#Or he dies from old age or something or the evidence of him cheating in the election prevents him from being president

[smolldust]

I’m genuinely so terrified of living in the us right now. Like I don’t know what to do. I’m terrified. I want to live and stay alive but I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to survive these next four years and that scares me. I don’t know what to do

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible string" | part 3

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count:8k>

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, fluff.

a/n: Hello! Well, it took me almost two weeks to write something, and it was hard because I had no inspiration, so this is probably my worst piece of writing. However, I hope you enjoy it, The next chapter will be better because I have inspo for that one. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 You can always send asks or talk to me whenever you want. Again, sorry for the chapter, i promise the next one will be better 😭

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

When's the exact point in life when you stop feeling excitement for what's to come? Growing up becomes a deadly fear creeping within your bones because there's no more dreams left for you, but you face the cruel reality of life becoming a cycle, a boring idea of waking up to survive the day instead of living it, when you face that the ideas you grew up with died with the years passing by.

But now, as you approached Joel’s place of work, the familiar rush of butterflies and excitement began to creep back in. You felt like a teenager before a first date with the person you like. Just as you were breaking down, Joel came back, pulling you into perspective.

You had recalled the three happiest days of your life: the first time you held Tara in your arms, the first kiss with Joel, and the day you met Joel. Even though the last happened at such a young age, you should have forgotten about them by now.

The car pulled into the parking lot of Joel's workplace, and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves.

Finally, you arrived at Joel's office. The door stood ajar, and you hesitated for a moment before knocking. The sound reverberated in the room, and Joel looked up from his desk, a warm smile breaking across his face.

It has been days since the first time you saw him again, and your heart was getting used to the idea of him surrounding you again.

"Hey," he said, rising from his chair. "I'm glad you came."

You offered a polite smile in return. "Well, you promised me a job or something.”

Joel gestured for you to take a seat. "Absolutely, I'm excited to discuss it with you."

Once you took a seat, he was speechless for a moment once again, his gaze fixed on you, on your hair, on your eyes, on your lips, and all over your face when he used to kiss you all over every time he wanted to, but he dismissed those thoughts away before you could notice he was looking at you that way.

"I've been thinking," Joel began, breaking the momentary silence, "about how we can make this work, about the job, about us working together."

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“"I know it's not just a job," he admitted. "It's a sort of chance for the both of us to rekindle our friendship.”

Friendship—how bad he wanted to be the romance.

“So is this a trap?” you asked.

“A trap? No,” he answered. “You know, all this construction stuff is not your cup of tea, but I would really like for you to help me get things organized here.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows frowned.

Joel leaned back in his chair, a contemplative expression on his face. "Because it was you who used to organize my life before, and you’re the most organized person I know.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly at his unexpected compliment, and the nostalgia in his eyes was evident.

"Joel, we need to be clear about our boundaries here," you emphasized, steering the conversation back to the work matter before it led to other things. "I'm here for a job, not to rekindle old flames or revisit the past. We have responsibilities, and our daughters are involved. Let's keep it professional."

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I agree. Professional, it is. We're both adults, and I’m your boss now,” he smirked at the last sentence.

You chuckled at Joel's playful remark. "Fair enough, boss. Let's get down to the details, then. What exactly would my role be, and what are the expectations?"

Joel leaned forward, outlining the scope of the position and the responsibilities that needed your attention.

As you settled into the chair, Joel began outlining the job details, providing a comprehensive overview of the responsibilities involved. Your focus remained on the professional aspects of the conversation, but every now and then, a shared glance or a subtle reference to the past hinted at the layers of history between you.

Midway through the discussion, the door creaked open, and you turned to see Tommy entering the room.

"Am I interrupting something?" Tommy asked, glancing between Joel and you. His eyes widened, and a smile broke across his face as he recognized you.

"I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "Wow, I didn't expect to see you here. It's been so many years!"

Joel stood up, wearing a grin. "Tommy, I introduce you to our new assistant.”

You extended a hand, but Tommy went straight up for a hug. "I’m really happy to see you again.”

“I say the same,” you replied with a smile, feeling a warmth in reconnecting with Tommy.

Tommy's eyes sparkled with nostalgia. "Well, it's great to have you back in the picture. Joel rarely brings people here, so you know what that means?” He paused a moment to look at you again. "Wow, you look just as beautiful as I remember.”

You exchanged a curious glance with Joel, knowing the implication behind Tommy's words.

Joel rolled his eyes, a bashful grin on his face. "Tommy, stop making it sound like a big deal."

"Hey, I'm just stating the facts," Tommy replied, winking at you. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to your business. Nice to see you again."

As Tommy exited the room, you turned back to Joel, the air carrying a subtle shift in dynamics.

As the conversation progressed, you found yourself immersed in work-related discussions, temporarily setting aside your shared history. The task at hand became the priority, and you delved into the details of the job, determined to establish clear professional boundaries in this unexpected turn of events in your life.

As the weeks passed by, Joel and you got used to your new routine; seeing each other added some excitement back to your life again, and you couldn’t help but feel nostalgia for what you once had been together, bringing back the memories of the past, while the fresh cultivated growth between you added a new purpose to your days.

And as if the present would want to get the memories of your history together as two strings connecting your lives, you came back from a meeting with some suppliers with a scraped knee.

As you limped back into the office, Joel noticed your discomfort and immediately became concerned. "What happened?" he asked, his brows furrowed with worry.

"Just a little accident during the meeting," you replied, trying to play it off. But Joel could see through the facade, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

He still knew you so well.

“They didn’t hit me, by the way; I fell. Just to clarify” you smiled, as Joel reached for the first aid kit, no long after, he was kneeling beside you, carefully cleaning and applying a band-aid to your scraped knee. The touch of his hands brought back a flood of memories—the innocence of childhood and the way he used to caressed your skin as you grew up.

As he secured the band-aid in place, Joel couldn't help but smile. "Do you remember the first time I did this?" he said, his tone nostalgic.

You chuckled, nodding. "How could I forget? It seems like a lifetime ago."

Joel's gaze held a warmth that transcended time, and in that moment, the lines between past and present blurred. He placed his hand over your knee, and his touch made your skin burn at the contact, but not in an uncomfortable way, but as a warm sensation that only he was able to give.

"Joel,” you whispered.

Joel's touch lingered for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. There was a silent understanding between you, a connection that surpassed words.

"Sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. "I just wanted to make sure it's secure."

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of vulnerability and familiarity. "Thanks, Joel. For taking care of me.”

A smile played on his lips, and he stood up, disposing of the used bandage. "Anytime, Doe.”

Your hearts kept beating at the same sound and at the same rhythm, desperately finding a way to belong to each other again.

Two days later, in the evening, as you were getting dinner ready for Dwight and Tara, Dwight suggested inviting Joel and Sarah over for dinner since it seemed like you and his daughter seemed to enjoy their presence so much.

“What? Why?” you asked, being caught off guard by the suggestion of having Joel share the same table with your husband.

“Well, it seems like Tara is a good friend with his daughter. Plus, it would be good to know this so famous Joel.”

You couldn't deny the truth in Dwight's words, but the idea of having Joel and Sarah over for dinner still stirred up complex emotions. Not for Sarah, of course. But Joel meeting the man you had settled with seemed so out of touch.

"Why not?" Tara chimed in, trying to reassure you. "It'll be nice having them over."

After a moment of contemplation, you sighed. "Alright, let's do it. But keep it simple, okay?” You turned to Dwight and said, “Please, behave.”

Dwight nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "Simple it is. It's just a friendly dinner, no strings attached."

You took a deep breath, considering the implications. "Alright, I'll call Joel. But let's keep it casual.”

You dialed Joel's number, and after a few rings, he answered. "Hey, Doe, what's up?"

You smiled at the nickname this time. Since having him back, you were getting so used to his presence that you almost loved that word slipping from his lips.

"Joel, we were thinking of having you and Sarah over for dinner. Just something simple," you explained, trying to keep the tone casual.

There was a brief pause before Joel responded, "Dinner sounds great. We'd love to. What time?"

Joel agreed to the time you offered. You felt painful anticipation and nervousness after hanging up the phone.

+

As soon as you heard a car pulling over in front of your house, your heart rate increased at the nervousness you felt for what could be happening as soon as Joel entered that door. You feared Dwight the most. He wasn’t a bad man, but he clearly was someone different from the person you had married; his recent behavior had been puzzling, almost as if he wanted to drive you away. The thought of potential humiliation loomed, and you couldn't shake off the unease in your mind.

“I’ll welcome our guests,” he said, standing on the couch. You nodded, trying to mask the worry on your face.

As Dwight greeted Joel and Sarah at the door, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself in the kitchen. The sounds of casual conversation and laughter echoed from the living room.

You walked there, approaching Joel, who was wearing a really tight smile, trying not to make you uncomfortable.

“Hi!” you exclaimed, trying to erase the shakiness from your bones.

"Hey," Joel replied, his smile mirroring yours, but there was an unease in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed.

Dwight led everyone to the living room, and as they settled in, you couldn't shake off the tension in the air. Tara and Sarah, however, seemed eager to catch up, leaving you and Joel with a shared glance, reflecting the tiny smile at seeing both of your daughters spending time together.

“So, uhm, babe, why don’t you serve dinner? Our guests must be starving already!”

Dwight's casual comment lingered in the air, and you nodded, forcing a smile as you made your way to the kitchen. Joel followed suit, excusing himself from the conversation in the living room.

Once in the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted. You began to cut some vegetables for the salad, the clatter of utensils masking the quiet tension in the room.

Joel, sensing the unease, spoke up, "Do you need help?"

You glanced at him, grateful for the lifeline. "Sure, if you can handle chopping some vegetables."

As you worked side by side, the silence between you spoke louder than words. The weight of unspoken history loomed, and each passing moment felt like a delicate dance on a tightrope.

Joel broke the silence, his voice hushed. "Are you okay?"

You offered a tight smile, avoiding eye contact. "I'm fine. I'm just trying to get through the evening."

He nodded, respecting the boundaries between the two of you. Ever since you two had rekindled your relationship and friendship, you had become more open to him, yet being in your house as the wife of another man was completely different. He felt tense, yet he wanted to be fine for you.

With the vegetables chopped and the dinner done, Joel and you walked around the kitchen as if nothing had ever changed between the two of you. The warmth of shared memories collided with the reality of the present once more.

It was Friday night, and you and Joel stood side by side at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables and exchanging stories from the day. Joel’s fingers brushed against yours as you reached for spice—a simple touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

As you prepared the ingredients, Joel leaned in, whispering the steps of the recipe in your ear. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a rush of heat through you. Cooking had never been more enjoyable now than when you were living together, sharing stolen kisses in the middle of a kitchen transformed into a space where time seemed to stand still.

How bad you wanted time to stand still yet.

As the final touches were put on the dinner plates, Joel hesitated, his voice once again breaking the silence. "I never imagined us in a situation like this."

You paused, glancing at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, me being in the kitchen with you in the house you live in with your daughter and husband.”

The weight of his words echoed the sentiments you both shared but didn't dare voice. "Well, things change,” you replied, your tone carrying the weight of time passing by.

With the dinner ready, you both carried the plates to the dining table. Everyone sat down, Tara and Sarah sat side by side, and Dwight, seemingly at ease, directed the conversation toward casual topics, creating an illusion of normalcy.

Joel sat across from you, his eyes occasionally meeting yours, looking for an answer.

“So, Joel,” Dwight began, "what do you do for a living?”

“Building contractor,” he replied, a little bit tense.

“Building contractor” Dwight recalled, “We’re calling you when something gets broken.”

Joel chuckled, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, something like that. Fixing things is what I do." He mocked.

Dwight nodded approvingly, steering the conversation away from the unspoken tension. "Well, it's good to have someone handy around. You never know when a pipe might burst or a door might get jammed."

“He is a contractor, not your personal Plummer,” you intervened, a little bit tense with Dwight's careless attitude.

Joel looked at you appreciatively, and you could sense his relief at your intervention. Dwight chuckled, a casual dismissal in his tone. "Well, fixing things is fixing things, right? It's all in the same realm."

You sighed inwardly, realizing that Dwight's nonchalant approach was his way of diffusing the tension, but it didn't alleviate the unease in the air. Joel shifted uncomfortably, sensing the delicate nature of the conversation.

“Maybe he could fix that attitude of yours,” Dwight said, swiping his wine as he pointed out your attitude.

You raised an eyebrow at Dwight's comment, with surprise and hurt crossing your face. The tension in the room seemed to thicken, and Joel let out a forced chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Come on, Dwight," Joel said with a half-smile, "we're all just figuring things out here. There is no need for any fixing, just understanding."

Dwight leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eye. "Fair enough, fair enough. I can take a joke. But seriously, Joel, you're welcome here. Just promise you won't go stealing my wife without a warning.”

Joel's forced chuckle faded into an uncomfortable silence as Dwight's comment took an unexpected turn. The atmosphere in the room became more palpably strained, and you exchanged a quick glance with Joel, recognizing the need to address the comment delicately.

“Tara, can you and Sarah go upstairs, please?” you pleaded. She immediately understood and took her friend with her upstairs.

Once they were out of sight, you turned to Dwight. “Stop behaving like an idiot in front of others,” you warned.

Dwight's playful demeanor shifted as he met your stern gaze. The air in the room carried the weight of your warning, and for a moment, the unspoken tension became more palpable.

"I was just trying to lighten the mood," Dwight responded, attempting to downplay the situation.

"Well, then lighten the mood without making inappropriate jokes," you countered, your voice firm.

Joel, who had been quietly observing the exchange, nodded in agreement. "She's right. Let's try to keep things civil and avoid unnecessary complications."

Dwight sighed, realizing he had crossed a line. "Fine, fine. I'll tone it down. No more jokes.” He paused for a moment, not looking at you. “But I would like to know why my wife hides that you are actually her boyfriend.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Dwight's question hung in the air. You felt the weight of his words, and Joel's eyes met yours.

“Actually, I think I better be going. It’s getting late,” Joel spoke, meeting your watered gaze.

“No, you’re not,” Dwight warned. His expression remained firm, and he spoke with an authoritative tone. "Joel, you're a guest here, and we should resolve this now. We're all adults, and we can handle an honest conversation."

