#but the immediate distance OWCH

[ghostcrows]

ugggh man the

the young pb episode is like. its sweet but its also like if i was finn i would kms immediately after all of that. the psychological fuckery would ruin my brain. i kinda get why he was huddled over a piece of her hair for an episode

[silverwhiteraven]

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 15 - An MLB Kryptonian AU

Tag List: @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @catthhay @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-navistar-carol @elspethshadow @chocolatecatstheron​ @ivymala07  Questionable Tags that don’t work?: @daminett4life @captainartsypants  @annabellabrookes  @eve-valution

[Author’s Note: Oh Hi there! This fic is now over a YEAR old! Woah!! ]

[ Summary: Ladybug figures out her Lucky Charm, just in the nick of time. ]

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 14 ] [ Chapter 16 ]

Ladybug was up high, holding on to the top of the Eiffel Tower like a cliche reenactment of that Dancing in the Rain scene where the man is swinging around a lamp post. Only, she’s over 300 metres above the ground instead of just one, and she’s admittedly quite terrified of looking directly downward. Still, she pushes down the instinct to be terrified and looks out, beyond the surrounding park below, towards the glowing lines still spreading through the city.

“Map, roads, landmarks, personal pins, lost items…” Ladybug’s mind tried to piece together all the little clues she had gathered. She looked down to her hand, a small roll of red paper clutched in it. Letting it unfurl, she took note of the various numbers and letters printed in black ink. There was almost a pattern to it, though they made no particular sense to her.

“Map, landmarks, numbers, map, landmarks, numbers,” she repeated to herself, before it clicked. “Numbers and personal pins, all on a map. These are coordinates-! Ack! ” She held tighter to the tower, her momentary distraction making her tilt a bit too far out.

Still continuing to avoid looking down, Ladybug took one more glance to the skyline, and a certain marker caught her eye. It was one of the unique ones, further out towards the edges of the growing map. It was moving. But it wasn’t along any of the main roads. At least not above ground. And the Akuma had mentioned the subway.

“More than just a map,” Ladybug realized. “Slowly growing like a buffer, keeping track of places and active transit routes... This is a GPS! Of course! Atlas lost something, now they’re trying to track it down!” She looked down toward her hand, “My Luck Charm must be-” and she saw the ground, far, far below.

And Ladybug thought she was scared earlier when she was swinging precariously through the streets of Paris by the cord of a yo-yo.

It didn’t help that an unexpected beeping suddenly invaded her ears just as wind whipped hair into her eyes, and by instinct both hands went to her ears, eyes screwed shut.

Ladybug gasped, breath catching and body stiffening as she realized she was tilting away from her perch on the tower once again. Only now, she didn’t have a hand holding her to it, and the arm that finally reached out to grab for something, anything , was a moment too late.

There was no scream as she fell, only the rush of air around her, contrasting to the lack of breathing in her chest. Her two masked eyes opened out of fright, flinching from the wind. For a moment, she didn’t know which way was up or down, until her peripheral saw the top observation deck pass by in a blur.

She reached for her yo-yo clumsily, and knowing every second counted toward saving herself only made her muscles refuse to cooperate. Barely managing to get a finger through the yo-yo’s ring, Ladybug threw her only weapon out, towards the beams of the tower, hoping beyond hope that it would catch hold.

Her luck held, and the yo-yo caught.

But she was still falling, of course, and as the ground grew closer and the string drew taunt, Ladybug squeaked as she was suddenly swinging into the force of her own pendulum.

She swung past the ground between the legs of the Eiffel Tower and went back upwards, straight up through the open center of the first observation deck.

Her breath caught again as gravity slowed her upward trek, and for a moment, she felt herself suspended in the open air.

That moment stretched longer.

Before her brain could question the fact she was closer to floating than actually reaching the peak of upward lift, gravity reclaimed Ladybug, and she was falling again.

“Ack! Gotta stop gotta stop-!”

Tugged at the string of her yo-yo as she went, and it expanded, dropping her closer to the ground than before. At the moment she swung parallel to the ground, she gave another tug, and the yo-yo’s main body, wherever it had caught on the tower above, let itself free, and Ladybug tumbled into a roll across the ground.

“Owch… I really need to get better at this,” She grumbled to herself as she staggered back to standing. A black clad figure slid into place beside her, a hand reaching out to give balance, the other with an extended baton held out defensively.

“You sure do, Buggy,” Oncilla said. “Welcome back to the battle. Sorry I couldn’t catch you myself, Atlas is surprisingly tough to distract.”

Ladybug shook her head, “Think nothing of it, I’m fine. Thanks for giving me the time I needed to figure out what to do.”

“No problem! So what’s the plan now?” Oncilla asked as she picked up a still unsteady Ladybug and jumped out of the way of Atlas as they charged forward. It had barely been a minute since she left the battle to call for her Lucky Charm, but Ladybug already felt like the last time she had been moving around this much had been an hour ago. She was really going to need to get used to this whole stop-and-go process, and hopefully soon.

“My Lucky Charm gave me coordinates. I noticed that this whole thing, all the changes to the city, it’s a giant GPS system, tuned in to the Akuma’s own needs.”

“How does that help us fight it?” Oncilla asks, puzzled.

“We- we might not have to, I think that’s the point. Sometimes, the best thing to do in a fight is to not fight, but to help ,” Ladybug realized. “Quick, put me down, I need to get Atlas’s attention.”

Oncilla did as asked, and Ladybug immediately started waving her arms over her head.

“Truce! We call a truce!! I know how we can help each other without needing to fight!”

The Akuma paused in their attack, before flying straight to Ladybug and stopping directly in front of her, an intimidating figure that made the new hero flinch. Oncilla stood close, tense.

“Explain,” Atlas commanded with a voice of steel. “You have 30 seconds.”

“You’re connected to the map that's imposed over the city, right?” A nod in response. “Well, I think we found your items that you lost. At least, sort of.”

“ Sort of? ” they growled, prompting the Black Cat user to step closer and growl back.

“You’ll have to confirm it for us,” Ladybug appeased gently. “I have coordinates, they should lead you where you need to go since you know how to use the map. But…” She paused, glancing at her partner before continuing more confidently, “But we have to trade. Your Akumatized item, for my Lucky Charm. You get what you need, and we get what we need. A fair trade, right?”

There’s a pause, stretched out by held breaths and the flickering of a butterfly outline over eyes.

Atlas glanced at Ladybug's earrings, just as they started to beep for a second time, and the hero gulped. Then, the supervillain stepped back.

“You have a deal,” Atlas proclaimed, clearly ignoring Hawk Moth’s interruption. The two heroes let out relieved breaths. “But you’re coming with me. If I don’t get what I want, you’re both going to pay dearly.”

Oncilla and Ladybug nod in understanding, Ladybug a bit nervous in contrast to Oncilla’s confidence. No, it was pride, directed at Ladybug. “You’re doing great, Little Lady,” the Black Cat hero reassured with a grin. “This will be over soon. Let’s go.”

