neck. “Hm…,” she mumbled, eyes shut as she swayed in front of me. “Let’s go walk on the beach.”

I placed my hands on her upper arms and guided her hands back to her sides, fixing her with a pointed look. “No, Hani we’ve gotta get you home-,”

“I wanna walk!” she shouted, the famous Hani pout on her ruby lips.

I swallowed hard. “No-,”

“I’m walking with or without you.”

And with that, she swung around in a grand circle and, with crossed arms, stomped across the bar and onto the patio where she paused, back still turned, and waited for me. Of course, she didn’t mean it. She just wanted me to go with her. And she knew how to bend me to her will. She always did.

I sighed, pressing my index fingers firmly against my temples. I didn’t need this today. Or any day, really. But as I opened my eyes I saw her peering at me over the slope of her shoulder and was powerless once again. Wordlessly, I rolled my eyes and followed behind her as she giggled and led the way out onto the sand.

It only took her a few steps to remove her strappy heels and fan her long hair out behind her with a huff. “Too hot,” she mumbled, adjusting the strap of her silk dress. “I’d go naked if I thought you wouldn’t hate me for it,” she teased with a glance my way and a cheeky grin.

“I wouldn’t hate you for something you did while you were drunk,” I said, crossing my arms as I matched her slow, stumbling pace.

The beach was serene, only a few people wandering through the sand. We walked parallel to the crashing, navy blue waves and each step took us further and further from the businesses lining the north side of the beach. We were getting close. Just around that cliffside, if we clung to the rocks, we’d emerge on the other side. All alone there.

“Joon?” she asked, staring up at me with round eyes.

“Hm?”

“Did you hear anything I said?” she asked, furrowing her dark brow.

I clamped my mouth shut and let my eyes fall to my feet on the sand. “I…sorry,” I said with a sigh.

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?” she asked with a nod. “I’ll forgive you this time because we’re almost there.”

I inhaled sharply through my nose and turned my eyes toward her. She was bathed in silver moonlight, fair skin glowing. Beautiful. “Why were you out drinking?”

“Am I not allowed?” she asked with a smirk.

I sighed. “It’s a weekday, Hani.”

“And I don’t have work tomorrow so what’s the harm?” She groaned and shook out her hands with a disgruntled huff. “You’re so stiff. This is why I broke up with you.”

There it was. “Hani, you need to go home.”

“And you never fight back,” she mumbled. “Making me the bad guy for saying anything in the first place.” She examined her hand for a moment, pouting.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to keep seeing each other,” I said carefully, choosing my words with care. I watched her expression go from sulky to petulant in a blink. She turned to me, eyes sharp. “It’s not healthy.”

She scoffed. “Why not?” she asked. “We were friends before we started dating, weren’t we? Why can’t we be friends now?”

“Because I don’t see you as just a friend and I think you know that,” I said, scanning her.

She opened and closed her mouth like a hinge before settling on closed and turning her head toward the shoreline. She stopped walking, crossed her arms, and watched the water for a long, silent moment.

“They’re finalizing it,” she said quietly as her eyes went distant. “My parents.”

I blinked at her. “They’re…really?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m out tonight,” she said, voice soft against the water. “Mom called this morning and told me. Like it was nothing for her.”

“Hani…”

“Like it’s easy,” she said, wiping beneath her eyes with her free hand. “I texted Sooyoung but she didn’t reply. She saw it though. Just…didn’t reply.”

Gently, I came to rest beside her. I thought about wrapping an arm around her small, trembling shoulders and holding her close. But the intoxicating scent of her rosy perfume even from this distance was enough to keep that idea at bay. Instead, I simply rested my palm against her back and gave her a pat.

“I’m worried Sooyoung is gonna start up again,” she said with a sigh as she scratched her nose. “Like she did last year. I dunno…a divorce is a big deal for someone her age. She’s sixteen now, you know? Did I tell you that?” she asked, peeking up at me with glassy eyes.

“I know, Hani,” I said, smoothing my palm against her back.

She sniffled and nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed. “I don’t want her to be stupid like me.”

“You’re not stupid,” I said softly, shaking my head.

She smiled, but it wasn’t all there. “You don’t have to lie. I make stupid choices. Like tonight. Calling you. I just…I want her to grow up without making the mistakes I made, you know? I don’t want her to be twenty-four, drunk, crying on the beach with her ex-boyfriend.” She shook her head. “Or worse.”

“Stop thinking about all that, okay?” I said, patting her back once more before dropping my hand. “You need to get home.”

She eyed me sidelong, long eyelashes stained white against the moonlight. She was calmer now, more reasonable. Softly, she sighed and nodded her head. “Okay,” she said.

I nodded and turned back toward the bar, but I’d only taken one step when I felt her small hands wrap around my sides, clasping at my stomach. She rested her cheek against my back and my whole body went stiff. I felt her chest against me, her arms firm around my torso. And just like that, she held onto me. Like a life preserver, keeping her afloat. And it might have felt nice if it wasn’t so cruel.

“Thank you, Joonie,” she said softly against my back.

I cleared my throat and patted the top of her hand. “Let’s…let’s get you home.”

Hani: Thanks for everything tonight, Joonie.

I stared at my phone screen, holding it right above my face as I lie on my back in bed. I sighed and let my felt hand fall against the comforter, squinting at the phone. The message sat like an omen before me, like the promise of something I didn’t dare to hope for. I knew better than to respond. I knew better than to answer her call in the first place. I knew better than to meet her for coffee or dinner or movies after we ended. I knew better than to respond.

Namjoon: Of course. You know I still care about you.

Hani: I know. I care about you too :-)

I felt my chest constrict. How stupid. I slid my phone to rest on my nightstand and caught the time out the corner of my eye. 11:15. I had to be up early tomorrow to work on the game. Really, I should have been asleep an hour ago.

And here I was. Still stuck where I’ve always been.