Joel hesitated, caught between the desire to avoid further conflict and the weight of the unspoken truths that lingered in the room. He glanced at you, silently seeking guidance. You took a deep breath, recognizing the need to address the situation.

"Dwight, we need to handle this with care," you urged, your tone calm yet firm. "Joel has the right to leave if he feels uncomfortable. We can discuss things more openly when tensions have cooled down."

“I want to know why you lied to me about it,” Dwight said to you.

In your nervousness, Joel noticed you were uncomfortable. He reached for you to touch your shoulder in order to make you feel better, but before he could come closer, Dwight intervened.

“Don’t touch her,” Dwight warned.

Joel withdrew, a frown forming on his face, but he respected Dwight's demand. The room fell into an uneasy silence as the unspoken complexities of the situation continued to unfold. The need for a careful and honest conversation was evident, but the challenge was maintaining a level of respect and understanding in the face of rising tensions.

"We need to talk about this," you said, your voice steady. "But let's do it when we can all approach the conversation calmly and with an intention to understand, not to accuse."

Dwight nodded, his expression still stern. "Fine, but we will address this. No more hiding."

+

Later, as you and Dwight prepared for bed, the weight of the unspoken conversation loomed over you. Dwight, however, was not ready to let the matter rest.

"Before we go to sleep, can we talk about this?" he asked, his tone earnest.

You hesitated, fully aware that addressing the issue in your current emotional state would only escalate matters further. Instead of responding directly, you began gathering a few belongings, making your intention to spend the night in the guest room clear.

"I just need some space tonight," you explained, avoiding eye contact. "We can talk about everything in the morning when we've had time to think."

Dwight's expression shifted between frustration and concern. "I just want to understand, to know the truth."

"I know," you replied, your voice softening. "And we will talk. But not tonight."

“You’re married to me,” he called out before you stepped out of the room.

You turned to face him, your expression displaying frustration. “And?”

“You own me respect,” he stated.

“Respect must be earned, and right now you are acting like an idiot,” you acknowledged, your voice steady.

With that, you left the room, leaving Dwight to contemplate his behavior. Right now, you felt your marriage was dying little by little, and you wanted nothing more than just freedom.

+++

The next morning, there was a palpable sense of tension in the atmosphere. As you prepared for the day, the weight of the unresolved talk with Dwight hung heavy in your mind. He was nowhere to be found during the morning, so you get ready for the day.

After a restless night, you decided to head into work, hoping that a change of scenery and a return to routine might provide a necessary distraction. As you made your way to Joel’s office, you noticed Joel sitting with quiet contemplation in his eyes.

"Morning," you greeted, offering a tentative smile.

"Morning," Joel replied, his expression mirroring the unease in the room.

"Oh, I just wanted to say sorry for last night," you began, choosing your words carefully. " Dwight's attitude was completely

Joel shook his head, a small smile breaking through. "It's not your fault. Beside, I can handle a bit of tension."

You appreciated his understanding with a tiny smile.

“Did you sleep well, though? You seem restless,” he pointed out.

You sighed, acknowledging the toll the previous night had taken on your peace of mind. "Not really. The atmosphere was a bit... tense."

Joel's gaze softened, understanding the weight of the situation. “Well, I’m sorry for being back in your life,” he joked.

“Don’t say that,” you tilted your head. “You’re the best thing that happened to me this last time.”

Joel's smile widened at your words; the tension in the room was momentarily replaced with a warm exchange. "Well, if that's the case, I'm glad to be back." He paused and said, “Take your time. Relationships are like construction projects. They need a solid foundation and careful planning."

With a chuckle, you responded, "You would know, being a building contractor and all."

As the day unfolded, you found yourself grateful for Joel's presence and the brief moments of levity he brought. It was a reminder that, amidst the uncertainties, a supportive connection could make the uncharted territory feel a bit less daunting.

+++++

“By the way, Sarah called me; she and Tara are going to my house to finish this school project,” Joel told you.

A sense of relief washed over you as Joel shared the news about Sarah and Tara. It provided a welcomed diversion from the complex situation you had at home.

"Oh, that's great," you replied, a genuine smile forming. "At least they have each other's company. I hope the project is going well."

“It’s great how they became friends so easily. It reminds me of us,” he said, smiling.

You couldn't help but smile at Joel's observation. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?”

Joel nodded in agreement, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “Okay, so you’re free to go; I can drive Tara home once they’re done with the project.”

You nodded appreciatively at Joel's offer. "That would be great, thanks. And thanks for being here, Joel," you said, expressing gratitude for the fresh air he had offered you since he became part of your life again "It means a lot."

Joel nodded, a reassuring presence. "Take your time, and remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. We'll get through this."

“See you later, then?”

“See you later, Doe”

+++++

Once you arrived back home, Dwight was there. The tension already felt like a string around your neck, suffocating you all over.

As you stepped back into the house, the familiar surroundings felt charged with tension. You both exchanged a cautious glance, each aware of the elephant in the room. Dwight, however, seemed to be avoiding the topic, engaging in mundane conversations through his phone with someone else.

After some time, when you could no longer bear the unspoken tension, you decided to address the elephant in the room. "Dwight, we need to talk about last night. We can't just ignore it."

He sighed, a subtle avoidance in his eyes. "Can't it wait? I've got a work trip coming up, and I need to get everything sorted."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of frustration and disbelief in your expression. "A work trip? You're leaving for the whole weekend?"

Dwight nodded, his gaze drifting away. "Yeah, well, I’ll come back next Friday. It's a last-minute thing. I need to handle some important projects. It came up unexpectedly."

The timing felt convenient yet suspicious. The air thickened with unspoken questions, but Dwight continued to divert the conversation away from the pressing issues.

"Dwight, we can't keep avoiding this," you insisted, your voice firm. "We need to address what happened."

"I know, I know," he replied, a hint of impatience in his tone. "But I've got to leave now, and I need to get some rest. Can we talk when I get back?"

The evasion felt deliberate, leaving you frustrated and with a sense of urgency to address the unresolved matters. However, faced with the impending work trip, Dwight's departure seemed inevitable.

"Fine," you reluctantly agreed, though the unease lingered. "But when you get back, we're talking about this. No more avoiding."

Dwight nodded, though his expression remained distant, but still he pecked your lips.

“Take care, and take care of Tara,” he said before stepping out of the house.

You were left there in the middle of a living room that felt colder as the days passed by. You have never felt so small in your life as you were feeling now, living under the same moon as Dwight, and that thought alone made you sick.

Every time sadness overcomes you and salty tears stream out of your eyes, you take out your memory box and look at the pictures of your older self, the one who thought she knew everything, the one who thought she knew herself without her half. Every single time you came across those memories, it was Joel, the one beside you, looking at you as if you were hanging the moon in the sky, and you smiled.

When you looked at the pictures of him, you were relieved by the words and the kisses, and suddenly all the space surrounding you was full of him. You had come to terms with the fact that you weren’t complete without him; he lived inside you because he made you feel complete; he taught you how to love and be loved and how to know you were worth the world; and after him, you accepted that you were never going to be that foolish girl again.

But now, you were in front of his door, hesitating and gathering the courage to knock on the door and face the what if, and when Joel opened the door with surprise on his face, you were him, and he was you.

"Oh. You’re not a pizza guy,” he said, with evident surprise in his voice.

You managed a small smile at Joel's observation, appreciating the brief moment of levity. "No, not the pizza guy. But I was alone at my house, and I thought I could stop by and take Tara home.”

“Actually, I promised the girls a pizza; we were just about to.“

"Oh, okay, I can come later,” you interrupted, feeling ashamed of the sudden feeling you have to be closer to him again.

“What are you talking about? Of course, no, come here,” he said, moving from the door entrance to allow you to step into his house.

This was the first time you were here, and you couldn’t help but recall all the features of Joel that made him him. How those tiny objects and decorations around his house told the story of him, and how would it be if you didn’t leave that night?

“Such a cozy home.” You emphasize the word home since this one felt like one.

Joel smiled warmly at your compliment. "Thanks. I try to make it feel like home. Come on in; make yourself comfortable."

Suddenly, his hand traveled to your waist, guiding you through his house, and the air was cut from your lungs. Your eyes met for a second, and his hand left his spot; however, his handprint still burned.

However, Joel guided you toward the living room, where Tara and Sarah were eagerly setting up the table for their promised dinner. The girls looked up, their faces lighting up with surprise and excitement.

"Hey, look who's here!" Joel announced, his tone cheerful as he entered the living room with Sarah and Tara. The girls greeted you warmly, their excitement contagious.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” Tara asked, walking towards you to envelope you in a tight embrace.

You hug Tara and say, "I thought I'd drop by and join you guys for pizza." You lied.

I felt alone; you thought for yourself only.

Sarah chimed in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Are you staying for the movie night too?"

You looked at Joel curious; he still had Friday's movie night. “I supposed,” you answered, still looking at Joel. “Can I?

"Absolutely,” Joel said, not taking his gaze away from yours.

“What about my dad?” Tara asked, “Is he okay with this?”

“Well, he left for a business trip, so we are alone for the weekend,” you replied.

And before more questions could be asked, the doorbell rang.

“The pizza, I’ll go for it,” Joel announced, disappearing from your view.

“Mom, are you okay?” Tara asked, concerned.

You gave Tara a reassuring smile. "I'm okay, sweetheart. I just wanted to spend some time with you and have a fun movie night."

Tara nodded, still showing a hint of concern. "If you ever need to talk or anything..."

"Thank you, Tara. I appreciate that," you replied, grateful for her caring nature.

As Joel returned with the pizza, the evening continued with shared laughter, conversation, and the simple joy of spending time together. The movie Night became a bridge connecting the past and the present, offering a glimpse into the potential for renewed connections.

The living room, adorned with warmth and laughter, and everything between you and Joel felt so natural as if time didn’t pass by.

You didn’t notice, but Tara paid attention to the both of you with a smile on her face. This exact moment was the picture she had always imagined of a happy family. A happy mother, a father who didn’t need to utter words to show the love he felt for the woman beside him, because she saw in Joel’s eyes the way he looked at you as if you were the brightest star in the sky, that man loved you, and she felt at ease.

“You know, you can stay the night." Joel offered you, once Sarah and Tara fell asleep in Sarah’s room, “You can take my bed and I can take the couch.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the implications of Joel's suggestion. It was completely fine for a pair of friends, but you weren’t just that, and you both know that behind all the reconnection, there was addiction to something you couldn’t possess.

"I appreciate the offer, Joel," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. "But I should head to my house.”

“But you don’t deserve to go to a lonely house,” he said, trying to plead with you about the idea of spending a night with you under the same roof. He started to feel a joy inside his gut, all his feelings hidden there.

You could sense concern in Joel’s voice and see the pleading dancing in his eyes, but saying yes to him felt like steeping into fire. You still saw in Joel all the habits he picked up from you, being the pleading eyes one of the things you remembered the most, and now you could understand the implications of what your departure did to him.

His heart broke in two, just like yours.

"I appreciate the concern, Joel, but I don’t think it is fair to you," you said, your voice gentle.

“Please?” He pleaded again, his eyes sparkling so much that you could follow the light on them.

“Okay, I’ll stay.” You gave up; you couldn’t say “no” to him so many times.

You saw his dark brown eyes twinkling as he nodded, smiling at your answer.

"Thank you," Joel whispered, breaking into a small, relieved smile.

You followed him into the familiar surroundings of his home; every step felt like discovering a new way back home. A sense of warmth enveloped you, making you feel protected and comfortable in Joel´s presence.

Once you stepped into his bedroom, you took a seat on his bed, and a wave of nostalgia washed over you. The familiar scent of Joel was all over the space that you could navigate inside this wall blindfolded, and the comforting presence of him felt like a step back in time.

Joel, sensing something dancing in your eyes, opened his closet and pulled out a set of comfortable clothes. "Here, you can wear these for the night. They should be comfortable enough."

“Oh my god!” you said, looking at the shirt Joel had lent you. “You still have this?” you asked him, in awe.

Joel chuckled, the warmth of shared memories evident in his eyes. "Yeah, I kept it. It's been tucked away in the back, but I figured it might come in handy tonight."

Your fingers traced the fabric of the shirt. "I can't believe you still have it. It feels like a lifetime ago."

He smiled, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes. "Some things are hard to let go."

For a moment, time between you stopped, and for a moment, you were still able to see the sunlight through his hair in the morning and how he sounded when he laughed. And you hoped you didn’t damage his heart that much.

"Thanks, Joel. It's been a while since I wore something from your closet." The soft fabric of the shirt still carried a subtle scent of Joel that brought back a flood of memories.

He chuckled a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Yeah, it has. Well, I'll let you get some rest. Goodnight, Doe."

Doe

You allowed him to call him Doe this time, pretending he was still yours and you were his.

"Goodnight, Joel," you replied, changing into the borrowed clothes. The fabric held a hint of his familiar scent, adding an extra layer of comfort as you settled beneath the covers. The bedroom door closed, leaving you in the soft embrace of memories as sleep gradually claimed you.

However, the soft glow of the moonlight spilled through the windows as you lay in bed and witnessed your sleeping trouble as you tried to find solace in the familiar surroundings of Joel’s room.

It was different. Sleeping in a bed with the scent of the man whose presence allowed you to sleep wasn’t the same when he wasn’t next to you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

So, as sleep proved elusive, and after tossing and turning for what felt like hours, you decided to go downstairs, hoping Joel was awake.

As you descended the stairs, the hushed sounds of the night filled the house. The soft creaking of the floor under your weight was the only disruption to the silence. When you reached the living room, you saw Joel sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on an old photo album.

He seemed lost in a sea of memories, unaware of your presence. You stood there for a moment, observing the emotions playing across his face as he traced the images with his fingers, as if he were savoring the past with his fingertips, trying to bring it back.

When he finally noticed you, a small smile curled his lips. "Couldn't you sleep either?

You shook your head, joining him on the couch. "Too many thoughts."

He nodded in understanding, closing the photo album. "I get it."

Back in time, Joel had the advantage of taking your heart when it was still a blank canvas expecting to be painted on. He took it so delicately and caressed it with such care in order to never hurt you. He made you love him so much that once he wasn’t in your life anymore, you didn’t know where to put his love anymore.