And with that, Ladybug hands her Lucky Charm to Atlas, who in turn hands over their own item. It was nothing more than small, shaped sticky notes meant for organization. It felt unnerving in Ladybug’s hand, something so small and simple able to be used for something so strong and menacing.

The two heroes then followed Atlas as they pinpointed the exact location of the coordinates. It was near one of the personal landmarks, a place Ladybug didn’t know, but Atlas clearly knew it. After some frustrated searching, another round of beeping from the earrings, and a couple tense moments where the heroes thought the Akuma might blow their top, the missing items were found.

Atlas held the pack of calligraphy and felt tip pens like they meant the world to them.

“Thanks,” they said quietly, genuinely. They handed the no longer needed Lucky Charm back to Ladybug with an appreciative nod. “Do what you need to do. I don’t need Hawk Moth any longer. I can deal with my own battles myself.”

Ladybug turned to Oncilla, smiling big with the overwhelming emotions of an unexpected victory. “Want to do the honors?” she asked as she held out the Akumatized sticky notes.

“I’d be happy to,” Oncilla purred, taking the item in her ringed hand. “Cataclysm!”

The sticky notes disintegrated, and a dark butterfly emerged like it was hatching from a cocoon. Ladybug, with an encouraging nudge from Oncilla that also served as a reminder, took out her yo-yo once more, activated its ability to purify, and caught the little insect.

“Bye-bye, little butterfly,” she whispered to the creature as it fluttered away. Then, with a deep breath, she clutched the Lucky Charm before tossing it high; “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Ladybug jumped back with a squeak, surprised by the sudden burst of black, red, and white magic from the item, watching in awe as it swept down the streets and into the distance.

A fourth set of beeps rang in her ears, drawing her attention away with a start.

“I need to go! Oncilla, can you-?”

“I can cover the civilian and make sure they get home; don’t worry, I got this! See you later, Your Ladyship ,” the other hero reassured and teased with a playful wink.

Ladybug giggled and flushed at the whole embarrassing ordeal. “Yes, of course- See you around then, Lancelot ,” she managed to return the tease through her flustered state, before throwing out her yo-yo and pulling herself back towards home.

[artificialqueens]

Makes Me Wonder (Biadore)- Ortega

a/n: hey hey! happy holidays. i thought i’d write a lil somethin to get me back into the swing of writing since i’ve had a couple months off. it’s an idea i’ve had running around my head for a good good while, at least a year, and now it’s finally down so pls let me know what you think! this is set within the Just the Game We’re In universe but can absolutely be read standalone. title from the song of the same name by Ella Mai which really sums up what this fic is all about (issa vibe). is it too early for a new years’ eve fic? have it anyway, ya filthy animals xo

summary: Adore is a civil service comms girl in a government department who’s meant to be out with her friends. Bianca is the director of communications for the entire country’s government about twenty ranks above her who has no plans for the night other than getting the Prime Minister out of trouble. Tonight, they’re two women sharing a bottle of prosecco in an office high above the city on the last night of the year.

***

It’s eleven at night, and the glass frontage of the offices makes all the darkness flood in. Too high for the reach of the streetlamps, Bianca can see the tiny twinkly lights of the city below in the distance. From the position of the building most of London’s landmarks are hidden from view: the Eye, St Paul’s Cathedral, she knows that the Houses of Parliament are on the other side of the building, not that she’d want to see them. Bianca doesn’t mind. She became disillusioned with London in 2008, when she was presented with her third Prime Minister that didn’t have a clue what he was doing and it slowly dawned on her that maybe all you needed to get ahead in politics was a dick and a Ted Baker suit. Or to be a dick in a Ted Baker suit.

And now here she is running after yet another enormous man-child, pre-emptively doing a mop-up job that she knows she will be tasked with when government returns in the New Year. She knows that a supposedly off-the-record journalist ambushed him at a New Years’ Eve party about an hour ago, asked him something about immigration figures that if he didn’t know sober he’d know even less after six sherries, so Bianca knows that all the papers will be primed to really go in on that subject next time they have a chance. She needs a file, she knows exactly the one- a huge blue lever arch with all the figures needed to sound like the government expert on immigration. It would’ve helped if the actual government expert on immigration was in the country, but the Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship (or DoSac, as those in Westminster called it) Sharon Needles is still in Spain with her family and her wife, coincidentally the second government expert on immigration by proxy. Bianca shakes her head derisively as she makes her way to the lightswitch. What the hell is Sharon thinking, swanning off on holiday at a time like this? Alaska’s no better, she knows there’s going to be an election in Scotland in six months’ time and whether they give a shit or not they still have to make the party seem likeable down in London and that’s her job as an MP. Bianca had heard it all from Sharon, “it’s Christmas for Christ’s sake Bianca, I’m not asking for a week in Amsterdam during a reshuffle”, and she likes the fucking woman so she’d let her, but one of her parting comments still stings, “I don’t think you got enough cuddles as a child”. Bianca had wanted to snap at her that her childhood had been fine, it was her adulthood she needed to worry about. She brings her thumb up to her palm and touches the bottom of the fourth finger on her left hand self-consciously. It’s been…God, twelve years now. There can’t still be a dent. Perhaps Bianca is imagining it.

Bianca imagines a lot of things.

Blinking as if to hit refresh on her mind, she flicks the lightswitch and is surprised when she hears a thud and an “owch” come from underneath one of the desks in the department. Narrowing her eyes, she casts a glance over the huge room. There are Willam and Courtney’s desks, both with photos of them at Sharon and Alaska’s wedding on each. Blair’s is chaotically tidy, piles and piles of documents that Bianca knows all have their place. Violet’s and Jinkx’s, both neat and orderly, and then Bianca’s gaze sweeps quickly over Trixie and Katya’s desks to come to rest on a huge pair of hazel eyes blinking at her with wide-eyed surprise. Bianca is disarmed, only able to blink back at her in a way she hopes is intimidating and not intimidated.

“Bianca!” Adore gasps, sounding shocked as she rises from behind her desk. This reveals a black sparkly lace and velvet dress with beads and sequins threaded all over it, so much so that it looks as if Adore is dressed in the night sky. Bianca elects not to speak, scared in case she tries and nothing comes out. She maintains her stare instead. Adore’s red lips, set in an O of surprise, start to move. “Fuck, I’m sorry…I was out in my heels and never had flats with me and I knew I had my work boots under my desk so I just got an uber here and the place was still open and, uh…yeah. Sorry for saying fuck.”

Bianca cracks a small smile as Adore scrunches her straight dark hair in her hands at the scalp, an embarrassed smile on her own face which turns into an awkward bite of her lip. She’s beautiful. Bianca’s always thought so, in the same way she can admire a bouquet of flowers or a sunset or a member of the opposition getting absolutely annihilated in a debate. Adore is beautiful, and that’s just a fact. Nothing more. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Bianca sometimes wonders, though.