I shook my head, giving my chest a few hard pats. If I thought about it too long, I’d end up moping. Instead, I simply stayed there, resting against the plush of my pillow, staring up at the ceiling until my heavy eyelids drifted shut and my breaths came more slowly.

Huh. I glanced around the depthless blackness and blinked a few times. Lucid dreaming again? I furrowed my brow and gave my jaw a scratch. Well, Hani hugging me probably did something weird to my brain. I stretched my torso this way and that, cracked my knuckles.

“Good timing,” I said to myself as I took a sweeping look around. “What’ll it be tonight?” A smile crept across my lips as I rubbed my palms together.

“Namjoon?”

I jumped, a scream escaping me from someplace deep in my chest, and whipped around in a half-circle towards the source of the voice. And that’s when I saw her. My eyes went wide, gaping, as the memories came flooding back in a wave that nearly bowled me over.

Standing in a baggy sleep shirt and too-big patterned pajama pants was the girl from the night before. Eunbyul. Her hair was a mess of black curls waving around her chin, furrowing her strong brow at me. Like the night before, she possessed a sad, quiet kind of charm. With slightly downturned eyes and clothes that looked like they might swallow her whole, she was the sort of person you wanted to take care of. The kind of person you worried didn't take care of themselves.

She pushed round-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with a sniff and gave me a squint, face flushed. Had she been crying again? Was she scared again? She remembered my name, but did she remember everything else?

Suddenly, my heart was racing and so was my head and anxious questions began swirling around my mind, impossible to ignore. But when I spoke, none of them came out. Instead-

“You’re here again,” I said, unable to stop myself.

She blinked at me and for a long moment, we simply locked eyes. Neither said anything, perhaps both of us being too wary of the other to speak. But after an endless silence, she cracked a crooked smile, revealing bright teeth and a pleasant pinch in the apples of her cheeks.

She chuckled, rubbing the bare back of her neck. “Ah, uh…yeah. I guess,” she said, voice soft. She had a peculiar sort of voice, breathy, almost uncertain. I was certain I’d recognize it anywhere.

I opened and closed my jaw a few times, struggling for words, before simply settling for a laugh. “Well, uh…hi,” I said with a smile.

She returned it, albeit hesitantly. She crossed her arms over her torso and her eye went hazy with thought. “Say, did you remember the dream from last night?” she asked, brows knit as she met my eyes once more.

I shook my head. “Not until I saw you.”

She set her lips thin and fixed me with a serious upward glance. “Same here.”

“Huh…”

She paced around in the dark for a moment, mouth pursed in thought, pausing every few paces to adjust her glasses. “I wonder why…”

I chuckled. “Well,” I began, taking up the space beside her and matching her pace, stride for stride, “the memory is unreliable. Some people can’t remember their dreams at all unless they write them down right away.”

She halted her pacing and crossed her arms, looking up at me. “This feels different though, doesn’t it? Like…I don’t know, like the memory of the dream just got wiped completely.”

“If you’re gonna keep getting hung up on all the details that don’t make sense, you’re gonna be here all night,” I said, then laughed. “No pun intended.”

She scoffed. “How can you be so blasé about all this? Aren’t you…freaked out?” she asked, voice getting quieter as she lost her steam.

I shrugged. “None of this adds up anyway. So why not just enjoy it?” I asked, cocking a brow with a smile.

“It’s…it’s not that easy, you know,” she said, then sighed. “You’re…I guess you’re more adaptable than me.”

I paused a moment, scanning her. Her somber eyes were set on the nothing beneath her bare feet, arms wrapped around her torso like she was holding herself together at the seams. I swallowed hard and thought for a moment, focusing hard on a memory.

When I opened my eyes we were standing in the middle of an empty footpath, blooming trees and bushes creating a blanket that stretched on before us. Vibrant pinks, oranges, and yellows dotted the foliage that sloped downhill before us, like a mural. Down the path, a pond and a few traditional buildings. The sun was tempered by gently rolling clouds, and the sky felt limitless overhead.

And there were no people besides us.

After all, my brain couldn’t conjure all the faces I saw that day.

She blinked at the scenery around her, wind rustling through the trees, caressing the baby hairs along her temples. Her eyes went wide, lips forming an O, and her hands fell to her sides as she whirled around a few times, looking at the view from all angles.

“What-,” she began, then looked back at me, wild. “Namjoon, what’s all this?”

I smiled and stretched my arms out wide, embracing the abundance around me. “The Garden of Morning Calm,” I said. “I came here when I was a kid. Back when I lived in Sangdo-dong.”

“You lived there too?” she asked, brows high.

I nodded, taking a few easy steps down the path. She jogged to reach me, still staring up at me, imploring. “Yeah, when I was young. Anyway…I just…,” I began, feeling sheepish under her disarming gaze. I glanced away, toward the horizon line, and cleared my throat. “This place makes me feel calm, so I figured maybe it would do the same for you.”

She slowed down a little, watching me from behind for a moment before catching up once again. She stumbled a little over her pajama bottoms. “I-it does,” she said, catching herself before she tripped. She kept her eyes down, watching her feet carefully, as she found her pace beside me. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I know I must seem…kinda nonchalant about all this but….” I shrugged and took a deep breath of the fresh, autumn air. “I dunno. This place…it’s pretty incredible.”

“Funny,” she said with a soft chuckle. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been terrified of this dream but…you’ve been enjoying it, huh?”

I smiled. “It’s like a little vacation from life, I guess,” I said, and I almost regretted it. Way to go, I thought with a cringe, saying something sad like that to a stranger…

But to my relief, she simply offered a pensive hum and a nod. “I never thought of it that way.”

I blinked at her, silhouetted against the fall foliage and vibrant sun, and saw in her expression nothing but a pensive quietude. Like I could have said anything she she wouldn’t have thought I was strange. I felt my cheeks warm a little, and cleared my throat.

“Up here is a gazebo,” I said, pointing up ahead.

She squinted down the path and smiled softly. “Nice,” she said.