It never left.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the closed photo album in his hands. "Sometimes, I wish we could go back," he admitted, his voice a soft whisper.

You sighed, the ache of longing settling in your chest. “Back when?”

"When we were young and foolish, everything felt so alive."

As you looked at Joel, his eyes held a warmth that transcended the years. "We can't change the past, Joel," you said, your voice gentle. “The past made us what we are now.”

“Yet it cost me to lose you,” he said.

You took a seat beside him on the couch; the distance between you measured not in physical space but in the vast expanse of years and the unspoken words that lingered in the air.

"I lost you too," you replied, your voice a whisper. The weight of the shared regret hung between you, a palpable reminder of the choices that had shaped your lives. "But maybe, in losing each other, we found different paths, different versions of ourselves."

Joel's gaze remained on the photo album, his fingers tracing patterns on the closed cover. "Do you ever wonder about what we could have been?”

"Always," you confessed. "But you don’t lose me at all; I’m here again.”

A small smile played on Joel's lips. His fingers gently cupped your face, his touch a tender exploration of the years that had etched themselves on your skin. His thumb traced the contours of your cheekbones, a soft caress that spoke longing and love.

Leaning in, Joel brought his forehead to rest against yours, the closeness of your proximity stirring memories of when you belonged together. The air between you crackled with unspoken emotions, and inside your chest, you felt your broken heart patching together, with such a burning desire to close the distance between the two of you.

His lips hovered close to yours, a breath away, the pull of history and the magnetic force of shared affection urging him forward. The world outside the quiet living room ceased to exist, and you found yourself caught in the gravitational pull of an unfinished story.

But even when the kiss could rewrite the story, you weren’t a cheater. You heart raced, but your mind stopped doing something stupid and naïve.

Before you could make up your mind completely, Joel pulled back, his eyes searching yours. The unspoken words lingered in the air.

"Does he treat you right?" Joel's words hung in the air, a mix of genuine concern and a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

You took a moment, your gaze meeting his, and there was a silent conversation between you two.

"In some ways, he's everything I need. In others, he's a puzzle I'm still figuring out." You answered.

Joel nodded, avoiding your gaze as he felt his heart break all over again for you.

“When I found out I was pregnant,” you began, “Dwight and I were dating. It had been only three months, and couples aren’t parents in such a short time.” You paused for a moment, hoping for Joel to look at you again, and when he did, you continued, “I was scared, but he was so nice to me at that moment, and by the end we were over the moon. At least I was happy I was going to have a baby girl. When Tara was born, we moved in together, and long story short, we got married because it seemed correct at the time.

“And?” Joel asked, trying to figure out when your life becomes different, but he still knew by the way your eyes looked that not everything was as fine as it seemed.

“He was an amazing husband and friend; it almost made me forget about the broken heart I had because of you. But these last four years with him had been complicated,” you continued, a touch of vulnerability in your voice.

“How?”

"Just because he is different from me. It’s like he is plotting for an ending and Tara is noticing, and it felt so humiliating to have your own daughter notice her father doesn’t love her mother.”

Joel's gaze softened for a moment, and before asking a question, he was scared to ask, “And do you love him?”

Your eyes widened at the sudden question, and a moment of hesitation hung in the air. You took a deep breath before answering.

"It's not that simple," you admitted, your voice carrying uncertainty and honesty. "I care about him, but..."

“But what?”

“You know what.” You said it in three simple words, and he understood.

It cost so much to keep love from going wrong, but between you and Joel, there wasn’t a particular ending. The lovers between you both never went wrong; neither expired because you were still hungry for each other's devotion. But now that it seemed like time had become your enemy, you weren’t young enough to break free and run as you could have done it before.

“I love you,” he said. “Never stop doing it.” His voice resonated as someone who spent years and years yearning for the touch of their lover.

“I’m sorry,” you confessed, not avoiding saying the three words back to him; he didn’t need to hear them. He already knew you loved him back as much as he loved you. “For the way I left you,”

Joel's gaze held relief and understanding. He knew somehow you had healed from those wounds. "I don't blame you, Doe. We were young, and life threw challenges at us. I've had my share of regrets too.” He reached out, his hand finding yours, and they still fit together as one. “Now, can we please be friends again?” he pleaded.

You nodded, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Now that you’re back, I couldn’t let you go.”

Joel's eyes sparkled with a newfound light, and he suggested, "How about we watch a movie until you fall asleep?"

You agreed, and together you settled on the couch. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV screen, casting a warm ambiance that seemed to cocoon the two of you in a world of shared moments.

As the movie played, the silence between you held a comfort that transcended words. Joel shifted, creating a makeshift pillow with his arm, and you found a natural spot on his chest. The rise and fall of his breath became a soothing rhythm, lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn't felt in a long time without pills.

Joel looks down at your sleeping figure on his chest, with your hand grasping the gem of his shirt. He was starved by your touch, wanting nothing but to trace patterns on your face as he used to. Your soft expression lines told the story of how the past and present went from here. That there’s no one he could call home, and you could never leave home completely, and how easy it would be to be young again.

And he looked at the ring on your finger, a reminder that you weren’t his anymore, and how easy it was for someone to feel hungry by something that was forbidden. Yet he thought about the ring he still had with him, still waiting to find its way to your finger.

You were the kind of love he couldn't find on someone else's body. Your touch, your lips, and every single inch of your skin were the starvation Joel was deprived of, and now you were his forbidden fruit.

Nevertheless, under the dim light of the TV screen, your face was glowing in a soft golden tone that sent Joel to sleep, but he was holding his dream in his arms for the first time after so long.

When the morning sun gradually painted Sarah’s room with the soft hues of the warm sun, Sarah and Tara descended the stairs, their steps cautious not to disturb the tranquil air that enveloped the living room.

As they reached the bottom of the staircase, their eyes fell upon you and Joel, still intertwined on the couch, lost in peaceful sleep. Tara's eyes sparkled with genuine happiness at the sight of her mother and Joel holding each other like that.

Sarah couldn't help but notice Tara's radiant smile. "Why are you smiling so big?" she whispered to her.

Tara motioned toward you and Joel, the affectionate way in which you two held each other not escaping her keen gaze. "Look at them,” she said, still smiling.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming on her lips.

Tara nodded, her smile unwavering. "This is the first time I have seen my mom at peace.”

Tara’s gaze was still fixed on the pair on the couch. "Maybe Joel can bring that peace back to my mom’s."

Sarah chuckled, giving her friend a playful nudge. "Are you saying we should ship your mom and my dad?"

Tara rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. "I'm just saying if they make each other happy, why not?"

Weekend passed by and Tara asked no questions about why did you fell asleep on Joel’s chest, she clearly knew the answer to that question yet she didn't judge you, since she was a little girl, she noticed each sacrifice you had made for her and how you had distributed all the love you had inside your heart to her.

How bad she wanted for you to be brave enough and get divorced from her father.

So, when Monday arrived, the weight of the tension between you and Joel seemed to shift. The echoes of the weekend lingered in the air. This time, you both look happier, acting as friends, laughing together and sharing time as you kept your role of assistant.

So, before lunch and after you finished with the work Joel had left for you while he was out, you decided to go and buy lunch for him and you to share, after all you would arrive to an empty house since Tara would be still at school and Dwight was in a business trip, you didn't want be left alone with your thoughts in an empty house that seemed to become colder as the day passed by.

You buy a bottle of lemonade, and two burgers with French fries, hoping for Joel to still being number one of them. You weren’t used to come to this part of the city, but this time you stopped in order to bring the burgers and fries you wanted to share with Joel.

However, once you paid, the corner of your eye caught a person you didn't expected to see. There was Dwight, who was supposedly in New York until next weekend, buying food here. You turned away for him not to notice you, then you decided to follow him to see find out what was happening.

So, when you followed him, you stopped a little away and saw him happily taking a little girl around four years old in his arms as he kissed her temple with so much love you never saw him share with Tara, and what was next was a woman around the same age as you joining them with a smile on her face and you heart stopped.

She kissed Dwight on his lips, as both of them looked at the little girl smiling happily in the arms of your husband.

A surge of emotions tightened in your chest as you witnessed the scene unfold before your eyes. The knot of anxiety and confusion grew with each passing moment. The woman with Dwight, the affectionate exchange, and the child—all pieces of a puzzle that didn't fit into the life you thought you knew.

As the trio walked away to the car, laughter and joy enveloping them, you were left standing there, alone with the weight of a shattered reality

You felt humiliated.  There were your answers. The four years of odd behavior, the four years of plotting against you, his sudden trips, his careless attitude towards you.

all the way, Dwight had made you and Tara move to Austin just for him to be closer to his other family, the secret one.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99

@lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick

@sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx

[lucreziaq2001]

•TV show: "Criminal minds".

•Content warnings: A teenage girl's death, a mother losing her only child, a son losing his mom at a very young age, both of them still missing the girl, mentions of electroshock and the marks it left on people, the possibility of the girl having died because of it and the hospital staff having gotten rid of her body, the girl wanting her mom to take her home and the mother being unable to because of something her daughter's boyfriend had decided, the girl trying to run away from the hospital but being unable to, the girl being considered mentally ill because she is gay, her having cheated on her boyfriend and her mother at first thinking they were doing the right thing for her child, but now feeling guilty about leaving her.

•Some of the lines are almost the same that are in a scene of the "Cold case" episode this story is inspired by. I did modify them a bit, though. I didn't just copy and paste them.

•I'm sorry if Emily and her mother are out of character. I just thought it made sense for the story to make them the way they are in this chapter.

•Tags: @lex13cm, @golden1u5t, @avis-writeshq, @rynwritesreid, @chrrysgirl, @amerrymango, @marie-sworld, @iluvreid, @babygirl-garcia, @hugyourlungs, @strangermoonlove.

The bridge to Heaven

Chapter 15: A mother's guilt

Two days later, as soon as the retirement home the woman lived in was opened to visitors for the day, around 10 am, David and his wife went to visit Elizabeth Prentiss.

Part of them didn't want to bother Emily's mother again by bringing memories related to the death of her only child to light, but they knew they had to do it if they wanted Elizabeth to know the truth and Emily to get justice.

When they arrived in Elizabeth's bedroom, they found the woman sitting on the sofa next to her bed, with her grandson Declan next to her.

Although he was over 40 years old and also a father by that time, the man was crying desperately, while his grandmother held him in her arms.

"I know she cheated on him, but it was just a kiss, nothing more. Why did Dad have to send Mom to that place? I want my mom" Dave and Erin heard him say through his tears, and their hearts broke for that man who inside, was partly still a small child hoping his mother would come home.

"It wasn't about the kiss, Declan. There was a lot more to that situation. Your mum wasn't sick, but at the time she was believed to be. I'm very sorry" Elizabeth tried to explain, great sadness evident in her voice.

Then, when she looked up and saw Erin and David, she let her grandson cry some more for a few minutes, then she asked him to leave the room while she talked to the writer and his wife.

"We know what happened to Emily" David told her as soon as Declan had left the room "Not the whole story, but most of it. Why did you agree to send your daughter to Brockview?".

"I thought I was doing the best thing for Emily, but when I went to visit her a week after her hospitalization, I realized that wasn't the case" Elizabeth explained "As soon as she saw me, my daughter started screaming and crying, begging me to take her back home. She wanted to come back to me, but Dr. Kearns wouldn't let me take her away. Apparently, Ian had asked him to give only him the chance to get Emily out of there".

"And how long did she stay there?" David asked her.

"Seventeen days, then she died" Elizabeth replied through the tears that were now running down her cheeks "She had tried to escape a couple of times, it seems. Once they caught her and brought her back, the other time she gave up herself. She was probably afraid that I would agree with Ian and send her back to that place. That's why she didn't come to me".

Instinctively, without even thinking about what she was doing, Erin took the woman's hand and squeezed it.

She was a mother too and although she didn't believe she could have been capable of sending one of her children to such a place, she empathized with Elizabeth Prentiss a little and had compassion for her.

She couldn't even imagine what it was like to live with that guilt for all those years.

"Thank you for your help, Mrs Prentiss" Dave then told her, before saying goodbye to Elizabeth and leaving the room with his wife.

"They gave her that dress at the hospital" was the first thing Erin said to her husband when they got to their car "The electroshock explains the marks on her temples".

"During that therapy something went wrong and Emily died, and then the nurses got rid of her body" David responded, thinking he had finally found the solution to that case.

Unfortunately, however, even if only slightly, he and his wife were still off track.

[moseslikellamas]

Sorry, we’re fresh out of Batman

Chapter one

Summary: Beck heads out for a routine job and spots the notoriously hard to find Vigilante protecting Gotham

Warnings: none. Eventually Violence. Dubious morality

Word count: 2.3k

This is a Gotham AU where batman dies, leaving robin as the sole defender of Gotham. Robins identity is new.

Beck pulled at the collar of her shirt, it was an unreasonably humid night for September. But she was in her official investigation attire as always, which was a full three piece suit. It started out as a joke, a new age private investigator dressed as a noir detective of old, but people trusted her more this way. Something about a suit just screams, ‘I know what I’m doing’. Or that’s what the old city elites of Gotham think anyway. Beck knew it was all about appearances in the city, put on a good veneer and doors would open for you like you wouldn’t believe. And she was very good at pretending. She loosened her tie and gave up keeping her hair down, the humid air was wreaking havoc on her waves anyway.

Tonight was a routine case, a cheating spouse wandered a little too close to the sun and now their partner wants them to sweat. She’d done a million of these by now. No one ever really wanted a divorce, they wanted power. She could hand them that power, for a price of course. She was crouched on a balcony sixteen floors up, camera snapping photos every few seconds as she watched her mark throw the woman's bra on the ground. She turned away from them, satisfied to know she had what she needed before she lit up a cigarette. She only allowed herself a smoke after she had the evidence she needed. The subsequent hit she took was a sweet symphony in her lungs. She gazed up at the hazy sky, aware that somewhere up there the stars were hidden behind a thick layer of clouds and smog. She exhaled, adding to the toxic environment in her own way.

