#fallout AU where nothing is the same and they all work in the same office]

[ao719]

…Sometimes Not (Part 2)

Left To Chance

This is a submission for @choicesflashfics, using prompt #1, “I don’t have a date, so would you … maybe want to be my plus one?”

Song inspo: Chasing All The Stars - Fleurie

A/N: This is an au mini series to my Always You series. This part is a flashback to the first half of the three years apart from Reyna’s POV. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.  

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x OC (Reyna)

Rating: T • Warnings: None but some mild language.

Word count: 2500

Catch up here

Staring out the window of her high-rise office, Reyna tapped her pen against the desk in rhythm with the ticking clock on the wall. The law firm had been unusually quiet the past few days with everyone but her, a couple of interns, and the office secretary gone for the week.

The firm’s lawyers and paralegals were attending an international conference in Paris. It was a work trip that Reyna’s boss, Luca, had invited her to join them on, but she politely declined. Her presence as the office’s financial manager was not required or needed, but that wasn’t the only reason she had turned down the free trip to the City of Light.

Their kiss.

Although Reyna enjoyed the brief moment between them, she declined Luca’s invitation to Paris because she didn’t want to send the wrong message. She still wasn’t in a place where she was ready to explore anything new with anyone because despite knowing she needed to let go, Liam was still very heavy on her mind and heart.

It had been over a month since Reyna last saw Liam the night of his coronation, the night she watched him choose the woman he’d soon be marrying. She hadn’t spoken to him since; she’d sent him a message on his birthday, a message he read but never responded to. She hadn’t tried reaching out again.

Liam was currently somewhere in Europe on his Engagement Tour and planning his upcoming nuptials.

Reyna was trying to go through the motions and deal with everything in her own way. She had been trying to move on even though most days it felt futile. She was working full-time. She was finally starting her master’s program next month after missing her first chance during her spiral. She was doing everything she could to keep herself occupied … to keep herself from falling apart like she wanted to most days.

No matter how hard she tried, though, Reyna couldn’t seem to fill that void left inside her. A piece of her was missing and it hurt like hell to try and force herself to come to terms with the reality of losing Liam, both as a friend and more.

For over a decade, Liam had been a monumental part of Reyna’s life; he was her best friend, her person, the one she told everything to, and eventually, the man she deemed to be the love of her life. Going from what they shared to absolutely nothing … it destroyed a part of her, a part of her that was just for him and no one else … a part of her that would never be the same again.

*******

•Two Months Later•

On an early Friday morning, before the sun had risen, Reyna lay awake in bed.

It was near afternoon in Cordonia … and Liam’s wedding day.

Reyna had managed to avoid any news of Liam since her return from his coronation three months ago; she refrained from doing any internet searches, and even though he spoke to Constantine a few times or more a month, her father respected her request for no updates. She didn’t want to hear about Liam and the life he was living without her. And while she still struggled every day to truly grasp the reality that he was no longer a part of her life, today was especially difficult.

It was the worst Reyna had felt in months, and that chasm in her heart left by their fallout and Liam’s absence in her life felt as though it was being ripped wide open, knowing what he would be doing that day.

As Reyna continued to toss and turn, her gaze kept shifting from the clock on her nightstand to her desk. Despite knowing it was a terrible idea, she couldn’t help but eye her laptop; she knew one little search would bring her to extended coverage of the royal wedding.

Eventually, Reyna flung the covers off herself and stood from the bed. She moved to her desk and lowered herself into the chair; she opened her laptop and pulled up the internet search bar, typing the words, ‘Cordonian royal wedding.’

Instant results popped up from multiple media sources. The first result, however, had Reyna’s stomach twisting in knots. Live coverage. She could see it happening in real time.  

Reyna closed her eyes, pressing the tips of her fingers to her forehead as she let out a breath. She knew she shouldn’t because of what it would do to her. She couldn’t seem to help herself, though.

It was like she had to see it to believe it.

When she opened her eyes, Reyna clicked the link. A video popped up, buffering for a moment before footage of inside the Bossina Cathedral filled her screen. Her eyes instantly welled with tears.

There, at the front of the aisle, was Liam. Dressed in his royal regalia, he stood across from Riley, who was clad in a flowing gown of white lace … and in the middle of her vows.

Reyna listened as her tears started to fall; as painful as it was, she couldn’t look away. When Riley finished, the bishop turned to Liam as the camera panned to him. Reyna swore her heart stopped as she stared at his face on the screen, and she held her breath when she recognized the look of hesitation in his eyes … along with a glimmer of affliction.

A few silent moments later, Liam started to speak.

While Riley’s vows were straight from the book, Liam’s were slightly altered; where she’d spoken the words, “to love and to cherish,” Liam changed his. “To be a companion in life and duty.”

A companion. A friend.

It didn’t matter to Reyna what words were altered, it fucking hurt. More so when she watched him slip that ring onto her finger.

Reyna pressed her palm to her aching chest with a quiet sob. Twice now she thought she’d felt the worst of it, of her heartbreak. The first time was when Liam told her he needed to have a Social Season … that they couldn’t be together. The second was when she watched him choose someone at his coronation. But this … hearing him recite vows to someone else, watching him slip a promise in the form of a ring on another’s finger … It was at that exact moment her heart ruptured in her chest.

Reyna could physically feel it, the splintering and cracking and shattering. The death of something vital inside her.

Despite what Liam told her at his coronation, that he saw Riley as nothing more than a friend, Reyna knew what those vows and that promise would mean to him.

Liam would try to love Riley in some form. He would keep those vows and that promise because that’s just who he was. He would try and build something out of scraps in an attempt to assuage the guilt Reyna knew he would feel over not giving himself entirely.

And there was a chance in Liam’s willingness to try that he could grow to see her beyond a friend … that he could grow to truly love her. And that meant Reyna had really lost him.

A man of his word, those vows solidified it.

****

That night, Reyna sat in her room with heavy eyes and an even heavier heart. She’d spent most of the day in a daze. Her parents were with her; they let her cry as much as she wanted and tried their best to comfort her.

Constantine and Regina understood when Gideon and Catherine declined their invitation to the royal wedding. It wasn’t because they held a grudge but because they didn’t want to leave Reyna alone; when she walked out of her bedroom that morning, one look at her was precisely why.

That was a day Reyna found herself wanting to talk to Liam more than most. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to tell him and vent to him about. She couldn’t and wouldn’t, but she wished she could.

Reaching for her bottle of water on her nightstand, Reyna’s eyes fell on a brown leather cover of a journal. She’d gotten it a month ago while out shopping with her Aunt Elsie. She hadn’t written in it … yet.

An idea then struck. Perhaps Reyna could tell Liam everything she wanted to. She could pour her heart and soul out to him onto blank pages, and though he’d never know or respond, maybe this could help her heal, even if only a little.

Reyna grabbed the journal and a pen from the nightstand drawer; she opened it to the first page, staring down at the blank sheet of paper for a moment as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Dear Liam …”

*******

•Two Months Later•

Reyna stood in her office as she slipped on her coat. It was Friday and, ahead of her assignments, she was looking forward to a weekend of … nothing. Isolating herself had become her norm.

It had been five months since Reyna last spoke to Liam and while better, she was still working on trying to let go and come to terms with everything.

Writing in the journal seemed to help somewhat.

Reyna wrote to Liam almost every day. She wrote about her days. She wrote every time something reminded her of him. She wrote to reminisce and added photos to some pages. She wrote every happy and lonely thought. Some entries were long and deep and vulnerable, and she cried over the pages and words he’d never read; others were short, a mere sentence, a simple, “I really missed you today.”

It wasn’t what Reyna wanted, but it was all she could have.

As she grabbed her purse off the back of her chair, a knock on her office door pulled Reyna’s attention; she glanced up to see Luca. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Hi,” Luca grinned. “I know you’re getting ready to head out, but, uh …” He trailed off, letting out a breath. “You know the gala my father is hosting for his firm tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” Reyna smiled. “My parents are going.”

Luca nodded. “I know this is last minute, but I wanted to ask … I don’t have a date, so would you … maybe want to be my plus one?”

Reyna stared at Luca for a moment. She’d turned him down for a date months ago because she wasn’t ready; he’d told her that if and when she was, he’d be there. They had shared that kiss a month or so later, but nothing since.

Although Reyna was still healing, would it be so bad to put herself back out there? To take that first step in really moving forward? He was only asking for one date.

“I know you said a while back that you weren’t in a headspace for dating, and if that’s still the case, I completely under—”

“I’d love to,” Reyna interrupted.

Luca beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Reyna softly smiled. “Really.”

*******

•Four Months Later•

Luca slipped an arm around Reyna’s waist as they walked out of the restaurant after dinner one night. She glanced up at him, and he smiled as he leaned in, pulling her closer as he placed a lingering kiss on her lips.

After that first date to the gala, Reyna explained to Luca that while she enjoyed his company, she needed patience; she told him about Liam — who he had been to her, their history and relationship, her heartache, and what she went through when things ended.

Luca had been understanding, and was more than happy to give Reyna the time she needed, but four months in, he found himself falling hard for her and was ready to make things more … official.

As they walked along the pier, Luca slowed their pace to a stop; Reyna leaned against the railing, looking out at the harbor. “Can I ask you something?” Luca said, and she looked at him, nodding with a smile. “What is this?” he questioned. “With you and I, I mean …”

“I —” Reyna paused for a moment. “We … we’re dating.”

“Yes,” Luca nodded with a halfhearted smile. “What I mean is … is there a point when this will … I don’t know,” he shrugged, “take that next step into something more … serious?”

“Serious as in …?”

“As in … when we go out, I can introduce you as my girlfriend instead of just my date.”

Luca knew that what was holding Reyna back from him was the piece of her that was holding onto her past. Perhaps he was a fool for holding onto his own hope that she would eventually see what was standing right in front of her — someone willing to love her the way Liam chose not to. He was tired of the chokehold this Prince still had on her.

Luca wanted to be all in with Reyna, and he would be if she could just get out of her own damn way.

“Look,” Luca began. “I know that there’s some small part of you that’s holding onto something for him …” At his words, Reyna let out a breath, feeling that dull ache start to roil in her chest mixed with a pang of heavy guilt. “I understand what he meant to you. But regardless of choice or circumstance, you were hurt because of him. And he’s the reason that you keep putting your life on hold while he’s out there living his. Have you ever thought that maybe if you just let him go … you’d finally be able to breathe again?” She dropped his gaze, blinking back the sting in her eyes and the strike his words had hit her with. “I don’t want to upset you, Reyna. All I’m saying is that you deserve to be happy, too.”

Reyna snapped her eyes back to him. You deserve to be happy, too. It wasn’t him telling her that she deserved to be happy that had stolen the air from her lungs.

It was the ‘too.’

Liam was happy … without her. It was a truth she had yet to allow herself to accept the possibility of.

And here was Luca … forcing her to face it.

Reyna couldn’t say Luca was wrong; she was holding onto Liam. And she felt guilty because she knew Luca cared about her; he’d gone out of his way to show her since that first date. And she cared for him.

“Reyna—”

“You’re right,” Reyna interrupted as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I …” She trailed off, letting out a breath.

Luca stepped forward; he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her gaze to his. He searched her eyes for a moment before capturing her lips in a deep kiss.

****

Later that night, Reyna sat on her bed, staring down at her journal; she’d still been writing in it almost every day.

The pen hovered over the page for a long while before Reyna finally put ink to paper.

“Dear Liam …

I have a boyfriend …”

*******

•Nine Months Later•

“This is amazing,” Reyna said as she took in the sunset at Castello di Amorosa.

Luca had planned a trip for them to Napa Valley, and one of their stops was the medieval-style Tuscan castle.

“I knew you’d love it here,” Luca said behind her.

“It’s gorgeous.”

As she stared at the castle, Reyna couldn’t help but be reminded of a certain someone. He always loved places like this, she thought to herself. And he loved good wine.

It had been a year and a half since Reyna had last seen or spoken to Liam. If someone told her just a couple of years ago where they would be now, she would have laughed in their face. Not them. Never. Yet, here they were, living two separate lives, no longer a part of each other’s. Devastated didn’t begin to describe how she still felt about it, even after all this time.

While Reyna missed everything she shared with Liam, more than anything, she missed her best friend. Not a day went by where he didn’t cross her mind at least a dozen times. She hadn’t reached out, however, and neither had he.

All she could do was hope that he was ok … and happy.

When Reyna turned back toward the vineyards, her gaze dropped to Luca; he was on one knee in front of her wearing a brilliant smile. She let out a breath, feeling her heart imperceptibly drop when he opened the box in his hands, revealing a glittering diamond ring.

“Reyna … will you marry me?”

The man kneeling before Reyna was holding his heart in his hands and asking her to take it, and the first thing that crossed her mind was not an answer … or perhaps it was.

Liam.

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

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[connectionterminated13]

Could you tell us more about Phone Guy in the fallout AU? Was he ever in a vault or has he always been on the surface?

You have made the Teddy very happy

He worked as a Vault tech reception as pre-war.

It paid well enough and he mostly took calls for some big corporate man that he never actually met about vault stuff and other boring stuff like arrange meetings. It was enough to support him and his wife and their dog and it was a very nice simple life! Then the bombs dropped while he was at work. He was in the vault tech Office building when it happened and the whole thing almost immediately collapsed with him and nearly 400 others inside... Phone guy was pretty much ghoul like immediately because he was so close to the blast, That's probably why he survived the building collapsing and no one else did the high levels of radiation healed his like broken messed up body when he finally was able to climb out.

Of course by then it was pretty obvious that his family was dead.. He had lived in the area that the bomb had been directly dropped on so all that was left of his nice little life was a giant irradiated crater in the ground. The whole thing was very sad and he did a lot of crying. It wasn't much better after that either. The few people left alive in the city either had by some miracle survived and were now hungry and territorial, Turned like him and we're also now hungry and territorial and scared, Or just Feral Ghoul. It was horrible and scary and there was a lot of blood and phone guy was almost sure he was going to die at any minute but he didn't.

After a while of just like wandering looking for some kind of civilization He came across a small settlement in salt lake filled with mostly ghoul that let him in. It wasn't exactly a nice place to live But it was better than nothing.. That's also where he first met Michael. He came to the camp a couple months after phone guy. He didn't really talk to anyone or except medical attention for his many wounds. Most of the time he just kind of sat there.. Phone guy didn't interest with Mike much over the next 15 years, Michael mostly just doing Small Jobs around that needed to get done. All he learned was that Mikey came from a really rich family and All of them had died out in the wasteland with him.. Mikey then left after 15 years because in his own words he was going to find a safe place, Also the mormons were beginning to become a problem... Constantly showing up at the settlement and getting more and more mad.

In the next year the mormons finally got fed up and Nearly completely destroyed the small camp and phone guy fled once again. He spent the next a years as a drifter, Then he finally got a real job when the animatronics start showing up and he began to volunteer to go out and shoot them away from settlements for caps! It turns out he was pretty good at it! Sure he wasn't allowed to actually go in any of the settlements usually and people were still not kind to him but it was better than nothing! After about 20 years of that Mikey showed back up and began to do the same thing. Michael was now in adult having spent the last 40 years traveling around America's surrounding areas in hopes of finding somewhere spared from annihilation, He didn't so he just came back to Utah...

They continued to do their work sometimes crossing paths for like a 70 years, Until on one especially bad night poor phone guy got covered in egg and got severe Burns all over his body.. So he gave up being a night guard, Moving into an abandoned gas station. That's where he was until Jeremy comes into the plot and phone guy begrudgingly agrees to help Mike and Jerry find the yellow rabbit man, And we're trying to do that gets himself murdered by Animatronic

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑺𝑶𝑫𝑬 𝑭𝑰𝑽𝑬

A few things to keep in mind; after the fallout with Tommy instead of heading to Boston Joel heads to the woods to escape it all, and the 20-year time jump doesn't happen. Which means, for now, no Tess, no Ellie. Joel is 32-33 here (since in the prologue he's around that age) and reader is in her mid-twenties

**for full series summary please check masterlist

chapter summary: You show Joel your home and the photographs you took over the past months.

pairing: joel miller x ofc!june | written in reader format, no body descriptions but does have a personality

word count: 1.7k

genre: dark cottagecore, horror, angst, explicit smut, hybrid au, minors dni

warnings: angst, joel having anger issues, heated arguing

SERIES MLIST || PREV CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

You never thought you would have another person in your house. Ever, really. 

But here Joel is, walking up the steps of your humble cabin, taking in the details, assessing what he could take just in case. At the time, inviting him over seemed like a good idea. You wanted him to know where you lived, if something were to happen to where he lived, you wanted him to know where to come. 

However, your good intentions were not reciprocated. 

“I’m not telling an Infected where I live,” he had said. “Feel free to show me if you feel that’s the right thing to do, but don’t expect me to do the same. We are not the same.” 

The words still echo in your head as you finally reach the top of the stairs. You don’t think it was wrong of him to think like that. Technically, you two aren’t the same, not even the same species. But it frustrates you a little bit to see that he’s still so reluctant about your intentions. All you want to do is make your life less miserable. 

“This is the bathroom,” you point out. “However, there’s no real plumbing. I pull in water from the nearby river and wash directly there.” 

He hums, eyes uncaringly looking inside. “What else?” he grunts, walking ahead. 

You dart ahead, grinning as you make an effort of bowing and opening the door. It’s stupid maybe, being so excited about wanting to show him the photos you had taken—But you couldn’t help it. It feels like having a friend over after years, it’s…it’s nice. 

“And here’s my bedroom slash office,” 

“Office?” he scoffs. “What work are you doing?” 

“I like taking pictures,” 

You don’t miss the way his face falls, hands tightening into fists and loosening up again. Confusion crosses your face but you manage to erase it by shaking your head. 

“Uh…anyway, do you want to see?” 

“Do I have a choice?” 

His voice is emotionless, so you have no way of telling if he’s annoyed or not. You only understand his intentions when you turn and see him smiling, the expression sprinkling relief over your heart. It’s a very small smile, something that wouldn’t be considered smiling before 2013, but now it’s the broadest smile in the world. 

It’s odd, feeling this light when doing something. You feel your fingertips tingling as you pick up a medium sized box from your desk and place it on the bed. Before he moves closer, you snatch Joel’s picture from on top of the pile and place it facing down on the sheets. 

“You really have been busy,” he remarks, picking up one of the photographs. It’s one of dandelions. “Not bad,” 

“Thanks. It is hard to find polaroid films and the one’s I find are quite old, or expired, hence the reason why all the pictures look faint or discolored. But it’s better than doing nothing,” 

Joel gives you a faint smile that makes your heart flutter, his eyes grow soft. “Guess so.” 

You show him your favorite photographs, one by one, with insightful commentary on each. He nods, a man of few words, but you appreciate having someone to talk to, other than your own echoing voice.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a golden light through the windows, warming your skin, you realize with a startle that hours have passed. You find yourself sitting on the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Joel, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The light dances on your skin, and the colors come alive, and for a moment, all is right in the world. No virus, no loss, no grief. Just the two of you, smiling and talking. 

It feels like a glimpse of another life, an alternate universe. The sudden urge to cry overwhelmes you. It’s so strong that you press your nails into your palm, the sting of pain forcing a hiss to stumble from your lips. 

“You alright?” 

The deep baritone of his voice makes you jump. Joel doesn't seem to notice, as he carefully places the photographs back into their box and slowly stands up. While you nod and open your mouth to say that you are, his eyes lingers on the backwards photograph sitting on the bed. 

He reaches out before you can stop him, “It seems like we missed one,” he says, picking it up. Your fingertips touch the photograph as he pulls it away, slipping from your grasp before you can prevent what’s about to happen. 

“Joel, wait—” 

You watch him, transfixed as he studies the photograph, his eyes scanning every inch, his mind working furiously. First, his eyes go wide, then they narrow, brows scrunched angrily. His eyes snap up, his gaze hardened like the first time you met him. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

“I can explain.” 

Joel doesn't pay attention to her explanations, his gaze glued on the photograph. It's like looking into one of those distorted mirrors at a theme park. In the picture, he's standing, gun strapped to his back, fingers curled around the straps of his backpack. He doesn't remember this moment, every day blending into one. It's hard to tell which day it is just from a single photograph.

He looks tired, cheeks hallowed and eyes sunken. His hair and beard has more grays than he remembers, and there's a scar above his right eyebrow that he hadn't noticed before. How could he? He doesn’t like to look at himself. 

But what really sets him on edge is the sight of his own gaze. In retrospect, it's a beautiful picture, the setting sun casting a golden glow on his skin and eyes alight. But he knows what he used to look like, how he used to be tired but happy, content with the life he had built for Sarah and him. Now, he looks tortured, eyes lacking life and love.

This physical copy of his grief and pain is a stark reminder of all that he has lost. He turns the photograph over in his hands, tracing the edges with his fingers as the weight of his past presses down on him. He can't bring himself to look at it any longer and feels a heavy ache in his chest.