I chuckled. “Those glasses…you weren’t wearing them last night,” I said, reaching out to guide them up her nose again. “The nose pads are too far apart.”

She jumped a little at my touch before settling and squaring a look at me. “Well, they’re old,” she said with a little purse of her lips, crossing her arms as we neared the gazebo. “I didn’t want to be a bother when I got them fitted, so I just said they were fine.”

She led the way inside, ducking her head just a little as she crossed the three-stepped threshold into the structure. Crawling greenery stretched out across the exterior, and some of the vines reached through the cracks in the ceiling, but it felt nice in the shade. Gently, she took a seat and exhaled, patting the tops of her pajamaed thighs. She glanced up at me as I stood in the center of the rounded room and raised her brows.

“You gonna sit?” she asked, taking a peek at the space beside her on the dark wood bench.

“Ah…sure.” I quickly joined her, aware of the slightly awkward space between us. Despite being in this dream together, we were strangers after all. What could we really talk about?

“I had an appointment today in Sangdo-dong,” she began, watching her bare toes. “With my therapist.”

“Therapist?” I asked, then shook my head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

She chuckled. “Not like either of us will remember this in the morning anyway,” she said with a shrug. “But…yeah, a therapist.”

I inhaled fresh air and sighed slowly. I knew I shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t pry, but she was right anyway. What’s the use in holding back in a situation like this? “What for?”

“Anxiety,” she said with a sigh. “Since I was young. Before the dreams even.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. I eyed her, careful not to say something insensitive, and saw again that thoughtful, distant look. “How did it go?”

“Not well.”

“Oh…”

“I told him I’ve been struggling trying to figure things out, and he told me I needed to spend more time thinking on it,” she said with a scoff. “Imagine that. Thinking more about something I think about all day.”

“What’re you struggling with?” I asked, and regretted it right after. Too far, definitely. She’d fix me with a glare and we wouldn’t speak anymore. She’d be rightfully put off.

“Trying to find something that makes me feel like a person,” she said with a single nod.

And with that, my heart rate slowed. Such a simple sentence, but it packed a punch. “I understand that,” I said.

She glanced at me. “How?”

“Well…sometimes it’s easy to get swept up in the swing of surviving and forget what it is that makes you feel alive,” I said, and against my will my mind returned to the beach last night, staring at the slope of Hani’s shoulder, her eyes glittering. I cleared my throat and leaned back.

She smiled. “Seems like you need to talk more than I do,” she said, raising her brows.

I swallowed hard and focused on my clasped hands. “Just…someone from my past.”

“You don’t have to be vague with me,” she said with a laugh. “Like I said, I won’t remember anyway.” She seemed…lighter tonight than she had before. Almost like something bobbing in the water, coming up for air and staying there, suspended.

“My ex,” I said, sighing. “She’s…she’s difficult.”

Eunbyul raised her brows. “You fighting?”

I smiled. “No, no. Nothing like that, just…we can’t seem to get a clean break, you know? Like…we can’t move on from being around each other. Even though it’s unhealthy,” I said, then shook my head. “I’m sure you get it.”

“I don’t,” she said, stretching her torso this way and that before settling and meeting my eyes, innocent. I furrowed my brow, and she maintained her gaze. “I’ve never dated.”

“Huh?” I asked, surprised.

She laughed. “I don’t really know how to interact with people,” she said with a nod. “Or maybe…I can interact if there’s no pressure. Like right now. If I don’t feel like I’m in the way or being a burden.” She waved her hands. “Anyway, tell me more so I can understand.”

I blinked at her, at the round, flushed apples of her cheeks, the flashing whites of her eyes as she turned her head to look at the trees swaying before us. “Um…,” I began, thinking. “Well…we’ve been friends for a long time. So breaking up was tricky, you know? What was our relationship supposed to be from then on? Did we go back to friends? Did we cut ties? Did we slowly distance ourselves?”

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I see.”

“I think…for me, the healthiest option is to completely remove her from my life, you know? It’s no good for me to keep spending time with her.” I wrung my hands a little and sighed. “I can’t figure out where the boundaries are anymore.”

“Have you talked to her about it?” asked Eunbyul, poking her big toe against the wood floorboard.

“I…kinda.”

“Kinda isn’t really good enough,” she said, still poking, eyes transfixed on her foot, hands gripping the bench seat. “In relationships, you have to be explicit to avoid misunderstandings. Communication is the most important thing,” she said, then chuckled. “Although I’m not the authority on all that.” She paused her poking and met my eyes with a gentle, knowing smile. “If you don’t know where the boundaries are, you gotta place them yourself.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my thoughts evaded me the longer she looked up at me, strands of waving hair falling behind her glasses, touching the tops of her eyes. It looked like she expected something from me. Not a response or a reaction, not really anything like that.

It seemed like all she expected was for me to understand her.

I nodded. “That’s…shockingly astute,” I said with a laugh, rubbing my jaw as I finally broke the tense eye contact.

She smiled and leaned back against the bench. “I wanna try showing you something,” she said, standing to her feet and padding gently toward the center of the gazebo. She turned to me. “Just…try to see it in my head?”

“See it, feel it, hear it, smell it,” I said, then smirked. “Taste it, if you can.”

She laughed and nodded. “I’ll…I’ll try tasting it then,” she said as she shut her eyes tight.

For a moment, nothing changed. Just the same gazebo, the same scent of damp wood and crisp air, the same sunlight stretching in shafts between branches. But after a few moments, I saw something on the horizon. The sky was bleeding from cerulean to navy blue, stretching slowly overhead. The scenery went fuzzy before disappearing entirely and emerging again, morphed. The geological features began to sharpen as Eunbyul simply stood there, eyes shut, a charming wrinkle between her brows as she concentrated. And, before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of a desert I didn’t recognize, midnight sky above and orange sand underfoot. I scanned the area and saw open space in every direction, rock stacks eroded over time standing erect around the horizon. In the sky was a portrait of stars, so many I couldn’t possibly count them, and small shrubby bushes punctured the iron-red ground as it extended endlessly.