She was thinking of her favorite sandwich shop. Dreaming of the philly cheese steak she was going to get after this as she finished her cigarette. She put it out before pocketing the butt. Then she carefully folded her tripod stand, looping her camera strap around her neck. She didn’t want to drop the damn thing as she climbed down the fire escape, something she’d done before. It had been a painful learning experience and one she hoped to never repeat. The air was so humid as she began to climb down that the ladder was slick with moisture. She was careful to climb slowly not wanting to slip on the wet rungs.

Glancing up, she was stricken with surprise at the sight of someone leaping across the building tops. She gasped, scrambling to get down the ladder. Slipping in her haste she landed with a thud on the balcony below. She didn’t pause for a second, lifting her camera to her eyes and looking for the person through the lens. She scanned the area frantically. She pulled the camera away from her face when she came up empty. Her back was aching from the fall and she’d missed him anyway! She quickly climbed down the rest of the way grumbling to herself the entire time.

Gotham had a resident hero, Robin. Since she moved here three years ago, she’s been trying to get a picture of him. At first she was dubious of the so-called hero. What kind of weirdo dresses up in tights and goes around breaking guys legs? But then she’d lived in the city a little longer, and heard first hand accounts. There was something compelling about the man in the mask. From all accounts he’d been doing the job over a decade, though no one was really sure how old he was. The man was elusive, evading every curious and inquisitive mind. No one knew anything about him. Aside from his proclivity to drop criminals off GCPD headquarters, cuffed and unconscious. Usually half beaten to death as well but that varied by crime.

She glanced back at the top of the buildings as she stood on the ground, still half hoping he would flip by again. Even if she couldn’t get a good shot of him, she still wanted to see him. After a few minutes of nothing she reluctantly left. Hanging around in alleys in Gotham is never a good idea, no matter the hour. But especially right now, past midnight on a Saturday night. Beck took self defense classes once a week but she also carried half of a steel pipe in her pants. It was strapped to her thigh and hefty. She had never had to use it but she felt better with some sort of weapon on her. She kept her eyes on her surroundings as she walked back to her car. She didn’t breathe easily until she had locked the doors and was driving home.

Her car was the love of her life. A 2007 Infiniti, an extremely outdated car that was in great condition. The man who sold it to her had done so for next to nothing. When she’d looked up the car after, it was clear he could’ve charged her triple his asking price. But the man had said he simply didn’t need it anymore and had hardly used it. That was evident from the crisp inside, the white leather seats were in perfect condition and she loved the dash which lit up a pretty shade of orange. Best of all in her opinion, were the functional seat warmers. Though it was hot tonight, it was perpetually rainy in Gotham. She couldn’t survive without her car, her main mode of transportation for investigation. She took great care to maintain it, getting it maintenanced by a local mechanic she’d helped out a time or two. It’s amazing how far corruption runs in Gotham, even mechanics need dirt on people.

Pulling into the parking garage, Beck sighed, turning her car off and locking it. Then she thought better of it and unlocked it. They would be less likely to bust her windows if she left it unlocked. She hoped the cash and snacks in the dash would dissuade anyone from stealing it if they managed to saw through the metal gate again. It was an ongoing issue but there seemed no way to stop it. So she stopped worrying about it. If her car was stolen, well that was a problem for future her. She pulled her keys out as she approached the entrance to her building, unlocking the side door she slipped inside. After a quick elevator ride and a short walk down the hall she’s finally home.

Stripping off her suit as she walks through her apartment, she flips on lights as she goes. Inside her apartment is messy, clothes are scattered about. Most of them are various parts to different suits. Beck looks around as she walks towards the fridge, looking for any sign of her cat. A long haired domesticated calico with beautiful green eyes. Who was often moody when she was out late. Opening the fridge she pulls some leftovers out before heating them up on the stove. While waiting she turns the tv. She’s half listening to the news, half listening to the rain that’s finally begun to fall. Standing there drink in hand spaced out, cappuccino pounces on her.

“Ah! Cappy! That’s not very nice.” She admonishes the beast for knocking her drink out of her hand, spilling it all over the counter and herself.

Cappuccino flicks her tail completely unbothered walking along the dry parts of the counter. Quickly she dries the spill and fills her ungrateful cat’s bowl with dinner. She leans against the counter looking out at the twinkling lights of Gotham outside her window. It looked so beautiful from inside with its tall gothic architecture. A pretty veneer to cover the foundational rot the city was built on.

“Tonight we go to the upper west side where an ongoing hostage situation is still in progress at the Gotham Museum of Art. Earlier tonight around seven o’clock, during the grand showcase of Stephanie Milroses’ latest exhibition, a masked man invaded the gathering. He is considered highly dangerous. Reportedly the man is known for causing the GCPD problems in the past…”

The drone of the news anchors impersonal voice delivering updates turned her stomach. It didn’t matter that a story like this was on every night. There were real people in there, scared and hurt. Their lives were in danger and this woman was going on like it was the local traffic report. Even after three years in Gotham she couldn’t handle the causal cruelty so freely handed out in the city.

“The GCPD has been unable to ascertain any demands and all attempts to communicate have been strongly rebuffed. It is still unclear what exactly has transpired inside.”

Beck rolled her eyes at the thought of the GCPD doing anything. As far as she was concerned they were another group of organized criminals. She felt guilty at the thought, the commissioner was trying his best. She knew that. She was close to Gordon and his wife, often having dinner with them once a week. He was a friend of her late uncle and had reached out to her when she first moved to Gotham. She loved the man as a person but she preferred to steer clear of him professionally. She was often competing against the police for leads, evidence and hell sometimes cases. The force was mostly useless, usually ruining whatever crime scene they came across long before forensics showed up.

The news cut to helicopter footage above the Museum. Beck thought it ironic that in the wide shot you could spot the Gotham Police Department. They were just down the street and still couldn’t manage to get on top of things. She could hear the blare of sirens in the distance, the constant background noise of the city at night. She’d come here to get away from her life. Fresh out of university and unable to look her father in the eyes anymore, she’d taken the first gig she could find. She’d applied for every agency she could find hoping one of them would take a shot on a fresh graduate with little field experience beyond her internships. Only one had answered, Saldov Inq’est. A private security company that operated in the upper east side of Gotham near the Sprang river.

The man who’d interviewed her had been a character from the start. He’d popped up behind her after she’d wandered around the front of the building looking for a receptionist. Scared the daylights out of her when she realized he was behind her. But the man had only stared thoughtfully at her, an unidentifiable gleam in his eyes. The interview had been less than orthodox as well. He’d mostly asked her about her stealth abilities, how good she was at fighting. Nothing about her education or time in the field. It hadn’t set off alarm bells for her though. Now she knew Rahim was just a quiet man with lots of thoughts behind his silence. The two still worked together on occasion, though she was not open to contracted work anytime soon again. Rahim was a nice man, effective at his job. But they disagreed on how to run the operation.

She turned her attention back to the news which was running some scam operation as their business of the week. She knew that particular business man was selling defective security systems and harvesting stolen data through the front. She knew a lot of crooked business owners now. Word gets around quickly in her line of work. People would sell out their own mother in Gotham if it took the heat off of them. It helped in her personal life to know who to avoid. But if she wasn’t getting paid for it then it wasn’t her concern. She turned the television off having heard enough of the swill for one night. While stretching she yawned. It had been a long day and she had a longer one tomorrow. After she delivered the footage to her client, she had two more to talk with.

She walked over to her sliding glass door, opening it and walking outside. She left the door open so Cappy could sit with her. The drama queen wouldn’t sully her paws by walking out onto the concrete but she would sit just inside the door. Beck sat in one of the chairs and pulled her legs up. The wind had picked up though it was still warm and she had to cup her hands around the lighter to keep the flame lit. As she inhaled she let her head fall back, gazing up at the constant fog of pollution. Exhaling she watched the smoke swirl in the wind. The sound of sirens and car alarms were present around her even though it was nearing two in the morning. Gotham is the only real sleepless city. A refrain she often found herself thinking on nights like this when she was up for too long and stubbornly refusing to sleep.

Beck lived in Old Gotham, one of the more boring parts of the city. As far as crime was concerned anyway. Living beneath the Diamond district she got to see all of Gotham’s best glittering lights from her apartment. She’d been lucky to get this apartment. Gordon had helped her find it. Despite it being one of the nicer neighborhoods, it was still never quiet. The folks around here were nice enough though and she liked being there. Even if there was a persistent superstition among the people regarding magic. But if all she had to deal with was ghost stories of the undead walking in exchange for a low crime rate. Well, she would take that deal everyday. Finishing her cigarette, she reluctantly goes inside. Another day gone. She thinks, shutting the balcony door and closing her blinds. Turning the lights off she finally sinks into bed.

[strxngertogether]

Brona Dalton

[25-40, waitress/hairdresser/nail tech/dog trainer/lowkey vigilante/wannabe country singer/unemployed, cis woman, she/her, questioning (bi? aroace? lesbian?), fc: Caylee Hammack]

After killing her abusive grandmother (who was her sole guardian after her mother died of an overdose when she was a baby) at seventeen, Brona was emancipated after a lengthy investigation into the old woman's death that ended in a sex offender neighbour being charged with the murder. Finding comfort and freedom in living on her own without the rough hand of her grandmother, Brona finished school while keeping up a job at a local restaurant and occasionally moonlighting at a salon whenever they needed help on busy days. She had a few friends from work or from the local karaoke bar, True Blue Karaoke, she went to on the weekends, but mostly kept to herself.

By twenty-two, Brona had met a cute boy at True Blue Karaoke and what was meant to be a one night stand turned into a three year long relationship. She eventually found out he was cheating on her with multiple women in town and dumped him. Broken up over leaving their dog, Walter, alone with him, she eventually came back a few months later and unchained him from his dog house to take him back home with her.

Brona eventually started looking into becoming a dog trainer. Knowing a few ex military types who worked with dogs, she started there and worked her way out. She started training friends' dogs before working her way up to starting her own business. A few years after Wally passed away from old age, she eventually adopted an ex-military working dog named Tina. It took a little time for Tina to really trust Brona, but they're now inseparable and Tina is quite willing to do whatever it takes to protect Brona; something she often has to do.

Brona spends a small but important amount of her time protecting the community. She keeps track of the violent people, criminals, and sex offenders in the area and whenever they step out of line in any way she doesn't like, she deals out the justice she believes the police should have and leads the trail of evidence to other criminals or anyone she believes would have motive to kill them.

After years of doing this, the cops finally catch on and she has to leave town. Currently homeless, she and Tina make their way town to town and state to state under different aliases with no hope of ever truly settling down again.

[lintheotaku]

Anime Watch

Season: Spring 2024

Anime: Grandpa and Grandma Turn Young Again Plot: "Shouzou and Ine Saitou have been happily married for as long as they can remember. Even in their old age with wrinkles and cracking limbs, the strength of this love is evident by their precious bond. And then, randomly one day, they wake up to find they are young again!" Thoughts: Rate: ? [?/5]

Anime: Unnamed Memory Plot: "Prince Oscar has been cursed since childhood to never have a child of his own, and he seeks out the calamitous witch Tinasha to find a way to break the curse, braving the trials of her tower." Thoughts: 2 episodes in and it's still too early to say. So far... mid? Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡ [3/5]

Anime: Re:Monster Plot: "Tomokui Kanata has been re-incarnated in the weakest goblin, named Goburou, after having undergone an unfortunate death. However Goburou has retained his previous life's memories, an unusual evolution, as well as becoming strong enough to gain status boosts from eating." Thoughts: Definitely wasn't expecting to find myself enjoying this one as much as I have. If you liked reincarnated as a Slime and Spider, this one isn't too far. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4.5/5]

Anime: Chillin' in Another World with Level 2 Super Cheat Powers Plot: "The Magical Kingdom of Klyrode summons hundreds of heroes from other worlds every year to fight in their war against the Dark One and his army of powerful demons. Banaza is one of those heroes, summoned from the Royal Capital Paluma, but something's not right—Banaza is only an average merchant. He has no magic, no fighting ability, and his stats are abysmal. Worse, a mishap leaves him unable to return home! Rejected as a hero and stranded in another world, abandoned to the far reaches of the kingdom by a cruel king who just wants him gone, Banaza's fate looks pretty bleak. But what will happen once the failed hero candidate finds himself with super cheat powers once he hits level two?" Thoughts: Has a few interesting twists onto the isekai genre, so far has been enjoyable for a causal watch. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡ [3/5]

Anime: As a Reincarnated Aristocrat, I'll Use My Appraisal Skill to Rise in the World Plot: "An ordinary salaryman dies one day and is reborn as Ars Louvent, the son of a noble. Although he isn't talented in magic or swordplay, he does have one skill that no one else possesses: Appraisal. Using this ability, Ars can determine a person's current strength, how much potential they hold, and where their talents rest" Thoughts: Having a more strategic mc is a nice change of pace. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4/5]

Anime: The Banished Former Hero Lives as He Pleases Plot: "Deemed a "good-for-nothing" for his low level and lack of a god-given Gift, Allen is stripped of his noble status and banished from the Duchy of Westfeldt. But Allen has a secret: he was a great hero in a previous life, and he's thrilled for the chance to finally live the way he pleases! His drama-free existence, however, is soon interrupted by a desperate encounter with his ex-fiancée. As a former hero who still possesses the incredible powers from his past life, Allen can't ignore someone in need—no matter how much he might like to! And so begins the new heroic saga our former hero never wanted!" Thoughts: The story is a bit mid and I hate how much potential it has but it's painfully obvious how much the studio either didn't have enough budget or was secondary concern in comparison to Re:Monster. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡ ♡ [2.5/5]

Anime: The New Gate Plot: "The New Gate" is an online life-or-death game with tens of thousands of players. Thanks to Shin, the most skilled veteran player, the other players will finally be released from the game. Shin has killed the last boss and believes he is finally able to escape when he is blinded by a flash of mysterious light. He awakes to find himself in the game's world 500 years later! So begins a new chapter in the life of an unsurpassed legendary player!" Thoughts: (To be added, so far quite enjoyable.) Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4/5]

Anime: Vampire Dormitory Plot: "Mito, who has no family to rely on, lives on the streets, disguised as a boy. Ruka, an otaku vampire who's only interested in 2-D girls, saves her from a perilous situation and makes her an offer: become his subservient thrall from which he can feed whenever he wants, and she can live with him–in the boys' dorm." Thoughts: very Shojou. Nothing stellar, but a pretty chilled one. Just want to know how dense everyone is to see that Mito is very blatantly female in these situations... At least vast majority in OHHC realized this with Haruhi in the first chapter/episode. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡ [3.5/5]

Anime: I Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince so I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magical Ability Plot: "Prince Lloyd wasn't always a prince…in fact, his previous life is one he remembers perfectly: he was a sorcerer, of sorts. So when he was forced to reincarnate, he decided to continue his studies, prince of the realm or no! But his new life has its own sets of challenges…including being a 10-year-old! What's the 7th prince/sorcerer to do?!" Thoughts: Comically watching along a demon of insanely over powered MC while keeping his true power hidden. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4/5]

Anime: An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride Plot: "When the sorcerer Zagan decides to participate in an auction selling the goods of the now dead Archdemon Marchosias, he expects to find items of untold power. What he finds instead is a rare white-haired slave elf named Nephelia, and he immediately spends all his money to purchase her, much to the bewilderment of those around him. However, the secret reason behind Zagan's investment was that he had actually fallen in love with her at first sight. Unfortunately, Zagan has a problem: he is socially inept and has no idea how to express his true feelings, leading to many misunderstandings between him and his new companion. But slowly, the two begin to understand each other, and love begins to bloom." Thoughts: This one is so much cuter than I'd expected omgosh. Watching two socially awkward dorks progressing into a cute couple has been delightful thus far. Rate: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ [4.5/5]

[nothingtherefornow]

Little update about this theory, this time the opinion and thoughs comes from my beloved friend @shootingstarssel ^^ who answered to my own opinion about this theory :

" Could Lila have some connection to Felix's dad, Colt ?