He rips the photograph into two pieces, then four—He tears it until the pieces slip from his fingers, fluttering to the wooden floors. 

When he looks back at her, he feels anger. Nothing more nothing less. He never should have came here. 

Her lips are pressed tight, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. She looks so small right now, ears pointed down, and her body curling in a way that makes him think she wants to disappear. 

Maybe she should. 

Or better yet, he should. Only if he wasn’t a damned coward.

“Why the fuck would you take my picture without asking?” he spits, venom behind ever word. 

“We weren’t really on speaking terms at the time…” 

He senses her need to lighten the mood, but it’s too late. The lid is popped wide open, and he’s not strong enough to close it back. The sickening part is that he doesn’t want to close it. Joel wants to lash out, he wants to scream and throw a glass at the wall, watch it shatter into a billion pieces. He wants it so bad in fact, it feels if he doesn’t his chest might explode, his breathing hitches, eyes darting around. 

Joel spots the box of pictures, for a brief moment he imagines himself ripping it all to shreds. Pouring gasoline over them, watching it burn. 

“You shouldn’t have taken it anyway,” 

His gaze then falls upon the camera, sitting idly on the desk. She follows his gaze, noticing the way the air around him becomes tense when he picks it up. It’s hard to breathe. She starts begging him, her voice trembling, as his fingers tighten around the device.

"Look, calm down, please. I'm...I'm sorry, okay?" she says quickly adding. "I understand how you feel—"

"No, you don't," he snaps, the weight of his grief and pain pressing down on him. "You know nothing of my pain. You don't know what loss is."

With a snarl of anger and frustration, Joel throws the camera to the ground. It crashes with a loud sound of shattering glass and plastic. He watches as the pieces of the camera litter the floor, its once precious film now spilled out like entrails. His chest heaving with each breath, his anger slowly dissipating, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of regret. He stares at the broken camera, with a feeling of emptiness and a heavy weight on his chest, the feeling hadn’t gone away. 

As a response, her anger starts to rise as well, competing with his own. Her gaze traces along the broken camera pieces, her hands balling into fists. 

“You’re not the only one who lost people, Joel.” you say, eerily calm. He doesn’t like the way a chill has settled over the bottom of his spine. “I’ve lost people too. You don’t get to say who’s pain is bigger.” 

Joel steps forward, then another, crowding her space. He expects her to cower in fear, but instead she glares at him, staring at him with an unwavering gaze he’s never seen before. 

He’s so close that he can see the small flecks in her eyes. 

“Yes, I do.” his voice drops. “You talk mighty big for someone who prances around and takes pictures all day. You can fool yourself and think that you’re in pain but you ain’t fooling me. You’re happy.” 

She blinks away her tears quickly, her lips parting with shock. It’s too late for him to feel guilty now; he’s sure he’s run out of guilt. 

Anger briefly flares in her eyes, and much to his surprise she attempts to push him away. Joel grabs her wrist, holding them tight as she thrashes around. She refuses to look at him, his words cutting too deep and into something that she fears might be true.

“That’s not fair,” she cries out managing to pull one hand away and slam the side of her fist into his chest. “Fuck you Joel. Fuck. You.” 

“Good,” he replies cruelly. “That’s how you should be feeling.” 

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXV

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XXII - - - - Part XXIII - - - - Part XXIV

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

The nature of the Jedi Temple was such that years could pass unnoticed within the ethereal, eternal walls—and then a number of factors would converge simultaneously, and wreck all that.

In this case, dawn, rumors, and Quinlan Vos were all meeting in an abrupt and tremulous clash. 

Rumors and daylight, of course, were well known for their power to occupy multiple spaces at the same time. Quinlan Vos’s apparent ability to do so (for nothing else could explain his gentle but thorough interrogation of padawans in the sallies, his generous provisions of drinks for over-wrought nocturnal jedi, and his unauthorized access to closed off personal quarters, all in an impossibly short period time) was far more inexplicable, and therefore technically admirable.

Master Gallia did not feel admiring at the moment. She felt tired.

“Where. Is. Obi-Wan?” Quinlan repeated.

Adi Gallia danced around him, continuing on her stroll of the temple grounds. She released a flash of irritation into the force—of course Masters Koon, Windu, and Yoda all were shipped off for their own (admittedly grim) assignments, leaving her responsible for ‘local’ issues. She had accepted the possibility of intense political fallout, of course. She was prepared to soothe the worries of those still in-temple, who were just starting to pick-up on the certainly-not-an-evacuation. She had been less ready to deal with an incensed psychometric interfering in matters beyond his understanding.

“Classified,” she repeated, as neutrally as ever.

“Do you really want to have the rest of this conversation in front of the whole Order?” he hissed. “I went to his quarters, I felt—” Vos shuddered.

Gallia sighed, tension headache growing. “Come with me.”

She glided serenely to her personal office space, Vos trailing her like the irritable shadow he was.

The door clicked.

“I know he tried to kill himself,” he said bluntly. The Councillor winced slightly; even knowing the context didn’t change the very real and tragic brush with death. “I saw Skywalker see it.” 

Master Gallia didn’t reply—there was no point in denying, and every point in gaining information. 

“Do you know what Obi-Wan felt?” he asked manically.

The Tholothian Master took an involuntary step back. Part of her thought it would be more expedient to simply bring the man into the fold, but another part hesitated at trusting the already thinly stretched secret to a man who was, by Master Kenobi’s own admittance, far closer to falling than anyone realized. It was scarcely his fault—shadow work was dangerous, even when the galaxy wasn’t in the grips of a Sith-engineered galactic war, but still—

“Nothing!” he cried, slaming his palms on her desk in an alarming loss of control. “A brief feeling of panic when his hand was on the vibroblade and then fucking serenity as he tried to stab himself in the heart!”

“Master Vos—” she tried to say placatingly, but he was having none of it.

“Please,” he begged. “I know I can get through to him, just tell me where he is.”

“Quinlan Vos—you’re just going to have to trust the High Council to have Master Kenobi’s best interests in mind.”

He stared at her for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “You lost him, didn’t you?”

“Quinlan—”

The Kiffar barked out a laugh, pointing a finger in outraged accusation. “He woke up, half the galaxy felt that—and then he ran off, and now he’s somewhere, hurt, and the Council can’t spare the resources or the pride to help him!”

She hesitated—that was the cover story, one that would conceivably spread; but it felt deeply cruel to leave the Kiffar floundering in it. If only he was slightly less angry...

Vos took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said shortly. “The Council wants to keep his status under wraps—that’s fine; he wouldn’t want everyone knowing he’s vulnerable, anyway. Just give me what you have, and I’ll track him.”

Adi Gallia drummed her fingers on her rattled desk for a moment, before letting go of a half-truth. “We suspect he’s going after Count Dooku,” she said finally, suppressing any guilt she felt for the half-lie, or for causing Quinlan’s expression to twist tighter, when she could so easily relieve him of his burden.

“And?” he pressed.

Adi looked away. “Knight Skywalker’s with him, in some capacity,” she grit out.

Quinlan snorted. “Obviously.” Gallia’s lips tightened. 

“Is that it?” he asked exasperated. “You’re not going to even give me his file?”

“You don’t have it already?” she asked drly.

“I’ve got the bathashit official one you gave to the Chancellor,” he admitted, immediately and unrepentantly. “Where you all but threw him under a moving speeder,” he added hostily. 

Master Gallia winced. “Master Vos,” she tried again. “The Council has a plan. I regret that I cannot tell you it, but I beg of you—have faith in us for a little longer—don’t go after him.”

Quinlan’s expression tightened. “Is the plan for the good of Obi-Wan, or the good of the Council? Because sure, I know which Obi-Wan would prefer, and so do you—and I. Don’t. Agree.”

Gallia rubbed her temples, skull throbbing with tension. “And that’s why I can’t trust you with anything else,” she admitted, completely honest.

Quinlan nodded sharply. “May the force be with you, Master Gallia.” 

“And with you, Quinlan Vos,” she replied sadly. 

Quinlan stalked out, and Gallia took a brief moment to pity the both of them before returning to work.

- - -

Ventress skulked in the corner of a dingy bar, cursing Kenobi once again. A few hours on this miserable planet and all she had were rumors to go on. Obviously something had happened to the golden boy, but the underworld seemed even more puzzled than the kriffing Jedi. It was only a matter of time before the public caught wind, and then the gossip would become hopelessly entangled with the actually important whispers.

Sneaking into the Temple itself would be a worthy test of her skills—but if she was captured...well needless to say there would be no aid from Dooku. Had she not felt the Negotiator’s presence during the flight she might have believed this were some irritating test of her Master’s but this...

The Dathomori grimaced into her drink. If nothing else, Kenobi was a fearsome adversary—anything that could have riled him—possibly defeated him once in for all...Ventress hated to admit but she might be out of her depth.

“Is this seat taken?”

She looked up in irritation at a human male with a cocky grin, a gold face tattoo, and skin as dark as hers was pale. The idiot was already pulling out the seat, apparently utterly oblivious of her open contempt— not to mention the chill of the dark side she was deliberately projecting around her. 

“Yes,” she snapped. “Now leave, before I remove you. Violently.”

He grinned wider, leaning in. “Oh don’t be like that. Now, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing in a place like this?”

The fool then had the audacity to reach over, lightly brushing her hand. She grabbed the wrist, pinning it to the table. “Do. Not. Touch Me. You vile worm.”

“Aah! Okay, okay!” he babbled in panic. “Sorry, my mistake, thought you seemed hot and a little lonely, that’s all, miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take, you know? Wasn’t trying to cop a feel or anything I swear! I’ll go now, promise.”

She felt an odd tingling sensation run through her, starting at the single point of contact between them. She frowned, unable to classify it. He smiled charmingly. and she released him as if burnt. 

“You’re a Jedi,” she hissed, hand dropping to the sabers beneath the table. The tingling sensation faded. “What was that?”

The open panic disappeared, wholly replaced by the earlier smirk. “And you’re a Sith.” He flexed his hand before tucking it into a pocket. “Nothing to worry about. Just needed your help with an investigation.” He stood, bowing mockingly. “Thank you for your time.” And then he was gone, fading into the shadows. 

She leapt to her feet, running outside and snagging him from his hiding spot behind a crate. 

“What sort of Jedi shadow walks?” she asked, pressing him to the wall at bladepoint, careful not to allow any other point of contact between them. He looked at her as though she were an idiot, and her cheeks heated slightly. 

“You do realize I have to kill you now, right?” she snarled. “Can’t exactly have a Jedi Shadow telling people where I am” 

“You’re not my mission, darling,” he replied, flashing teeth. “Far as I’m concerned, this never happened.”

She narrowed her eyes, digging the tip of her knife into his throat. The Shadow looked deeply unconcerned. “But you thought I might be?” she questioned slyly.

He shrugged. “Sith Apprentice, half a galaxy away from the front off the war? Figured you might be up to trouble, yeah. Fortunately for both of us—as I’m sure an actual fight would be a massive and mutual inconvenience—whatever trouble you’re here for has nothing to do with me. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’d offer to buy you a drink but I’m fairly certain you’d throw it in my face so...”

He delicately pressed a finger to the knife at his edge. Bemused, she allowed him to push it away.

“And you got all that from touching my hand,” she asked incredulously, curious of his power despite herself.

He waggled his digits playfully. “Magic fingers.”

She scoffed. “Even if you were a psychometric—” She cut herself off, eyes flickering to the face tattoo. 

“Kiffar,” she breathed. “Of course. My gloves—but it was just a moment, what—ah.” She smirked. “Kenobi. You just wanted to know if I had been around him.”

“And now I know you haven’t.” He shrugged. “Anyway, have fun on Coruscant; good luck not getting arrested.” 

He started to amble away at a deceptively casual stroll. She fell into lock step.

“You’ve lost him,” she accused.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not,” he agreed mildly. She narrowed her eyes. 

“Some of the Jedi fear their golden boy might have fallen,” she guessed with absolute confidence, but neither his face nor his force presence gave anything away—and she was following him to a secondary location like a fool. 

Ventress lunged but the Jedi was dancing backwards, slipping into a nearby shadow. He fell into it sideways—completely, but crudely. She wheeled around, scanning the perpetually dim alleyway. One shadow grew darker—she threw a dagger and a patch of dark detached, hissing and bleeding a satisfying scarlet.

“Is there a point to attacking me,” he asked impatiently, saber finally appearing in his hand, though it stayed unlit. “I already told you that I don’t care what you’re doing here. What possible advantage could you gain in picking a fight with me? Even if you win, don’t you think the Jedi would notice if a shadow went missing on Coruscant?” 

“You really have no problem letting a Sith run around your precious Core world?” she asked skeptically, throwing another dagger. He dodged it, and it lodged itself in the brickwork. A random passerby immediately stole it—kriff she hated this world— but Asajj couldn’t chace after the parasite now, because the Jedi was throwing a—rock?

The window behind her shattered as she dodged the wild shot, and an incoherent roar spilled out, along with foul smelling water, and eye stalk, and the first few of what looked many tentacles.

“Oh you play dirty,” she breathed, reluctantly impressed. He hit her with a two fingered salute, disappearing again, this time by swaggering slowly around a corner. And then she had to focus on fighting a pissed off Dianoga whose tankhome had just been vandalized.

By the time she mortally wounded the garbage squid, the trail for her first and best lead on Kenobi had nearly gone cold. 

Nearly.

Part XXVI

[punkpoemprose]

December 15th- A Convenient Arrangement Part 7

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 4309 Words A/N: Anna gets to let it all out. This is the Anna and Elsa conflict that I wish they could have included in the movies, because as wonderful and kind and forgiving as Anna is, everyone has a breaking point. I thought this was going to be 10 chapters. It’s looking closer to 13-15 I think, but we’ll see how much I can squeeze in going forward. I have 4 days to write 10 more fics, and I work two of them... and I have a zine yo put together...we’ll see how this goes!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

She’d woken in his arms when sunlight flooded through the cabin’s front windows, warming her face and informing her that it was time rise once again. She’d kept her eyes closed despite it, pretending that she was still asleep. She just wanted to listen to his breathing and the beating of his heart for a little longer. She just wanted to be close and know that his holding her so tight was purposeful because she knew that he was awake and was trying to not wake her.

I’m not a good person.

The thought was not self-deprecating so much as it was chiding as she laid in bed with him for another half hour at least, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath her and trying not to flush when his hands would move across her back or tuck away a stray hair. It felt strange, but wonderful to be cared for.

She knew that she shouldn’t have pretended to be asleep, but she could never remember waking up and feeling quite so safe as she did in his arms. Moments of tenderness like that was not something she was used to and so she’d allowed herself to indulge in it, and he hadn’t commented even though she suspected that he knew after a short time that she was awake.

They’d had a light breakfast, and he’d helped her redress herself in the soft morning light. She thought that she may remember the deft way he’d adjusted her corset lacing for the rest of her life. He’d asked her if she’d needed help, and while she didn’t really, she’d consented because it was easier with help, and because she was curious about whether he could manage it with only her spoken instructions. She’d felt warm when he’d expertly tugged and tied, explaining sheepishly that he was used to ropework and that he hoped he hadn’t hurt her.

She knew now, after their night alone, that he’d never hurt her. At least not on purpose.

He’d never hurt her the way Hans had.

The quiet morning had continued on the wagon ride back to Arendelle. They hadn’t spoken of anything of consequence since the night before, occasionally breaking the silence with a comment about their surroundings or the weather, but otherwise enjoying the easy silence that no longer felt uncomfortable between them. They would have plenty of time to talk, but they both had seemed to enjoy the lack of questions and heavy conversations for a while.

The calm had ended after they reentered the castle gates, at least for her. She wasn’t certain about how things went for him because they’d been separated too quickly for her tastes.

He’d gone to care for Sven, not entrusting the sweet reindeer with a groom was something that Anna understood now. Sven was as much his family as the trolls were, as she hoped she was. Kristoff felt a duty to care for the creature himself.

Anna, however, had been quickly corralled into her sister’s office, where the day quickly became anything but quiet.

“What were you thinking?” Elsa said, her voice high and the anxiety not at all hidden.

Anna thought that the temperature in the room was maybe ten degrees lower than it was in the hallway just outside the closed door. Her chest felt tight at the realization, and her headache from the night before, when her memories had been returned to her seemed to resurge slightly, a dull hum of discomfort behind her eyes. She clenched her jaw and tried to focus on something else, the wall, the window, anything but her angry sister.

“I left you a note,” she said after a moment’s thought, “I was thinking I was spending some time with my husband.”

Elsa wasn’t calmed by this though. She shook her head and scoffed, giving Anna a look of annoyance, or maybe disappointment that burned through her, like she was being given a forcible internal frost burn from the coolness, even as she tried to look away from it.

“Did you not learn anything from Hans?”

Her hands balled into fists at her side. It wasn’t a question. It was an attack. This wasn’t a meeting, it was an interrogation.

And Anna wasn’t going to back down from it.

“Have you learned anything about what happens when you try to control my life?”

It was a snipe, but she wasn’t about to let Elsa judge her, Queen or not, for trying to get to know the husband that she had forced her into marrying. Elsa had all the power in deciding how they were to handle the fallout after everything with Hans, and instead of trying to find another way to calm the populace, she’d consented to a royal wedding. She’d asked Anna if she was comfortable with it as an afterthought, after the wheels were already in motion, and while she’d seemingly felt bad about the whole thing, it still wasn’t lost on Anna that her sister had once told her that she couldn’t marry someone she just met, and then all but forced her to do the very same.

“Or do you get to blindly pass judgement because you have a crown now?”

Anna saw the ice forming on the windowpanes behind her sister’s desk. The summer scene of gardens and green grass behind her suddenly covered with thick ice marring the sightline. Anna had been looking out to the stables out of the corner of her eye, taking comfort in knowing that Kristoff wasn’t far off. It probably wasn’t a good sign that she felt more comfortable with him than her own sister already. Really though, despite being a stranger, he was giving her a chance to know him. Elsa hadn’t afforded her the same chance, making her all the more the stranger.

“This isn’t about me,” Elsa hissed, “This is about your reckless behavior. You should have taken a guard with you. He could have…”

He could have killed you.

She might have entertained the thought before the trip. In fact, she had, but as reckless as it may have seemed to others to trust him, she knew that she had nothing to fear from him. He’d never meant her harm of any kind, not from the very start.

He wasn’t a man of manners or class or breeding. He was a simple ice harvester, and he’d helped her stand strong at their wedding, he’d not forced himself on her on their wedding night, he’d given her so much of himself, and he’d been nothing but gentle with her.

It wasn’t a long play. It was a kindness. It was something like love.

She thinks he could have killed me.

It was laughable, but she wasn’t laughing. She was raging inside, her heart pounding, and her head aching from the tension in her jaw.

“You could have!” Anna shouted in return, “And I should thank you by the way for your restraint, given that I just recently found out that you apparently almost killed me once before too. Why didn’t you tell me before Elsa? Was it just one more thing you didn’t think I could handle?”

Elsa’s brow furrowed, the fire was still in her eyes, but it was mixed with confusion.

“I take it a troll visited you last night to let you know where I was. Well, I had a lovely time with them, and apparently, I knew about you and the ice and everything until I was five and mother and father had them take the memories from me. I understand why, but what I don’t understand is why you never told me. You knew Elsa, and you never told me about it, or about what you could do. The person who put me in the most danger here is you!”

The room continued to cool, the ice on the windows grew thicker and Anna could see from the angry set of her sister’s jaw that she had struck a nerve.

“So yes, I took a chance to leave and spend some time with my husband. Last I checked I’m not a prisoner, and neither is Kristoff so we decided to leave, you know, enjoy life outside of these walls for a little bit given I haven’t been outside them in thirteen years. Maybe if you were that concerned about him I don’t know, potentially wanting to kill me, you wouldn’t have let the council force a wedding.”

“That’s enough!”

Anna saw the flakes in the air. She knew her sister was at her breaking point, but she couldn’t help but keep pushing. Elsa had gone straight for her most vulnerable point as soon as she’d entered her office, and Anna wasn’t going to take it without dishing it back out.

“Is it?”

She stomped across the wooden floor that was quickly accumulating ice and snow from her sister’s inability to hold on, getting into her face. It was probably a bad idea, but she couldn’t help it. She’d rather get it all out now than keep holding it in. She wasn’t going to spend the next thirteen years of her life knocking on her sister’s door begging for her attention, she was going to take it whether Elsa liked it or not.

“Because I don’t think it is. I don’t think this is enough, because I’ve got news for you. You’re talking to me like I’m a child, and I’m not. I know because I spent every day of my childhood watching days and months and years pass alone, wanting nothing more than someone to spend the time with. I might have made a mistake, but right now the score isn’t anywhere near even Elsa, and I’m not going to take this from you. Kristoff isn’t Hans and if you compare them one more time so help me…”

It happened in a flash, the room went from icy cold, snowy, crusted with ice, to bright white, and then, back to normal.