Eunbyul opened her eyes and, without sparing a single moment, broke into an infectious grin that pulled her eyes nearly shut and exposed her canines. She turned around a few times before laughing and clapping her hands. “No way!” she exclaimed, and her voice echoed through the canyon.

I smiled. “What’s this place?” I asked.

She turned to me with a wild, breathless smile and I felt my heart kick up. Just a little. A warm desert wind swept through the valley and kicked up dust, playing with the ends of her dark hair. “I went camping once on a vacation to the US. With my family. This was my favorite night. Nobody around, just us,” she said with a nod, bending her neck so she could stare right at the sky. She pointed. “See all the constellations?”

I raised my brows and glanced up with her. Indeed, it seemed the stars, although innumerable, were positioned perfectly. I recognized the Big Dipper, dangling in the sky like it was pouring stars onto black and blue canvas of sky.

“Do you know a lot about constellations?” I asked.

“Gaeul taught me on this trip,” she said, grinning, then snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Sorry, Gaeul is my sister.” She was still smiling like mad, and her eyes were alight for the first time since we met.

I nodded. “Tell me something about them,” I said, smiling gently as I sat down on the dusty earth.

She joined me, holding her knees close to her chest, and pointed at the sky. “That’s Ursa Major,” she said, and I followed her eyes to the big dipper. “The ladle is just part of the bigger constellation, you know? It’s supposed to look like a bear.” She laughed, and the sound was soft, almost like an exhale. “In Roman myths, it’s all about Jupiter and Callisto and jealousy and turning into bears, but I like the Korean myth better.”

“What’s that?” I asked, dropping my eyes from the sky to her.

“There was a widow who had seven sons, and became fond of a widower across the river. Her sons wanted to help her cross the water, so they each put down a stone for her to walk across. The mother didn’t know her sons put the rocks in the water. But she was grateful so she blessed the stones and when her sons died, they became stars,” she said, smiling so softly it was barely there. Just a tilt of her lips.

I watched her as she spoke, barely lit by the moon and the stars, eyes aglow. It was familiar, like before with Hani. But this felt decidedly different. Everything was different.

If only I could remember it in the morning…

“That’s a beautiful story,” I said with a smile.

She turned to me and nodded. “I think so too,” she said, then sighed and gave my shoulder a pat. “You’re a good person, Namjoon. I can tell.”

I chuckled. “And you’re not as bad at socializing as you think you are.”

She smirked. “I told you,” she began, leaning back on her palms with a sigh. “Low stakes make it easy to say what you want without being scared.”

“I wonder why we keep ending up here together,” I pondered idly.

She smiled. “You’re the one who said not to get hung up on the details that don’t make sense,” she said, then turned her head to look at the stars again.

“You seem awfully easygoing,” I remarked with a laugh.

She grinned and her eyes went small again. “I see what you mean now,” she said, sighing. “About this being like a vacation from life.”

I watched her for a moment before I felt something tugging. Just like before. And, from the way her eyes got round and her shoulders pinched, I was pretty sure Eunbyul felt it too. We locked gazes, neither one saying anything, and struggling against the pull in my chest, I reached out my hand, extending it toward her.

She blinked at it before, wordlessly, she took it in both of hers and shook it up and down. “Until next time,” she said with a serious look my way.

I nodded, letting my hand fall against the dirt. “Until next time.”

I awoke with heart palpitations. Blinking rapidly, I rubbed my face and patted down the sweat that had begun to dot my forehead. I glanced toward the clock on the wall. 4:03 again. Grumbling, I turned over onto my stomach and smashed my face against the pillows, yanking my blankets over my head.

“Stupid brain,” I mumbled into the sheets, exhaling long and slow.

I tried to force myself back to sleep, tried to will my brain to power down like an old desktop computer. I rolled onto my side, curling my legs up toward my chest. When that didn’t work, I thumped over onto my back once more and spread my arms wide, like I was physically begging for the embrace of unconsciousness. Long seconds ticked by, marked with the sound of my clock, always ticking like a metronome.

“Ugh,” I groaned, sitting upright with a frown. I glanced around the room and saw my phone still sitting on the charger. If I wasn’t getting back to sleep, the least I could do to sate my hyperactive brain was scroll mindlessly through Twitter.

I grabbed for the phone and unlocked it, but before I could tap the little blue app icon, I noticed a new text message in the bottom corner of the screen. I raised my brows and opened it. Sent at 2:39 AM.

Hani: Call me please.

Panic.

I jumped up and sat on my knees, typing her number in by heart. I pressed the phone to my ear and listened with bated breath to the dial tone. It was taunting me, every painfully slow drone and the endless pauses between. I counted five rings before they stopped altogether and I was met with nothing but radio silence.

“Hani?” I asked, frantic, breathless.

She sniffled on the other end and I collapsed against my bed with relief. “Hey.”

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” I asked, words stumbling into one another like a clumsy line.

“Sorry, it’s just…,” she began, then sniffled again. “It’s Sooyoung.”

“Fuck, Hani, is she alright? Is she safe?” I asked, heart hammering.

“Yeah, yeah she’s fine,” she said. “God, I’m so sorry. I keep doing this.”

“Hani what happened?”

She paused a moment before taking a shaky breath in. “She called me drunk.”

I was silent, just listening to the arrhythmic pattern of her breath. “Hani…”

“It’s fine, I called my folks and they found her in the basement. But…fuck, I dunno I got, like, a glimpse into her future,” she said, then paused. “And it looks a lot like mine.”

“Hani, are you alright?” I asked carefully, resting against the pillows with furrowed brows. “Have you slept?”

“Can’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Joonie,” she said with a sigh. “I just…Joon, could I…could I maybe come over? Watch a movie or something?”