That is hard to say as we don't know how long and when Colt and Amelie were trying for a baby, and I wouldn't be surprised if Colt was cheating on Amelie with other women as I can see him using his money and power to get away with it.

However, while Amelie and Emilie had a hard time conceiving a baby, I wonder how old Colt is as it is common for many wealthy families to marry off their young daughters to older men, and most of the time, they are twice their age. As the older men get the least sperm they produce, Colt could've been shooting blanks at the time or not; it's hard to tell. Colt could've gotten someone else pregnant because he's desperate for an heir to carry on his legacy/bloodline, and Lila could've been the result. However, I can see him being disappointed that he got a girl instead of a boy, as expected to continue his legacy.

But to not get caught, Colt could've sent money to Lila's original mother to pay for child support secretly because I wouldn't be surprised if Lila's original mother is the one who taught Lila how to lie in the first place and was using Lila's existence as a threat to Colt to get money from him and live comfortable lives, but stopped when maybe Lila's original mother died because of sickness or something else and to hide his affair baby Colt could've cut all ties to Lila and sent her to an orphanage somewhere far away so no one can track her or find her, especially after his hand on the peacock miraculous to created the perfect hier.

But with what Lila learned from her original mother, she could've used those skills to escape from the orphanage, lie her way out of certain situations, and gather the skills and information she needed to get what she wanted. However, how old was Lila when Felix and Adrien were officially born if that is the case? We have theories about Lila being older than she looks and using that to her advantage. Still, until we know how old Lila is, I can see it working. If the theory is true that Lila is Colt's illegitimate daughter, I could see her being upset that all the luxurious items and money she grew up with were taken away from her by force.

As Lila has blood from a wealthy family, she can see herself as just as important as those in high society. Still, because Lila is an illegitimate daughter, they won't recognize her as one, and because Lila was a secret, they won't believe her without evidence that Colt could've destroyed her. It can make Lila desperate to get the life she believes is rightfully hers but has to lie her way in, only for it to explode in her face when Gabriel shoots her down and everything like that when he reveals how he views her and Kagami's excellent unintentional backhanded comment about Lila being a regular stone. At the same time, Kagami is a precious stone (when diamonds are some of the most common rocks anyone can afford. The only reason they're expensive is that diamond companies are not distributing them to the consumers, which makes them costly, especially now as there are diamond labs to create them, which is now losing their value. So Gabriel, the party you hosted and threw for those rich, influential people who are supposedly rare like diamonds are, in reality, ordinary like diamonds if that's your theme.) Could Lila pretend to be Amelie's daughter by saying she's Colt's illegitimate daughter? Amelie has no responsibility for Colt's affair baby as Lila and Amelie are not related by blood, but Amelie is a caring woman. If so, we've seen that she could take Lila in.

However, my theory is that Lila could've lived a life of luxurious like Adrien, Felix, Chloe, and Kagami and, like Chloe, was happy being in this lifestyle as Lila could've gotten whatever she wanted but could've been raised in a broken family as her parents could've been unhappy in their lives for several reasons and I say it depends how Lila interpreted it when she was young as either their parents just not happy with their lives or that they do not like each other and forced to be together. Also, Lila could have learned to lie and manipulate from her parents. I wouldn't be surprised that they got their wealth by cheating and lying about stuff, especially if they're lying about charity works to steal money from people and use it for themselves. Then, one day, they both died in an accident, which left Lila orphaned, but their scams were revealed, which meant the truth was revealed, and it did not end well. Lila lost all of her parents' money, leaving her with nothing, and she wants it all back and more after escaping the orphanage and maybe somewhere along the way, learned about the miraculous, which added to her thirst for power, which is where we are today. "

Thanks again for @shootingstarssel for adding her own thoughts to this theory about Lila/Cerise/Iris :)

Lila and her quest for WEALTH and FAME.

What's Lila's problem? Since the first season, Lila has always sought to communicate with people who occupy a high position in society. The rich, the famous are the circle of people she really wanted to get into.

First Adrien, then the collaboration with Gabriel, and later her friendship with Kagami. In order to become a representative of the “Agreste” brand, she was even ready to leave Marinette alone.

(420)

Gabriel:

- You were only the face of my brand in exchange for a mission — to monitor my son's relationships and keep him away from bad company.

(324)

Adrien:

-So you'll just have to come up with another lie, just as convincing. Only this time it's gonna prove Marinette's innocent.

Lila:

-Why would I do that, Adrien?

What is she missing from her family? It's not enough for her to be part of the Italian ambassador's family. She continues to pick up coins, as if her life has repeatedly put her in a position where she felt the need for money.

She was offended by Kagami's words that she was just a stone, and she also promised to prove to the Monarch that she was not just a bottle of perfume.

It seems that Lila was once a member of a rich and famous family, but for unknown reasons she was left on the street without money.

And all her actions indicate that she is not ready to give up and will do everything to become who she was born to be.

(402)

Gabriel:

-The ties that bind us are precious, unique. Unique, Alliance.

Lila and Felix are united by family ties!?

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hey !! How r you ? Hope you are well , i recently cMe across imlie show which is also produced by gul khan , the character of aryan singh rathore is very very similar to arnav singh raizada .. have u watched imlie ?

Hello Anon!

Yes I'm doing well thank you. I hope you're well too :)

Yes I have been watching Imlie (I was invested in the friendship between Aryan and Imlie, not this forced marriage thing) and according to me, I do not think Aryan and Arnav share any similarities!

I think anytime Aryan's character falters in the show is when they try to force him into Arnav's shoes - otherwise independently he's an extremely charming character.

Warning, the following is my interpretation which can definitely be different per person!

Here are the similarities between Aryan and Arnav:

- Both saw the death of a family member that left them traumatized.

- Both are successful.

- They have a Singh for a middle name.

- Both are extremely possessive and soft for their families.

- Both have the same initials.

- Both are really good at sniffing out malicious people. I will forgive Arnav for not understanding Shyam because Shyam was in Arnav's blindspot. Otherwise both Arnav and Aryan are really well aware of the world.

- They're introverts who are a little constipated in expressing their feelings.

- Both are obsessed with sunglass waala entry. I don't think you can be a 4lions hero if you don't have a sunglass. That's why Haider was in a webshow - he didn't have a sunglass so he wasn't promoted to a tv show.

Now here are the differences between Aryan and Arnav:

- Arnav was traumatized as a child and has shaped his whole life in response to trauma. He suffers from PTSD and hasn't dealt with it at all. Aryan had a relatively sweeter life and was traumatized at 23 seeing his jijaji being burned alive due to misinformation.

Although their traumas stem from family death, the impact of it on their psyches are incredibly different different because Arnav was a child seeing his parents commit suicide and Aryan, a fully grown adult, saw an unfortunate event where he could not help. Aryan suffers from the guilt of not being able to help despite being old enough - which is why he does everything in his power to help Imlie without having any kind of relationship to her. Aryan's mantra is to not let anyone else suffer at the hands of Aditya like his dear brother in law. I swear Aryan would've helped Malini if he was early in the show and learned Malini was the second wife of a very married Aditya. Arnav hopes to never be duped like his mother nor ever end up his like his father. He suffers from the fear of abandonment where one might leave him (by dying or by cheating on him). He hates marriages because of what his parents died. His whole life, worldview and decisions have been damaged by the double suicides.

- Arnav paints the whole world in the light of the actions of his father and uncle. Aryan does not - he knows people are different and his grudge only extends to Aditya, not even Aditya's family.

- Arnav is impulsive. Aryan is cold, calm, calculative. Arnav literally acts before he thinks, Aryan always thinks before he acts.

- Arnav's emotions are often misdirected, his anger is dealt with projection. Aryan's emotions are rarely misdirected.

- Arnav is slightly immature and will not accept the truth if it hurts his ego (unless the disbelief of the truth hurts something more - for example at the guesthouse his ego was of no importance, Khushi was in danger! But otherwise despite contrary evidence he has rarely apologized to Khushi or expressed regret over his actions). Aryan, on the other hand, is extremely mature for his age.

- Arnav has the most difficult time understanding Khushi and her point of view. Her rationale needs to match his for it to make sense to him. Aryan rarely misunderstands Imlie. He understands that as a teenager and someone who's had to work hard to gain acceptance and love, there's a naivety in her rationale and tries to guide her through it and build her esteem.

- Arnav sees Khushi as his equal. Aryan often sees himself as Imlie's mentor. When Khushi/Arnav is in trouble, they work as a team. When Aryan/Imlie are in trouble, he often guides her out of trouble or helps in bettering her plans. More than once Aryan attempts to impart wisdom to Imlie and make her understand that she isn't responsible for the wellbeing of a 35 years old man.

- Sexual attraction plays a key role in Arnav-Khushi's relationship.

Platonic trust plays a key role in Aryan-Imlie's relationship.

- Arnav is afraid of the intensity of his emotions for Khushi. Aryan isn't - he's almost always comfortable for what he feels for Imlie, he has a bit stiffness when he realises his emotions are turning romantic but even then he's not going through an earth shattering storm that Arnav goes through when he realises his attraction to Khushi means more than what he thought.

- Aryan is a feminist - he's concerned about Imlie's career without any romantic connection to her. He believes in equal rights for everyone regardless of anything. Arnav isn't - he's a liberal who believes each should have their independent lives and hates archaic traditions that makes his life difficult. He wants Khushi to have financial independence out of practicality, and honestly he's comfortable in the way his traditional house runs as long as it doesn't interfere his life.

- Aryan believes intentions matter more than consequences. Arnav believes consequences matters more than intentions. Which is why Aryan is lot more kinder to whatever Imlie does and how he justifies the way he forced her into marriage (apparently protecting her from Adtiya's clingy nature is more important to him than the fact he violated the trust of a friend for which Imlie might be more traumatized), and why Arnav usually has a lot of things under his control and rightly never trusts Shyam and has his doubts on his Dadi's intentions when she arrives home.

- Arnav never denies he's been brutal to Khushi. Neither does Arnav ever admit to being a nice guy in general. He knows he's not - it's how he easily deals with the brutal world. He doesn't openly admit it, but he does not see himself as being good because he has better intentions or never crossed a line in his and Khushi's marriage or because he loves Khushi intensely. For him what matters is he loves Khushi and she loves him and that love is honest and real. Aryan think he's a good person. He refuses to be called as a monster even if his actions are hurting people around him, he refuses to see his actions beyond his intentions and gets hurt when Imlie accuses him of being monstrous. He does not realise that by forcing this marriage on Imlie, he has incited true fear and disgust in her. He somehow believes she will still have the trust she had in him two days ago. I couldn't help but roll my eyes when he insinuated not being a monster because he's not going to sleep in the same bed as her - she literally does not know why you forcefully married her!

- Arnav never breaks his word. The world might shake but he'll never change a word nor break it. Aryan breaks his word as and when convenient. He does not break trust, but his promises come with a loophole.

- Aryan believes in the greater good. Arnav believes in present repercussions.

Aryan falters as a character when he's forced into being ASR, otherwise he's an amazingly complex character on his own. He and Imlie stand out for their own story. If anything, the creators of Imlie should continue the story keeping the characters in mind, not of the events that became famous with ArShi!

Because Aryan literally arrives in Imlie's life as a savior. He saves her more than she saves him.

But in IPK, Khushi and Arnav both save each other a little bit. He gives her an environment to be truly loved regardless and she brings him into light. Theirs was a fateful, star crossed tragedy that ended with a happily ever after. Newer shows should stick to their new materials and tropes that match the new story!

So I sincerely hope we go back to seeing friendship and humor in Imlie cause I was there for that! Not angst. Imlie is 19, she shouldn't be going through two marriage with two older men against her will - neither one of whom she was in love with! It's heartbreaking cause one was the village forcing her and the other was this one man she truly trusted as her best friend to even live in his house. Ugh. I hate this cause a week ago we heard the female version of Jaaniya and I squealed in happiness when Imlie saw Aryan recover and pulled his cheek - relief spilling as tears in her eyes on seeing him safe. Like I literally saw the beginning of love there... I swear the whole reel of those two laughing and swaying softly to Chaap Tilak has my whole heart. I don't need angst in this story, I need trust!

The best angst in this story was Aryan falling for Imlie, a young woman who chooses to never love given her bitter past, and the complexities of it considering she trusts him more than any she loves and he knows his role in her life is of one as a mentor. So where does love fit here? A love he can't deny! A softness he can't help but develop! Ugh.