Elsa fell apart, crumbling as she started crying, in front of Anna.

I’m a horrible sister.

No. This was necessary.

It hurts to hurt someone you love.

She shouldn’t have pushed so hard, was her first thought. Then, shortly after, as she lowered herself to the floor and wrapped her arms around her crying sister, the ice Queen of Arendelle that she’d reduced to tears, she realized that it needed to happen. Even if it hurt them both, she needed to let it out. If she hadn’t it would have eaten her alive.

“It’s okay,” she said, letting her sister cry into her shoulder for the second time in as many weeks.

“I’m not angry anymore, I just needed to get it out,” she said, holding her tight as Elsa started to shake in her arms, hyperventilating as she cried.

“I’ve been so mad for so long, and it took getting my memories back to figure out why… Elsa I know that it wasn’t your choice when we were kids, but I’ve been alone almost my whole life and Kristoff…”

“I’m so sorry.”

It was a wet, nervous sound when she spoke, filling the space as Anna searched for the words to describe exactly how she felt about her husband. It surprised Anna to hear her sister apologize, assuming that she’d want her to leave as soon as she found a voice to tell her to get out. It was what she’d come to expect of Elsa, even when she was being contrite, that she never wanted Anna to stay with her for very long.

“I knew you were lonely. I knew you needed me, but I was too afraid of myself to let you in. If I’d just talked to you more… if we’d just left the castle, maybe you would have never…”

“I know,” she said, stopping her before she could bring up the situation with Hans, “Just… I need you to start trusting me. You haven’t even talked to me since the wedding. You’ve never even had a conversation with Kristoff. You can’t just assume the worst of him.”

She was doing the best she could to keep her voice low, soft, and reassuring. Despite the frustration she had and still felt toward the crying woman in her arms, she also loved her sister dearly. She was all the family she had.

Except now you have Kristoff too.

She wished that her sister could have seen the way he’d held her when she was fighting through her headache, or the way that he took her hand and gave her signals and avenues to express her discomfort or fear. She wished that she could see the way he sometimes looked at her like she was something precious. Maybe then she’d have been less worried. Maybe then she’d understand.

“I didn’t want to,” Elsa sniffled, “At least I didn’t mean to think that about him right away. But I didn’t know when you were coming back and there were no guards with you, and then there was a troll in my office. Anna I didn’t know what to think.”

It took her almost a full minute to get the whole thing out, the sniffling and choked up tone of her voice making it difficult for her to speak and be understood.

“Think that I learned my lesson and that I’m safe with my husband. I wouldn’t have left alone with him if I didn’t trust him. It’s not like before, I’m not blind.”

“But he’s a stranger.”

“Not to me. We’ve been together for a short time, but he’s no stranger to me. He’s a…”

He’s a man I’m falling in love with.

“He’s becoming a dear friend. I think you’d like him Elsa. He’s got a good heart.”

***

When Kristoff had finished removing Sven’s tack, he’d brushed the reindeer. The he’d fed him, sat with him for a short time, and mostly waited for Anna to return. After what felt like an hour, he forced himself up from the hay bale he’d seated himself on and left Sven’s quiet company for the castle. He’d hoped that Anna would have returned after speaking to her sister, but he supposed that even though she’d told him they didn’t have any duties as a couple for the week, she might very well be too busy to spend time with him now that they were back at the castle.

He’d done his best to keep his head high despite feeling foolish walking through the halls. He’d pretended that he wasn’t lost and snuck Anna’s map from his pocket surreptitiously, running his fingers over it to find his way back to his room.

On his way he’d even managed to ask a maid if she would be able to have a lunch sent up to his room. It felt like something that he shouldn’t have asked, feeling no more royal or entitled as he had before leaving, but also wanting not to return to the kitchens himself. There had been something about being in the space that had made him feel even more like he hadn’t belonged.

Maybe it was because you were beneath even the potato peeler last week

He was in his room now, changing his shirt into one of the clean ones he’d grabbed from his cabin, along with most of the rest of his belongings that fit into one small bag. He heard the knock, and shouted that it was open, knowing it was probably his lunch, but hoping that it was Anna.

“Sir, my apologies, but I believe I encouraged you to get to know Anna better this week,” Kai said as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him, “Not kidnap her to the mountains leaving nothing but a note behind. The Queen was in hysterics… which I should inform you, you do have dinner with her tonight.”

“Dinner with the Queen?”

“As arranged with your wife I believe. She’ll also be in attendance I believe.”

He cursed under his breath, catching a both amused and disapproving look from Kai as he did so. He thought that the heavyset old butler might get along well with his father. He often made the same face.

“I should inform you that you shouldn’t curse in response when invited to dinner with a Queen, but I suppose you already know that. I’ve been in the service of the young Queen for many years, and I believe she trusts me, so I hope it is not a breach of that trust when I say that last I saw her she was not particularly pleased with you.”

“Of course not,” he said, feeling underdressed in the comfortable shirt.

Feeling underdressed next to the butler probably isn’t a good sign for me.

“Don’t mistake me sir,” he added, “I think that it has everything to do with her worries for her sister. If you assuage those I think that she would be perfectly happy to meet your acquaintance.”

Kristoff huffed. He did feel bad for taking Anna away from the castle. He knew that his Uncle had spoken with the Queen, but if he’d thought a bit more about the way he and Anna had gone away beforehand, he probably would have been able to avoid this whole situation. He didn’t want people to have to worry about Anna when he was with her. Least of all her sister.

Her sister who could have me executed if she wants.

“How would I manage that?”

Kai set a tray he’d been carrying atop a table in the middle of the room. Kristoff couldn’t help but think that the man might be doing more for him than he was strictly tasked with insofar as his level of interest in his getting into the Queen’s good graces. He told himself that it was probably because he wanted to see Anna happy and safe given the many years he spent looking after the sisters.

He was happy to have someone to help him regardless. He didn’t think he would be capable of navigating the rules and manners required to not blunder through the rest of his life in the castle without it.

“Well to start,” he replied, “We’ll need to find you something proper to wear to dinner. You have a tailors appointment tomorrow morning, but we’ll have to make do until we sort that out.”

Kristoff couldn’t help but feel like he should be insulted, or at least a bit peeved over the man’s words, but he couldn’t manage it. All he could think of was holding Anna while she was pretending to be asleep that morning and doing anything to see her smile. Doing anything to make her sister believe that he’d meant no harm in taking her to the mountains so that he’d not be under scrutiny every time he spent time alone with his wife.

***

Anna had taken it upon herself to arrange the whole thing. She felt a little bad about the amount of time that it was taking to set her schedule for the week and speak with the kitchen staff about what she wanted for the dinner she was arranging in hopes that her sister would be comforted by meeting her husband in a more significant way than watching their wedding. At least she hoped that the meeting would allow the two to come to some sort of understanding.

I only have two people. If they could just get along that would be ideal.

With all the running she’d been doing she hadn’t had a chance to return to Kristoff. She’d heard that Kai had brought lunch to his room, and after that she assumed that they were busy. Kai was her sister’s most trusted advisor, even though his official position was castle steward, Elsa trusted him with aiding her in crucial decisions beyond its walls. That Kristoff had his council just went to show that there was hope, and that at least someone else was invested in making things work.

She spent the rest of the afternoon deciding what to wear and receiving and writing thank you letters for wedding gifts that had been pouring in from merchants and allied nations. Most of whom had already been in town for Elsa’s coronation and who had not had the time to select a well thought out gift after the rush of events the small country had experienced.

She’d waited until just shortly before the dinner was to start to walk through the halls and to the dining room, finding neither Kristoff nor her sister on the way.

“My apologies your majesty. I hope you understand I’ve never needed to inform anyone of my travel plans in the past, and it was not my intentions to worry anyone by taking Princess Anna into the mountains with me. In the future should we decide to go anywhere together I’ll ensure that you are informed directly.”

Anna recognized the voice of the man standing in the hall outside the dining room. The man addressing the queen, but so neatly dressed she barely recognized him as her husband. He looked much like he had on their wedding day. Clean shaven with his hair slicked back. The clothes he wore were simple, but they’d been pressed and someone had taken the time to tie a cravat around his neck.

Kai no doubt.

That man has been wearing cravats for years, in style or not.

They hadn’t noticed her coming down the hall, or at least she didn’t think that they had given that neither made any sign of noticing her approach.

“You must understand,” Elsa said back, seeming in much better shape than she had been hours earlier, “With everything that happened with Hans I worry about her. I’m sure you’re a good man, but you can’t fault me for being cautious.”

He gave her a strange look and Anna’s heart started to pound. She hadn’t spoken with him about Hans. Being in the mountains for the whole debacle, she’d suspected he hadn’t known all the details, and for now she wanted it kept that way. Her feet felt frozen below her though, as Kristoff responded in confusion.

“I’m not really sure I know the details,” he said quietly, “I’m sure if I did I would have thought twice about taking her away from the castle alone. No one has told me much of it, even if it was the reason for our wedding.”

Elsa shook her head, looking anxious, but then recovered.

She took a deep breath and Anna wanted to run down the hall, to speak up, to tell her that it was something that she and Kristoff would discuss later, when she was ready.

“Hans…He tried to kill us both.”

***

He noticed her after her sister spoke. She looked white as a ghost at the end of the hall, and he understood why. Her sister hadn’t exactly been vague when it came to telling him why she’d been worried about him taking her into the mountains.

Hans. The foreign prince. He’d tried to kill his wife and her sister.

He’d thought that maybe the real reason for the wedding had just been that Elsa had lost control of her powers and that to build confidence in her ability to rule a royal wedding was planned to comfort the masses. He supposed now that it was just part of it, that the real reason was more complex, and that it all came down to the man that Anna had known before him.

He wasn’t sure of how to react. All he knew was that Anna’s eyes were on him and that she looked upset. Crossing the hall to her was instinct, as was giving her his hand, offering it to her open and outstretched.

She walked forward instead, into his chest, and into his arms as he wrapped them around her. She had every right to be upset, as did her sister he supposed as he felt even greater regret for taking Anna away without warning. So he did what he thought was best, what Anna was showing him was best. He held her close.

Elsa cleared her throat after a moment.

“I think…”

Kristoff turned his head, not releasing Anna to look at her sister. She was staring at them, her cheeks flushed and an almost smile on her lips.

I think she might understand now.

“I think dinner is ready. I’ll just go ahead… Anna… Kristoff, whenever you’re ready. I think we have a lot to discuss.”

When the dining room door closed behind her, leaving them alone in the hall, he turned his full attention back to Anna, holding her tight, leaning his head down low, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s alright,” he said, because that was all he could think to say. “It’s all going to be alright.”

“Who made you wear a cravat?” she asked, quiet with her face against his chest.

“Kai.”

She made a soft sound, almost like a laugh but not quite.

“I thought maybe. Can I take it off for you? You look uncomfortable.”

He nodded, and she stepped back a bit out of his arms, giving him room to duck down for her.

Her small fingers slid along the collar of his shirt, loosening the knots of the offending cloth and then, unexpectedly, running her fingers through his hair, mussing it a bit before pulling the cravat away and allowing him to stand back up again at his full height.

“There,” she whispered, taking his hand with the cloth between their palms, “You look like you again.”

The color had returned to her face and he smiled at her. She liked him as he was, and that was a comfort.

Now to convince her sister.

[ahelpfulpeach]

#85 with catradora?

HEY I’M HERE SEVERAL MONTHS LATE WITH A PROMPT FILL, HERE YA GO

85: Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.

The exact words aren’t used but the gist is there. Also this is in another AU thing, but actually a world I have been working on for like. Months. Based mostly around my own religious trauma :D Will include explanation and the prompt fill below the read more

now also on ao3

So, brief overview here is Adora and Catra have known each other since early childhood, met in Sunday School. Catra was raised by Shadow Weaver, Adora was raised by Light Hope (her referred to just as Hope). Fallout related to religious homophobia happens when they’re about 16/17ish and Catra is moved away by her mother and hasn’t seen Adora since. This snippet takes place not too long before the semi-planned fic I have of the two of them reuniting and healing from all that. buuuut yeah :D enjoy

Fighting back tears on her living room floor really was not the way Catra had planned on spending her evening. She was supposed to be unpacking—unpacked by now—and taking old shit she didn’t need to the nearest Goodwill. She’d even gotten a good pile going, in, well, mostly around a box in the hallway (basketball was never her sport). This was supposed to be a fresh start, a new apartment, a new city, a new position and office. Sure it was the same company, but aside from that, nothing of her past was here to fuck things up.

Except, apparently, that fucking jacket. Catra choked back a particularly snotty sniffle with a forced laugh. It was funny, surprising, ironic even, that this was among the things of hers her mother didn’t toss as soon as she left. Probably didn’t realize where it came from, or didn’t bother checking through her coats for ‘rebellion and sin,’ or whatever (even if she rifled through everything else).

All in all it was innocuous, another dark red jacket among the couple others from her high school. No logos or designs to make it stand out. That was probably what saved it, ‘cause fuck, if she’d known…

Well, then she wouldn’t be crying over now.

It took everything Catra had not to chuck the offending article across the room. She was supposed to be getting better about that. Not throwing things. But God fucking dammit, it was tempting. How dare she taint this place she hadn’t even gotten a chance to settle into?

“Fucking… shit.” Swiping at her nose, Catra tossed the jacket onto the couch and stood, running a hand through her hair, “Okay. Okay, okay. Fuck. Break time. Yeah.”

All of a sudden the silence in the apartment felt oppressive, too quiet and too much all at once. Every step was grating, the whir of the AC deafening.

“Water,” she muttered to herself, if only to override the other noises, “Get some water and breathe and—fuck, toss it.” That would be the smart thing to do. She’d gotten rid of most everything else from Adora. Well, no, her mother had gotten rid of most everything else. The notes and letters and crafts and even the more innocuous gifts. The only things she’d been able to save back then were a few passed notes in a school journal, a book her mother hadn’t known came from her, and a couple little knick knacks. Those were gone now, lost or purposely left behind or tossed.

But this, apparently, had been sitting in the box of coats since that first move, all unneeded until now.

The glass was getting uncomfortably cold in her hand. Catra took a quick sip, to say she’d gotten up for some reason, before setting it on the counter.

It was a decent coat, heavy enough to keep her scrawny ass warm in the snow. It would do someone else some good. All it would do here was sit in the closet and hurt. Of course, the idea of getting rid of the actual last thing hurt too. The last time she thought she’d gotten rid of the last thing, she’d been angry. Boxed it up with the pointless crap her mother had sent and left it by the side of the road. Maybe someone found it, maybe not, at that point she hadn’t cared, she just wanted it gone.

“I already have enough coats.” Right, like saying it aloud would help. It wasn’t like it was a work appropriate one anyway, too casual. It didn’t make sense to keep it even without the emotional baggage.

“Catra, your mother called.”

Even if Adora hadn’t been half out her bedroom window at the time, trying to gather up snow from the sloping roof below it, that would have been enough to make her shiver.

“She said she was called into work and will not be able to pick you up,” Hope continued from the hall, “I am about to leave as well, would you like a ride?”

“What’d she say?” Adora asked, doing her best to glance over her shoulder. Her hair was down around her face, still a mess, cheeks and nose bright red from the cold.

“Just asking if I want a ride,” she replied quickly before calling, “I’m good, thanks!”

“Very well. She also indicated you have chores when you return.”

Figured, she always had chores. But that meant she’d expect them done before she got back. That realization came too late though, she could hear the front door open and close. Sure, she could run after, but she wasn’t dressed yet, and Hope was nothing if not precise. She wouldn’t want to be late.

“Got it!” Adora shimmied back, settling beside her on the rumpled bed with a decent sized snowball and a wicked grin.

“Get away from me with that thing!” Catra shrieked, stumbling out of bed and across the room. Adora gave chase with a laugh, finally cornering her in the little hall bathroom she hadn’t quite managed to lock in time.

“Asshole!” she snarled, hurriedly trying to remove the melting slush from the inside of her shirt as Adora watched with an all too pleased smirk.

“Wow, such language. That’d be what, like three hours of detention?”

Catra almost snorted. She wasn’t going to give Adora the satisfaction just yet but that did remind her, “Nah, principal’s trying this new thing where he has people come to his office and prays with them about their sins or whatever.”

Adora, however, did snort, and Catra couldn’t quite hold back her grin.

“That’s probably a better deterrent, honestly. But also I couldn’t really hear you earlier, what did Hope want?”

Right, yeah. That problem.

“Mother dearest has my task list ready, I’ve gotta go.”

Despite the disappointment, Catra took a little satisfaction in the way Adora’s shoulders slumped. At least she wasn’t the only one bummed out.

“She gonna drive you?”

“She just left.”

Adora’s frown turned harder, “But it’s snowing, did you even bring a jacket?”

No, no she hadn’t, because yesterday when she walked over it wasn’t snowing, and the only jacket that still fit was a huge puffy one that was only good for snow days.

“It’s not that far, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s like a mile and a half. Go get dressed, I’ll find something.” Adora had that stupid determined face on, there was no arguing with her when she was like that. So she went back to Adora’s room, slipping into her outfit from the day before and borrowing a pair of socks—Adora had a weirdly huge sock collection, she wouldn’t miss these, and they were way thicker than hers. By the time she emerged again, Adora had one of her jackets draped over her arm, a heavy, dark red field coat. One she wore pretty frequently.

“Here, you can take this one, borrow it ‘til winter’s over at least, since your snow jacket’s kinda dumb anyway.”

She remembered how at 16, when Adora was so busy most of the time with school and sports and everything else Hope threw her into, she’d been so desperate to keep pieces of Adora for herself. She’d barely argued, even though the sleeves hung well past her fingertips and she had been kinda swimming in it. She’d tucked it away as soon as she got home, made sure to only wear it occasionally, convinced her mother she suddenly developed school spirit so she’d buy her another coat of a similar color so she could camouflage it. It had worked, apparently.

Shit.

Kicking the empty box it came from aside, Catra snatched a hanger from the closet. It was a good coat, she’d find some use for it.

[fbfh]

I Don’t Care - Leo x reader

Genre: lighthearted/comedic angst, soulmate au, good ending

Pairing: leo x gn reader (future relationship) ft calypso

Au: soulmate au

Wordcount: 800 something

Requested: nah

Warnings: a fair amount of swearing, reader's mental health is... not great, mentions of loss of appetite/living off ibuprofen for medical reasons, reader drastically changes their appearance/personality due do circumstances, brief mentions of therapy, I think that's it lol

Recommended songs: i don't care by fallout boy ft. disloyal order of water buffaloes by fall out boy

A/n:

You never would have expected your life to go so horrendously wrong in such a short period of time, but hey, here you are; worrying the people you love, focusing on shit you don’t even care about, and barely getting through the day. You had spiraled so fast - though no fault of your own - that Chiron made you schedule ‘check in appointments’ (aka therapy sessions) with him at least twice a week. Not to mention the mandatory checkups with Will Solace, who was still baffled by your “mystery medical condition”, which included one numb finger, heart palpitations and chest pains, and sleep problems. I mean, it could be worse, you could have no sources of serotonin in your life instead of one inconsistent one. You had no idea how it seems to fix your problems, at least temporarily, but it does. Not just in a ‘hey, I feel better emotionally’ way, but it genuinely makes your physical symptoms less bad. And it doesn’t even make sense, because you don’t have a crush on him or anything. Like, you actually don’t. You didn’t even know he existed before all this. But for some reason, the only thing that makes you feel even slightly better is Leo Valdez’s attention. 

You tried to be normal at first, you really did. But he was so preoccupied with his girlfriend (who everyone hates, not just you) and his projects that you couldn’t get closer to him. So you settled for the next best thing - fucking with him. Nothing serious or dangerous, just some pranks here, some innuendos there, y’know, enough to make him think of you. The more you did it, the more it seemed to work. It’s funny how a mystery medical issue and a whole lot of boy brain rot could change a person. You were not the same person you’d been a year ago - hell, a month ago. Your appetite had left the chat, you lived off coffee and ibuprofen, and you stopped giving a single fuck about anything other than the 18 year old hispanic boy who could inexplicably solve your problems, and getting through the next hour of the day. 

You forgot what having feeling in your pinky finger or a consistent pulse was like a long time ago. You brushed the thought off as you finished getting dressed. You were a hot flaming disaster these days. It was horrible at first, you felt like your old life was slipping through your fingertips. Then after mourning the slightly normal person you used to be who would do their hair and bullet journal and drink tea before bed, you embraced whoever the hell you were becoming. Your impulse control had gone out the window, along with any structure or routine, and your sense of self. You had hacked up a few of your camp shirts and pairs of jeans, and got some black platform boots decorated with slime drips just because you liked them ironically. Your hair had been bleached and dyed half cherry red, half black late last night. You found all this strangely liberating.