I stiffened. Bad idea. Horrible, terrible, really bad idea. Blurring more lines, crossing more barriers…at this rate, I’d be heartbroken until the day I died. It wasn’t like I was her only friend. She’d always been popular, and even when we were dating she’d go to Joohee before she’d ever go to me with a problem. Why now did it seem like she needed me so profoundly?

If you don’t know where the boundaries are, you gotta place them yourself.

I felt my stomach pang a little. Where had I heard that? Gently, I patted my chest in the hopes of settling my heart down. I knew what the right decision was. It was painfully obvious to anyone that I couldn’t let her come over, let her cross the threshold and reenter my intimate space. I knew the implications.

I sighed and braced myself, holding the phone close against my hot cheek. I shut my eyes, ran a hand through my unruly hair, and nodded my head. “Um…,” I began, opening my eyes only halfway to stare with disappointment at the clock across from my bed. “Yeah, Hani. Of course.”

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[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Struck with a sudden major desire to write stuff for the Bullshit Defense AU even though that’s not my NaNo project, but I’m mitigating that somewhat by rereading and releasing into the wild this technically-finished piece that at the time I wasn’t quite happy enough with it to post, but now I’m just like, sure, here you go. I like it more than I don’t, so up it goes.

---

Miles texts her when the jury reaches its verdict on Vera Misham: Not Guilty. Franziska thanks him for telling her and ignores further attempts to engage her in conversation, returning to work that seems suddenly less important than the prospect of overhauling their entire legal system, putting an end to the madness that has plagued her entire lifetime. She could have consulted on this project, on the committee, had the offer, and refused, recommending Simon instead. He refused, also; the phantom is the only thing with his undivided attention, as much now as six years ago. She had guessed that would happen but still thought that he would be a better prosecutorial consultant than her, she who can barely connect to people and has no idea what should go into the selection and mechanics of a jury, versus he who has made his bones on cracking open the heads of everyone he ever crosses paths with.

Mia texts her later, telling her where they “all” – who is all? All of the defense attorneys in the family? All of the lawyers in the Edgeworth-Fey family but Franziska? – have gathered to discuss the trial and the system. Her father’s office – no, Ray’s now, Ray’s since her father’s retirement – is the biggest of all of them, the best place for going on ten people to have a rousing debate. She’s curious what happened in the trial, too curious, and finally by four she gives in and packs up for the day. Sebastian is in his office when she swings by, telling him she is leaving; he asks her if she has seen Gavin. She hasn’t, wonders if he just didn’t come back after the trial, but his car is parked a few spots down from hers in the garage. In hiding, then? For the loss, or something worse?

The Justice-Shields Law Office on the window still takes her by surprise. She was never even used to seeing Shields Law Office before it changed, again, and she won’t admit it to Ray but he was right and that is very much a badass name for a law firm. 

The conversation hits her before the door is halfway open, and then when it is closed behind her, a pen hits her, flung loose from Lana’s hand while she was gesturing and yelling at Diego. He probably deserves it. Miles steps in, on Lana’s side, and Mia tosses them all a Look before she resumes talking to Ray. Trucy is bouncing around all of them; Gregory and Phoenix are off to the side, deep in conversation, both wearing deeply serious expressions. Apollo is perched on the couch closest to the door, looking dazed. Franziska sits next to him.

“You should see our full family dinners,” she says. “Louder, and so many more flying objects, but just as much legal debate.”

“How much more family do you have?” Apollo asks. “I thought mine was chaotic, and it’s just six of us.”

“This is only half,” Franziska says. Apollo swears under his breath, a word or language she doesn’t recognize. “Just the lawyers.” And ex-lawyers: one retired (sort of, mostly), two stripped of their badges. 

They sit there in silence for a while, listening to the conversation that bounces about the office, over to them. Lana, with her jaw set, is speculating on what she thinks about the ability of prosecutors to adapt to or accept the new system. She might be a decade removed from the office, but not much about it has changed. Franziska is glad to have Simon and Sebastian on her side for the uphill battle that it will be. Miles, listening and saying nothing, keeps glancing over at Franziska. Mia is wrestling another cup of coffee out of Diego’s hands. 

“Aren’t you a prosecutor?” Apollo asks. Franziska nods. “I was surprised that Mr Wright didn’t pick you for the trial – at first anyway. Then it made sense that he got Prosecutor Gavin, but…”

“Phoenix Wright and I are not on good terms,” Franziska says, stiffer than she meant to, but there are no good ways to say any of this. “Not at this time.”

Apollo suddenly looks like he regrets asking. “Oh.”

“I haven’t heard the details of the case,” Franziska says. She might not be good with people but even she can tell that Apollo is eager for a conversational redirect and has no idea what to do. “I am surprised that he requested Klavier Gavin for the case, as well.”

So Apollo explains a story seven years old, and it seems to her a final nail in the coffin that she learns Phoenix’s story from someone who is not him. Seven years that he could have sought help, seven years of isolating himself – now he has burned that bridge and Franziska is happy to leave it broken.

No. Not happy. But what else is there to do?

She is about to stand, maybe leave, maybe talk to Miles, when Trucy comes over, and without greeting or preamble, her smile falling off her face, flings herself onto the couch next to Franziska, leaning her head against her shoulder. Franziska leans back. Now she is stuck.

She lingers for a few hours, speaking with whoever comes over to her, Trucy, and Apollo. Phoenix is not one of them. An email from Simon finally jars her back to the reality of the work she is neglecting, and she gently nudges Trucy off her shoulder. Phoenix calls out to her as she is leaving, but she lets the door swing closed behind her and starts down the stairs.

“Franziska!”

She doesn’t stop until she is at the bottom of the stairs and she turns, waiting for Phoenix to hurry down after her. “Franziska, wait.”

They haven’t spoken face-to-face, the two of them, since that day in April in the defendant lobby. She raises her chin and stares him down, unwilling to extend a hand or a single word until he does first.