Rant over! Lol. Bye bye and thanks for asking,

- JWB

P.S: The awesome Imlie gifs are made by @aye-masakalii - ugh amazing!!!

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of Med: Season 4 and Seasons of PD: Season 6: Of Loss and Letters (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

As always, I do not own any quotes from Chicago Med 4x02.

Y/N's age: 17

Jay's age: 31

Will's age: 33

You sat in your English 11 class and wrote and wrote an essay for your test. Your hand was starting to cramp. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone's phone light up from the phone caddy.

Yes, that's right. Your high school now had a phone caddy where students had to put their phones every class. Each student was assigned a number and then that's where they put their phone during that hour. Some teachers didn't care and let you keep it on you, but some did.

Your phone lit up again. You so desperately wanted to look at your watch that was connected to your phone, but you knew that doing so would look like you were cheating, so you decided against it. And, you turned your attention back to your test.

It lit up again and this time your teacher had had enough and stood up to grab your phone.

"Sorry to interrupt your tests," she started, "but how many times do I have to tell you guys to put your phones away with the screen facing the whiteboard. That way it's not dis--" She sucked in a breath as a text came across your screen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one word: hospital. And, this caused her to read the text. "Y/N, please come with me."

You stood up, utterly confused, and then left the room.

"Firstly, let me say I didn't try to read your texts. I just saw it out of the corner of my eye and...it's important."

You believed this teacher. She was young, pretty fresh out of college, and one time when you came in for a review session, she made all of you guys brownies to snack on while you worked.

She handed you your phone. It was a text from Jay.

Dad's in the hospital.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was it something with his heart? Had he started drinking again?

"Can I--"

"You can go, Y/N. I'll call the office and have someone bring your books down there after class so you can pick them up there when you come to school later. Drive safe."

"Thank you."

You practically sprinted down the hallway and to your locker as another text came in from Jay.

If you don't answer in the next ten minutes, I'm calling school to get you out.

You finished shoving stuff into your backpack and then started on your way to the office. You went to sign out when one of the secretaries stopped you.

"I've got it, hun. You just take care of yourself." Your teacher must've called down.

"Thank you," you choked out and then left the building, dialing Jay's number as you walked.

"Jay!" you exclaimed when he picked up on the first ring. "What happened to Dad? I was taking a test and then my phone started blowing up. Is he okay?"

"Y/N, there was a fire at his apartment. He's in the ED at Med. Will will fill you in more when you get here." You could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn't good.

"Jay, you can't just tell me that! There's gotta be more!"

"Y/N, you're about to drive. You'll be at Med in twenty minutes. I don't need you to get in a car accident. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"Please." You got in your car and then turned your phone on speaker and started your car. "Can you tell me stories on my way there?" you asked Jay. "I need something else to focus on."

"Focus on the road."

"I mean listen to. I need something else to listen to."

"What kind of stories?" he asked.

"Can you tell me how Mom and Dad met?"

"You know how they met: it was at a White Sox game. Dad saw Mom stand up to buy some popcorn and said he fell in love with her at first sight. He must not have been a pain in the ass then. And, his favorite pastime probably wasn't yelling at people like it is now. Probably smiled more, too."

"Technically, he doesn't yell at me," you said. "Except when he was drunk before you started taking care of me and he finished the twelve steps."

"Oh, right. I forgot. I'm his favorite person to yell at," Jay said sarcastically. "He wasn't always an ass, though. He was actually excited to have a daughter at first. And then, his asshole buddies in construction changed his mind and made him think that women weren't his equals."

"Dicks," you muttered. "What did you and Will do when you found out that Mom was going to have me? Were you mad you weren't going to be the youngest anymore?"

"Nah, I was happy I'd have someone to pick on like Will picked on me."

"Hey!"

"Obviously I didn't follow through with that line of reasoning," he laughed. "Mom was telling us how we'd have to play tea parties with you and all that girly stuff. Me and Will obviously weren't too thrilled about that."

"Well, you're lucky I'm not a girly-girl then and didn't really play tea parties."

"That's because I taught you how to kick a soccer ball the minute you could walk. Shocked you didn't play that in middle school and now in high school," he added.

"I'm not competitive enough for that."

"Oh, believe me, we know. That's why you didn't play goalie: because one game you were goalie, you just sat down in the goal and started playing with the grass."

"Goalie was boring. And, you don't get a break; you don't get to sub-in. My favorite part of kiddie soccer was the snacks and juice boxes at the end."

"Don't forget those few times you scored goals during the games," Jay pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess that part was kinda fun."

"See? You had fun."

"Not really. But, I'm pulling into Med now. I'll gonna park and then I'll be in the ED."

"Okay, make sure you remember where you parked."

"Don't worry, I will."

You parked and then made your way into the ED waiting room.

"Miss, I'm going to need you to take a seat and wait to be seen," a nurse you didn't recognize said.

"Oh, no," you started. "I'm not hurt. It's my dad. He was in the fire and my brother called." You looked down at your feet, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. "My brother called and said he's in the ED. Um, one of my brothers is Dr. Will Halstead."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. Go right on in." She gave you a sympathetic look.

"Thank you."

You hustled into the ED and looked for Maggie or one of your brothers. You spotted Maggie first.

"Maggie where's--"

"Your dad's in Treatment One." She pointed you in the direction of the room and you made your way over there.

You entered the room at the same time as Dr. Rhodes. "You guys wanna fill her in?"

"What's going on?" you asked, worry evident in your voice.

Your dad started coughing and spit some bile into a bin, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

"Dad tried to play hero," Jay started to explain, "He forgot he was in his 60s with a bum ticker."

"Yeah, well, this is your fault to begin with," Pat Halstead said.

"Me?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, you stuck me in that fire trap."

"Please, can you two just not fight for once?" you complained.

"Pop, stop talking," Will urged.

Dr. Rhodes started doing an EKG and then ordered some tests, finally shutting your dad up...and saving you from another argument between Jay and your dad. Then, after he was done, he got called out to consult for Dr. Choi.

"I don't need all this," your dad complained once Dr. Rhodes had left the room.

"Calm down," Jay told him rudely. "You're getting yourself all worked up."

"What do you know? You're no doctor."

"Dad," you said.

"You had no right to sell my house!"

"You wanna talk about this again?" Jay practically yelled. "It was a wreck. You couldn't take care of the place."

"You just wanted my money!"

"Hey!" Will yelled, but it didn't stop the two...nothing ever did.

"You don't have any money you thankless old prick!" Jay yelled and then started to walk out.

"Jay!" Will yelled as you started to follow him out, hoping to calm him down. "Y/N, stay here," Will told you.

"Why?"

"I know you're gonna try to calm him down, but he needs to cool off by himself right now."

You huffed. "Fine." You turned back to your dad. "I don't think he really meant it. He was mad. Both of you say things you don't mean when you're angry. You two are a lot alike that way. Like when you said he wasn't a son of yours."

"Yeah, you should apologize for that one," Will agreed.

"Not until he apologizes for what he just said to me. Only then will I--"

Alarms started sounding and lights starting flashing. Will hit a button on the wall and two nurses rushed in.

"Will, what's happening?" you screamed. "What's happening to Dad?"

Will lowered the bed and then put his fingers to your dad's neck. "No pulse. Bag him."

"Wait, he's your dad," a nurse, who you recognized as Monique, said. "Shouldn't another doctor run the code?"

"You got one handy?" Will asked as he started chest compressions.

"Will, what's happening?" Jay asked as he re-entered the room.

"Jay, I need you to take Y/N out of here. Now."

"No, I wanna stay. What's going on?"

"Jay, now," Will stated again.

Jay placed on hand on your back. "Y/N, c'mon."

The alarms were still sounding, the lights still flashing.

"No!" you yelled.

"Y/N, I need room in here," Will told you. "The best thing you can do for Dad is to leave this room."

"No! I wanna stay!" you yelled again.

Jay looked at Will and he nodded. Then, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground by Jay.

"Put me down! Put me down!" You started kicking and swinging your arms, but he didn't budge. "Let me go back in there!"

Once safely out of the room--and having drawn the attention of most people in the ED--did Jay finally put you down. You tried to run back towards the treatment room, but Jay scooped you back up.

"Nope. We're going outside," Jay told you.

"Fine. But, once we're out there, I'm not walking with you."

You crossed your arms in frustration. After that little stunt he pulled back there, there was nothing he could say that made you want to be around him.

"That's fine. Just keep your phone on you."

***

As you kept walking down the sidewalk to the right--Jay had went left as soon as you walked outside because you didn't want to be around him--you spotted none other than Kelly Severide sitting on a bench, looking like he was currently throwing himself a pity party.

"Hey," you said as you walked up to him.

"Y/N? what are you doing out here?" he asked as he looked up.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, have a seat. You look like you've been crying."

"So do you," you pointed out.

"Stella's in the ED," he admitted. "She had a nasty inhalation injury. They uh, they might not be able to save her lung...which means she wouldn't be able to be a firefighter anymore." He looked back down.

"I'm sorry, Kelly. But, Stella's a fighter."

"Yeah, I know. She left home when she was eighteen and she didn't have the best home life before that either."

"She told me."

"She told you?" he asked, looking back up at you.

"Yeah, when she helped me get ready for homecoming, she told me that she gets it. She gets what it's like not having a mom to help you get ready for dances."

"Dude, we have a problem," Will said through the phone to Jay.

"Which is...?" Jay asked.

"Nat got called in. We don't have anyone to help Y/N get ready for the dance."

"Shit," Jay cursed. "Yeah, that really is a problem. Let me make some calls."

Jay hung up the phone with Will and then scrolled through his contacts. He thought about asking Hailey, but he wasn't super close with her yet, so she was off the table.

Then it hit him: Stella.

But he didn't have her number.

But he had Kelly's.

"Please don't be on shift, please don't be on shift," he muttered as the line started ringing.

"Hey, Halstead," Kelly answered.

"Hey, man. Listen, I've got a huge favor to ask you. Well, actually, it's more you asking Stella for the favor."

"What do you want me to ask her? She's right here."

"Well, it's Y/N's homecoming dance tonight and Nat was gonna come over and help her get ready and she got called into work. I was wondering if maybe Stella could come over and help Y/N out."

"Okay, I'll ask her."

He heard mumbling which he guessed was Kelly talking to Stella. "I'm gonna put her on," Kelly said after a minute.

"Okay."

"Hey, Jay," Stella said into Kelly's phone.

"Hey, Stella. Kelly explain everything to you?" Jay asked.

"He did. I'll be over there in an hour. Unless you need me sooner, then I can make it half an hour."

"An hour works great. Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver, really."

***

Jay had left to run to the store and had told you that Stella would be there in an hour. So, when someone knocked on your apartment door twenty minutes later, you were utterly confused.

You got up from the couch and looked through the peephole in your apartment door, seeing none other than frick and frack...otherwise known as Adam and Kevin.

"What are you two doing here?" you asked as you opened the door. "If you're looking for Jay, he went out to run some errands."

"No, we're actually here to see you," Kevin said.

"Me?"

"Yeah," Adam confirmed. "Aren't you supposed to be in a dress or something?"

"I'll put it on after Stella dose my hair," you told them. "Sorry, c'mon in."

The two entered the apartment, but you were still confused as to why they were here, and why they were here for you and not your brother.

"I guess we can teach her like this," Adam said.

"Might be better, too," Kevin started. "That way she won't rip her dress when we're first teaching her."

"Uh, excuse me. Right here, guys. What are you planning on teaching me?" you asked, annoyed that they were talking about you like you weren't even there.

"We are here, little Y/N, to teach you how to fight," Adam answered.

"First of all, don't ever call me little Y/N again. Second of all, no you're not. What's the real reason you're here?"

"That's it," Adam laughed.

You raised an eyebrow, so Kevin decided that he needed to clarify. "It's just for self-defense. Just in case a horny teenage boy comes up to you and starts grinding on you at the dance, so you'll know what to do."

You were still skeptical about this, but they did have a good point. You had to give them that.

"Okay, so what do I do? And, did Jay put you two up to this?" you asked.

"He didn't," Adam answered. "We came of our own free will. First thing you need to know about throwing a punch is doing it with a closed fist." You closed your fist. "Perfect. Now, when you throw the punch, make sure your arm is locked out."

You did as he said and your punch was a little flimsy, but you worked on it.

***

"Is this the right color you think? I tried my best," Jay said as he met Stella in the elevator on their way up to his apartment. He pulled out a sparkly black bottle of nail polish. Stella had asked if your nails were done, and when he said no, she asked if he could pick up some nail polish while she packed up all her hair stuff and makeup to help you get ready. He had reluctantly agreed. By looking at the picture of your dress he had on his phone--it was a two-piece dress where the skirt portion was long enough that it covered your belly. The skirt was white with a floral design and the top was black with sequins--and used that to figure out what color nail polish to pick. Stella told him to keep it simple, so he just picked up a black bottle with some sparkles.

"Perfect!" Stella exclaimed as she looked at the color.

They got off the elevator and then walked to your and Jay's apartment. When Jay opened the door, he was met with one of the weirdest sights he had seen in his life: Adam was rolling around on the floor in what looked to be pain and you were jumping up and down and celebrating and then giving Kevin a high five.

"What happened here?" Jay asked.

"Oh, hey bro," Kevin said.

"Hey, Jay," Adam gritted out from his spot on the floor.

"We were teaching Y/N self-defense in case someone grinds on her at the dance," Kevin supplied. "And, we got to the kneeing part."

"So, she kneed him where the sun don't shine?" Jay laughed.

"Yeah," Kevin confirmed.

"Good job, Y/N. Adam, I'll get you ice and a beer. Kev, you want one?" Kevin nodded and Jay handed the small bag containing the nail polish to Stella.

"So, here's the deal," Stella started. "Natalie got called into work, so you're stuck with me helping you get ready. I've got some nail polish that your brother so generously went out and picked up for you, a straightener, a curling iron, tons of bobby pins and little hair ties, and tons of makeup. Just tell me what you want and we'll get the ball rolling."

You helped Adam up off the ground and then started towards your room, Stella following close behind.