“Uh, how come you’re here? Busiest woman in Westminster, you don’t have, like…some sort of New Years’ Eve party with the Prime Minister and all the cabinet and…stuff?” Adore concludes  sheepishly, scuffing her foot across the floor in a way Bianca wishes she didn’t find so charming. For her part, Bianca narrows her eyes.

“For your information, I’m trying to find a file,” she rolls her eyes, walking past the comms girl and trying not to inhale too much of the perfume she’s wearing that smells all too much of candyfloss and jellybeans. It shouldn’t smell as nice as it does.

“Government secrets. You’re gonna kill someone,” Adore nodded, following Bianca over to the filing cabinet, crossing her arms and resting them on the top.

“You, if I’m lucky,” Bianca keeps up pretences and pretends that Adore is too young, too silly and idiotic to be worthy of her time. It’s a dance they’ve been doing since Adore started as an intern for Darienne Lake back in the day, back when the whole thing had some integrity and Bianca genuinely held more contempt for Adore than a smear of shit on her shoe and Adore presumably thought Bianca’s entire personality was modelled on Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. It’s more than that now though. Bianca knows it, Adore knows it. It’s been more than that for a while. Years, definitely. How many, Bianca doesn’t know. Certainly since Adore had been dating that journalist Laila McQueen who ended up breaking her heart and very nearly brought the department down with all the secrets Adore had inadvertently leaked to her. Since Adore had found love in a new relationship with a girl from the hospital coffee shop, when Adore had been telling the rest of the civil service girls about her and had stopped when she caught sight of Bianca walking in, her excited face faltering only a little. It’s definitely been since Bianca, exhausted and caught off guard by a stressful day that happened to fall on an all too painful date (Bianca touches her ring finger again) allowed her shoulders to slump and a tear to fall from her face in an empty room in the DoSac offices. Adore had entered the glass-fronted office, uttered Bianca’s name gently, crossed the room to face her. She’d wordlessly caught the tear with an impossibly gentle acrylic-nailed finger and it had disappeared from her face as if Adore was a magician. Then she’d left, returning with a cup of hot coffee and a touch of Bianca’s hand and vanishing from the empty office as if she’d never been there.

Bianca wonders if it would’ve been easier if she hadn’t been.

“What’s your plan for tonight, anyway? Westminster’s number one Amy Winehouse tribute act,” Bianca continues, frowning as the lever arch file isn’t in the place it should be. She slams shut one drawer and tries the next one down.

“Number one! Fuck, that’s high praise from you. I’m sure you said Courtney was, like, the number fifteen Kylie Minogue tribute,” Bianca hears the smile in Adore’s voice, internally yells at herself as loud as her mind will allow that this is not, not, not flirting.

“Only because I’m hoping you decide to really commit to the gig and overdose over the holidays and I won’t have to see you eating all the croissants meant for Sharon day after day next year,” Bianca raises her eyebrows at her. Completely nukes any hint of anything playful. But of course Adore bulldozes that idea immediately with a huge snort of laughter and a smile that exposes her beautiful teeth, impossibly white given all the smoking she does.

“Huh. So you do notice me,” she ponders, her voice small and tinged with a dangerous hint of curiosity.

“Hard not to with that hideous vocal fry. Helluhhhh, you’re through to Dosac commmmmms?” Bianca mocks, drawing her voice out and allowing herself a grin at the way Adore’s face lights up in a self-deprecating laugh. Bianca, for a moment, truly believes the whole room gets brighter.  

“I’m out with the girls,” Adore explains on the tail end of a laugh, finally answering her question. “You’re not having much luck with that file.”

“Listen, Wednesday fucking Addams! Enough sass from you, alright? I can still sack you, holidays or no holidays,” Bianca snaps, not meaning a single word of it. She can practically hear the smug smile of disbelief on Adore’s face. She looks up and sure enough, there it is. “What the fuck’s that look for? You look like the cat that got the cream then ate the shit.”

Adore shrugs lightly. “I just don’t think you’d ever sack me, that’s all. You’re too nice.”

Bianca is knocked for six by the compliment. For a moment, forgets how to react. She straightens up and tries the shelves for the file. “You’ve seen me fire about ten people since you started working here, you’re clearly an idiot with a horrendous judge of character or you’ve got early-onset dementia.”

Adore laughs. “I think I’m both. Although you’re in the dementia pit with me, sister.”

“How fucking dare you, I’m forty two. I’m reporting you for ageism,” Bianca snarls at her, but they both know she doesn’t mean it. Adore shrugs, stretching out against the wall.

“All I’m saying is, I think you’re forgetting I’m one of the only people in the country who’s ever got a Bianca Del Rio apology.”

Bianca shakes her head, tries to ignore how good her name sounds in Adore’s mouth. She remembers that day, remembers it well- absolutely ripping through Adore because she made a mistake and watching her tear up, spending the day being eaten up with regret and then sheepishly going to say sorry at the end of it all, watching her bashful expression become mirrored on Adore’s face as the girl had told her not to worry about it and that these things happen. Bianca looks again at Adore, the playful and lighthearted expression on her face now one of trepidation. Bianca knows what she’s thinking, and she’s wondering if she’s taken the whole thing too far. So Bianca does the only thing she can do at this point in the conversation and turns danger to derision.

“How’s being out with the girls working out for you?”

Adore puffs out a load of air, twirls an end of her long hair around her finger. “Not too well because there’s an old woman with alzheimer’s that I have to look after who’s wandering around the office muttering obscenities at me and searching for a piece of very important government information.”

Adore notes Bianca’s unamused expression and hollers out a laugh, Bianca unable to hold hers in any longer either. Smiling, Adore continues. “At least, that’s what I’ll tell the girls when they ask me why I’m late.”

Bianca sighs, shakes her head in disbelief. “Adore, I’m not going to shout at you if you want to leave. You got what you came here for, so-”

“Oh, I mean, yeah, of course. But winding up my boss’ boss is just as fun, actually is more fun, than sitting in a crowded pub with my friends yelling in my ear because the twelve men out on their Christmas piss-up are singing Fairytale of New York loud enough that their lungs are gonna pop, so…” Adore trailed off, punctuating her sentence with a shrug. She pauses a second. “Hey, what does that file look like?”

“It’s lever arch…blue, really full, probably has bits of paper sticking out of it…Christ, this is the most boring conversation I’ve ever had,” Bianca rubs her face with her hands and forgets there’s makeup on it. Adore laughs, scans the room, then immediately marches over to Courtney’s desk, moves some paper aside and returns with exactly what Bianca had described. Bianca, for her part, is stunned.

“How in the hell did you-”

“Sometimes sitting doing fuck all all day has its uses. Court took the file to update online Census data before she went off for her holidays, tried to get ahead on her work for coming back. I remember ‘cuz she asked me for a cup of tea to get her through it,” Adore smiles, her brazen confidence hidden under a shy smile. Bianca takes it from her and thanks her, regret tingeing her voice as she realises this leaves neither of them with an excuse to be in each others’ company any more.