Thankfully, Leo also had mandatory ‘check in appointments’ with Chiron after dying and coming back to life. Apparently that can fuck a person up. You got to the living room in the big house where you two would wait for your appointments with Chiron. You flipped your hair to the red side and sat down across from him, sprawling out over an armchair. 

“Hey, Sparky,” you drawled, a smirk already on your face. He sighed and focused on the small thing he was building.

“What, no sass from the bad boy supreme?” 

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” he replied, his leg bouncing faster. Even he knew it sounded lame, but he never knew what to say around you. He didn’t know why you liked to mess with him so much, but it always disarmed him, and he didn’t know how to respond. You always seemed to know exactly how to get under his skin, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“Yeah, cause doting on your girlfriend takes up so much of your free time…” you punctuated the sentence with a sip of coffee. He looked up from his project.

“Are you trying to get me to hate you or something?!” he snapped. A smile played at your lips.

“See, I don’t care what you think, babes,” the door opened, and Chiron motioned for you to enter his office, “as long as it’s about me.” you said the last part quietly so only he could hear. You shot him a wink as you entered Chiron’s office. You got a glimpse of him blushing and putting out the small fire on his cheeks as the door closed. You sat down, eyes tracing the red string tied to your pinky finger that only you seemed to see, and you felt your heart beating in sync with Leo’s. Your suspicions were confirmed. 

You were soulmates. 

Now you just had to find a way to prove it to him.

×

[imhereformr]

11 for Flora x Mirta (underrated ship)

11. Secret Relationship

Flora checked her purse for the millionth time as she waited for the bus. She swore she was forgetting something, but nothing was missing. Keys, check. Wallet, check. Bus ticket, check. Book, check. Birth certificate in case she was stopped, check. She carried the roses she’d bought at the florist two doors down from the office building she worked in, so she knew she hadn’t forgotten those. Had she forgotten to file something? Or maybe there was a memo she’d forgotten to leave on the boss’s desk? Either way, it was too late now. She was already a ten-minute walk away at the bus stop and Mirta was expecting her home. 

Flora walked onto the bus and gave the driver her ticket. It was the same driver she always had in the evening: a kind old man with short, thinning white hair. A much more pleasant one than the racist she had to deal with in the mornings. “Got a secret admirer?” the driver asked, nodding to the bouquet.

“Oh no” Flora laughed awkwardly. “They’re for my -” Girlfriend. “Mother. Tomorrow’s her birthday and she just loves roses.”

“Well, aren’t you a good daughter” he commented. Flora smiled appreciatively and took her seat at the back of the bus. Flora hated lying to the man, but this was 1952 and her relationship with Mirta was illegal in more than one way. Where Mirta had milky white skin, Flora’s was darker, like café au lait. White didn’t date anything other than white, and women and men didn’t date anyone other than each other. Lying was a necessity; they had to do it to protect themselves. That was why everyone believed they were best friends who roomed together, not lovers. 

For the longest time, they had just been best friends. They’d met on the sidewalk when they were six. Mirta had been playing hopscotch and Flora had walked by, commenting that it looked fun. Mirta had invited her to join. Thankfully, Mirta’s parents were very progressive and had accepted; most white parents would have gone into hysterics at the thought of their precious little girl playing with a Latina. They would play at Flora’s for the most part as her community didn’t care much if the white girl came around. Every time Flora went to Mirta’s, though, she could see the women peering out of the blinds and feel the shift in her mother’s energy. By the time they were 8, Flora stopped going to Mirta’s, but Mirta’s mother happily continued to bring Mirta over. As they grew up, they kept their friendship secret, not wanting to provoke the racists. It wasn’t as fun, but it was just easier that way.

Then, at some point, everything changed. They were growing into women and Flora began noticing how beautiful Mirta was. Dark red hair against alabaster skin and soft grey eyes, freckles that danced when she laughed, a soft raspy voice that gave Flora shivers and a heart so pure that Flora knew the world would be a much better place if everyone were like Mirta. It had taken two years for her to come to terms with the fact that she was in love with her best friend. Another year after that for Flora to confess it, fully aware that it would likely mean the end of her friendship with Mirta.  

Flora’d picked a night when Mirta would be sleeping over and her parents were out of town, caring for her grandmother after the old woman had taken a tumble. Flora just couldn’t lie about her feelings anymore. If Mirta stormed out, at least Flora wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout of her parents asking what had happened. She told herself that not having Mirta in her life would make it easier to get over the redhead. She just had to hope Mirta wouldn’t tell anyone.  

She hadn’t expected Mirta to kiss her or say she felt the same, but she had. Flora’s heart had burst with a joy she’d never felt before or since. They kissed some more on Flora’s bed until one thing led to another and they ended up spending the night together in the most intimate of ways, exploring each other’s bodies with such love and tenderness. It had been heaven. They moved out together at 21, a year after that fateful night, claiming they wanted to experience independence before ‘settling down’. It had been four years since that, and they still had no intentions of settling with any man. They were happy even if they had to hide themselves from everyone.  

Flora got off the bus and thanked the driver. It was two blocks from the bus stop to their apartment building. She unlocked the glass door at the main entrance and checked the mail before heading up the five flights of stairs to their floor. Someone was cooking something heavenly – her bet was on the old woman at the end of the hall. She was a widow and constantly baking and cooking the most delicious smelling things.  

Her path stopped at a plain brown door, apartment 503. The apartment she shared with the person she considered her true home. Flora tried to make herself presentable before she entered; flatten her hair a bit, adjust her shirt and skirt, check her lipstick and mascara. She’d had a rough day at work, she reminded herself when she saw the smudge of mascara under her eyes. She looked good enough. Besides, Mirta always thought she looked beautiful anyways.  

The aroma that surrounded her when she opened the door was unexpected. The fresh herbs and juicy chicken mixed with remnants of something citrusy and sweet was mouthwatering. Flora moved down the corridor, stopping to slip her heels off and drop her purse on the floor beside the shoes. Past the bedrooms, one of which they’d decorated as 'Flora’s’ in case they ever got visit, and washroom into the small kitchen.

Mirta stood in the middle of the powder blue room with its white cabinetry and the small blue fridge that Flora had been ecstatic to find on sale. Her short hair was pulled back into a tiny chignon at the nape of her neck and she wore a black blouse and purple skirt with a beautiful black flora detailing. Mirta loved to sneak floral prints into her outfits; she claimed it was her way of showing the world how much she loved Flora since she couldn’t actually show the world.  

On the other side of the kitchen was their round dining table. A bouquet of red roses rested on the center of the table in a glass vase surrounded by tall candles in gold holders that Flora didn’t remember them having. Along the sideboard was more candles creating a beautiful twinkling effect in the room that reminded her of a starry night. Rose petals swirled around the candles, popping brightly against the white sideboard.  

Flora walked over to the table and laid the bouquet she’d bought down beside the vase. As she took in the room, she felt hands circle her waist and a kiss land on her shoulder. “Happy anniversary, my darling” Mirta whispered. “I love you.”

Flora turned in Mirta’s grasp and wrapped her own arms around the redhead's neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Every single kiss felt like the first time, even five years later. Flora cherished every single one because she never knew when she would get the last kiss. She never wanted it to come, never wanted any of the kisses to end. Mirta broke away, smiling at the beauty in her arms as she rested her forehead against Flora’s. “I love you too” Flora told her, returning the smile. It was the sincerest smile she’d had all day; she never needed to fake anything with Mirta. Never had, never would. Years of friendship and love meant they knew each other inside out, and Flora never wanted that to change.  

[ladylillianrose]

Clarkeman Fanfiction Recommendation List

I decided to compile a nice easy access list for everyone of popular/highly rated Max Richman/Zoey Clarke fanfictions. They are arranged by type of work, and alphabetically by title! 

Collections:

Fallout by Jade4813: After the embarrassing incident at Simon and Jessica’s engagement party, Zoey knows she needs to clear the air with Simon, but she keeps getting distracted by memories of That Song. Part 1 of Zoey’s Extraordinary Confessions Series. Rated General Audiences, Complete

Give Me One Good Reason by TheAuthor44: What if Zoey hadn't run out the door after being confronted with Max's heart-song in 1x11.Part 2 of The ByeByeBye Collection. Rated General Audiences, Complete

Give Me One Good Reason, Part 2 by TheAuthor44: After their fight in the alley, Zoey and Max still have a lot to express….Part 2 of The ByeByeBye Collection. Rated Mature, Complete

Repercussions by Jade4813: Sequel to Fallout (and episode 7 of the series). Zoey still has the ability to hear other people's "heartsongs" but now others can hear her feelings, too. Will Max finally learn how she feels about him? (Inspired by the episode 8 description.) Part 2 of Zoey’s Extraordinary Confessions Series. Rated General Audiences, Complete

Resolution by Jade4813: Zoey has finally figured out how she feels about Max, but when she tries to get up the never to tell him, Everything. Goes. Wrong. Will the two of them ever manage to get on the same page? Part 3 of Zoey’s Extraordinary Confessions Series. Rated General Audiences, Complete

Multi-Chapter, Complete:

Ad Nauseam (Or Not) by Gwritesforfun:  5 times Zoey and Max attempted to talk about their feelings and were interrupted. One time they weren't. Or, the evolution of a much-needed discussion. Rated Mature, Complete

Adventures in Babysitting by TheAuthor44: Max helps babysit baby Peter when Zoey is stuck at work. Ladies, tell your ovaries I said you're welcome. Rated General Audiences, Complete

The Lies We Tell Ourselves by Jade4813: Max would do absolutely anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last "big moment" to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it's only his heart that stands to be broken. Right? Takes place after "Zoey's Extraordinary Glitch." Rated Teen, Complete

The Long and Winding Road by TheAuthor44: Three months after her fathers' funeral Zoey gets assigned to go to a managerial conference for SPRQ Point in Orlando, Florida. Max offers to come along after he tells her he’s been meaning to head back east to go through things from his childhood home. While Max originally offers flying together – Zoey suggests they drive and make it a road trip! Max needs to figure out his next career move, Zoey needs an escape from her grief - It's perfect! Road trip shenanigans ensue as Max and Zoey’s love story takes some unexpected twists and turns. Rated Teen, Complete

The Marks That Life Left On Them by chosenandloved: This is a Clarkeman fic set about one month post-finale.Simon, Zoey, and Max all seek out therapy in their own ways and come to some startling realizations regarding life and love. Rated Teen, Complete

A marriage (and other mishaps) by Bookreader525: Zoey and Max accompany Joan and Leif on a business trip to Las Vegas. Their presentation goes well— so well, in fact, that they spend the rest of the night partying. Cue the next morning, when Zoey wakes up in a hotel room that is not hers with a ring on her finger that she doesn't recall wearing before. Rated Teen, Complete

Max’s Extraordinary Project by Gwritesforfun:  Any successful project takes a well-executed plan. Max has a birthday surprise for Zoey, and he assembles a team to give her a gift. Rated Teen, Complete

Seasons of Love by Ladylillianrose: Max has always been included in the Clarke family holiday celebrations. A journey through the different holidays and celebrations they have, as their lives continue to change and grow. Rated Teen, Complete

Take A Chance On Me by Ladylillianrose: Max moved to the 6th floor, giving Zoey the space and time she needed to figure out her feelings. But now that she's ready to talk, what is she going to tell him? Rated Teen, Complete

The Wedding Date by Jade4813: Zoey agrees to be Max's Plus One at his brother's wedding. They're supposed to be just friends, but the dreams Zoey's been having about him lately make things complicated. Rated Explicit, Complete

When I Kiss You, SPRQS Fly by ElliHelm: Five times Zoey and Max kissed throughout their (totally just a) friendship. Plus one time where they finally acknowledged it was more than that. Rated Mature, Complete

When I Think About You I… by Ladylillianrose: Zoey performs Karaoke, giving Max a show he will never forget. (Established Relationship). Rated Explicit, Complete

You’ve Got SPRQS by Ladylillianrose: A new dating app has just launched for the SPRQ Watch, called SPRQS. Joan signs Zoey up for it in order to help her meet someone. Will Zoey find someone? Can you really fall in love through an app? Inspired by You've Got Mail. Rated Teen, Complete

Zoey’s Extraordinary Nephew by Ladylillianrose: Max stops by to meet Zoey's nephew, and a much-needed conversation is had. Rated Teen, Complete 

Zoey’s Extraordinary Nightmare by aubreyrichman: An event causes Zoey to realize her worst fears. Rated Teen, Complete

Zoey’s Extraordinary Relationships by Gwritesforfun:  “Unnecessarily complicated, exhausting for everybody, the opposite of good.” Zoey reflects on 5 complicated past relationships, and one that isn’t complicated at all. A 5+1 things. Rated Teen, Complete

Zoey’s Extraordinary Reunion by aubreyrichman: High School Reunions are synonymous with drama, stress, fear, and showing the people that attended school with you that you are different than you were when they knew you. When Max receives an invitation to his High School Reunion, he doesn't realize that the reunion itself could change EVERYTHING. Rated Teen, Complete 

Zoey’s Extraordinary Secrets by aubreyrichman: What could have happened with Zoey if timing had been different? What if Zoey’s dad wasn’t so sick when she developed her powers? What if she had gotten them earlier? What if...? Rated Explicit, Complete

Multi-Chapter, In-Progress

Extraordinarily Star-Crossed by aubreyrichman & Ladylillianrose: “...and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself....the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment...”-Plato, The Symposium. Rated Mature, In-Progress

Ghosted: An Extraordinary Haunting by aubreyrichman: When Max’s life hangs in the balance, who else does he turn to but his best friend? But does that mean that he will be heard? Rated Teen, In-Progress

It’s Not the Goodbye, It’s The Longing That Follows by Jade4813: Zoey told Max that she needed more time, but time, it seems, has just run out. After she realizes her feelings a little too late, can the two of them find their way back to each other? Rated General Audiences, In-Progress

Table for Two by ElliHelm: When Zoey's conscience (re: jealousy) rears its ugly head at a fateful encounter at the Golden Gate Grind, Operation: Get Max Off Of Her suddenly becomes a lot more complicated. Or, How To Go On A Totally Platonic Dinner Date With Your Best Friend When You Know They're In Love With You. An AU where Zoey goes to Hand-Picked with Max and how her life changes as a result. Rated Teen, In-Progress 

The Times They Just Knew by bigcitydreamer98: Set after the finale, told through the POVs of Zoey's friends and family, those closest to Zoey recount the times they knew that Zoey and Max were falling for one another. From lingering glances to cheesy Dad jokes, slightly concerning outbursts of song to meeting the family Max never seems to talk about, Zoey and Max make it through it all - most importantly, together. Rated General Audiences, In-Progress 

Win Some or Learn Some by Jade4813: Zoey has just discovered her new powers, but they develop an inconvenient glitch that makes her start to realize her feelings for him may not be what she's always believed. The only problem is, she has no idea if he feels the same way. Rated Explicit, In-Progress

Zoey’s Extraordinary Guide To Grief by atlas_outlast: Or; How To Grieve When You’ve Been Grieving For Years But Now Your Father Is Actually Dead. Rated Teen, In-Progress

One-Shots

Both Showing Hearts by TheAuthor44: AU 1x12 where Zoey reflects on all the events of the day ... and Max gets to finish. Rated General Audiences, Complete

Breaking Point by Jade4813: When they become temporary roommates during quarantine, how many times can Zoey and Max have sex while still pretending to themselves and to each other that it Doesn’t Mean Anything? Rated Explicit, Complete

do you think you will be good enough (to love others and to be loved) by flashlightinacave: Post season 1 episode 10, Zoey and Max finally have a real conversation and trade some needed apologies. Rated Teen, Complete

Hand-Picked Redux by TheAuthor44: What if Mo convinced Zoey to join Max for dinner at Hand-Picked? What if she wasn't so emotionally avoidant? What if Autumn hadn't been working at the Golden Gate Grind that day? Rated General Audiences, Complete

A Promise by TheAuthor44: My take on Max's goodbye to Mitch in 1x12. Max lets Mitch know exactly how he feels about his daughter - and makes him a promise. Not Rated, Complete

The Sound of Silence by Jade4813: Max had never had Zoey's power, but he'd never mourned its absence. Her voice, and the sound of her laugh, had been all the music he'd ever needed for over sixty years. Rated General Audiences, Complete

Tobin Ships It by TheAuthor44: In order to win the office bet of when Zoey and Max will get together, Tobin decides to take matters into his own hands. Rated General Audiences, Complete

Wild Things by innie: Her power has a soft spot for Max. Rated Mature, Complete

[curiousconch]

Scarlet Letters

Chapter 2 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Prologue | Chapter 1

Chapter Synopsis: Grappling with the aftermath of her breakup with Rafael, Heather is faced by yet another threat, forcing her out of her apartment. Bryce and her other friends come to her aide.

Pairings: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.4k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / language, hints of violence

Author’s Notes: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. Please let me know if you want me to tag you in the next chapters. Comments and suggestions are certainly very welcome! Thank you for reading!

Heather can't remember how she covered the distance to her building, nor how she arrived in front of her apartment door. Grateful for the silence that embraced her as she got inside, she went directly to her room. Once the door shut closed, she finally let go of the flood that brimmed from her eyes. Crouching down on the carpeted floor, in that dark rainy night, she sobbed like never before.

What she can only remember is how hopeful she was tonight before it all ended.

She planned the surprise for him on the first day she landed in Maryland, coming to the realization that she was waging an unnecessary war against him and his efforts to comfort her. It never occurred to her that she will be too late.

She squinted at the picture of the bodies entangled in Rafael's living room couch. She can still vividly see it, along with the sound of the breaking bottle of wine she bought at the airport.

She heard rumors. That's all she thought it was - baseless whispers of people seeing Rafael with someone else. Even her friends Sienna and Elijah tried to warn her of what was happening, but she was so deep in denial that she didn't dare to listen. She trusted him that much.

Her sweet and charming Raf. Her savior. Her love. She never wanted to be so wrong as badly as she did at that moment.

The man whom she thought she exactly needed and wanted was the same person who wreaked havoc in her soul.

She wanted to forgive him, in her heart she wanted to give him another chance. But her brain screamed against it, her past life bursting in all shades of red inside her mind.

The portraits of her teenage years flashed before her eyes one by one, like horrific creatures escaping from her personal Pandora's box:

That fateful day she came home early because she was sick during her junior year in high school, the sound of voices in the master bedroom.

Her dad and a strange woman enamored.

The bags and boxes containing her father's belongings. The divorce and its fallout.

Her mom working night and day to put her through school, leaving her alone most of the time.

Cancer. Losing her mom because of it. The reason why she wanted to be a doctor.

It cost her half of her life to submerge those experiences in the trenches of her adolescence. But now, all of it was bursting over the surface, like large waves in the sea of her present. She felt like drowning.

Helpless, she wailed, wanting nothing but the indescribable hurt to fade away. But it didn't, instead, it stayed, for how long she have no idea.

With her ears ringing and her whole body sore, she fell into a troubled slumber. It wasn't until the next morning that she saw the scarlet letters painted on her walls.

***

Jordan huffed as he jogged away from the sidewalk into the alley nearby. His black hoodie cast a shadow dark enough to hide his face.

He discarded the plastic bags in the dumpster, a soft thump sounded as the spray paint canisters rattled against the bottom.

He found his way to his parked car nearby and jumped in, removing his leather gloves and shoving it into the compartment. He briefly looked at his watch - 10:36pm. He roughly had about 24 minutes before the meeting.

Backing up from the alley, he drove out to the main street and made sure he wasn't being followed. He took the next turn to the highway, flipping on his radio, humming along the music.

When he arrived at his destination, he found a nearly-empty parking lot. He found a solitary Lexus near the back fence and parked his car several meters away. He took a discreet path towards the black car and hopped inside, pulling the hood off his head.

"It's done," he spoke to a man in a suit at the back seat, and showed a picture of red spray paint on blue walls. "You'll hear it on the news tomorrow."

The man beside him silently nodded, sneering at the image. He withdrew a thick manila envelope from his side and gave it to Jordan.

"As requested,"

Jordan peeked into the contents, revealing a thick wad of cash and a glint of black metal.

Contented, he stepped out of the vehicle and got back to his own. Turning on the ignition, he thought to himself - Phase 1 check. Time for phase 2.

***

The sound of scrambling footsteps overlapped with the loud and panicked shrieks within the walls of Heather's bedroom.

Jackie came in first, ready to curse the abomination of Heather's screams as she came in to the apartment, after pulling an all-nighter. She stopped in her tracks darting at the direction where the other's frightened gaze was fixated.

After hearing Jackie's panicked shouts, Sienna and Elijah followed suit into Heather's bedroom. Upon entering, all their eyes shot across the pale blue wallpaper, a scene right out of a horror movie, coming to life in front of them.

LEAVE BOSTON NOW, OR ELSE.

The characters were sloppily written in red spray paint, as if someone spelled it in haste.

Sienna was the first one to rush to Heather's side, sliding an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. Elijah got out of the room to call 911, muffling Jackie as she cursed with a mouth of sailor.