***

"You know, I never had a mom to help me with this kind of stuff either," Stella confessed as she was twisting your hair.

"You didn't?" you asked. "Who helped you?"

"My mom was in and out of my life in high school, so usually one of the nice neighbor ladies helped me with my hair. The makeup was all me."

"So, you know how it is. I feel like it's harder for me than for Will and Jay because they both had Mom for over twenty years. I only had her for nine."

"Well, if you ever wanna talk about girl stuff, I'm your girl. Now, anyone special you wanna dance with? Or are meeting him at the dance?" Stella asked.

"Well, there is someone." You blushed.

"Girl," she dropped your hair. "You can't just leave me hanging like that. Who is it?"

"His name's Caleb. He's really good friends with my friend, Andrea." Stella knew who this was. She knew that you had saved her life during the shooting half a year ago. "He's really cute. Tall, Brown hair. Blue eyes. One of the star players on the football team," you told her wistfully.

"Ooh, you got it bad," Stella laughed.

"I got what bad?"

"Your crush on this Caleb kid. You are crushing on him so hard, Y/N. Can't say I blame you. The popular kid is always the way to go...as long as he's not a douche."

"He's actually not. He's actually really nice."

"Well, does Caleb have a date to the dance?" Stella asked.

You sighed. "He does. Her name's Sasha and she's a total bitch. Excuse my French."

"Well, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: sooner or later, the dude sees his girl's true colors."

"I, uh, I thought about asking him to dance. I remember Jay saying when I was like four and he was going to his senior prom, that if he wasn't dating Allie and a girl asked him to dance, that he'd dance with her because it takes guts to ask someone to dance. But, since Caleb's got a date, that probably won't happen."

"Hey, if he's dancing solo and a slow song comes on, you gotta ask him to dance. Shoot your shot, girl."

"You're right. I'm gonna ask him to dance. I will ask Caleb to dance."

"That's the spirit! Now, we gotta get you looking extra hot so he falls in love with you when he's staring into your eyes while you two are slow dancing the night away."

You laughed and Stella returned to your hair.

***

Later that night, a slow song came on and Sasha was nowhere to be seen with Caleb. But, he was on the dance floor, near the back wall, all by himself. So, you asked him to dance. He said yes, and after, he even gave you a hug. Best dance of your high school career so far.

After you texted Andrea to tell her that you danced with Caleb because you had no idea where she was, the next person you texted was Stella. You knew she'd be hella excited for you.

You crushed on Caleb for a few months after that. But, then he got a new girlfriend and ended up cheating on her with not one, but two different girls. Needless to say, your crush on him died the second you found out this information.

"She loves you, you know," you said to Kelly.

"She told you this?" he asked.

"She didn't have to. Every time Stella sees you, or even when she talks to you, her face lights up."

"She's good for me. That's for sure."

You paused. You knew Kelly didn't have the best relationship with his dad and neither did Jay, Will, or even you. You also knew his dad had died a few months ago, around October and it was currently February. "Did you ever get mad at yourself?" you asked.

"About what?"

"When your dad died. You knew he wasn't the best person, but you were still sad."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I don't understand where you're going with this," Kelly apologized.

"I know my dad wasn't the best person, hell he was neglectful and unfit to be a parent, still is. So, why do me and my brothers still see him? Why do I still feel sad and scared that he might die?" you asked. You knew this was something you should be asking your school counselor--you had started seeing her a lot this past year because of the shooting--but Kelly was here now. And, maybe he'd understand because he didn't have a very good dad either.

"It's because you remember how he used to be," Kelly said. "You, Jay, and Will all remember when he was a better person. When Benny died, I didn't feel like I was grieving current Benny. I was more grieving for the Benny I knew when I was five years old when he was a good dad. And, I never gave up hope that he'd become a better father as I grew up. When he died, I knew it would never happen. You're grieving the dad you used to know and the hope you might lose of him becoming a better man."

You nodded because you really had no idea what to say. You thought Kelly was right; maybe that was the reason why you were sad and fearful about the possibility of your dad dying. You two sat in silence after that, finding comfort in each other's presence, each hoping for the best, but trying to prepare yourself for the worst.

***

You walked into the ED, to be met with Jay storming out and Will quickly following after him. You ran after them.

When they finally stopped, you made your presence known. "Okay, someone wanna tell me what the hell's going on?"

"Dad's brain dead and Will, Will doesn't want a second opinion and just wants to let Dad die," Jay spat.

"A- Are you sure he's brain dead? Maybe you read it wrong?" you asked. There had to have been some kind of mistake. Your dad couldn't be brain dead; he couldn't be a vegetable.

"Y/N, I know this is a lot of information to take in, but the EEG, the thing that reads brain waves, showed that Dad's brain dead. Dr. Abrams read it and he's our top neurosurgeon."

"I still want a second opinion," Jay restated.

"Abrams is our top neurosurgeon, Jay. The opinion doesn't get any better than that," Will told him.

Jay scoffed. "So all your degrees, all that money, all those years in school, this is the best you can do?"

"Jay, Dad almost died two years ago. He's been living on borrowed time."

"Abrams didn't say Dad had no chance!" Jay protested.

"One thousand to one is no chance."

"So you just want to give up?" Jay clenched his fists at his side.

"I've seen a lot of patients in his condition--"

"There goes that doctor voice."

"I'm sorry, but I am a doctor," Will retorted.

Jay scoffed. "Yeah, we got that message. And Dad knew you thought you were better than us. We always came in second. Hell, Y/N came in second because you were away at med school! Who was looking after her when Mom was dying? Me and Dad. Who took her in because Dad's a shitty parent? Me. You weren't there, and now you wanna decide what happens to Dad?" He stepped closer to Will.

Will took a step closer to Jay as well. "You know that's not true, Jay."

"Yes, it is!"

Will opened his mouth and started to say something, but you weren't listening, you were too busy stepping between your brothers because you sensed a fight about to break out.

"Enough!" you yelled. Both Will and Jay looked down at you, shocked at your outburst. "Dad's fucking dying in there and you're fighting about old shit! Don't you see that it doesn't matter? Do you really want to spend your last moments with Dad fighting? Because I sure as hell don't."

Then, you moved away from them and made your way to the bathroom before you started bawling. You really didn't want to do that in front of the other people milling around the hospital.

Jay sighed and put his hands behind his head as he watched you walk off towards the bathroom.

"I never thought I'd say this," Will started, "but she's right. We can't be fighting right now."

"Yeah, I guess we shouldn't be doing that," Jay said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

"Guess me and Dad really are alike. Stubborn and quick to yell things we don't mean."

"I'm pretty sure all of us got the stubborn gene, even Y/N."

Then, The COO of the hospital, who Will introduced as Ms. Garrett walked up to them and told them that they had the full support and all the resources that the hospital had available to help their dad. This didn't seem like her at all, so Will excused himself to go talk to Ms. Goodwin. And, Jay figured this was as good a time as any to see how you were doing, as he hadn't seen you leave the bathroom yet.

***

Jay popped his head into the bathroom and since he only saw one stall in use and saw your shoes in that one, he entered the bathroom and locked the door.

He heard a sniffle. "Short Stack? You okay?" He paused, mentally kicking himself. "Stupid question, of course, you're not okay. I know you're in here," Jay said gently.

"Go away," you said through your tears.

"Y/N, you know I can't do that."

"I just wanna be alone...and for you and Will to stop fighting."

"We made up. Me and Will are fine. Can you please come out?"

You swallowed and frantically wiped your tears away and the snot that ran from your nose. Then, you walked out of the stall and immediately over to Jay and hugged him. "I'm sorry," you mumbled into his brown jacket. "I'm sorry for yelling and swearing. I just wanted you guys- I just wanted you guys to stop."

"I know, I know. Neither of us is mad at you. You had every right to be pissed at us."

"It's just- It's just... nevermind. It's stupid."

"Y/N, it's not stupid. Just tell me. I promise I won't laugh."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he confirmed.

You sighed. "I didn't get as much time with Mom as you two did and now I'm not getting as much time with Dad. You guys had both of them--" You drew in a shaky breath. "You guys had both of them at your high school graduations. I won't have that. I won't have that, Jay."

And that's when you crumbled and you just sobbed into Jay's jacket. When you were nine, you never really comprehended the number of things your mom wouldn't be there for, like your first high school dance, your first date, your first kiss, your high school graduation, your college graduation(s), your wedding, your possibly having a kid and her possibly having grandkids. Granted, your dad wasn't the best dad or even the best man in general, but now you'd have neither parent at any of those things, at any of those milestones.

Jay just held you as you continued to sob about all the things your parents wouldn't be there for, holding you just as your mom would hold him whenever he cried when he was younger.

***

You and Jay sat next to each other by your dad's bedside, the sounds of the vent that was currently keeping him alive were the only sounds that could be heard. Will came in and motioned for Jay to meet him outside the room.

"Be right back." He placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Be right outside," Will promised.

Outside of the room, Will explained that the reason Gwen Garrett wanted to keep your dad alive was that his bypass was 29 days ago. And that she just wants to keep your dad alive for one more day just so the hospital didn't take a hit.

"You think Dad would want this?" Will asked. "To stay alive just to buff some numbers?"

"No, no he wouldn't. But, me and Y/N talked while you tried to figure out what that Garrett lady wanted. Uh, Y/N didn't get as much time as we did with Mom and now she's getting less time than we are with Dad."

"Because she's a lot younger than us. What are you trying to say, Jay?" Will asked.

"I think Y/N should decide. She should decide whether or not we keep Dad on the vent because she had the least amount of time with him. She should get to decide whether or not she gets more time with him."

"Jay, I'm not trying to argue with you, but do you really think that's a good idea? Her decision could cause her a lot of trauma down the road if she ends up thinking she made the wrong choice in the future," Will pointed out.

"We could tell her our opinions and what we want, but tell her that ultimately, she gets to make the final decision. That way, she doesn't feel like it's totally on her," Jay suggested.

"And if she doesn't want to make that big of a decision?"

"We decide between ourselves."

Will sighed. Jay did make a good point. "Fine. But if she feels like shit for months, I'm blaming you."

"Add you to the list of people blaming me for bad shit in their lives."

"Are you lumping me together with criminals you put away?"

"Basically."

Will and Jay re-entered the room. "Why does it feel like he's squeezing my hand?" you asked.

Will sighed. He didn't want to crush your hope of your dad coming back, even though he knew it wouldn't happen, but he also knew that he couldn't give you false hope; he knew he needed to explain this to you.

"Those are just reflexes," Will answered. "I'm sorry, Short Stack, but they don't mean anything."

"They don't? He doesn't know I'm here?" You sniffled.

"He doesn't know," Will confirmed.

You nodded and continued to hold your dad's hand.

"Y/N, we have something to tell you," Jay started. You tore your eyes away from your dad and up to your brothers. "Me and Will decided that you should decide whether we keep Dad on the vent because you got the least amount of time with him."

"You- you guys want me to decide whether Dad lives or dies?" you asked.

Will nodded. "If you don't want to, me and Jay can decide between ourselves, but you can still tell us what you'd prefer. If you want to decide, we can let you do that. Or, if you want our opinions before you decide, that's fine, too."

"What do you guys think? I don't want to decide all by myself," you practically whispered.

And so, they explained to you how Garrett just wanted to keep your dad alive for one more day just to buff some numbers and how they didn't think he'd want to be alive just to do that, just to save the hospital from liability.

You also knew that there were one thousand to one odds against your dad coming back and that those weren't odds at all. He'd need a miracle. And, if there was one thing you knew about your dad, it was that he didn't believe in miracles. He believed in hard work, not miracles.

It was for these reasons that you said what you said next: "Let him go."

***

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber," Will started when you and Jay arrived at your dad's apartment a few days later to go through his stuff. Surprisingly, most of it had been spared during the fire. "You went after the person responsible for the fire, didn't tell anyone, and ended up getting shot."

"You got shot?" you yelled as you walked in.

"Nice going, man. She didn't know," Jay said, annoyed. He turned to you. "It hit the vest. I'm totally fine. I just have some bruising on my chest. Nothing to worry about."

"And you two tell me to be careful," you mumbled. "I should be telling you that."

"It's no use, Y/N," Will said. "I tell him all the time. He just never listens."

"You know you're not a cat, right Jay? You don't have nine lives."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Where are we starting?"

***

Jay looked down at the pictures he was going through. He always thought that his dad didn't make it to his police academy graduation. But, the photo in front of him proved him wrong: there, in his hand, was a picture that his dad took of him on stage, getting his badge pinned to his chest when he had graduated from the police academy with the date written on the back.

He put a hand over his mouth to stifle his sobs and keep you and Will from hearing them. But, he didn't know you were on your way to find him.

"Jay, Will's wondering if you want us to order pizza? You good with--" You stopped talking when you saw Jay sitting on the floor, staring at a photo with silent tears streaming down his face. "What's wrong?" You knelt down next to him.

Jay frantically wiped his tears away using the hand that wasn't holding the photo. "Sorry, yeah, tell Will he can order pizza."

"Jay," you said sternly. "What's wrong? And, don't you dare say nothing. Because you wouldn't let me say nothing, you'd bug me until I told you. So, if you don't tell me, I'm going to keep bugging you about it, just like you'd do to me."

Jay chuckled. "I really screwed myself over by using that parenting tactic, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. Now, what's wrong?"

Jay sighed. The Halstead stubbornness was starting to show more and more now that you had been living with him. And, because of this, Jay knew that you wouldn't let up.

"I always thought Dad never went to my graduation from the academy." He set the picture on the floor between you guys. "But he did."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "You didn't know that?"

"Why would I? Did you know?" he asked, turning to look at you.

"Yeah. He had to leave early because he had to make sure he was home when I got home from school. That's why he couldn't congratulate you after. He never told you?"

"No, he didn't."

"You know the first thing he said to me when I walked inside?" Jay shook his head. "He said: your brother's a Chicago police officer. I'm proud of him. And your mother would be, too."

"He- he said that?" Jay asked, getting choked up once more.

"He did. He might not have said it, but he was so proud of you, Jay. So proud."