“You know,” Adore drops into conversation nonchalantly, just as Bianca is about to cut her losses and say goodbye. “If I leave now I probably won’t get an Uber in time for the countdown, and if I do the girls’ll have probably moved on, and, like, the city’s gonna be mobbed…and, uh, there’s a bottle of prosecco that Trixie won in the raffle that she put in the fridge and never took home. So, like, if you want, we could just, uh…have, like, a…”

Bianca tries so, so hard to ignore the way her heart is soaring like a helium balloon. “See in the New Year with a bottle of fizz and a better view of London than half the city’s going to get?” Don’t sound too enthusiastic. “Well, looks like I’ve not got much better to do.”

Bianca doesn’t miss the triumphant smile Adore shoots her way as she dashes off to the tiny office kitchen to grab the promised alcohol. Left to awkwardly shuffle her feet, Bianca decides to cross the office and open the door to the meeting room. The city lights immediately flood her vision as she perches gingerly on the desk in the middle of the room, foregoing the uncomfortable office chairs. As she sits and waits, her mind races in time with her heart. It’s not a big deal, stop reading too much into it. It’s a New Years’ Eve drink with a coworker, people do that all the time at this time of year. Except Bianca knows it’s different, because Adore is not her coworker. She’s her inferior in every way- wage, status, power, everything probably except kindness of heart and beauty. Don’t think about Adore’s beauty.

All of a sudden the office goes dark, as dark as it can with the bright lights and the big city underneath it, and Adore softly pads into the room a few seconds later with two mugs, a bottle, and an excitable grin on her face. “Okay, now it’s actually like we’re in a London Eye pod. Don’t you think?”

“I think the London Eye has proper champagne flutes,” Bianca quips witheringly, hoping it disguises the fact that her heart is beating nearly out of her chest because it’s dark, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and it’s magical, and for now they’re two women drinking prosecco together with no prior agenda or obstacles.

Adore holds out one mug to Bianca. It says “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my second morning coffee!” and for a moment Bianca wants to burst into hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. She doesn’t. Instead she smiles slightly as Adore pours the fizz into the mug with all the skill of a toddler, watches as the bubbles climb up to the rim of the porcelain until Bianca has to jump in and inhale them away.

“Wish!” Adore beams excitedly, and Bianca, hunched over the mug, launches her a quizzical look. Adore is patient with her. “You caught the bubbles. Now you make a wish.”

Bianca briefly rolls her eyes, but obediently she squeezes her eyes shut. Wishes for something wildly illogical and fanciful because it wouldn’t be a wish if it wasn’t. Bianca can set goals and achieve them, she’s been doing it all her life. Wishing for something she could easily make come true on her own is a waste of a wish. When she opens her eyes she finds Adore grinning at her moronically.

“What did you wish for?”

Bianca sips a bit more of the bubbles, as if to strengthen the wish. “If I told you that it wouldn’t come true, would it? Is that not how wishes work? Or did they change the contract?”

Adore raises her eyebrows at the woman long-sufferingly, pouring enough prosecco into her own glass that the bubbles spill over and land on her sparkly dress, a splash more constellations added to the night sky. She sips at the popping and fizzing froth on the top of the mug, locks her eyes with Bianca. “I guess we’ll need to wait before we get an answer to that, won’t we?”

Bianca coughs, fixes her eyes on a particularly glittery set of buildings in the distance. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from them as she speaks again. “Where’s, uh. Are you not meant to be with your girlfriend tonight or something?”

“You’re pretty fuckin’ out of the loop. Me ‘n Aja’ve been done since before Christmas,” Adore replies, her voice light but her tone dead, and Bianca wants to leap from the building.

“Fuck, sorry. I never knew.”

She hears a snort from beside her. Adore’s looking at the table and smiling. “Shit. Now I got two sorrys from Bianca Del Rio, fuck knows what I’ll do with all of those. Open a shop?”

Bianca humours her and laughs back in lieu of making a silly quip, she’s loath to make things worse than she already has. Adore looks back out of the window and Bianca looks at her, the view better than anything behind that pane of glass.

“We didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Either of us,” Adore continues. The city lights are reflected in her eyes, dark and beautiful and capable of making Bianca say things she might regret. “Suddenly it got to two years and we both, like…died laughing at the thought of being ready to settle down any time soon. She’d kissed other girls. I’d slept with somebody else. Just to…fuck, I don’t know. Like, I wondered if I was actually in love, wondered what it was all meant to feel like. Wondered if I’d feel anything before, during, after.”

Bianca is taking this all in her stride despite the fact her mind is moving about the same rate as Adore’s lips and with each new revelation there is something new to get her head around. She somehow coughs up a question. “And did you?”

Adore laughs completely humourlessly. It doesn’t suit her. “Good question, girl. I’ll come back to you when I have an answer that makes any fuckin’ sense to you. Right now I don’t even have one that makes sense to me.”

Bianca crosses her legs and is deep in thought. She doesn’t know if she ever had Adore pinned as the type to cheat on a girlfriend, then immediately thinks she is silly to consider such an action as being attributed to a type of person. You can never really ever know a human, and with each new day someone can surprise you with the mundane or underwhelm with a revelation. Still, she reminds herself, she thought she’d known…

Never mind.

Point is, nothing shocks or fazes her any more. She considers herself an expert in human nature simply by following one simple rule; never assume.

“You probably think I’m an awful fuckin’ person now.”

Bianca turns and looks at Adore as if the eye contact will answer her question without having to say anything. This already doesn’t seem sufficient to either her or Adore, so Bianca follows it up anyway. “You honestly might as well do whatever the fuck you want in life, Adore. Half the world’s out there doing that already and not giving a single shit about the consequences.”

Adore narrows her eyes at her, quirks a smile that doesn’t quite meet her lips. “That’s a very…world weary answer.”  

“I’m a very world weary woman,” Bianca sips her prosecco. It tastes absolutely fucking horrible out of a mug. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her, as Adore seems to shift closer to her until she is right bang next to her sitting on top of the table. There is no space between them- no hands, no cups, no air, and the sheer possibility and risk of it all makes Bianca shiver.

“I think you’re a very complex woman,” Adore murmurs delicately. Bianca doesn’t dare meet her eyes, instead electing to look down at where the hem of Adore’s dress meets her black tights with a small ladder. “I would kill to read some form of, like…autobiography.”

Bianca laughs, reaches out and starts fiddling with a small sequin on Adore’s dress in spite of herself. “It would be a very fucking short autobiography. I was born, I grew up, I got this job, I died. The end. Four pages at most. Five including a contents page.”

“There’s more to you than that.”

“No there isn’t.”

Bianca feels Adore tense up beside her, is frightened into dropping the hem of her dress and to stop picking at the stitching. She’s an idiot who went too far and got caught up in the night and has probably ruined the poor girl’s dress. Adore speaks. “People’ve told me that you used to wear a wedding ring, and now you don’t.”