“Would your father be proud of this?” he asks. He sounds bitter, spiteful, the way he has come to sound more and more as the years without his badge wore on. She is almost grateful for that; she doesn’t have to feel bad about what she said, not when he is bringing it back up with an edge as sharp as hers was.

“Of course not,” she snaps back. “He is like Kristoph Gavin – a superiority complex and a desperate need for control over the course of a trial. He will be disgusted to hear of this Jurist System.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Franziska agrees. “But, if he knew, my father” – she tilts her chin up toward the office at the top of the stairs – “knew, he would not be so proud of this.”

There. That shames him, his eyes falling toward the ground, head ducking just slightly. “Gregory Edgeworth would be ashamed of you if he knew,” she snarls, like a wolf who has seen the throat of its prey and will only tear in deeper with that opening. “Mia Fey would be. All of them.”

“Then tell them,” Phoenix says, and if her eyes were closed when she heard him speak those words, it would sound like a defiant challenge – but he has not looked at her. His stare is haunted, fixed on the wall. “Then go ahead and tell them. Why haven’t you?”

For Miles, she thinks, for Miles, because he loves you. But that is not the answer, maybe the barest part of it – the reason she has forgiven Miles for forgiving him – that cannot explain why it is still a raw open wound in her chest while she stands here. “Because I have no wish to hurt them,” she answers. “Not the way you hurt me and my brother both.”

At that, he looks at her, and raises one eyebrow, doubtfully. “You?” he asks.

Does he doubt that? Does he doubt that her anger was not multifaceted, twisted together with pain? Does he not think that she loves him, has always, at times more than she loved her own stubborn, frustrating brother? The words feel less like she is spitting them and more that they are torn from her. “I believed in you,” she snarls, in a way that is both whisper and scream from a raw, mangled throat. “I believed in you, always! From when we were children, from when you decided that the future you wanted was to wear that badge--!” She jabs a finger into his chest, where the badge should be though it has been lost longer than he ever had it, the ghost of something gold. “From when you lost it, I believed in you! I believed that you would never – I defended you! Against every word in the Prosecutors Office, I argued for you, I defended you, I spent weeks working to convince Sebastian, Simon, that I knew you and you would never, ever, ever do – I knew you and you never could--!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” he says, frustratingly blasé, and her mind is still catching up to that by the time she has slapped him, purely instinct driving her, the way she didn’t in April because she had words that could cut him deeper.

“You could have asked me for help! Any of us would have, but I – I would have dropped everything! If you had just asked, you fool!”

Simon asked, eventually, despite the danger, and Franziska did not hesitate. She would not have hesitated for Phoenix, not for anything, nothing more important, not for the world. 

“I know,” he says. “And that’s why I didn’t.”

He holds up an arm to block her slap this time. “You could not have known what Kristoph Gavin was! Not then! That he was willing to murder a child to keep his secrets! You had no reason to be afraid!”

“I didn’t have evidence, no,” he says, “but I was.”

“And I have worked more dangerous cases than that of Kristoph Gavin,” she snaps. Is working, now. “I am not afraid for my life, for the sake of the truth!”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he says.

“It does! It will always matter! Your crime does not go away! Not when you fall to the level of my father, of Damon Gant, of the corruption I have sworn to stand against! I cannot compromise, not for anyone, not even for you, Phoenix Wright, because I--”

– could easily become that. Wouldn’t it be so easy to fall, so much simpler – if she knows of guilt then why fight for every half-relevant shred of evidence when she could just create it? Wouldn’t it be easy to think herself perfect, self-righteous, the sole arbitrator –

Because I am afraid to become what my name bids me to be. What others think me because of that legacy.

She’s crying now, hadn’t realized she was close to doing that until she feels the first tears sliding down her cheeks, watches Phoenix’s face fall. “Do not look at me with that pity, Phoenix Wright! I don’t need that from you – do not pretend that you are sorry for what you have done!”

“I’m sorry there wasn’t another way,” he says. “But now there is, and that’s what I wanted to do. Make sure that doesn’t happen again. Make sure no one is backed into the corner I was.”

“There was another way for you!” she screams. “There always was! I believed in you! My entire life, I was sure! And you – you disappointed me! I was wrong about you!”

And he didn’t even kill anyone. She wonders how close the Gavin brothers were, once, before seven long years – she wonders if what she is feeling is just a fraction of Klavier’s pain.

Thinking about him just unsettles her more.

“Franziska, I--” Phoenix stops. He presses a hand to his eyes. “No, you’re right. What am I supposed to say?”

“That you’re a fool.” She wipes her cheeks dry. “You’re a foolish fool.”

“Yeah, I am. Right as ever.”

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“This – this agreement! This not fighting!”

“You want me to yell back at you?”

“Yes! Then perhaps I could hate you! Then I could just be angry that you are a fool instead of just – sad. Sad that you are – this now!”

She can’t hate him; she could never, not Phoenix, who she has known for as long as she has known her brother and her father; who she has spent a lifetime more time with than the father who gave her her name. But she does want to. She wants to very much.

“Fran?”

She doesn’t look back at him.

“Are you going to start coming to family dinners again? Trucy misses seeing you – Miles does too.”

They didn’t talk about Zak – Franziska wasn’t going to bring it up if Trucy didn’t – but she doesn’t doubt that her niece will want to talk about it someday. And their situations might not be identical – Franziska was too young when she was adopted – but she thinks she, of anyone, can understand the conflict best.

Families are difficult things.

“I might,” she says. “For Trucy’s sake.”

-

Gavin’s car is already in the lot when Franziska arrives in the morning, but around noon Sebastian comes by her office to ask again if she has seen him, because he isn’t responding to any knocking on his door. “He might not want to speak with you, or anyone,” she says, then dragging him into her office to give him the abridged summary of what happened in the trial with Gavin’s brother.