Within 15 minutes, the police arrived.

Elijah also sent a text to their group chat, alerting Aurora and the rest of their friends as to what just transpired.

A flurry of replies came in right after. Bryce's was among those text messages.

His face crumpled with anxiety as he sat staring blankly at his phone. He was in his office, his oak desk was filled with case files, all of which he recently dug out from the records department to assist on the reopening of the investigation.

This recent attempt to terrorize his star witness made him speechless. The person behind this is getting bold, he observed.

He decided to abandon his attempt to work on a Saturday, unable to quell his worries. He stood up, got his leather briefcase and made his way to the parking lot.

He drove as fast as he could, plying through traffic effortlessly, navigating the familiar route using muscle memory. He ran into their apartment building, and practically raced to the closing elevator to bring him to the penthouse.

When the familiar door came into view open, he let himself in, his eyes darting around.

Gone was the serenity of the brunches he shared with the group. The scene he stepped into was just chaos.

A barrage of yellow markers were strewn in the apartment, while several people were trying to collect any traces of evidence left behind by the perp. Police tape marked one doorway, a few voices discussing possible theories as to how the events unfolded.

In the middle of it was a frail figure wrapped in a thick gray blanket, and he instantly recognized who it was. "Hey," he managed to say coolly as he strode towards her.

Heather looked up at the towering figure who just crossed the living room. She offered a weak smile, trying to hide the turbulent emotions inside her.

Bryce could see right through her though, but he just smiled back, understanding that she wasn't quite ready to open up yet. As he reached out to touch her hand, he was interrupted by the sound of Rafael's booming voice as he stormed into the room.

"I came as I heard, are you alright?" Heather's boyfriend said as he rushed in to kneel down in front of her, looking very much concerned.

"What are you doing here?" The hatred in Heather's quiet voice made Bryce's eyebrows shoot up.

He saw Rafael immediately retreat, an apologetic look in his face, as if he forgot who he was. He saw Raf's instantaneous shift, then went to leave them to talk to the police at the now cordoned room.

He gently nudged Heather, a wordless question in his face. She shook her head and frowned, peeking at her roommates and the CSI team moving about the apartment.

Clearly, she didn't want to discuss it with strangers around, Bryce figured. He nodded, his eyes softening as he realized that there was more events to uncover beyond what he can see.

After an hour, the deputy in charge motioned for the group to gather in the living room. Once they were all there, he began to explain that Heather's room will be a designated crime scene indefinitely.

"I strongly suggest staying somewhere else, we don't know the and exact nature of this, at least not yet. Choose a place that offers the the most security, but preferably somewhere nearby."

With this, Bryce saw Rafael about to raise his hand. Seeing the panic in Heather's face, he quickly blocked the other man's attempt.

"Keiki's in boarding school, so I have a spare bedroom. You can stay there temporarily," he winked at Heather, assuring her that he got her back.

"Why should she stay with you? Rafael's an FBI agent. She should stay with him," Jackie contradicted as she stood behind Heather, unable to see her discomfort.

"But that's what exactly the attacker expects. We have to get one step ahead of them." Bryce countered.

"But Rafael's her -"

"Enough." One stern look from Heather was all it took to shut Jackie up, her other roommates visibly confused. She shot them each a pleading glance, making all eyes shift to Rafael's tall figure across the room. He immediately hunched his shoulders as if in concession.

"I'm staying with Bryce temporarily. He's right, we have to be at least a step ahead if I want to stay alive." She mouthed a thank you to Bryce, then turned back to her other friends. "Sienna, can I please borrow a few of your clothes? I can't touch anything in my room, except the suitcase I brought in from my trip."

"Of course." Sienna left the room while the others still shared a puzzled look between Heather and Rafael.

Agreeing to her new housing arrangements, the deputy nodded and excused himself, stepping out the apartment. He beckoned the rest of his team out before leaving behind his card, asking them to give him a call if they remember anything new. Taking that as his queue to leave, Rafael left after, looking deflated.

When the group was all that's left in the penthouse, Heather told them about the breakup, clearing the awkwardness from the room. She told them everything - from catching an early flight to surprise Rafael, to her ending up being the one surprised, witnessing her boyfriend's betrayal.

"That son-ov-a-bitch!" Jackie cussed, Elijah only shook his head. Bryce's reaction was a mixture of speechlessness and confusion.

"I-I know I've told you about my suspicions, but I had no idea Rafael had it in him to prove them right," a meek Sienna told Heather, her firm hand rubbing against her arm.

"Well however you look at it, he fucked up. So bad." Bryce whistled, his mouth stiff with the effort to wrestle with the truth bomb Heather just dropped.

"For once in this life, I agree with you, meathead," Jackie nodded to his direction, her eyes softening as she turned to comfort Heather in her own way.

They each tried to console her, but Heather insisted she was fine. Bryce saw her defensive body language, so he made it his mission to provide Heather an escape route.

"All right people, don't you have sleep to get to? Gotta keep you all well-rested. Can't have you bitten off your asses by Dr. Ramsey, am I right?" Apparently, the mention of the infamous grumpy attending was more than enough to make them back off.

He grabbed the duffel bag Sienna produced and grabbed her black suitcase along. Heather removed the thick blanket around her and replaced it with her brown trench coat hanging on the couch.

After what seemed like endless hugging and assuring each of them that she'll be fine, she followed Bryce into the elevator to the garage.

They loaded the bags onto his silver Camry's trunk in silence, and got into the car. Heather instantly sighed in relief as she settled into the passenger's seat. Bryce navigated his way out of the basement and into the street, his amber eyes alternately darting from the road to his friend.

"Well, you look like shit."

"Thanks?" she smiled back at him, unable to stifle a chuckle.

"No problem. You know I'm not one to give false commentary." He grinned, before finally focusing in his driving.

It wasn't long before they arrived in Bryce's sleek condominium complex. She knew the building was newly-built and probably the most secure residence in the city money can afford. Bryce called it Boston's Fort Knox, so when he offered his place, it seemed to be the best solution.

It was initially a bachelor's pad, with enough space for a kitchen, a living area with floor to ceiling windows, and two bedrooms. But over the past few months, it transformed into something more homey, a place where the Lahela siblings can call their own.

It wasn't Heather's first time there. She spent many of her day offs there, all just to help him with his relationship with Keiki, Bryce's teenage sister. She also had the most hand in how it looks inside now.

As they stepped into the condo, Bryce couldn't help but notice how Heather's looked around. The sight of her in his place brought back fond memories.

After a few moments, he urged her to move forward, and led her to the bedroom across the hall.

He unlocked the door and let her in, a mixture of yellow, blue and white interiors welcomed her. It was a homage to the sun, sea and sand of their native state Hawaii.

"Do you want anything? A drink? Something to eat? Boxing gloves to punch someone with?" Bryce leaned on the room's doorway, watching her as she settled in.

As if on queue, her stomach rumbled, and he can't help but laugh.

"Do you still have a pack of ramyun here? I'll come out to cook once I don't look like the piece of shit you just called me." Heather rolled her eyes at him, grabbing a towel from the nearby dresser.

"Nah, I'll whip it up myself you just make yourself presentable to eat my majestic korean noodles." He bowed to her like a butler would before setting course back to the kitchen.

She snickered as she stepped into the shower. Leave it to Bryce Lahela to lighten up the mood.

Tags - @choicesficwriterscreations @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela

[commonratmiraculous]

Chameleon Divergence AU

Where following a conversation with his teachers - and later his father - about their refusal to do anything about Lila’s harrassment of him. Cue parallel between Zombizou where he’s given a letcure on setting an example for others...

His dad probably thinks he can use this as a way of akumatizing Adrien, but Adrien just makes a Tweet/Post like “Whelp no one’s helping me stop being sexually harrassed so it’s time to put on a banana costume and become a meme I guess.”

He comes into school wearing the banana costume, and Chloé takes it upon herself to live Tweet/Post the fallout. Picking a day where Lila’s mother was supposed to be in a meeting with the Mayor of Paris.

It’s working because Lila isn’t going anywhere near him, and word gets out to both his father and Lila’s mother who show up at about the same time. It probably says a lot about both their parents that they care more about how this will affect them rather then actually caring for Adrien’s predicament.

Gabriel is mostly just trying to get Adrien to change, but Adrien’s not budging: “Company advertisements have been handed out by people in costumes just like this for a while now father, this is on brand.”

While Lila’s mother says some things that make it pretty clear she thought the school had been closed all these months because of the akuma. “Who told you the school was closed” asked a teacher who is somewhat competent. “Lila said her boyfriend Adrien said—”

“I’m Adrien” said the banana. “Though I’m not dating your daughter, I’m actually dressed like this to stop her from trying to climb me during class - I’ve been thinking of filing a sexual harassment case, since the school was refusing to do anything...” there’s a pause so things could sink in. “Or a restraining order. I’d like to not have anything to do with Lila actually.”

“There were easier ways of bringing up these issues, then making them public.” said Lila’s mother probably.

“Ah yes, because the actions I’d already taken worked so well. Marinette noticed and got bullied for trying to help because everyone else here was ‘just trying to help Lila’” By this point a lot of the class probably feel like bad friends, because the novelty of the costume would’ve worn off around the time Lila’s mother mentioned her daughter said the heroes of Paris were so bad at their jobs there were akumas everywhere.

“Would you like to move to sit next to Marinette Adrien?”

He and Marinette respond at the same time with: A - “it’s a start” and M - “not dressed like that he’s not.”

There’s a pause and there were a couple of snickers. When Adrien agrees to change, Gabriel looks like he’s about to promise Marinette his first born child.

When Adrien leaves to change there’s a few minutes where Mlle. Bustier asks if any of the other classmates would be able to take over Lila’s catch up tutoring and no. one. says. anything. Which is immediately brushed to the side as Sabrina (who’s been following the Twitter feed for related comments to Chloé’s live Tweet/Posting) excitedly mentions how Chat Noir is commenting - asking for the banana costume.

LB: Why?

CN: You commissioned our problem children’s Everyday Ladybug for an ‘if I get caught without my miraculous costume’

CN: Maybe I want my own costume from her Chat Noir.

Mari: @_ladyblogofficial See Alya, I told you LadyNoir wasn’t canon.

CN: Meow-ch, Princess, that hurt.

LB: So you plan to fight akuma in a banana costume.

CN: Just call me Bananoir

No one really notices when Adrien returns because they’re too invested in a) LB and CN calling them ‘their problem children’ b) Chat Noir calling Marinette ‘Princess’ and c) Chat Noir apparently ships Adrienette.

Nothing gets done for the rest of the morning between apologies and Mlle. Bustier having to go with Lila, Lila’s mother, and Gabriel to the Principal’s office to talk about today - with Gabriel having to play the role of ‘good dad’ he can’t cause an akuma from this.

But Gabriel’s thinking. First it’s on the PR aspect of this because it’s now trending on Social Media, but fortunately there seems to be a romantic angle that could be played or at least encouraged. Even moreso when he asks Principal Damocles to review security tapes of when his book ‘when missing’ since he knows Lila had to have seen the book in order to have Volpina in her head when she was akumatized.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

About Lena's Baby: What if Kara, when visiting another Earth, finds her being commanded by Daxam. And the royal family is Queen Rhea, Prince Mon-El and Princess Lena, and half-daxam half-human baby. Lena is their prisoner. And she begs Supergirl to let that world be destroyed, but to save her baby.

Actually, I don't need an crisis set-up for that. I've had a vague outline of an au similar to your premise for a long while now, that I will probably never get to, so here have a taste: Set maybe 15yrs from now, all we know is that the Daxamite Invasion lasted longer than in canon, and while they were eventually routed and driven off the planet, something else happened between Lena and Kara causing them to part ways and not speak again.That cause of their fallout is soon revealed to be a young woman who ambushes Lena in her office one day while she's in National City on business. The girl is desperate to meet her, and practically vibrates with excitement as she looks at Lena. We as the audience know that she is hoping that Lena will look at her, and immediately know who she is.Lena does. It turns out her mother's likeness spans generations. 

But to the young woman's shock and heartbreak, Lena speaks not to her, but to someone on the other end of the line when Lena picks up her phone and dials a single number.

"Why is your daughter in my office."And so it is revealed that the young woman is Lena's daughter, a secret princess of Daxam raised by Kara, and who has been told that her mother was a hero and a leader and a genius. Lora has had enough love from the Danvers to never wonder why her mother gave her up, or to question the manner of her birth.The phone call is brief, and when it's over Lora stares in unparalleled disappointment. "Wha--""I'm sorry," Lena says, rising from her desk, "but whatever you expected by coming here is not going to happen.""I-- I'm not expecting anything," Lora stutters. "I know why you weren't able to raise me, but--""If you knew that," Lena cuts in, "you wouldn't have come here."At that moment, Kara walks in, windblown but dressed as Kara Danvers. Lena turns her scowl on her and waits."Lora, could you please give us a moment?" Kara asks."No moment necessary," Lena counters. "Dawn will see you both out."On cue, Lena's assistant appears in the doorway. She holds one hand to the earpiece she's listening to, and from the wary way she's watching the exchange, Kara knows it's security on the other end.Blood boiling, she extends one hand to Lora. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go home."This time, Lora doesn't protest. She quickly takes Kara's hand and exits without another word, though she stares at Lena through wide eyes until the door shuts behind them, sealing Lena within.---Lora may have been raised by the Danvers, but she is her mother's daughter bybeither measure, and she doesn't give up easily. So she tries again that same night, and this time she flies to Lena's apartment balcony, and carefully slips in through the door, left cracked to admit a breeze. Lena is still working, reading through reports on her couch. The only change since the prior visit is the pair of glasses perched on Lena's nose, and the empty stilettos kicked off to one side."I'm sorry," is the first thing Lora says when Lena leans back with a solemn gaze, removing her glasses. "I understand you don't want to see me, and I respect that, I swear I do, even if I don't seem like because I snuck in through your balcony door, but-- I just need to know why."An angular jaw tightens. "This is a conversation you should have with your mother.""I am."Green eyes, so similar to Lora's own, narrow. "I'm not your mother.""See, that's what I don't understand! I love Kara with all my heart-- she has given me all the love I could ever ask for, and I have wanted for nothing. But she never pretended you weren't my biological mother. She always made sure I knew who you were--""She shouldn't have done that.""But why? If Kara was going to tell me, she would have done it already, so I'm asking YOU. Why don't you want to see me?""Because I didn't want you.""Right, because you were busy--""Because I was forced to carry you to term against my will," Lena cuts in, smooth and incisive. "Nothing about your conception or birth was consensual."Lora blinks. "You... you were raped?""Not in so grand a sense. Copulation wasn't necessary, though I suppose one could argue that your implantation in my uterus qualifies.""I don't understand--""You were born shortly after the Daxamite siege was broken. Your birth was orchestrated of Queen Rhea as a ploy to engender trust with the people of Earth."Lena's arms fold over her chest. "By the time National City was liberated, it was too late to abort, so I gave birth to a child I never consented to. After you were born, I told the world you were stillborn, and secretly surrendered you to adoption. So I would never have to see you again.""But...""Lora."They both turn to where Kara stands at the balcony door, resplendent in her Supergirl costume. Lora's stomach churns, but Lena's gaze remains steady as she regards her former friend."Go home," Kara says simply. Her glare is for Lena alone, even when Lora hesitates."But...""Go. Home."Lora obeys, crossing back to the balcony. She tries to catch Lena's eye over Kara's shoulder, but Lena doesn't take her gaze from Kara for a second. She obeys her guardian, leaping off the rail of the balcony and landing softly on the pavement twenty stories below. Then she springs back up, and lands on the balcony below Lena's, and trains her hearing on the room above."Even after all these years, I never thought you'd be so cruel," Kara says, her voice low with anger."That's rich, coming from you," Lena retorts. For the first time since their first meeting, Lora hears inflection in her tone, and it's derisive, cold."You had no right to tell her any of that.""I shouldn't have had to!" Lena returns sharply. "You're the one who's turned cruel, raising that girl to believe in something that would never happen. You set her up for disappointment, and used me to do it."Kara takes a heavy step forward, her boots loud on the tile floor. "I wasn't going to lie to her.""Well, you certainly didn't tell her the truth."Lora's skin crawls in the silence that follows. She's never heard Kara like this. Ever. The next sound is a faint puff of air-- a sigh, from Lena."I told you," she says slowly. "I told you I wanted no part of her life. I gave her up for adoption so I would never have to see her again. Not only did you make sure that couldn't have that and keep my best friend, now you've made sure I could never escape it.""She's not a prison sentence, Lena.""That is exactly what she is! I don't look at her and see a daughter, Kara! I look at her and see the years I spent alone, in pain and discomfort, enduring pregnancy after pregnancy when each one failed. I see the weeks and months I spent in shackles because Rhea was convinced I was the one causing the miscarriages, not the fact their technology wasn't compatible!"I look at her and I see the children I will never get to have on my own terms, because after she came out hale and whole and healthy, there was too much damage to concieve again."Lora's heart pounds in her chest, her hands shaking where they cover her mouth, dampening under tears."God!" Lena exclaims, her voice trembling yet defiant. "You talk about cruelty, but you're the one who's just like Rhea--!""That's not fair--" Kara cuts in, voice rough."You've been violating my consent for years! How is it any different?!""No--""You chose the product of my rape and torture over me! You chose HER, even knowing it meant the end of our friendship, right when I needed you most.""She was just a baby, Lena.""I don't care!" Lena snaps back, her voice wobbling tremulously. "It doesn't matter. The bottom line is that you took her, and then on top of everything else, you made her believe I loved her."Lora's chest spasms, and she has to silence a sob just Lena takes her own ragged breath."How could you do that?"

[inyournightmares97]

Ultimatum (Part 3)

Park Jinyoung is a master negotiator. He’s used to preying on people’s weaknesses and manipulating them to get his way. So he can’t understand you; a lawyer who sees the world in black and white, as either good or bad. Conflict is inevitable.

But if the two of you can just set aside your differences, perhaps you can perform miracles together.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: Angst, office!au, enemies to lovers!au. Some language.

Part 1: In Which You Win

Part 2: In Which He Wins

Part 3: In Which the Common Enemy Appears 

Part 4: In Which You Work Together

Part 5: In Which Nobody Wins (coming soon)

Part 6: In Which Everybody Wins (coming soon)

"Sorry I'm late," you apologized, hurrying towards the desk where your co-workers were sitting. They both looked grim. "I got a call from my mother’s care home so I had to drop by to visit before work. Have you been waiting long?"

Yugyeom bit his lip. "It's… it's not that."

"Huh?"

"There’s an email from HR. I think you got it too. You should take a look, it's not good news."

Suddenly recognizing how ominous the atmosphere was, you started up your laptop. There was an email from HR with the subject heading Transfers to New Busan Office. Heartbeat thudding, you clicked on the email. It was a polite, friendly note to inform everyone that the entire Legal, Sales and Marketing departments would be shifting to the new Busan office, and that individual transfer orders would be sent across soon. 

"What the fuck?" you demanded. 

"It's not true, is it? Are they really going to make us move to Busan?" Youngjae asked. He tapped his fingers on the table nervously. "My wife is giving birth in 2 months, I don't want to move a heavily pregnant woman across the country. We were counting on my mother-in-law's help with the baby. But there's no way she'll move to Busan."

Yugyeom nodded miserably. "I don't want to go there either. I just bought a flat here last month. I took out a mortgage!"

You shook your head in disbelief. "This can't be right. I thought they were hiring new folk for the Busan office. I saw the recruitment files myself! Why do they want to send half the existing departments there? I'm going to have a word with HR-"

"There's no use," Yugyeom cut you off. "I already asked some people from HR. They said there's nothing they can do, because the orders came directly from the CEO."

You frowned. "That bastard."

"Will you talk to him?"

"Of course I'll talk to him," you replied. You slammed your laptop shut and stood up. "I'll go talk to him right now."

------------------------------------------------------------

"Sorry, the CEO is speaking to someone right now," the secretary told you patiently. 

"Yes, but it's urgent-"

"Ma'am, it doesn't matter how urgent it is, I can't let you barge into his office while he's already talking to someone! Please understand the situation and be patient. I'm sure Mr. Park will be out in a few minutes."

You groaned audibly. "He's talking to Jinyoung?"

"Yes."

Fantastic. That slimy little creature was probably making everything worse. You suddenly remembered that the email had also mentioned the Sales department shifting to Busan. It struck you that Jinyoung was in there right now, sucking up to the CEO and being the selfish, arrogant bastard he had always been. 

Park Jinyoung never did anything for anyone else's benefit. 

He could screw up the company's deals all he wanted, but there was no way you were going to let him screw up your life. 

"Good morning," you greeted the CEO politely as you barged into his office. The secretary yelled after you, scandalized, but you ignored her. "I'm here to talk about the email I received about some departments shifting to Busan?"

Jinyoung was seated in front of the CEO's desk. His dark eyes twinkled as he turned in his chair to face you. 