Now it’s Bianca’s turn to tense up, and she does her best to give Adore a run for her money. Freezes in place so quick it puts her in mind of a childhood game of musical statues. Adore recoils quickly as if she’s been burned; Bianca is a sparkler she’s let linger in her hands for too long. It becomes a game of who will break the silence first. Adore wins. Or loses. Bianca supposes there are no winners in this conversation.

“Bianca, I’m sorry,” she whispers, closes the gap again and touches her hand. She seems to have second thoughts and removes it again, and Bianca wants to curl her fingers around Adore’s and not let go. “Shit, fuck, this was so above my station…I’m so sorry, Bianca, honestly-”

Bianca can feel the woman getting stressed out next to her. She never thought she’d be referring to Adore as a woman, but there’s a first for everything. She looks grown up and confident and self-assured with her dark hair (she got rid of the blonde and Bianca thinks it suits her), her perfect red lipstick, her sophisticated dress. Except now she looks every inch the panicking intern Bianca first knew her as, and she decides to swallow her fears and take Adore’s hand, laces their fingers together like she wanted to earlier.

They’re holding hands. The director of communications for the government of the entire country is holding hands with a comms girl endless fucking pay grades below her, and there is so much wrong but yet so much that just seems correct. It’s two hands linked together. That’s all.

“Like I said,” Bianca smiles sadly at the carpet, deciding that particular story can wait until she’s six feet under. “Half the world’s doing whatever the fuck they want and not giving a shit about the consequences.”

Adore strokes her thumb at the knuckle and Bianca is lost for words, a rare occurrence in her life. “I’m so sorry, Bianca.”

“Well. We’ve both put our foot in it now, so,” Bianca drops their hands, decides it’s probably a good place to end whatever the hell this is. She picks up her mug and tries to ignore the feeling that Adore looks disappointed at the lack of contact. “To being untactful shits incapable of emotional intelligence.”

Adore gives a small laugh, clinks her mug against Bianca’s own. There’s a moment of silence before she speaks.

“I’ve never told anyone about cheating on Aja. Apart from her, obviously.”

“Well now I have some serious dirt on you,” Bianca raises her eyebrows in an attempt to make light of the situation. She is rewarded by a laugh from Adore.

“I guess I did it because…well. There’s like…always been a third person in my relationships. No, fuck, that sounds weird and intense, but…ah, it’s hard to explain,” Adore hisses through her teeth, and Bianca is intrigued. The entire opening hangs heavy in the air, and Bianca doesn’t want to think about the possibilities it holds. She can feel her heart speed up, and she takes a too-big gulp of her prosecco and feels the bubbles shatter like ice down her gullet. Adore is looking at her, she knows, but Bianca holds her gaze on the city. “Do you ever, like, think about how there could be a right person, but the wrong place and wrong time? Wrong universe, even. Like they could be so gorgeous and funny and warm and you just know they’d be great to talk to if you ever got a proper chance, but you’ve never had the chance, and you know you won’t ever get the chance? So you just make peace with it, except, like, you’re never really at peace with it because with every new relationship you get into it’s just taunting you, the what if, the wondering?”

The air is spitting and crackling with electricity. Hot oil on a pan. Bianca shakes her head. “Adore, I haven’t been in a relationship for, literally, years.”

“But you still know the feeling though, don’t you?” Bianca is suddenly electrocuted, thousands of volts running through her as Adore takes her hand and gives Bianca no choice but to turn and face her, the city lights ripped from her eyes as Adore gazes into Bianca’s own, nothing to reflect in them, just black. Bianca’s heart goes from racing to flatlined. Adore doesn’t break eye contact. “Bianca…I know you know the feeling.”

And this is it. It’s out in the open, the tension between them that’s lingered for years like somebody’s taken a knife to a huge helium balloon. Bianca almost wants to laugh. There is no point protesting, or trying to tell Adore she’s got it all wrong. Adore is headstrong, has always been headstrong, and she knows, and she knows that Bianca knows. The situation is funny. They’re Christ knows how many feet up in the air, in the offices in the dead of night on New Year’s Eve. Bianca knows whatever happens this evening that the second she steps out of the building and into the freezing cold air, the magic will be gone. Because that’s what this is- magic. It could only be magic that Adore is making Bianca confront all of this before the entire slate gets wiped clean, the biggest cliche in the book.

“Fuck,” Bianca just laughs, the resigned exhalation of someone who has no energy left to deny it. “You’re literally…you’re just a kid-”

“I’m twenty fucking eight, Bianca,” Adore snaps, as if she’s had that excuse used against her for the entireity of her life and has had enough. Bianca is suitably admonished.

“Right. Sorry. Ignore me, I’m old. Which begs the question…” Bianca realises they haven’t stopped holding hands yet. “Adore….me? Really? Me? Why me?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Adore shrugs. Her matter-of-fact-ness makes Bianca blush as if she’s back in high school. “And there’s, like…always been something about you that’s just drawn me to you. I don’t know. It’s like I said, I think we’d get on if we’d let ourselves get to know each other. I think we’re similar.”

Bianca paused before replying, taking a moment to just look into Adore’s eyes. She sighs heavily.

“There really is nothing about this that is any fucking fair at all.”

Adore laughs, neglecting to break eye contact. “How come?”

“Because there’s absolutely no way that we can pursue any of this. And it’s almost more cruel knowing we both want to,” Bianca snorts sardonically, refills her and Adore’s cups. Adore pouts. She’s showing her age.

“But we could if we wanted to. We could at least try,” she pleads, hope in her voice that makes Bianca want to wrap her up and take her home with her. Bianca laughs. Someone is going to have to be the voice of reason in this conversation.

“Adore, there’s a reason my marriage ended. There’s a reason I’ve not had a relationship for twelve years. There’s a reason I haven’t acted upon any of my feelings towards you,” she says, her voice coated in thick regret. She gives Adore’s hand a squeeze to soften the blow. “This job is my relationship. This job is my marriage. I barely have time for three meals a day- I don’t have time for three meals a day. I mean, fucking look at me. I’m at work on New Years’ Eve.”

“I’m at work on New Years’ Eve,” Adore gestures at herself, as if that simple fact is enough to convince her. Bianca laughs. She is the sweetest fucking person to ever exist, she fully believes that.

“There’s fourteen years separating us. I’m head of government communications, you’re a civil servant. That’s madness. We wouldn’t work.”

“No, probably not. It probably would just all end in tears. But at least we’d know. Which is, like, better than where we are just now, where we don’t know,” Adore shrugs, but the expression on her face lets Bianca know she thinks it’s a lost cause too. Bianca feels sad for her, feels sad for them both. She shuffles closer.

“Look. You know that I like you, and I know that you like me, and at least we don’t have to suspect it any more. We know. And it doesn’t matter that nothing’s going to happen, because…oh, fuck, what’s that saying? The possibility far outweighs the outcome, or some shit like that?”