“I mean, he still doesn’t have to avoid me,” Sebastian says, looking more worried than ever, fidgeting with a pen he plucked off Franziska’s desk. “He was already working here as well when – my father – he knows that I know that…”

That he is not to blame for the sins of a man whose name and blood he shares. There are three of them in that club, now.

She doesn’t try and seek out Gavin because she knows she will be less welcome than Sebastian, has made herself less welcome. Later in the afternoon she is taking the stairs back up to her office, absorbed in a memo, when suddenly there is someone else in front of her, who she nearly runs into. He springs out of the way and she manages to process who it is who is using the stairwells in which Franziska almost never sees anyone else.

“Frau von Karma.”

Professional conduct be damned, she had nearly slapped him the first – and only – time he called her Fraülein. He learned his lesson quickly. “Prosecutor Gavin. Sebastian Debeste has been looking for you. He wished to speak to you about the Jurist System.”

Gavin’s expression betrays nothing. He has as good of a poker face as Phoenix does, as his brother did. “Ja. I will keep that in mind.” Beneath his eyes are shadows of exhaustion, the kind that she sees often on Miles or Phoenix. Again she wonders how close he and Kristoph were – and even before, several months ago, there was his bandmate, the detective. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

He presses up against the wall and sidles past her; she nearly lets him go, but something is still eating away at her. I didn’t ask you to do that. “Prosecutor Gavin, wait,” she says.

Looking down at him, she remembers herself and Phoenix, yesterday, a different stairwell at a different office, and a conversation about the same things in the way. The same ghosts linger on all of their shoulders. She hasn’t thought far enough ahead to know what to say. “I… am sorry about your brother.”

He closes his eyes, his shoulders hitching up with a sharp breath. “Frau von Karma,” he says, “I know you don’t like me, and I have made my peace with that. You don’t have to pretend any sympathy. It demeans us both to pretend, ja?”

His smile is gut-wrenchingly sad.

She was wrong. God, was she wrong.

“I…” It is easier to admit it to herself than to speak the sentiment into being. It always has been with anything soft. “I was mistaken,” she says. “In my assessment of you. I thought your brother’s crime was yours, and I – that was incorrect.”

His mouth twists. Is it her failure to properly apologize that is the problem? The words have dried up in her throat, even thinking of how her father, and Ray, and all of them would be proud of her if she can manage to admit wrongdoing, how Phoenix always frowned at the rancor she directed at Klavier Gavin, never joining in, often telling her to lay off him, Fran; there’s nothing to suggest that he did anything wrong.

Not him, but the other. How long did Phoenix know? “I was mistaken,” she repeats. The proper words have died again on her tongue. “And while I cannot say that I understand fully what it is you have gone through, I do know – somewhat, at a lesser amount, what it is to think you know someone and have them let you down. And what it is to be judged on the crimes of another who shares your name.”

He is still silent, looking at her with those sad, tired eyes, like a kicked dog. “That is all,” she says, and it’s not, it’s not, not when Apollo and Ray both clearly think highly of him as a prosecutor, not when she has not uttered I am sorry, not when the matter of Phoenix hangs on her like a shroud. She hated him, for her belief in Phoenix, that he could not be capable of the crime accused – and he proved himself capable of it, and Gavin proved himself honest.

She is almost turned back up the stairs to leave, cursing her own stubborn foolish pride that turns her tongue to lead, she has fought and clawed her way into her position and she cannot admit that she has been so wrong to another much like herself, when he speaks. His voice is nothing more than a murmur, barely audible over the clack of her heels on the steps. “Danke, Frau von Karma.”

“Guten Tag, Herr Gavin,” she says, and she stands there with her back turned until she has heard him leave.

#i'm sorry that this one has an ending that's just barely bittersweet it's just fucking bitter #fran and phoenix do end up becoming close again and smoothing that wound over but it takes another year till the end of DD #which is a thing i want to write someday but. i'm trying to prioritize one project and then rl stuff at a time #bullshit defense au #bullshit defense fic #is it obvious that fran is my favorite character in this entire damn au? PROBABLY IS.

[pinkletterday]

Okay so the Flash tag was very misleading. This wasn't the best 100th episode they could have done but it was the sweetest.

Don't get me wrong, none of that painfully contrived plot made a lick of sense, starting with being so blasé about going back in time when its pretty much the golden rule for them to not do that anymore (and er. Did Hunter Solomon just get Time Wraithed five episodes too early? What?) Nora not knowing Eobard killed her grandmother what in fuck and the whole thing about popping up the same day S2 Barry did (I know it was supposed to be all tense and menacing but I was giggling so hard. Someone should write a fic about various Barry Allens interrupting Thawne's work day to heckle him into fixing more and more shit. "Hi. My name is Barry Allen. You killed my mother. How do I fix the plumbing in STAR Labs? Bitch.")

AND FOR GOD'S SAKE WHY DID THEY KEEP VOLUNTEERING THAWNE INFORMATION.

After all that, the plan didn't even work.

BUT OH MY GOD I LOVED KILLER FROST. She is the most badass bitch and I can tell DP has a blast playing her. Train her up and send her against Cicada for real, cause that fight I would watch.

I loved seeing Eowells with Cisco and Caitlin, I loved revisiting all those milestone moments through Nora's eyes, and my God this episode was 75 % the tour de force that is Tom Cavanaugh. He nailled every scene - the suave menace of pre-series Eowells, the barely contained malice of S1 Eowells, the frenetic single-minded, almost callous version of Harry we first met and (sigh) Sherloque. Who somehow managed to be so distinct from the other personas that I didn't even think to compare his absurdity to the groundedness of Harry and Eowells. Cavanaugh's direction was also beautiful and seamless, even with all the recycled shots.

I didn't even mind missing Iris as much as I would have - she was always there somehow, maybe because of Nora. Mama Flash trying her hardest not to be the closed off woman who holds her daughter back, encouraging her husband to do the same. And then stepping back and letting them do their thing, trusting them to come back home to her.