"We were just discussing that," he remarked. 

"Excellent, then you won't mind if I join," you cut in. You sat down beside Jinyoung and turned to face the CEO. The young negotiator’s gaze was fixed on you but you refused to look at him. Jinyoung’s despicable face would only make you lose your temper. 

"This is a little surprising," the CEO commented with a raised eyebrow. "But I assume you have something to say?"

"I do, actually," you replied. There was no smile on your face. "I thought I should save you some time. Our employment contracts don't contain mobility clauses. We never consented to the possibility of being asked to shift to a different city for work. I could explain the law to you in depth, but in short the conclusion remains the same. The company cannot legally force any of us to go to Busan."

The CEO blinked. "You're right. I can't force any of you to move."

"So then you agree that-"

"You always have the option of leaving the company.”

You flinched. You hadn’t imagined that the CEO would say something like that to your face but he was looking you right in the eyes and telling you that he would fire you for refusing to move. You didn’t know how to respond. 

“But-you can’t fire us without justified reason-”

“I’m not firing you. I’m offering you a job in Busan. If you don’t want to take it then you can always go seek employment elsewhere,” he replied calmly.

“That amounts to constructive dismissal, it’s illegal!” you replied hotly. You had hoped to keep your temper under control but the CEO was being absurd. How could he flip a switch overnight and decide that everybody had to either go to Busan or quit? “You realize that I could easily challenge a dismissal like that in a court of law?”

The CEO raised an eyebrow. “Again, it’s not a dismissal. I’m offering you employment in Busan.”

“How exactly do you plan to handle the fallout of entire departments quitting-”

“I don’t think that’s your concern. If you don’t want to go to Busan, then you’re free to hand in your resignation. We can even negotiate a severance package,” the CEO replied shortly. He placed his hands on his desk and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a Board meeting to attend. If you want to discuss this further you’ll have to make an appointment with my secretary.”

You watched in silent shock when the CEO stood up and walked out of his office. Your heart sank. This was more serious than you had thought. The CEO wasn’t the sort of person to make empty threats. What were you going to do? 

Park Jinyoung cleared his throat. 

“Well, good job fucking that up,” he commented. 

Your head whipped around to face him. “Excuse me?”

“Do you always barge headfirst into situations without even thinking about it? What made you think it was a good idea to talk to the CEO like that?” Jinyoung demanded. You could hear the irritation in his tone. “You ruined the entire mood by making him hostile. You should have left it to me. I was handling it.”

“Handling it? You?” you demanded. 

“Yes. At least I’m not idiot enough to barge in and pick a fight with the man who employs me,” Jinyoung retorted. He folded his arms across his chest while his dark eyes scanned you with displeasure. “Have you ever heard of power dynamics? Don't bite the hand that feeds you. Even a dog knows that.” 

“I’m not a dog,” you snapped. 

“That’s not what-”

“What the CEO is doing isn’t legal. If you’re saying I should smile and fawn and flatter a man that is trying to fuck with my employment contract illegally, then I’m sorry. I’m not in the habit of having negotiations with people who can’t respect the law. That’s not power dynamics. That’s sycophancy.”

Jinyoung sighed. “God, you’re impossible. Don’t you have any understanding of how the world works? How can you see everything in black and white?”

“Go to hell, Park.”

“Nope. You don’t get to be mad at me. I was trying to convince the CEO not to issue transfer orders but you barged in and fucked it up by making him mad. That’s on you. So don’t pull the moral superiority card on me today. That won’t work. I was doing my part.”

You blinked at him. “I don’t trust you.”

Jinyoung sighed. “Understandable. But-”

“I think you’re a selfish piece of shit that has no concern for anyone around him. You can suck the CEOs dick all you want, Jinyoung. Don’t expect me to believe you’re doing it for us,” you snapped.

Jinyoung stared at you in surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear you using such crude language, but your flushed face and trembling hands made it clear that you weren’t thinking straight. You were distressed and somehow, Jinyoung didn’t want to aggravate you further. He took a deep breath and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. 

“Fine,” he surrendered calmly. “You use your methods and I’ll use mine.”

“Fine.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“The CEO really said that? He said we could either go to Busan or quit?”

You nodded. You were too angry to speak. The more you thought about the encounter, the more furious it made you. You had been working at this company for 3 years. You had given so much of your time, effort and dedication to doing your job perfectly and this was the gratitude you received? Being asked to either shift halfway across the country or quit? 

“Yeah. He said it.”

“What are we going to do?” Yugyeom cried. 

“We’re going to show him he can’t violate our employment contracts like this. I won’t stand for it. I refuse to go to Busan and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on,” you ranted as you rummaged through your textbooks. You had some research to do. You were flipping through volumes on labobur laws frantically when Yugyeom spoke. 

“Is it… is it because of your mom?” he asked quietly. 

You hesitated. You didn’t speak about your personal life much at work, but perhaps Yugyeom had picked up a few things from random tidbits you dropped. 

“Uh, yeah. She’s at a medical facility for the elderly right now. I can’t leave her here and move to a different city. I also don’t think her health could withstand the move. If it comes down to it, then I’ll have to quit and look for a new job. Busan isn’t an option for me,” you mumbled. 

Yugyeom bit his lip. “But it won’t come down to it, right?”

“It will unless you pick up that book and get reading. Find me everything you can on constructive dismissal,” you ordered him sharply. “Where’s Youngjae?”

“He went to talk to Sales and Marketing to find out what’s going on.”

“Well, call him and tell him to hurry back. We have jobs to save.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It seems like a mixed bag at this point,” Jackson observed as he sipped his coffee. The cafeteria was quiet, and the atmosphere of the office had been grim all day. Nobody wanted to talk. “I think half of Sales will quit to look for other jobs in the city. The rest will just suck it up and move to Busan. It’s going to be a messy situation either way.”

“But nobody wants to go,” Youngjae pointed out.

“Of course nobody wants to go.” Jackson pressed his fingers to his temples. “Hopefully Jinyoung will find some solution. He usually works something out.”

“Is he considering quitting too?” 

“Jinyoung? No way. He’s upset because a lot of his clients are here, and he would have to start from scratch to build contacts in Busan,” Jackson explained. “But he just received a promotion. He’s due to get an enormous bonus from the company at the end of the year because of the deal he secured. The guy has made amazing progress in this company. Jinyoung would be an idiot to quit. He needs this company as much as it needs him.”

“Then why are you trusting him to fight for you?”

“I know he doesn’t give Legal an easy time, but Jinyoung is an awesome guy to have on your side. He knows how to manipulate people and he knows the CEO well,” Jackson explained. “He’ll find a solution. I just hope he does it in time. Otherwise, the transfer orders will be sent out and people will scramble. This affects all of us so we need to stick together.”

“That’s what bothers me,” Youngjae admitted. 

“What?”

“How fragmented we are. The CEO knows that half of us will stay and half will leave. We don’t have any coordination amongst ourselves. He’s probably counting on us being a mess,” Youngjae pointed out. “We would have a better chance if we presented a united front.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think about it. The Sales department has the most skilled negotiator this company has ever seen. Legal has a brilliant lawyer that has saved this company from going through huge lawsuits multiple times because she never gives up. Don’t you think these two people should pool their skills and work together?”

“You want them to join forces?” Jackson wondered. 

“Both departments want the same thing. We might be able to come up with a better solution if they at least talked about what to do,” Youngjae insisted. 

“That would work fine if they didn’t hate each other.”

“Don’t you think they’re reasonable adults who can put aside their personal differences for the benefit of themselves and their co-workers?” 

Jackson laughed. 

“No. But maybe we can talk them into it.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not a bad negotiator myself, you know.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Youngjae wants us to come to Conference Room 9," Yugyeom told you. Your head was buried in a book on labour law judgements and you barely heard his voice. 

"Hmmm. 5 minutes."

"He says it's urgent."

"Huh?" you asked absent-mindedly. 

"Youngjae wants us to come to Conference Room 9, he has something to show us. He says it’s urgent. Are you coming?” Yugyeom repeated. The younger man was staring at you and something clicked in your brain as you finally paid attention to what his words. 

“Oh! Youngjae, right. Sorry. Did he find something useful?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go see.”

“He better not be wasting our time,” you muttered, as you closed the book and followed Yugyeom towards the conference rooms. There was no knowing when the CEO would send the transfer orders out. You wanted to be ready with a full report about how they were unsustainable in law before that. It required intensive research, and you had to juggle it with your normal work. 

“Is it this one?” Yugyeom wondered as he reached a conference room with a plaque that had the number 9 on it. He opened the door and gestured for you to enter first. Since when did Yugyeom have such manners? You walked in, but the moment your eyes adjusted to the dim light you froze. 

The entire Sales team was sitting here. 

The door closed behind you. 

“What is going on?” you demanded. Youngjae was standing in a corner and he gave you a sheepish smile that you did not return. Park Jinyoung was also present. Dressed in a classy light blue button down shirt, he leaned back in his swirly chair and gave you a bored look. 

Yugyeom nudged you towards the seat across from Jinyoung. 

“Sit down, we have something to say.”

You frowned. “About what?”

“About how we intend to fight the transfers to Busan. Jackson and Youngjae have an idea. They think that since it affects all of us equally, we should work together and make a joint representation to the CEO.”

You couldn’t believe this. They wanted to work with Sales? You couldn’t even start to list all the reasons why that was a terrible idea. You opened your mouth to protest but before you could, Jackson stood up and moved to the front of the conference room. You were pushed down into the chair by Yugyeom. 

“Ladies and gentlemen. Allow me to begin my presentation,” Jackson announced grandly. 

The lights dimmed. The projector overhead flickered on, and displayed an old version of a world map, with the United Kingdom highlighted in red. 

Jackson cleared his throat. “Today, I’m going to be talking about this little country. But it wasn’t always a little country. It used to be the head of the British Empire. The largest Empire in history that lasted for over a century. This tiny little country took over at least one quarter of the world-”

You felt bewildered and furious. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

Jackson made a shushing gesture at you and your face turned red. You could hear Jinyoung chuckling. 

“But the British had a strategy. They didn’t take over these countries randomly. Their strategy was to divide and rule. Let me elaborate. They identified ethnic and religious differences between the people and divided them into smaller groups that were less powerful than the whole. Then, when the British tried to rule, the smaller groups would be too busy fighting amongst themselves to care about what the British were doing. Which is, basically stealing their land and resources and taking over the country.”

“I think we get the point,” Youngjae muttered. He had noticed the irritation on your face. “Can we wrap up now, Jackson?”

Jackson pouted. “But the best part is still- okay, fine. Basically, the only way to drive the colonial British out was for the different ethnic groups to unite and to combine their strength against their common enemy; the British Raj.”

“Right. So-” Jackson pressed a button and the screen on the projector changed. There was now a picture of the company’s organizational hierarchy. Over the CEO’s bubble had been pasted the words British Raj. “As you can see here, the analogy I’m trying to draw. The CEO is our British Raj. Sales are Legal are two different ethnic groups in the same country. The only way we can fight the British Raj is if we unite and join forces, not if we continue to fight each other. And there I end my presentation. Thank you.”

The lights flickered back on, Jackson took a pleased bow and then took a seat. 

Yugyeom looked at you. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” you demanded. “I think you’re behaving like children and this is a colossal waste of time. Did you just give me a history lesson in order to teach me about teamwork? This is insane. Your jobs must be a joke to you. Unfortunately, I take my life and my work very seriously, so do me a favour and don’t invite me to your playtime sessions.”

Jackson blinked. “But-”

Jinyoung cut him off coolly. “I thought it was a very informative presentation, Jackson. 9 out of 10, although the map ideally should have highlighted all the British colonies and not just England.”

“Thanks, Jinyoung.”

You stared at them. “Unbelievable.”

Jinyoung turned in his chair to face you. His arms were folded across his chest coolly. “Let's get down to the point. Forget the British Raj. I think they've identified a problem that deserves to be addressed. That problem is, you and I keep getting in each other’s way.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s true, don’t deny it. I was in the middle of a negotiation with the CEO this morning. It was going fine until you barged in and argued with him. Calm down,” Jinyoung raised a hand to silence you as you opened your mouth to defend yourself. “I’m not trying to blame you. That’s not the point. The next time you make a representation, it’s likely that I’ll accidentally do something to mess it up. This is because we lack coordination even though we want the same thing.”

Yugyeom turned to you with big, hopeful eyes. “He’s right. Both of you doing your own thing could be disastrous. The CEO will just ignore us, because we’re a mess. But if we pool our resources together then we might be able to scare him. Can we set aside our personal feelings this once?”

You stared at them. Both Yugyeom and Youngjae were looking at you hopefully and you felt weak. You wanted to reassure them that you could save their jobs without the help of Sales, but you suddenly weren’t sure anymore. Park Jinyoung, whatever else he might be, was definitely smart.

That didn’t mean the plan would work, though. 

“Look. I’m an adult. I can set aside my personal feelings, but that’s not even the issue. Our methods are too different,” you pointed out to Jinyoung. “We’ll waste time fighting about what to do. You’ll want to negotiate nicely and persuade the CEO, while I’m prepared to show him the law and insist he follow it or face the consequences.”

Jinyoung bit his lip. “I get that. We have our differences.”

“Exactly. We’ll never agree on a strategy.”

Jinyoung suddenly looked up and his eyes gleamed. You could almost see the lightbulb ping on top of his head. 

“What if… what if our different strategies are our strategy?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were growing tired of the Sales department’s obsession with giving pointless presentations.

The lights had dimmed and the projector was back on again. This time, Park Jinyoung was standing in front of it. He had run out of the conference room suddenly after his declaration, shocking everyone. He was back in two minutes with his laptop and he hooked it up to the projector before turning to face the room with a smug smile. 

“Guess what? I have just found the one and only negotiation strategy that will work. It’s a classic, and it’s the only strategy that is based entirely on disagreement,” he explained eagerly. “I gave a seminar on this to the Sales team a couple months ago, remember?”

Jackson’s eyes widened. “Wait, do you mean-”

“Yup.” Jinyoung pressed a button and the presentation began. “The Good Cop, Bad Cop Strategy.”

You frowned and peeked at the laptop. The presentation contained 45 slides. Oh dear god. If Park Jinyoung tried to go through all of them right now then you were going to deck him in the face. You were short enough on time already. 

“How about we skip past all the analogies and the introductions and you just give us a brief summary of how this works?” you suggested through clenched teeth. You glanced at your watch. “You have my attention for… 3 minutes.”

“That’s enough,” Jinyoung promised confidently. He pressed a button to change the slide. “The Good Cop, Bad Cop strategy is simple. This strategy is rooted in the fact that the Good Cop and the Bad Cop never agree.”

“Hmm.”

“The role of the Bad Cop,” Jinyoung gestured towards you with a handsome smile and you glared at him, “is simple. Bad Cop takes an extreme stand. She threatens terrible consequences and refuses to negotiate. She basically sets the tone for a worst-case scenario. No matter what the other person says, Bad Cop refuses to show the slightest hint of mercy.”

You blinked. That sounded like you. 

“Now, we come to Good Cop,” Jinyoung gestured towards himself with a proud smile. “He’s the one who makes more reasonable demands. Good Cop is the nice guy. He pretends to be on the criminal’s side. Everything Good Cop says looks really nice and generous in contrast to what Bad Cop says. Usually criminals are so terrified by Bad Cop that they give in to whatever demands Good Cop has. But in reality, Good Cop and Bad Cop are working together. They both agree on what they want beforehand. But by splitting the roles and taking extreme stands, they can confuse the criminal.”

You took a deep breath. “So If I understand you correctly…”

“You will threaten to sue,” Jinyoung explained. His dark eyes shone with excitement. “Do what you do best. Gather all the material you can find about the company’s violations of our employment contracts, and threaten the CEO that you’re about to drown the company in a messy, ugly lawsuit.”

“That’s risky. We don’t have the resources to follow through on that. I don’t have enough money to sue the company and I’m sure none of you do either. It’ll be a bald-faced lie. The CEO might tell me to go file a lawsuit if I dare. I might have to return empty-handed.”

“You might, if I wasn’t there to diffuse the situation before he gets angry. I’ll offer the CEO a more attractive option. I’ll tell him that he doesn’t have to deal with the headache and the bad PR that will come out of a lawsuit. He can simply let us stay in this office. If the Busan transfer is an attempt at cost-cutting, like I think it is, then we’ll all voluntarily forgo our bonuses this year. We’ll find other ways to cut costs. What do you think?”

You took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Jinyoung grinned. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you admitted reluctantly. “I think this might just work. Let’s do this.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

[roguesandsaviors]

Cover Story Needed

Fandom: The Walking Dead Characters: Negan, Reader Pairing: Negan x Reader Summary: In a moment of desperation, you lie to one of your coworkers about having a boyfriend, needing to avoid his skeevy pick up attempts for the next company dinner. The only one who might be able to help is your friend and neighbor, Negan.  Word Count: 4,521 Rating: SFW Warning: Cursing, Negan being Negan, some violence, threatening behavior Author’s Note: This is for Meg’s 11K Follower challenge. Thanks to @thranduilsperkybutt for hosting it. The prompts were Au and trope based, which was an absolute blast. This is the first of a few fics (three but possibly more) I signed up for. Fake dating/pretend couple and Negan? How could I possibly pass that up. I haven’t done a lot of reader insert fics because I find I often struggle with them. So I hope this came out okay. Not Beta-ed so all mistakes are my own.

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

Another social event, a plea for money in disguise, and another chance for that prick of a coworker to annoy the shit out of you. You weren’t sure that you could stomach it but there was no real way to back out of the obligation. The company was requiring your presence, asking you to give a presentation on the latest research that was coming out of your department.

The word got out about the event and in no time, Charles had made his way over to you, a grin on his face that made you want to smack him. He had no reason to be that cocky about anything. He was a subpar scientist at best and in no way was he God’s gift to women like he thought that he was.

“Hey, Y/N. I was hoping that we could talk about the dinner coming up. I know that they are having you give a presentation. But, I thought that we could go together. You know, have someone nice on your arm and make the evening even better. Maybe we could even have our own little presentation afterwards.” The thought made you want to gag. How he had not gotten fired for sexual harassment was beyond you.  A tight smile came to your face and you shook your head.

“I’m sorry Charles. I already have someone that I will be going with.” He frowned and leaned in closer, causing you to lean back more.

“We just found out about it. How can you possibly have someone to go with.”

“It’s my boyfriend.” You were going to owe Negan big time for this one. Whatever he asked for, he was going to get it.

“Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend?” His displeasure was growing more obvious by the moment, which was only causing your discomfort to grow worse.

“That’s frankly none of your business. Now, I would appreciate it if you would leave me to my work.” It had been a long time since you had shoved your foot in your mouth that badly but there was no one that he had been ready to accept no for an answer. You just prayed that Negan was free and willing to go along with the plan.

You and Negan had been neighbors for close to five years and friends for a little over half of that time. A grill incident in your backyard had led to some shared take out and a couple of beers. It had been a Friday night ritual since. It was a nice way for him to unwind after his week and served as a pick me up for any pending crises that could arise over the weekend for you.

You settled your bag down on the table, keys tossed into their bowl before toeing off your shoes. It was better to get a hold of the man in question now than delay things and perseverate on them. It was just a matter of figuring out whether to go over to his place and ask or call him. Embarrassment was going to happen either way and you were trying to figure out which method was going to save a little  more face.

The decision was taken out of your hands when you heard his voice calling through an open window.

“About fucking time you got home, Y/N.” He grumbled, though the grin on his face spoke a different story. “It was a fucking shit day at the office. Picked a bottle of that stuff that you like along with a bottle of whiskey for myself. Figured we could settle in, watch some horrible b rated action movie and get shit faced.”  Nothing really sounded better at that moment.

“The doors unlocked. Come on in.” Maybe you could wait until you were a little drunk before springing the question on him. Then you could at least blame any awkwardness on the alcohol. That seemed like a good plan.

Negan pushed open the back door and the clinging of bottles could be heard.

“How was your day?”

“I got pegged to give a presentation of the latest research at the dinner that is planned Saturday night.”

“That’s awesome. Congrats doll.”

“Actually, I was hoping that I could talk to you about that.”

“All fucking ears.” You had been hoping that he would push it off but as you moved to the kitchen, you could see that he was pouring drinks for the both of you.

“Uh, well you see, Charles asked to go with me.”

“That asshole still bothering you?” It wasn’t the first time that you had brought up the other man’s name. Negan knew that he made you feel uncomfortable. “Wait, you aren’t going with him are you?” He stopped what he was doing and looked up, something passing over his face that you couldn’t read.

“Oh god no. I haven’t been on a date in months but that is a level of desperation that I will never reach.” He laughed and relaxed a bit, moving to hand you the glass that he had poured.

“Good. Prick like that doesn’t need anyone giving into that pressure bullshit. He’s lucky that he doesn’t run into me.” That was going to change if he agreed to your request.