Adore cracks up laughing. “That phrase doesn’t exist.”

“Yes it fucking- Christ, the point is that this night…” Bianca rubs her head in exhaustion. “…this night is like a microcosm of the universe. You were saying we’re in the wrong universe, well, just for tonight, this office is the right one. Just for now. A weird purgatory.”

Adore smiles, brushes a bit of hair out of her face. “So you’re, what. Confucius now, right?”

“Something like that.”

The chimes of Big Ben cut through the office and fireworks spring to life across the city below. Startled, both women spring away from each other. Bianca watches Adore check her phone. “Oh, shit.”

“We missed the countdown,” Bianca mutters sheepishly, suddenly ashamed of the whole conversation. Adore snorts.

“No, I just have, like, fifty voicemails from the girls,” she shrugs lightly, putting her phone face-down on the desk and facing Bianca once more. She holds out her mug and smiles gently. “Cheers, then.”

“Cheers,” Bianca says quietly, like she doesn’t want the office to hear. She taps the porcelain against Adore’s mug. They are close, their knees touching, and Bianca flicks her gaze up from the mugs to Adore’s eyes.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, before setting her mug down, bringing one hand to rest on Adore’s waist and the other to gently tilt her chin up before closing the gap between them.

If talking to Adore on New Years’ Eve in a dark office with the city lights reflected in her eyes is magic, then kissing Adore is the best kind of witchcraft. It’s a hesitant kiss, the fault of both of them as neither of them really know what they’re doing or what they’ll do once it’s over, so they carry on. Adore has brought a hand up to rest at Bianca’s jaw, her thumb stroking her cheek gently, and Bianca never wants the sensation to stop. She wants to freeze the entire moment in time but she is aware she can’t do that, so focuses on committing it to memory; the way Adore tastes like sparkling prosecco, the scent of her perfume, the way they both seem to just fit together and the whole exciting unfamiliarity of it all.

Just when Bianca seems to be getting used to things she feels Adore tugging away, and she in turn doesn’t resist. She can’t help the disappointed slump of her shoulders as Adore is once again in front of her, bashfully smoothing down her dress. All at once Bianca is swept up in complete fantasy. Maybe she and Adore could work. There might be a way to make it all doable, even if she only gets to take Adore out to dinner once every couple of weeks, something like that. Adore makes the decision for her, putting her empty mug down and standing up from the table, taking Bianca’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Happy New Year, Bianca,” she smiles softly before turning and opening the heavy glass door, managing halfway through it before turning and looking back at her. She wants her to say something, Bianca can tell, and there’s so much she could say. She decides not to ruin things. This night has been enough. It’s a new day- a new year now, and everything is fresh and new, a blanket of freshly fallen snow without any footprints. She decides to smile and give Adore a small wave.

“Happy New Year.”  

The door swings shut, and the magic is over.

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 3: Kittens

Chat Noir and Marinette watch videos and talk about their lives.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30  31

@marichatmay​

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“Scoot over, Chat, you’re pushing me off the bed.” Marinette elbowed him in his side to emphasize her point, even if the suit absorbed most of the hit.

“Sorry, princess,” he replied with a lopsided grin, giving her a little more space while still being close enough to watch the laptop that she had settled on her lap. They were winding down from an eventful evening, Marinette having crawled in bed while he was laying on the covers. Soon enough he’d have to leave. But for now, he was enjoying every moment he could get.

It had been sporadic at first, him coming over to visit her as Chat Noir. But after the first few times, he realized he had started looking forward to the days he could sneak away from work and obligations to talk with her for a while, or watch movies, or help her with her latest projects. Or, like now, laugh at videos online.

“Ooo! This one looks good.” Her eyes lit up and she opened another cat video, adding it the growing list of tabs.

Once he realized that the time he got to hang out with her was a bright spot in his usually dreary days, he made time for her. It really didn’t matter what they did, he was just glad he had a friend in his life again. After graduation, he had fallen out of touch with almost everyone as they went their separate ways, despite his best efforts. Nino had been an exception, but he was frequently travelling with Alya. Adrien’s life had fallen into a monotony of modeling, business, and social functions as befitting the heir to the Agreste empire.

“You got that sour look on your face again, Chat.” Marinette paused the video and closed the laptop, giving him her full attention. “What’s going on in that kitty brain of yours?”

“Oh, you know. The usual, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Her raised eyebrow and crossed arms told him what she thought of that excuse. He sighed. “I was just thinking about how little time I got to spend with friends before I started coming here.”

A look of surprise crossed her face briefly. “You don’t get a lot of time with friends? With how you acted, I was kinda assuming…”

“...That I was a cool cat and a party animal? Sad to say, purrincess, but I’m not nearly as interesting outside the mask. Besides, they usually keep this cat pretty busy, and that’s not even counting the sauve superhero work.”

She raised her eyebrows again. “You must be really behind on that sauve work, since I certainly haven’t seen it.”

“Me-owch, purrincess.” He put a hand on his heart and pretended to swoon from pain. “Hitting me right where it hurts - in my ego.” That drew a giggle from her and he took a moment to drink it in. He’d been slowly getting better at coaxing laughter out of her, even on bad days. Once she’d settled down, he continued, leaning back against the headboard, “But yeah, after I graduated from school, most of my friends just sorta drifted away. Until recently, all I had to do was stuff for work, but that just made the days blur together. Being Chat Noir at least gives me a diversion from time to time, but I also still need to do patrols. And that’s not even getting into how often I have to sneak away from things to fight akumas.”

“I understand the feeling. Well, uh, not the superhero part, obviously. I got so wrapped up in work that I missed out on most of my school friends leaving.” She started staring off into the distance, lost in thought. After a few long moments of silence, she looked back at him. “You said ‘until recently’. What changed?”

He gave her a long look before his face split into a grin. “Well, you see, a very brave civilian saved me from an akuma, so I thought I’d pay her a visit. Of course, she fell in love with me immediately and has been practically begging me to come over ever since.”

“Oh, is that what happened? See, I remember a sad and lonely kitty that followed me home after I saved it earlier that day.” She stroked her chin. “And that wasn’t the end of it. See, I fed the stray and now it keeps coming back.” He pouted and she ruffled up his hair. “Don’t worry, he’s grown on me and he’s good company.”

Adopting a tone of false surprise, he asked, “Why, Marinette, are you inviting me to move in?”

“What.”

“Now that you mention it,” he continued, tapping at his cheek in mock thoughtfulness, “that’d save me the trip, we could hang out a lot more, and, best of all, we could get kittens.”

She snorted. “Dork. Is this all just part of your master plan to get as many kittens as possible?”

“Only mostly.” He smiled as she laughed again.

“Well, if you ever need a place to crash, I do have a work room that does double duty as a guest room.” She moved her laptop onto her bedside table.

Looking around the room and all the mannequins, fabrics, and half-finished projects strewn about, Adrien replied, “...This isn’t your workroom?”