Seeing her shooting Savitar to save Barry, seeing her be the one to hold and comfort him before they were ever together and then watching them so young and innocent waiting in the crowd during the pilot really encapsulated their journey together (thank god Eddie wasn't in this. Nothing against the character, I just hate that he existed at all). Iris has always been Barry's secret hope through his whole life. During the Zoom episode they were still tentatively trying to find a new footing between feelings that could not yet be spoken and the entirety of S3 was spent in terror that fate would still rip her away. Now they're rock solid and their daughter is right there next to Barry, the promise and realization of everything he had ever hoped for him and Iris.

I love Iris and Westallen, but The Flash has always been Barry Allen's story first. Taking his daughter through the journey of all his mistakes and defeats instead of his victories was such an aching, vulnerable choice. I'm not perfect, I've never been the man you think I was, I have made so many mistakes and been hurt so badly and all I have learned from it is how much I cannot change, no matter how powerful I become, no matter how much I love. It was the moment when he went from "father" to "Barry Allen" in Nora's eyes; when she started to see him as a person first. I understand and I still want to know you. Still love you. It was the most heartaching moment. And such a shock for Nora to realize that they both know the trauma of losing a parent, such a terrible connection to share.

Nora visiting her grandparents killed me. The Allens so young and happy and whole, not knowing their lives are about to be ripped apart in moments. Barry simply turning up at her side, almost casually, guessing she'd go there because he does the same thing. The quiet, sad resignation in his eyes when he says "every day." He has had to experience and accept Nora's own nightmare, that nothing she does will change her family's fate. How many times has he time travelled just to see his parents like this, knowing he could change it but also knowing the price of doing so is too great? His family in front of him, flesh and blood and alive, but still only ghosts he can never touch nor save?

But then Nora's there, again the living reminder of all that he stands to gain, all that of himself and his loves that will continue. Nora carries Barry's mother and father in her blood, Iris and Joe, and the legacy of his own life. And she's there, smiling at him, pulling him out of the past into the future.

Barry is still young, but he's aged beyond his years. The non-linear confusion of his life doesn't help him advance in stages. He's twenty-five and shaped by a vendetta ten years into the future, he's twenty seven and faced with himself a thousand years old and warped, he's watched every timeline unfold in the Speed Force till his mind broke apart, and now he's the father of a young woman he's never yet held as a baby and still loves with all his heart because she is his. It's such a surreal dissonance of age and identity when Nora calls him "old man". For a moment, he remembers that he's still young, and young enough to be hilariously offended by it.

I'm not going to touch on the Nora-working-with-Thawne "reveal" because we've seen that coming from the first. Instead I want to gush about Jessica Parker Kennedy. You guys, this woman is incredible. She was the sweetest, most precious thing this episode, the perfect audience surrogate. She has killed every scene she's in so far this season, so much so that her calling Barry and Iris "Mom and Dad" has never seemed weird, her love and connection to them has never seemed untrue, keeping her character so emotionally balanced right where she needs to sell it that we don't think overmuch about her bizarre age situation (2049? Really?). I don't know why this fandom doesn't appreciate her more, especially the Westallen fandom. Nora is literally the legacy of the show and of Barry and Iris's love. I cannot imagine anyone other than Jessica doing it so much justice.

Special notes:

- I wish we had more Golden Trio moments. Barry, Cait and Cisco's friendship was the lynchpin of the first two seasons and its disintegration in the third season is something that still hasn't been healed. SHOW ME BARRY'S CARE AND LOVE FOR CAITLIN SNOW. SHOW ME BARRY'S LOVE FOR CISCO.

- I am always torn between appreciating what this show wants to tell me and frustration of how badly it's usually told. Nora seeing Iris being Barry's comfort and support during one of his worst moments before they were ever together should have been heartwarming. But instead of showing a sweet, silent moment where Barry is allowed to curl up in her lap while she holds him in the aftermath of a traumatic experience, we see her pushing him to get up again before he even changes out of his suit. It made the scene seem so forced and contrived. Sometimes it's like the writers only know the theory of how humans work.

- It stood out to me again how embedded Cisco is in the emotional narrative of this show. It's Barry's story but Cisco's universe, his presence is vital, ubiquitous, pervasive. Seeing him innocent and sweet and vulnerable with Eowells, craving his approval, and then seeing him face down Cicada as a confident full-fledged superhero (are my baby's hands healed now?) was so satisfying. His character arc has been so amazing and consistent through four seasons of shoddy and uneven writing. He is literally the Samwise to Barry's Frodo and the fact that we havent heard stories of Uncle Cisco from Nora is a farce.

- I know fandom jumped on "at least you still have one" as a reference to Donovan's existence but I'm wondering if it's a reference to Thawne's own daughter Melonie. Did she still marry Don in his future or was she erased?

- I like that Eowells touched on the fact that Savitar was actually Barry. It gets persistently glossed over, that while Barry can't be held responsible for his future self, it was very much still him. I hate that Savitar was our Barry because the fact that any version of him could ever kill Iris is such a fundamental betrayal of his character, but jeez, if you're going to put it out there at least explore the ramfications of that concept in full.

- I missed Jesse L. Martin so much. I had really hoped we could have at least gotten five minutes of recycled footage of him.

- Also missed my cinnabun Cecile, and I want to see Iris interacting with her new sister! I need her to hold Jenna trying to imagine what Nora will feel like in her arms. I want Wally to be delighted at having a sibling he can watch grow up. GIVE ME MY WEST FAMILY DAMN IT.

- I still want my vow renewal (will literally kill someone for it at this point, preferably Guggy. No one will miss him) but that last iconic porch scene with the Allens is a compromise I can live with.

All in all, not the best 100th episode we could have gotten but very far from the worst.

#the flash 100th episode #the flash spoilers #recap #review #commentary #barry allen #iris west-allen #nora west-allen #cisco ramon #jessica parker kennedy #carlos valdez #tom cavanaugh #harrison wells #eobard thawne #caitlin snow #danielle panabaker #westallen