“Actually, you might. See, I told him that I had a boyfriend and couldn't’ go with him since I was going with someone else.”

“Fucker should have just taken no for an answer.”

“I know Negan. The excuse came out before I could help it. I didn’t mean to lie about it.”

“So you want me to go with you?” Not much escaped the man, that was certain.

“I was hoping you weren’t busy on Saturday. You’re the only one I trust enough to do this.”

“Well, I’m flattered, doll. And you just so happen to be in luck that my Saturday is clear.” He smirked and took a sip of his glass. “This mean I have to behave? Or can I knock the fuckers teeth down his throat if he causes any issue.” It was a work function and you would prefer not to have to deal with any fallout of an altercation. At the same time, the thought of watching Negan put Charles into his place was  more than appealing.

“You know what, I don’t care. He’ll have it coming if he does something stupid.”

“That’s the spirit. I didn’t even need to get you drunk for that.” He teased as he threw an arm around your shoulders. “Think I’m rubbing off on you, Y/N.” He led you to the couch, where you both plopped down. After having spent so much time panicking about what he would say and what you would have to do if he said no, you were feeling more than ready to unwind and drink away the stress of the day. The burn in your throat was welcomed as you took a long drink from the glass, hearing the snicker from the man beside you. Blindly, you reached out and smacked him on the arm, already knowing where he was going to go with a comment.

“Pick out a movie already.” You mumbled and kicked your feet up.

“Yes ma’am.” He teased, earning himself another smack. He flicked through a few channels before finding something that looked God awful, just the sort of movie that you both needed to forget the days that you had. *************************** The night had come and you were feeling nervous about it all over again. Negan had put up a little bit of a stink when he had learned that he would need to get dressed up for it. The entire event was being held at a rather high end hotel and there would be plenty of potential donors and other important members of the board present.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to clean up that nice.” You looked towards Negan, surprised to see just how sharp he looked in his suit. You weren’t ever one to deny that he was good looking but the thoughts had not gone any further than that. He was your friend and that was a relationship that you didn’t want to lose.

“Ain’t the only looking fine doll.” He winked as he whistled, a low sound, taking in the outfit you had chosen for the evening. It was nothing over the top but it suited the fact that you would be standing behind a podium talking to a large room full of fellow scientists. A flowing blouse and skirt that dropped to halfway down your calves made up your outfit. You looked down at yourself, not wanting to blush in front of the man. “I’ll have the best looking lady on my arm tonight.”

“Alright mister smooth talker. Are you ready to go?”

“Easy Y/N. I’m just playing with you. Come on.” He led you over to his Camaro. It was a pet project of his, something that you had watched him work on and restore piece by piece over the past year.

“I didn’t realize that you finished her up.” He opened the door for you.

“Got her done a couple weeks ago but was saving giving her the first drive for a special occasion.” Some heat came to your cheeks as he spoke about it being a special occasion. It was nothing more than a friend helping a friend. Negan was being kind and offering to pretend to be your boyfriend for the evening. There wasn’t much that was special about that. Though, he was also trying to show up Charlies and that was a reason enough to pull this beauty out for a proper drive.

The drive over was enjoyable, filled with the usual back and forth banter that had come to be the norm between you two. You found some comfort in that, a solid footing that was familiar when there was going to be so many off kilter moments coming up.

“You ready doll?” He asked as he pulled the car to a stop.

“Not like I can back out of it.” You stared at the building in front of you, knowing that no matter how much you would have liked to head back home and spend the evening lounging with Negan, there was no chance of that happening. Giving the presentation wasn’t the problem. It was the evening surrounding it that had you nervous.

“Of course you fucking can. I can turn this car around right now.” You offered him a smile, appreciating what he was willing to do for you. He was a good friend.

“No.” You shook your head. “Thank you though.”

“Well then, let’s get this fucking show on the road. You just gotta get through this presentation, we’ll eat a little, and head home so you can get shit faced and forget about all this bullshit.” The comment finally got a small laugh out of you.

“Thank you Negan.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” You both got out of the car and Negan moved over, offering his hand. Taking it, you let out a slow breath to keep all the nerves as reigned in as possible. The warmth of his hand was comforting and after a nod, the two of you made your way to the conference room.

There were already a lot of bodies milling about, most having drinks in hand. That didn’t seem like a bad idea but you couldn’t get away with drinking too much. Being drunk, giving the presentation would make things easier in that moment but had some horrible long term consequences. You pushed off the feeling and found yourself giving Negan’s hand a squeeze. He hadn’t moved from your side and was observing the room around you.

Before you had the chance to say anything to him, Charles and Richard, your boss came up to the two of you. Charles was already eyeing Negan while Richard was all smiles. That was odd. Your boss was a cheery person, and thankfully someone who believed in the work that you did. You had come against your fair share of men who still thought that science belonged to them and women had no place.

“Good evening Miss Y/L/N. And who do you have with you.” He held out his hand to Negan, who shook it with a smile but it was hard to miss the look that he was giving Charles. He already knew who the man was.

“Good evening Richard. This is my significant other, Negan.” Boyfriend felt a little childish but in this setting. You settled on the more adult sounding title, though it still felt odd coming from your mouth.

“Pleased to meet  you.”

“Likewise.” He offered before it became obvious that you were going to have to introduce Charles.

“My coworker Charles.” You offered as your hand tightened in his again. The stare down was tense and even Richard seemed to pick up on it as the smile faltered. The handshake between the two men was stiff at best. There were no words exchanged between them and you rocked on your heels for a moment, just waiting for the fight to break out. Negan didn’t have great self control at times but you hoped that given the setting, he would be behaved.

“Gotta admit, I thought Y/N was pulling my leg when she said that she had a boyfriend.” You swallowed, hoping that he wouldn’t poke and prod too much. It wasn’t like you and Negan didn’t know each other well but surely someone who decided to look into it enough would find holes in whatever story you had come up with.

“Now why would she do something like that?” His hand left yours, instead sliding around your waist and keeping you close to his side. It was a more intimate touch than the hand holding for sure. You found yourself relaxing into the touch though instead of tensing. It wasn’t like being pressed against him was new, you often fell asleep on him during drunk movie nights, but this was in public, in front of people that thought you were a couple.

“How did you two meet?”

“We are neighbors actually.” Negan started before you could. “She ended up having a fire, trying to grill something. I don’t even remember what at this point. I had to hop the fence to put the fucker out. Shared a couple of drinks and it went from there. She couldn’t resist my charms.” He winked down at you, and you swore you felt your cheeks heat up. That was easy enough, since he went with the event that started your friendship. It wasn’t what you had discussed but it was easier and more believable.

“Bit embarrassing but he seemed to find it endearing enough.” You finally found your voice and gave him a smile before looking back at the other two. Richard was easy about but Charles still didn’t look convinced. Warm lips met your cheek and you were definitely blushing now. Negan’s soft chuckle was close to your ear but the action just sold the story further.

“We have you giving your presentation after a small speech from Frank. Are you ready?” Richard was able to turn back to the matter at hand and you were grateful.

“Yeah, I have everything put together.” You reached into your purse and produced a USB drive. “Everything is on there.” He took the device from you.

“I’ll go get everything set up. I’m sure that it will be fantastic.” He didn’t need to remind you who was here. You could see several important faces in the crowd over his shoulder. All you had to do was give the presentation, eat, kiss some ass, and you and Negan could get out of there. You were left in an awkward position with Charles. He wasn’t walking off to mingle like he should have been. He was standing there, watching the two of you with a critical eye.

“Excuse us, but I think we both need a drink.” Instead of leaving you on your own with him, he pulled you along towards the small bar that had been set up.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Prick was begging for me to knock him the fuck out.” He grumbled right back before ordering you both something to ease the nerves.

“We shouldn’t have to put up with too much of him. Hopefully he will be kissing too much ass to get his project more funding. That is what normally happens here. After we eat, I have to do a little bit of the same and we can get out of here.”

“Whatever you gotta do. I got free booze and food out of it. I’m in it for the long haul.” He winked again as he handed you the cool glass. You wanted to guzzle it down but that would just cause more problems. You sipped it slowly, savoring the high end liquor.

“I’ll have to remember that for future events.” You found yourself teasing.

“I’m a cheap fucking date.” He sipped his drink before glancing around. “Who would have thought that science is all this shit?”

“Mainly this shit. Can’t happen without money. And most aren’t willing to give it up easily. Though I suppose it’s better than having to beg in front of a grant committee.”

“Shit, sounds like having to stand in front of the school board.” You laughed again.

“Yeah, I guess they are probably like one another. Come on, let’s go find somewhere to sit.” He led you towards a table that seemed decently full, something that surprised you until you realized that Charles was hovering again. He was trying to find a spot that the man wouldn’t be able to join them at. It was a smart decision.

Negan pulled your chair out with a smile.

“Can have some manners when the moment calls for it.” He teased as you sat down. You would only get a few minutes before having to give your presentation. This was a way to relax though before that. Another sip of your drink and you ignored the fact that Charles was lingering.

“Color me shocked.” He made sure no one was looking as he flipped your off subtly. It brought another laugh from you and had him smiling. That was more like it. There were a few smiles sent in your direction but no one offered more conversation at the moment.

*********************************** The presentation had gone well enough and from the sounds of it, you had impressed several of the donors. All in all, it was a fairly successful night for you. Finally though, it was over and you were grateful. Negan had an arm around your shoulders as he led you out. It had started to rain so he paused at the entrance.

“Let me grab the car, doll. Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t mind walking in the rain Negan.”

“Just fucking wait.” He laughed a bit and moved out into the downpour. You shook your head, feeling the smile pulling at your lips despite trying to hold back.

“Impressive.” You tensed immediately at hearing Charles so close. “I am surprised that everyone bought the story.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

“What do you mean story?” You asked innocently, hoping that he would buy it. If tonight hadn’t worked though, the likelihood was low that he would buy anything now. You tightened your arms over your chest and hoped that he wouldn’t press too hard, or that someone would come up and save you from the conversation. It would be best if Negan appeared with the car.

“Don’t feed me that bullshit. There is no way that you two are actually dating.”

“And why is that Charles?” You asked, unable to hold back on some of the frustration that you were feeling. The whole point of this thing with Negan was to keep the man from talking to you or bugging you about this whole thing. You had thought that you had played the evening well.

“His eyes wandered half the evening. You two are friends at best. I mean the body language between the two of you screams friends but nothing more.” You could have started screaming. No one was coming to your rescue and Negan had yet to appear with the car. You were stuck dealing with this prick until one of those two things happened. You could step outside but if you made it to where you parked and Negan wasn’t there, it could cause trouble. Who knew if Charles would bother to leave it be even then. He could follow you outside and then you could be in real trouble. No, it was safer to stay where you were and wait it out the best that you could.  “Come on Y/N, give it up. Why won’t you go out with me.”

“I don’t want to, Charles.” You replied firmly, though the hair on the back of your neck was beginning to stand up. A pit was forming in your gut as the man shifted closer before he had a hand on the small of your back and at your elbow. “Get off of me.”

“I just want to talk. Why don’t we head back?”

“Because I don’t want to. I thought that I made that clear enough. Get your hands off of me.” You squirmed and attempted to pull away but his hold just tightened. Your brain was screaming right now. You had to get away from him. No matter what. You could cause enough of a scene that he would have to let go of you.

Just as you were about to start screaming, Negan pulled and his smile dropped as soon as he saw the position that you were in. You were silently pleading for help, still trying to pull away from Charles.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” That was a tone that you weren’t used to hearing from Negan. He was pissed and he was marching right towards the both of you. If the situation had been different, maybe you would have been intimidated by the posture and the fire in his eyes. Right now, you were thankful that he was willing to intervene. “Get your fucking hands off of her right now.” He was standing next to you in the blink of an eye. He reached out, shoving Charles in the shoulder while his other hand gently encompassed your wrist and pulled you behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Charles responded, pissed that Negan had laid hands on him.

“Oh, can dish it out but can’t fucking take it huh? You don’t like it when someone lays hands on you without permission.” Negan snarled. “You don’t fucking touch a woman after she has said no. It’s a lesson you better fucking learn quick asshole. Or I’ll be glad to make sure you remember it for the rest of your life.” He stepped closer and you could see the tension in his shoulders. If you didn’t do something about it, there was going to be a full blown fight.

“You aren’t going to do anything.” You looked towards the ceiling, knowing that Charles was signing his own fate.

“Come on Negan, let’s just go, please.” You softly begged, hoping that it was enough to pull the man out of his anger. If you could just get him to focus on you long enough, maybe you could convince him to just leave it be and head home.

“You’re just a nobody and aren’t good enough for someone like Y/N. The only way you can get close is pretending to date her.” Charles goaded, not letting the subject rest, allowing you to pull Negan away. It was apparently the last bit of pushing that Negan needed. You watched his arm cock back and before you could do anything, the punch had landed. Charles stumbled back, blood already falling down his face. There was something satisfying about the whole incident. He had been such a thorn in your side for so long that seeing some justice served was overdue. That didn’t change the fact that you were still in the hotel and the scene had attracted plenty of attention.

“You might be right. I’m not fucking good enough. But at least I respect her and don’t force myself on Y/N unlike you. It’s no wonder that you can’t find a girl.” He rolled his shoulders and turned to look at you, looking apologetic. “Come on doll, let’s get out of here.” He wrapped an arm around you and ignored everyone that was closing in. He led you to the car, opening the door once more to let you in before running to his side of the car.

“Shit, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He huffed as he took off, not looking at you.

“There isn’t anything for you to be sorry about Negan.” You offered softly. Sure, he had made a scene and there would be fallout to deal with at work. You could handle that. “Thank you for putting him in his place.”

“I caused a fucking scene with your coworkers and who the fuck knows what the fuck is going to happen when you have to go back on Monday.” He shook his head before finally looking in your direction. “I wasn’t going to let him keep his hands on you when you were uncomfortable and clearly didn’t want it. No man has that right with a woman and I have no problem reminding them of it.” You reached out and squeezed his arm. It was more than anyone else had done. Everyone at work let him get away with the behavior, or just flat out didn’t see it.

“I can handle whatever fallout comes my way. That isn’t a problem.” You didn’t want him feeling bad about that, or worrying that he had just made you lose your job. Richard wasn’t going to fire you over that sort of incident. You hadn’t been the one to be physical. You were confident on that front. The rest of the drive was quiet, Negan seemingly not wanting to talk about it anymore. It wasn’t like you could push him for more so you let it be and played the events over again. In the rush of it all, hoping that Charles wouldn’t lash out in response, you had missed the fact that he had thought himself not good enough for you. That was far from the truth. He was an attractive man but you hadn’t let yourself think about it any more than the occasional passing thought. You were friends and you valued that. His interest in women always seemed to be passing anyway. That sort of behavior had been worked out of your system in college and you weren’t interested in warming a bed for a night every now and then. It would never work out between you two. Right?

[chelsfic]

Trustfall Part 2 - August Walker/Reader - Mission: Impossible Fallout fanfic

Image: Stock image of multiple locks on a door beside an image of Henry Cavill with scruff and mustache and a curly lock of hair falling over his forehead. The Henry pic came up in a Google image search, but I think it should be credited to: @kinghenryviii-i-am

A/N: You’ll notice from some details (references to dollars, stores, elementary school) that this fic is set in the U.S., not in London. I felt it would be more authentic for me to write within my own frame of reference rather than try to manhandle English colloquialisms and such. You can think of it as AU. Or, I can just admit that I’m a bit lazy. Either way I really hope it doesn’t take you out of the plot.

P.S. I’ve never had a plan in my entire life. Somehow, this is the Home Depot episode of Trustfall. Enjoy!

Part One

***

You make up the guest room because that’s what you do when you have a guest. Never mind that the guest is a (former?) terrorist...a double agent and a traitor. Never mind that you don’t strictly want him here and he’s less of a guest and more of a...passive captor. Never mind all that. Making the bed with fresh sheets and putting out clean towels is what you do when you have...a guest.

“So...,” you gesture to the open doorway. The same doorway where you stood frozen, three weeks ago, while he pointed a gun at you. The memory rises like an unwanted specter before your eyes and you need to take a steadying breath before you can go on. “This will be your room. Th-there’s a bathroom attached. The linen closet is just across from you if you need more towels or blankets. I had an extra toothbrush so I put that on the sink for you….a-and the kitchen is downstairs just across from the living room if you g-get hungry…”

You’re rambling and this really is absurd. The bastard may be paying you but there is no reason you have to be nice to him. It’s like your brain is short-circuiting. You hate him for what he did to you and for making you feel scared in your own home. But you’ve never had it in you to seek out conflict when you find it so much simpler to take the high road and be able to live with yourself as a “nice person.” It’s a dysfunction. You should probably see a therapist about it. Or hit him. Maybe you should hit him. 

In an effort to assert yourself you add, “And keep out of my room. And my office downstairs. I’m not agreeing to you having access to every inch of my personal space.” 

The effort is somewhat diminished when you spy the unreadable, hard expression on his face and tack on a “please” to the end of your demand. Damn it.

“Of course,” Walker smiles and how can it be allowed for him to look so boyish and charming? He’s a criminal! “This is still your home, Y/N.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It sure doesn’t feel that way.

***

It’s amazing how quickly you can become accustomed to the most bizarre changes. Before you know it a  week has passed. Walker...August...keeps to himself in his room. He’s gone out a few times, always at odd hours. Sometimes he’s not back yet when you wake up in the morning. But for the most part he’s just...there. All the time.

You’ve spent every night since he came here laying in bed with your hands fisted in the blankets and your eyes locked on your door. His room is just on the other side of your bedroom wall and you can sometimes hear the muffled noises of him moving around at night. So far he’s respected your request that he not invade your space more than necessary but that can’t last, can it? You find yourself mentally reliving those terrible moments. The cold apathy in his eyes as he stood over you. The false concern in his words before he pulled the trigger. Why would he say he was sorry? If he was sorry...if he’d cared he wouldn’t have done what he did.

In the mornings, you feel tired, wrung out. This can’t go on. You’re due back at work on Monday and you can’t teach a class of second graders on no sleep. Friday afternoon you drive to the hardware store and purchase a sliding lock kit for your bedroom door. August is in the kitchen when you get home. He watches you set your bag on the kitchen table and remove the contents. 

You look up at him feeling absurdly guilty. You force yourself to square your jaw and look him in the eyes, “It’s for my bedroom...I can’t...I can’t sleep at night.”

August’s eyes flash with emotion before he carefully schools his features. He’s been trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible. For all he manipulated you into this situation he isn’t a sadist--he doesn’t want you to feel afraid. He just doesn’t know what he can possibly do to reassure you. 

He nods sensibly and comes over to inspect your purchase. It’s a simple sliding lock like the kind you’d see on a public restroom stall. He picks up the package turning it over in his hands. He’s standing right next to you, looming, and you’re aware again of his massive presence. You can feel the heat of his body and you can smell the scent of him. He smells like fresh soap and gun oil. You’re suddenly aware that he’s wearing casual clothes, a t-shirt and jeans and thick, white socks. The outfit makes him seem so normal, so human. Without your permission you feel your body sway toward him like a mosquito flying toward an electrified lamp. Why are you attracted to something that can hurt you?

“Smart,” he remarks, setting down the package, “but this type of lock won’t do much to keep out someone who’s determined.”

“What?” you ask sharply with a look of suspicion. Surely he must realize the lock is meant to keep out *him.* From the apologetic look he flashes you, you can tell that he does know. So why is he telling you this?

“Why don’t we head back to the store and find something more heavy duty?” he suggests.

***

Walking through Home Depot with August Walker at your side pushing a big, orange shopping cart is surreal. There’s no way you can forget who you’re with either because he draws attention. He’s tall, muscled and striking; people’s eyes are drawn to him like magnets. You wonder how he ever got by working under cover. 

He swings down aisle after aisle with a purposeful stride that leaves you nearly tripping over your crutches to keep up. When you reach the aisle with locks, doorknobs and other odds and ends he selects a heavy metal deadbolt from the wall display and tosses it into the cart.

He turns to you, looking doubtful, “Do you have a power drill at home?”

“Err...no,” you reply sheepishly.

He moves on: screws, drill, drill bits, a hole saw. Then he’s leading you to the back of the store and down an aisle lined with different style doors. You hook your hand into the crook of his elbow to slow him down.

“August!” you exclaim, practically out of breath trying to keep up with him. “I don’t need a new door.”

“Yes, you do,” he says simply and turns back to display. He selects a heavy steel door that looks more suitable for a jail cell than your bedroom.

“That’s hideous!” you snort, forgetting your anxiety and nerves.

August huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “It’s secure.”

When the cashier rings everything up the total comes to over six hundred dollars. You widen your eyes and reach into your pocketbook with trepidation. You just don’t have that kind of extra money. August pulls out his wallet and hands over a stack of hundreds without batting an eye. You stare at him in shock and he just shakes his head as if it’s nothing. You are going to have a talk about household expenses. 