“No this is my bedroom-” A light blush dusted her cheeks once she followed his eyes to the mess everywhere. “Okay, okay, so my work follows me around the house. But! That just means that the guest space is relatively tidy.”

“That’s fair, I guess.” He stroked his chin to make it look like he was giving this more thought than he was. He’d never gotten to have sleepovers before, even when he was a kid, so the idea was appealing. Especially after considering he’d finally be in a space with another human being in it. For some reason, his father prefered putting him up in housing with lots of space and bare minimum human contact. Plagg might not be pleased at the risk, but if Adrien remembered to transform with a backpack full of cheese, then he wouldn’t complain too much. “Oh hey, if I do spend the night in the future, can I use your fridge?”

She looked at him curiously. “I… suppose so? Is that a yes then?”

“We’ll see, but I think so.”

“That’s great!” Marinette stretched and yawned. “Can’t be tonight though, so I’m going to have to kick you out now.”

“Until next time then,” he said as he left through the window, merging seamlessly with the shadows as he made his way home.

[funkymeihem-fiction]

The A-Mei-Zing Outback Adventure (Chapter 23-FINAL CHAPTER)

(This is the final chapter of my first Meihem story! And I thank you all so much for reading and following along. This may be the conclusion to their Outback adventures...but it’s not the end of the MEIHEM!

If you want, head on over to my new sequel to this story:

Hot Headed, Cold Hearted

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11796141

Thank you again!)

Their recovery had not been easy. Her insides had turned red and black and rebelled against her own body, the remainder of her hair had fallen from her scalp, her first attempts to eat real food had resulted in immediate and violent expulsion, and there had been nights of pain where there was no relief until she begged Angela to put her under, better to lose herself in sleep yet again than suffer any more. Junkrat and Roadhog never made any such requests, and endured the treatments with the same angry muttering and resigned stoicism with which they had faced other equally unpleasant things. Dr. Ziegler oversaw their medical recuperation with a keen eye, guiding them through their healing with the help of Ana and Lucio (Zenyatta’s offers of meditation and renewal arts had been swiftly and viciously denied) while Mei filled out pile after pile of paperwork explaining every minute detail of what had happened during their disastrous expedition into the wastes of Australia; often with Junkrat chiming in to not to forget to include some of the more ‘juicy bits’…though Mei wisely decided to leave most of his more scandalous suggestions out.

Winston and Bastion came with yet more paperwork (although this was a great deal more fun to fill out) about possible scientific excursions in the future, and her gorilla friend seemed both sincere and eager to possibly get out of the lab for a while himself, although he hoped it would go a little more smoothly than the mission to the Outback. Bastion had marked several dot locations on the world map, but merely tilted its head when asked what they were and simply pointed to them again, while Junkrat whispered suspicion and threats in the background at its strange behavior. And after that, they had a steady stream of visitors simply coming to see them; from Ana and Roadhog’s knitting club, Lucio and D.Va stopping by to play video games with Junkrat, and when Zarya had returned from a mission abroad, she had nearly crushed Mei in one of her all-encompassing bear hugs and had visited every day after that; with books, stories, and a Russian stew that she swore would make Mei feel better in no time.

Even Torbjorn had dropped by, though it was merely to drop off the newly repaired Snowball. He had painstakingly worked his way through and around Junkrat’s makeshift ‘repairs’, though even he seemed baffled by how it was functioning at all. The little drone’s AI had been transferred into a sparkling new blue hull, and its pixel eyes no longer sputtered or went randomly dead, and it no longer sounded like a flatulent oldworld modem when it beeped hello to her. Mei had been overjoyed to see it back to its old self, and it hovered over to nudge and hug into her arms…before promptly turning around and starting to flash more Mandarin curse words across its screen, aimed at Junkrat. She had been giggling too hard to really scold it as the two started fighting across the room again, and decided to leave her companions as their imperfect selves.

And they had been interviewed numerous times as they lay in their beds. Even Roadhog had been pressed for as much information as possible, though the old junker rarely offered more than his usual grunt or a shake of the head. When the dreaded questions came about Junkrat’s and Mei’s ‘relationship’, as they professionally called it, to Mei’s relief it amounted to little more than a few awkward inquiries as to their mutual consent. Winston never mentioned any more accusations of Stockholm Syndrome, and instead spent most of that interview cringing and trying to avoid any more of Junkrat’s winking and bragging about his self-proclaimed ‘irresistible animal attraction, sheer virility and amazing sexual prowess, an absolute vision in the nuddy, and hey are you writing all this down?’ while she hid her face in both hands and wished that the radiation had killed her to spare her the embarrassment.

But that had been months ago. Things were starting to get back to normal.

Her hair was starting to grow back in now, and Symmetra had kindly trimmed it into a feminine bob for her so she no longer looked like a shaggy mess. The color had returned to her face, her lungs no longer hurt when she breathed, and she had regained some of the weight she’d lost during her months of ice and fire in the desert. She was beginning to look and feel like herself again, and now she could smile when she brought up the eco-monitor program, watching the red blobs of the radioactive storms roll across the wastes. And though Overwatch couldn’t publicly take credit for her work and she had to remain a mysterious benefactor, Winston had let her know that the early warning systems she’d programmed were now a mainstay in the lives of the Outback’s inhabitants and was already saving lives.

She had helped. Despite everything, she had helped. She still couldn’t say if it had all been worth it. There was still something small and poisonous and black lurking somewhere in her, something even Mercy’s medicine couldn’t fix, something that made her angry and hurt every time she started really thinking of things…What a cost she’d paid…

But it was over, and she had helped.

***

The sweet breeze of the ocean air of Gibraltar felt cool against her face and ruffled the ends of her hair against her cheeks, bringing some small relief from the hot sun. She sat on one of the far rooftops by one of the communications tower, listening to the crash of the waves and the shrieking gulls as she scribbled in one of her personal notebooks.

“Tried to read your diary there one time, ya know. Your lil’ journal thing?” Junkrat was laying stretched out on a towel a small distance away, his mechanical limbs discarded nearby and a comically large set of sunglasses on his nose as he lay basking in the sun. Like Mei, he had recovered and was looking his old self again. His own hair had grown out at a record pace, even over most of his bald spots, and his eyebrows were as mysteriously bushy and healthy as ever, as if they had grown back overnight.

“Oh?” She looked up from her writing, glancing over.

“Real smart of you to encrypt it all in Chinese, love, real smart.”

She smirked and went back to scribbling. “Do you want me to write some in English for the next time you decide to spy on me?”

“Sounds great. Be a doll?” That familiar toothy grin spread across his face, tucking the stump of his arm under his head. “Mostly I just wanted to see if you ever wrote about me. You know, silent yearning from afar, who’s that mysterious man, maybe a kinda sexy intrigue? That sorta thing.”

“Well, I can assure you that that was really not what I was writing about you back then…It was probably best you couldn’t read it,” she admitted.

“Owch, darl.”