***

You watch him hang the new door, greasing the hinges and testing the swing of it opening and closing. You’re perched on the end of your bed and he’s standing in the doorway wearing a tool belt and changing out the bit in his drill to start making the hole for the deadbolt. You let yourself enjoy this bizarre, peaceful moment. Watching him do home repair is so...oddly calming. August could be your handyman or...your husband. 

But...he’s not, you remind yourself. No, this man is the reason you need a steel door installed in your bedroom in the first place. The reason you can’t sleep at night, the reason you have nightmares that cause you to wake up with tears in your eyes and a sob in your throat. You can’t--you cannot forget that. 

August finishes up installing the lock and the doorknobs. He takes his time tightening the final screws and checking that the lock slides effortlessly into position. As he fiddles with these adjustments he watches you from the corner of his eyes. You’re seated on the bed with your good leg tucked underneath you, chin resting on your palm and paying attention to everything he’s doing. Your posture is looser than he’s seen it since his arrival and he feels a rush of warmth in his chest that he can’t identify.

 All he knows is he hates seeing the flash of fear in your eyes every time he catches you unaware. He hates seeing how tired you are in the mornings. And he really, really hates the muffled sounds of sobs that come from your bedroom late at night. He wants you to feel safe again. He knows he robbed you of that feeling. When he came here a week ago it was with the calculating intention of taking advantage of the damage he’d done and forcing you into a position of being at his mercy. But since he’s been living with you and witnessing the consequences of everything he’s done all he feels is an unfamiliar guilt eating away at his stomach and making him feel like worse than vermin. 

He swings the door closed and twists the lock into place with a satisfying click. He turns to you with a smile and a feeling of accomplishment that he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“There,” he says, twisting the lock again and opening the door so that you don’t feel trapped with him in your bedroom. “Now you’re safe.”

Tag List:

@thorins-queen-of-erebor @viking-raider @onceuponathreetwoone @angelic-kisses13 @afangirldaydreams

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Amy/Jake Newspaper AU, Chapter 2! (And at AO3.)

Amy’s family had not taken well to her announcement that she was leaving education to go into journalism. It wasn’t the leaving part that had bothered them – it was the ‘going into.’ Her family didn’t agree on much, but they were pretty united in their mistrust of the mainstream media.

Her dad had been a career cop with the NYPD, and three of her seven brothers had followed his footsteps. Her mom had been a full-time social activist, which didn’t pay as well as detective (as in, at all) but required the same level of commitment. Three of Amy’s brothers had taken after their mom and were now working for various human rights organizations in and around New York. Her youngest brother was the only other outlier, and he’d really gone rogue – he was a singer/actor/writer trying to make it onto Broadway. They’d all been gently indulgent of Amy’s decision to go into education, but when she’d shifted to journalism the fallout had been immediate and vehement, and come from all sides. Including David the singer/actor/writer, which seemed profoundly unfair.

Amy had been passionate about the news – and newspapers in particular – for as long as she could remember, but a career in journalism had seemed as outlandish to her as a child as David’s drive to go into entertainment. In a way, it had been his incremental successes that had given her the final push to follow her own dreams. That and the fact that she was sick to death of teaching 9- and 10-year-olds how to make sun collages and watercolor flowers. Kids were loud and messy (and also most of them sucked at art).

Of course, journalists were loud and messy too, Amy thought, as she leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head, peering about the newsroom. At the desk directly across from Amy’s, Gina was screaming at someone on the phone that no, she was not going to write an expose about toxic government immunization programs.

“Fucking anti-vaxxers,” Gina snapped as she slammed the phone back in the cradle.

On the far side of the newsroom, Charles was asking Terry if dog shit really smelled different from human shit, and if it was necessary to include that in Hitchcock’s story on street pooping. Hitchcock himself was watching a video turned up way too loud on his computer; it sounded like porn.

Amy loved her job.

“Santiago,” Terry called, yanking Amy out of her musings. Holt was the editor in chief of the Bulletin, but it was Terry who ran the metro desk, the heart of the newsroom.

“What’s up, boss?” Amy said, as Terry walked up to her desk.

“What’ve you got for me today?” He was staring down at a battered legal pad in his hands, on which Amy knew was written the stories everyone was working on and when they expected to have them done.

“Um.” She usually had three or four things to pitch him, but the past few days had been unusually slow and she’d already written three stories that had been on her evergreen list. She was perilously close to coming up dry for the first time since she’d started at the Bulletin.

“Look,” Terry said, planting his palms on her desk and leaning toward her, “we’re okay for tomorrow’s paper, but it would really help if you could come up with something good for the weekend.”

Amy knew that “it would really help” was about as close as Terry came to ordering a story, so she squared her shoulders and nodded. “Roger that.”

Terry frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like a cop,” he said. “It’s weird.”

Amy shrugged. “Hazard of the job, I guess?” She hadn’t told anyone that she came from a long line of NYPD cops. She worried Terry or Holt might pull her off the beat if they thought she was biased.

Terry just grunted and scratched a note, then called out “Hitchcock” and moved on.

Amy slumped in her chair. She’d dodged the daily bullet, but now she needed to come up with something really good for the weekend edition. She pulled up her evergreen list – stories that, in theory, could be written up and published any time because they had nothing to do with current events – but the ones left were boring or would take more than a few days to finish.

Amy set her chin in her hand and checked the NYPD Twitter feeds, and then the neighborhood blogs and even The Times local news website, but there was nothing going on. What she needed was a good tip, some murder or weird robbery or identify theft case she could expose.

She thought of Peralta. She’d actually tried looking him up, the day after her story was published, but she’d found almost no public records on him. A search of the NYPD staff database had provided his name, rank and current assignment to the 99th Precinct, but no photo. He wasn’t in the Bulletin archives at all, and he didn’t seem to have a Facebook account or any other social media presence. She wondered if he was normally an undercover cop, which would explain the low-key identity. Or else he just didn’t do very interesting work with the NYPD – but somehow Amy didn’t think that was the case.

Amy tapped a pen against her reporter’s notebook and wondered – not for the first time – why he’d picked her out of the crowd to tip off about the ex-boyfriend-slash-cop. And she wondered what other interesting stuff he might have hidden under those rolled-up sleeves.

At that thought, Amy groaned to herself and chuckled. Detective Peralta was cute and he’d given her a good tip, but that was hardly anything to be fantasizing about. Besides, he was a cop, and she’d had enough cops in her life to know that though there were some amazing ones – like her dad and two out of her three brothers – a lot of them were power hungry, egotistic, self-righteous and borderline corrupt. Just because Peralta had helped her out once didn’t make him one of the good guys.

She turned back to her computer and pulled up the NYPD Twitter feed again. She might have to write that feature on the new anti-graffiti task force after all, Amy thought with a sigh, and began taking notes.

+++

Jake stared at the board in the briefing room, trying to find the link between the string of pawn-shop robberies he and Rosa had been investigating for two weeks. They had pins marking spots all across Brooklyn, plus a few in Queens, and there was no obvious geographic connection. He sat down on the edge of a table and ran a hand through his hair. Beside him, Rosa sighed and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

“Maybe it’s not the same guy,” Rosa said, picking up their stack of reports again and flipping through the pages.

“Or girl,” Jake said, just to be a jerk. Rosa kicked him in the shin. He flashed her a grimace and rubbed his leg. “Look, it’s obviously one guy, or a couple working together. It’s the same MO every time: Break in just after midnight, take out a security guard, grab the cash on hand, and out the way they came in.”

“And they never show up on the security cameras, so they’ve obviously staked the place out.”

“Right.”

They both stared at the board some more. Jake let his eyes go a little crossed, like maybe if he skewed his vision he’d make some sense of the puzzle in front of them. He was reminded of those old “Magic Eye” pictures from when he was a kid. He’d always been good at finding the hidden image. He didn’t see anything now, but he could feel a subtle tickling in the back of his brain, a familiar itch that let him know he was missing some piece, and that he was close. If he could just relax, open his mind, he was sure he could figure this out.

“Peralta!” called a voice from the bullpen. Jake jolted out of his musings and jumped off the table to poke his head out. The Vulture’s assistant, Penny, waved at him. “Phone call. It’s at your desk.”

Jake turned back to Rosa and nodded toward his desk and she waved him off. The bullpen was a zoo – the Vulture was cackling wildly in his office, some dude was screaming at a prostitute in the holding cell, and for some reason there was a group of Boy Scouts crowded around the sergeant’s desk. All the noise was distracting, which was part of the reason he and Rosa had retreated to the briefing room.

He picked up his phone and said, loudly, “Peralta.”

“Detective Peralta?” came the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jake said. He pressed the phone into his ear.

“Oh, hi. It’s Amy Santiago. With the Brooklyn Bulletin?”

“Shit!” A spike of alarm shot down his back. Jake looked quickly around the bullpen to see if anyone was watching him.

“Excuse me?” Santiago said.

“Why are you calling me here?” Jake hissed.

“I’m sorry, I just called the main line-”

“I can’t talk to you on this phone.” Jake glanced toward the Vulture’s office; he was sprawled back in his chair, feet on his desk, laughing at something on his cell phone.

“Okay, sorry, I just had a quick-”

“Look, I’ll call you back. Is this the right number?” He read back the digits that showed on his phone and Santiago confirmed that was her number. “Okay, give me five minutes.”

Jake hung up without waiting for an answer and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, then ducked back into the briefing room. “Hey, I’ve got to hit the head, I’ll be right back,” he said to Rosa, and left when she just waved him off again.

Jake took the stairs to the first floor and walked all the way down the block, toward the deli where he got lunch every other day. He leaned against the wall around the corner from the precinct and dialed the number he’d memorized.

“Amy Santiago-”

“I can’t believe you called me at the precinct!” he said, trying hard not to raise his voice. “Did you give anyone your name?”

“No,” Santiago said, quickly. “I just asked for you and they transferred me. No one knows anything.”

“Okay, good. That’s good.” Jake released a long breath.

“Seriously, I’m sorry for freaking you out,” Santiago said, and she did sound contrite. “I didn’t know how else to get in touch with you.”

“It’s fine,” Jake said. “But why were you trying to reach me anyway? And how did you even get my name?”

“Someone called your name at the press conference and I looked you up,” Santiago said. “As for why I called, I had a favor to ask.”

“Haven’t I done enough favors for you?” Jake huffed. “Nice story, by the way. Front page and everything.”

“Thanks,” Santiago said. “And yes, I appreciate the help. I promise, this one is not nearly as big of a deal. I’ve got the whole story already worked out, I just need you to confirm one little detail before I can publish.”

Jake closed his eyes, wishing he’d remembered to grab his sunglasses before darting outside. He really should end this conversation now, before things got complicated. Rosa would kill him if she knew he was out here even listening to a reporter. But he had to admit, he wanted to know what she was working on.

“I can’t promise I’ll help, but tell me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, here’s the story,” Santiago said, and Jake knew after half a sentence that he was screwed.

She’d somehow caught on to the fact that the deputy commissioner’s son had been tagging police vehicles with penises, and that he’d been caught multiple times and let go with no repercussions. She told him that her sources were solid but no one could confirm with absolute certainty that the kid was definitely the deputy commissioner’s son. He had the same name and was the right age, but there was the slimmest possibility that could be a coincidence, and Santiago said the story was too big to bet on coincidence.

Jake himself had barely dodged this particular nightmare a few weeks earlier, when the Vulture had demanded he drop his own case against the kid. Jake had been sorely tempted to arrest him anyway but Rosa had stepped in and told him it would be career suicide without his captain’s backing. It still bugged Jake that the brat had gotten away with it.

“Look,” he said to Santiago, “even if I had information that would help you, I couldn’t share it. The kid’s a minor. Those records are sealed up.”

“Ah, I thought you’d say that,” Santiago said. “Turns out Trevor Podolski is 18. About to be 19, actually.”

“What?” Jake yelled into the phone. “That little shit lied to me? On an official police report?”

“So you do know about this case!”.

Jake winced. “Fine, yes, I worked it for a few days. But seriously, I can’t help you with this one. It’s too risky.”

“Come on, Peralta,” Santiago said. “This is your chance to set things right.”

Jake groaned and bumped his head back against the wall.

“I mean it, I’ve got everything already.” Santiago’s voice took on a desperate edge. “I just need you to tell me the story is true. That the kid is the deputy commissioner’s son.”

Jake bit his lip, glanced up and down the street. A car was parked on the opposite corner. He recognized it immediately as an unmarked police vehicle because of the giant dick spray-painted on the driver’s side door.

“Detective?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’re still on the phone? Or yes-”

“Yes, your story’s right,” Jake said. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Thank you!”

Jake gave her a quick “Welcome” and ended the call. He glared at the penis car, then pushed back off the wall and headed back to the precinct.

When he returned to the briefing room, Rosa scowled at him and said, “Where were you? I checked the bathroom.”

“You went in the men’s room?” Jake said, then shook his head and walked up to the board. “Never mind. I solved the case. It was the guys who installed the security cameras.”

Rosa stared at him, then picked up their notes again and began flipping through them, a slow smile spreading over her face. “How’d you do that?”

Jake just shrugged, and ducked his head to hide a small smile. For all that Santiago had nearly given him a heart attack, Jake had to admit, talking to her had actually cleared his head. 

+++

The next morning, Jake had just slung his bag onto his desk when the Vulture called him into his office. Pembroke had two tones when he yelled out his detectives’ names: impatient and furious. This tone was not impatient.

Rosa narrowed her eyes at Jake and he shrugged back in return before heading into the Vulture’s den. Or nest, Jake supposed. But “nest” didn’t sound nearly terrible enough.

“Wha’s up, Captain?” Jake said, tapping his knuckles on the Vulture’s open door.

Pembroke replied by holding up a copy of the Brooklyn Bulletin and shaking it so the pages rattled. Jake squinted at the front page and read the top headline out loud: “’Expose: Parking Fines Lining Police Pockets.’” Jake paused and scratched the back of his neck. “Ouch, there goes your retirement in Long Island. Sorry, sir.”

“Not that bullshit,” Pembroke cut in. “The other story, below it.”

Jake scanned down to the story in the lower left corner. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh! ’NYPD Official’s Son Is a Painter -- of Penises on Police Cars.’” The Vulture slapped the newspaper onto his desk. “What the fuck, Peralta.”

“Wait- what?” Jake stepped fully into the office, kicking the door shut behind him. “You think I had anything to do with this?”

Pembroke glowered at him. “You were the last guy to work that case, and you made it clear you were pissed about how it was handled, so yeah, I think you leaked it to the pretty reporter and probably got your dick sucked in return.”.

“Okay, first off,” Jake said, “that’s disgusting and super offensive. And second, no – I didn’t leak anything. I wouldn’t even know how to leak something like that. I don’t even know who-” he paused and made a show of lifting up the paper to peek at the name on the story, “Amy Santiago is.”

“She’s hot and she’s been busting our asses lately,” Pembroke said. “You really didn’t tip her off about the Podolski thing?”

“I swear, I had nothing to do with that.”

Pembroke eyed him warily and Jake just stood there, hands clasped behind his back, forcing his face to stay relaxed and give nothing away. Finally, Pembroke turned back to his desk. He flipped the newspaper into his trashcan – Jake was tempted to make a comment about recycling but now probably wasn’t the time – and said, “Fine, dismissed.”

Jake turned to go, then remembered he actually had a case he wanted to bring up.

“Uh, one more thing,” he said, plowing on even when Pembroke got that look on his face that meant their conversation had already gone on about five minutes longer than he’d prefer. “I got a text from a CI last night. He said there’s this new drug, some kind of fentanyl analog. They’re calling it Jazzy Pants-”

“No-go,” Pembroke said, cutting him off.

“Sir, with all due respect, if there’s another high-potency fentanyl on the street this could be a huge case.”

“I said drop it,” Pembroke said. “Anyway, the Seven-Eight has a task force. Let them handle it.”

“Oh, well, if the Seven-Eight has task force,” Jake said, not bothering to hide his scorn.

“Dismissed, Peralta.”

Jake walked out without another word.

+++

“You’re crazy, man,” Rosa said later that day, over lunch.

They’d gotten deli sandwiches to go and were eating them outside, sitting on the benches at the neighborhood playground. Kids were screeching and racing around the asphalt, climbing the wrong way up the slides and shoving each other on the swings. Normally Jake would be itching to go out and play with them – and honestly, sometimes he did; he figured it was good for police-community relations – but today he was on his phone. He was buying a digital subscription to the Bulletin.

“I know,” Jake said, mumbling around the credit card he’d stuck between his teeth. He plucked it out to type in the number and added, “But you have to admit, it was pretty great seeing that jerk kid’s mugshot in the paper.”

Jake had picked up his own copy of the Bulletin not long after leaving Pembroke’s office. Rosa had followed him outside and when she’d accused him of the same thing the Vulture had, Jake hadn’t bothered denying it, though he’d explained that he hadn’t been the original source. Rosa hadn’t seemed impressed by that detail.

“Yeah, it’s great that the kid is going to get in trouble for drawing dicks on cop cars, but is that really worth risking your career?” Rosa said. “Don’t be an idiot, Jake.”

Jake finished entering his credit card and personal information and hit “submit” on the subscription form. When the confirmation page came up, he tucked his phone back in his pants pocket and turned fully to Rosa.

“I’m not being an idiot,” he said. “So I helped her out a couple of times. It’s not like she’s putting my name in the paper or anything.”

“Not yet.” Rosa plucked a pickle out of her sandwich and flicked it into a nearby trash can. “What is it about her anyway? It isn’t like you to-” She paused, a frown of distaste twisting her lips. “Trust someone.”

Jake rolled his eyes and groaned. “I don’t trust her, Rosa.” She gave him a very dubious eyebrow lift. “Okay, I have on two occasions trusted her, but it’s not like I trust her as a person. You know I only trust three people-”

“Your mom, that weird friend whose name I always forget-”

“And you,” Jake finished.

Rosa gave him a thin smile that was part pity and part fondness. “I’m just worried that trusting this reporter is going to bite you in the ass later. It seems a little reckless, man.”

“Well, thank you for your concern, but I’m not reckless.”

Rosa sighed the way she did when Jake was being obtuse, and he slumped back on the bench. Because she had a point. Jake had come close to being burned before, almost a decade ago when he’d gotten drunk and mouthed off to a reporter from one of the tabloids. When Jake had called the reporter to beg him not to use his quotes or name him in the story, the reporter had refused. It was only dumb luck that the same reporter was arrested as part of a federal sex trafficking scheme the very next day, and was now in prison. Which reminded Jake -- he should probably check on Jimmy Brogan’s parole date.

He hadn’t been a fan of journalists since then. He wasn’t a regular news consumer, but he did pay attention when a case he was working on or familiar with got some coverage, so he knew the media bungled the facts almost as often as they got them right. Jake had seen a few cases actually mangled beyond repair by a reporter’s shoddy work. And even when the facts were technically right, they were missing context, or they were twisted in a way to make the NYPD look bad. 

Jake wasn’t an NYPD apologist, and he didn’t expect cops to be fawned over by anyone, but he believed in the work they did and he knew most of his colleagues were good people who deserved fair treatment, at least. Journalists weren’t interested in fair, though.

“I’ll be careful,” Jake said.

“That implies you’re going to keep talking to Santiago.”

Jake balled up the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in and tossed it toward the trashcan. He missed.

“I won’t,” he said, and pushed up off the bench to throw out his garbage.

+++

Jake didn’t think much about Santiago or the Bulletin until later that night, when he got bored during an episode of Real Housewives of Dallas and started fidgeting with his phone. He pulled up the Bulletin app and searched for Santiago’s name, and the next thing he knew he was reading through all of her articles.

He had to admit: Her pieces seemed surprisingly balanced and accurate. He read a few where she hadn’t gotten the facts entirely right, but he knew that was a lot to ask when she was probably dealing with reluctant sources (cops) and people feeding her misinformation (everyone else). She was also a pretty good writer, from what he could tell.

And he’d meant what he’d said to Rosa – it had been nice to see justice served in two cases where he’d been unable to get the results he wanted on his own.

He knew Rosa was right to be concerned for him about making this a habit, and he promised himself that wouldn’t be an issue. He really didn’t trust people generally, and Santiago wasn’t just “people,” she was a journalist, which made her, well, if not necessarily an enemy, certainly not a friend.

Still, he reasoned it wouldn’t hurt to let Santiago know that he’d read her latest piece. He took out his phone and pulled up the number he’d dialed the day before, hoping it was her cell and not a land line. He opened a text message and wrote, “Front page again. Congrats.” He hit send.

Jake tossed the phone aside and turned back to the TV. The text alert chimed and Jake leaned over to look at the screen: “Thanks.”

A minute later another message popped up: “We make a good team.”

Jake stared at the screen for a moment before turning it off without replying. He wasn’t sure what to make of that text, but for some reason the words stuck with him for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER 3