“Sorry! I mean, it wasn’t anything terrible, just…not the nicest, either,” said quickly. “But I’ve written more about you since then!”

He leaned up slightly, adjusting his sunglasses with suddenly renewed interest. “Is it real good?”

She smiled demurely, looking away. “It might be good. It’s a shame you can’t read any Chinese...”

“Owch again! That’s ice cold! C’mere, you.” He waved his good arm as she scooted a little closer, pulling her in. “I know that look. Somethin’ bothering you? Is it the pills? Is it your hair? I like it short, looks real nice on you.”

She shook her head, laying down beside him with a little nudge to make room. “Nothing. It’s just hot out.”

“Pft, this ain’t hot. Still, you wanna go in?”

Another shake of her head, closing her eyes against the sun. “It just reminds me of being back in that little house again, back in the desert. For a while there I kept thinking I would wake up and be back in that shack. It’s just like when I would wake up and think I was back in…back when it was cold instead of hot. Jamison, are you…Are you glad we came back?”

“Of course I am! They saved ya!”

“But…are you glad? That we’re back here? I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m asking…”

His gaze turned a little wary behind the lenses of his goofy glasses, his bushy brows furrowing slightly. He was silent for a long moment, shifting restlessly atop the towel, before replying with a low “Well, that’s a bonzer of a question, ain’t it? Arright look, I know you ain’t actually asking me, you’re asking you. But! For what it’s worth, my answer is…’I don’t know’. You got no idea how much this place pisses me off, most of the time. But, it ain’t all bad. Got my own place, food whenever I want it, getting paid by a monkey to blow things up, and they got the doctorin’ facilities that saved my most favorite lady in the world…and then I got fucking bullied into the doctoring stuff too, might I add.”

“Oh, that wasn’t bullying!” She protested half-heartedly. “And I’m glad I did. I’m glad you’re better.”

“See! Then there’s something to be glad about! Yours truly! And I don’t mind saying that’s a lot to be glad of, you snagging the most handsomest and humblest bloke this side of Oz. Look, you don’t gotta figure out the answers all the time. And you don’t gotta be happy, neither. Sometimes things are shit, but it’s better than being attacked by bees, ya know? Dunno if I’m glad to be back. Just glad you’re here, wherever. And if you go trying to find whatever you’re trying to find, I’ll go with ya.”

There he was again, cutting through to the heart of the matter she could only ever dance around, blunt as always. He could blast a path of destruction wherever he went, and this was no different. No matter how many walls she put up, he was one of the only ones who could tear them down just as quickly. Sometimes it irked her, and sometimes it was exactly what she needed most, even if she couldn’t come out and say it. It hadn’t been the desert that had broken through her ice. Not really. It had been him. She’d been cold before, for so long, and it still felt like his body heat was burning even warmer than the sun above them. She could feel it against her cheek as she pulled in closer to his side, running her fingers up his side and feeling the sharp angles of his jutting ribs. “You’re awfully philosophical, you know. And maybe romantic. In an extremely odd way. I never would have guessed it before.”

His grin returned, leaning to press his nose to hers smugly. “Heh! S’truth!”

She had felt trapped here before, would probably feel trapped here again if she stayed too long…but it was nice, in its own way. It was a place at least worth returning to. How could she be too sad when the sun was shining, the birds were calling, and the sea was lapping gently so close by, and with her strangely charming companion smiling at her like that? Maybe it wasn’t ever going to be her idea of home, but maybe she’d been too hard on it.

Maybe she’d been too hard on a lot of things.

She was distracted by a pair of lips on her jaw and neck, starting to creep downward, and she squirmed as he started to roll on top of her, pressing both hands to his bare chest to keep him at bay. “Jamie?”

“Too much thinkin’! Live in the now! Give your brain a rest, lovey. Lemme help get your mind off your troubles, eh? We got a good thing going here, and I’m gonna enjoy every second of it. And I plan to make you enjoy it too, multiple times, kinda like last night…How bout I wind you up until you’re ready to explode? Lemme show you one of my newest and most favorite specialties…”

“Lewd!” she gasped, even as she leaned her head back to give his lips more access to her throat.

His hand was just starting to slide down her side when both their communicators went off at the same time. Her shoulders slumped a little in disappointment and Junkrat cursed loudly, but moved off her so she could roll upright, struggling to get her hair in order. She still wasn’t used to it being so short, but at least he said he’d liked it this way? Clearing her throat, she activated her comm, seeing the icons of other agents lighting up one after the other. “Zhou Mei-Ling and Jamison Fawkes present.”

Winston’s gruff voice piped up on the other end. “We’ve just had call go out that Talon has made another advance into Oasis. I want following agents; Pharah, McCree, Genji, Mercy, Mei, Junkrat and Roadhog, Symmetra, and Zenyatta to mobilize immediately. You have an hour before the Orca is fueled and stocked, get ready to move. Over.”

Mei groaned audibly as she clicked her affirmative response. “Another desert? I was hoping for something a little more…snowy? I’m going to get another awful sunburn on top of my other sunburns, I just know it.”

Junkrat snorted, strapping his prosthetic into place on the stump of his thigh. “Well, don’t be too hasty about the snow thing, lovey. But ugh, sending us into the middle of posh bot central? S’the only place worse than Numbani. Makes me sick.”

She thought for a moment, then pressed herself to his back and wrapped both arms around his narrow shoulders as he started to pull on his arm. “I guess it beats sitting around here wasting away in bed, or getting attacked by bees?”

He pulled off his sunglasses, his scowl soon replaced by his usual toothy smile as he rested his head against hers. “Now you’re getting the hang of things! Guess I might even be more careful this time, can’t stand the thought of another minute in that fuckin’ hospital ward again. “

“Good,” she leaned to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling herself upright. “I want you to take care of yourself out there. Although it’ll be nice to get back in the field again. I’ve had lots of time to make adjustments to my endothermic blaster, now my icicles are sharper than ever. Time to show those Talon agents what we’re really made of!”

“Oh yeah, those blokes are in for it. You chill ‘em, I’ll kill ‘em, heh, get it? Oh, I’m liking this side of you…After we’re done with all that, might have to get you in one of them fancy-arse Oasis hotel rooms and wind you up, just like I said before.” His lanky body also heaved upward to stand, his height looming over her as he spotted a familiar, similarly giant figure slowly making its way across the field towards them. “Oi, there’s Roadie! Guess I’d better go start double-checking the frags and getting everything ready to move out…” He hesitated, seeing her pause again and look out over the ocean, although he couldn’t see what was in her eyes this time. But when he took her hand, she readily looked back to him. “If you need me out there, I’ll be right beside ya.”

She nodded slowly, and her smile returned. “I know.”

“And if you get pinned down in the field, just give me or Roadie a shout and we’ll be right there. From now on, I’m the only one allowed to pin you down!”

“Ugh, really?” She elbowed him lightly in the arm, and he elbowed her right back. “…You ready?”

Pulling her forward, he let her take the lead into their next mission. “Let’s go!”