***

Will opened a cabinet to grab some paper plates for you three to eat your pizza off of. As he was grabbing them, his hand brushed up against something leaning up against the back wall of the inside of the cabinet. It wasn't one something, but multiple somethings. He furrowed his eyebrows and took out the entire stack of paper plates, causing the multiple somethings to fall to where the paper plates had previously been. Then, he took the mystery things out of the cabinet.

He gasped when he read the first one.

In his hand, he held six letters, two addressed to each of you, one from your mom and one from your dad.

"Will, what's taking so long?" Jay asked as he flipped open the pizza box. "Food's getting cold."

"I think the pizza's gonna have to wait, guys." Instead of grabbing the plates and bringing them to the table, he brought the letters instead.

"Those don't look like plates to me," Jay pointed out.

"Because they're not." He set the pile of letters on the table. "They're letters. Addressed to each of us."

"But, that's Mom's handwriting," Jay said, flabbergasted.

"What do they say?" you asked.

"Only one way to find out," Will said and reached for the two addressed to him.

You and Jay did the same.

You swore you could hear a pin drop as each of you slowly ripped opened the yellowing envelopes. The seals were easy to open because, since they had been sealed for so long, some of the stickiness was gone.

Will first started with the one from his dad.

Dear William,

I know I said a real man goes right to work. And, I know I was mad at you for doing what you wanted to do and becoming a doctor. But, I guess I just have to think of med school as on the job training...that you pay a ton of money for. You will never hear me say this out loud to you because you know as well as I do that I am as stubborn as they come and I hate admitting I was wrong. But, you did good, kid. Both you and Jay did.

I'll keep this short because, if you're reading this, that means I'm gone and I'm assuming you, Jay, and Y/N are busy with the arrangements. But, just know that even though I don't say it a lot, I love you and I'm proud of you, son.

Love, your father,

Pat Halstead.

Will wiped below his eyes. His dad did say he was proud of him when he was out of surgery two years ago. And, Connor had told him everything his dad had said about him before he went under the anesthesia. But, it was nice to have that in writing because it would be there forever.

It was like all three of you had the same idea to open the letter from your dad first. Your logic was that you figured your mom's would make you cry more, so you figured you'd open that last.

Jay fought to keep his eyes dry as he read the letter from his dad. He regretted the last words he had said to him, now more than ever.

Dear Jayson,

I know you think I hated you for going into the military straight out of high school. But, I didn't. I was just scared, scared I was going to lose you. One thing you don't know is that I tell everyone I work with that you're a war veteran. I love bragging about you and telling people about your accomplishments. They always say I should be so proud of you. And, I'm sorry I never tell you that, but I am proud of you, really proud of you. You fought for our country and saved countless lives over there. Just keep saving the innocent, Jay. That's what you seem to do best...and fight against the people who tell you that you can't do it, just like how you fought against me when I told you not to join the military.

I'll keep this short because if you're reading this, that means I'm gone. But, always remember that I am so proud of you and that I love you so much.

Love, your father,

Pat Halstead.

His dad was proud of him. And now he had a reason as to why his dad didn't want him to join the military: he was scared. And, Jay told himself that if he had his own kids, he'd probably do the same thing because he had seen the horrors of battle and he wouldn't want any of his kids to go through that.

Finally, you read yours. And, as you read it, you were crying more than your brothers. You really didn't care, though.

To my daughter,

As I am writing this, you are nine years old and want to be a doctor. I don't know how that will pan out or if you'll change your mind on what you want to do. But, I am here to tell you, don't let anyone or anything stand in your way of what you want to be. Don't let Will stand in your way and don't stand in his shadow if you become a doctor. Strive to be better than him. Compete with each other if you end up going into the medical field; a little friendly competition never hurt anyone. Be smart and keep your brothers in line because Lord knows they're both as stubborn and as reckless as they come.

Love, your father,

Pat Halstead.

So, Jay was right: Dad wasn't always a sexist pig. And, Kelly was right as well: you missed your old Dad, the one who believed you could do anything, not the one who you knew when you were 13 to now, who was drunk, unfit to parent, and sexist as hell.

Then, Will opened the letter from his Mom.

To my first baby, Will,

First of all, let me say that I love you so much, more than you can ever imagine. I know you'll be a great doctor. Just, be smart, and try to be a little less stubborn because I'm assuming you're going to have to work with other doctors. Find it in you to compromise. I don't know what to say in this because me and your dad agreed that you and Jay and Y/N will get these letters when he's passed as well, so I don't know how far into the future you'll be seeing this. So, I figured I'd leave you with some life tips.

Mom's life tips to Will:

1. Never, ever lay your hands on or disrespect a woman. If you do, I will come down from heaven and smite you myself. This goes for Jay, too.

2. Make sure you help your girlfriend or wife with the household chores, like cleaning and cooking. You never leave all it to her. Again, same goes for Jay.

3. I'm sorry to say this, but never grow out a long beard. You have red hair and if you grow out a beard, you'll look like an overgrown leprechaun. Sorry, sweetheart.

Love,

Mom (Amelia Halstead).

PS. In this envelope you will find $500. This is to help you with med school loans, malpractice insurance, or if you're reading this way into the future, to help you with bills, and your own little family.

Will let out a small chuckle as he read the last life tip. And, thankfully, he had never decided to grow out his beard. And now he never would.

Jay looked down at his mom's loopy cursive handwriting and began to read.

To Jay, my second baby,

First of all, I love you more than you can ever imagine. And I am so, so proud of you for choosing to serve your country. I don't know whether you'll decide to stay in or leave the rangers, but I'm sure you'll be amazing at whatever it is you choose to pursue. And Jay, please keep in mind that you only have one life. Don't be crazy and reckless out there. I don't think you will be, but I'm just reminding you because I'm your mom and that's what moms do, they nag you and they worry about you no matter what. And, if you're reading this, that means your dad has passed away as well. Don't take this the wrong way, but please go see a therapist. You've fought in a war and seen terrible things overseas (I know because you once had a nightmare at home. I just didn't tell you that I knew this) and you've lost both of your parents. You should talk to a professional, sweetheart. But, always remember that I will be with you when your nightmares get rough. And, if Y/N wants to follow in your footsteps and go into the military, talk to her about it, but don't fight her on it like Dad did to you. Finally, I will leave you with some life tips.

Mom's life tips for Jay:

1. Never, ever lay your hands on or disrespect a woman. If you do, I will come down from heaven and smite you myself. I already wrote this in Will's letter as well.

2. Make sure you help your girlfriend or wife with the household chores, like cleaning and cooking. You never leave all it to her. Again, this is in Will's letter, too.

3.  I know you want to save everyone, Jay. And, you have a big heart, but you also take things personally. Just know that you can't save everyone and that is okay. Be kind to yourself and think of all the people you did save as opposed to those who you couldn't. It's okay to grieve for them, but don't let your grief last forever.

Love,

Mom (Amelia Halstead).

PS. Also in this envelope is $500. Use it towards therapy. But, if you already made the leap to go to therapy, one I am proud of you, and two, use it for something else. Donate it to veterans in need maybe. Or, use it to help pay off loans if you decided to go to college if you ended up leaving the military. Or, if you're reading this way in the future, use this money to help with bills and your own little family.

Maybe Jay would start therapy again now. He had gone a while ago, but after his meds stabilized his nightmares again, he stopped going. Maybe he'll go again because as he always said, his mom was a smart lady.

You were ugly crying as you opened the envelope and read the first few words that your mom had written.

To my baby girl,

Y/N, I love you so much and you will always be my baby girl no matter how old you get. I know I only got nine years with you, but know that I will always be with you in your heart no matter where you are. I was so excited when I found out I was having a girl and I'm so sorry we didn't get as much time on earth together as we should have. Continue doing what you love. Don't let your brothers take Beary from you. And, don't take no for answer when someone tells you that you can't do something just because you're a girl. Us girls are strong. As for the future, sweetheart, you have the kindest little personality right now. Never lose that. But, at the same time, don't let anyone take advantage of that. Stand up for yourself and stand up for others in need. I am going to leave you with more life tips than I left your brothers because they're older and should know a few more things than you at the moment...and they aren't girls.

Mom's life tips for Y/N:

1. And, don't laugh at this, but it works. When shaving down there, apply deodorant down there after. It helps to keep razor bumps and itchiness at a minimum.

2. Don't go for the first man that says I love you. You need to make mistakes before you fall truly and madly in love.

3. Girls can be cruel in middle school and high school. It's okay if you only have one or two true friends because having a few super close friends is better than having lots of distant ones.

4. Don't depend on any man for anything. Before moving in with your boyfriend and/or getting married, make sure you are financially stable all by yourself. That way, you will be able to leave him if things go south.

5. When you do get married, always keep money hidden away or have a secret bank account that your husband doesn't know about. That way, if things get really bad really fast, you can get out of there as fast as possible.

6. Finally, and I'm assuming Dad, Will, or Jay has already told you these things, but if they haven't, here they are. When drinking, watch the bartender make your drink. Don't take drinks from anyone. And don't leave your drink unattended.

I love you, sweetheart.

Love,

Mom (Amelia Halstead).

PS. Also in this envelope is a $20 gift card to Build-A-Bear. If you are too old to use it, save it for your kids. Or, if you have kids, give it to your kids. There is also $480. This can be used to pay for dresses for school dances, for college, and if you're reading this way in the future, to start a stash of money that your husband doesn't know about, or to help with bills and your own little family.

All three of you were in tears. But, you always knew that both of your parents would be with you and that they were so, so proud of each of you and that they loved each of you more than the world itself.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Leave a comment if I made you cry! I got a request of Kevin and Adam teaching Y/N how to punch, so I incorporated it into this imagine. To the anon who requested that, I hope you liked it! Anyway, please reblog/like and comment to tell me what you think! As always if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you! Finally, liked the imagine? Buy me a coffee here. 

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88​

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hey! I love your meta’s, a little while ago you talked about The Order of the Phoenix as an organization could you talk about the Death Eaters?

The post anon is referencing.

TL;DR the Order is incompetently hilarious and Dumbledore is a man who trusts no one.

Oh, the Death Eaters, what to say about the Death Eaters...

In a World Without Voldemort, They'd Probably Be Arsonists

One of the things JKR implies in the series, and something fandom seems to take for granted, is that Tom Riddle is the ultimate corrupting influence.

Were it not for him, the Wizarding World would be a much better place, and people like Bellatrix LeStrange would be productive members of society.

As soon as he is killed, even, by Harry, the good guys win, their problems all presumably solved, and Harry tells his son Albus Severus that it's totally fine if he's put into Slytherin.

I don't believe that though.

To me, it's not so much that Tom Riddle corrupted these people, but that he gave them an organized cause. The people themselves, oh, they were itching for a fight.

In a world without Tom I think they'd be a loosely, poorly organized, group (probably with Bellatrix as the ring leader) where they commit acts of domestic terrorism probably involving burning offensive shops to the ground or attacking muggleborns, halfbloods, and blood traitors.

Voldemort, to me, is designed to pander to them (and not the other way around).

The Death Eaters' Beginnings

So, first off, I think Tom's goals are not what he says they are. What he represents to his followers is exactly what they want to hear, wrapped in a grandiose theatric bow that they just love.

But how did this all start?

First, I don't believe in the Knights of Walpurgis. Instead I think Tom came relatively out of nowhere in the 70's uses parseltongue to prove his heritage as the Heir of Slytherin and thus of purer blood than any of them.

He throws these exciting rallies/parties that the rebellious, angsty, teenage heirs all go to. There he says everything they wanted to hear in the most eloquent manner they've ever heard, promises them the action that their fathers have never delivered, promises them a role in the glorious revolution and a place in history, and probably offers them mounds of cocaine.

All the Death Eaters we see, or the core of them, appear to be in this age range where they'd be in Hogwarts or just out of it when Voldemort came knocking. I can imagine they're all whipped up with excitement, YEAH LET'S BLOW UP THE MUDBLOODS and for some that's great, for others... things don't go the way they expected.

October 31, 1981: It All Falls Apart

Regulus famously steals Tom's horcrux. I imagine it wasn't so much that he learned the error of his ways but that he saw what Tom Riddle was really after: the destruction of his very society.

Lucius is riding high until October 31, 1981 and he sees the complete destruction of the entire Black family. Lucius' priorities greatly shift and as he grows older he prays Voldemort never returns. Unfortunately, Tom does, and he charges interest.

Bellatrix absolutely loses her mind, refuses to accept reality, and tries to torture the Longbottoms for information they do not possess. She is imprisoned in Azkaban and never truly recovers from this.

Snape ends up the cause of death for Lily Evans and must forever live with the guilt and be tied to her prophesied son. He also becomes Dumbledore's lackey forever, which ultimately gets him killed.

Point being, no one's having a good time. Some because they figure out being a Death Eater wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and others because they had the Voldemort rug pulled out from under their feet when Tom Riddle disappears.

Pettigrew flees and lives as the Weasley rat for nearly fifteen years.

They're left making a mad scramble as they try to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Canon Catches Up

More than ten years go by and then suddenly, in a muggle graveyard, the surviving Death Eaters discover that they are bound to Voldemort for the rest of their lives.

Death cannot stop this man and he has branded them: there's no escape.

Some are still enthusiastic supporters of the cause: Bellatrix is vindicated that her lord has returned, he rescues her from hell on earth, and everything's finally coming up Bella. Barty is similar in actively working for Voldemort's resurrection.

Lucius, meanwhile, lives in constant terror. Karkaroff desperately flees the country and hopes Tom will not find him. Snape, is in fact, Dumbledore's agent. Pettigrew only returned in utter desperation and has now cut off his own hand.

They're not the young men they were, some of them have families, to some of the past ten years have been utterly miserable. They have to watch as their children make the same damn mistakes they did, be sucked into this same hell hole, and there's nothing they can do about it.

There is a notable reluctance for the cause, and yet, they have to try with the same vigor or this madman will kill them all.

And it's all worthless anyway: come 1998, Voldemort dies again (perhaps for real this time, who knows, Harry Potter seems to think so for whatever reason) and then they are imprisoned for their acts as Death Eaters.

And they just laugh, because how badly Lucius wishes he could go back in time and tell his eighteen-year-old self, "YOU DUMB FUCK, LEAVE NOW!"

But Do They Learn Anything?

No.

Just because we see some of them regret being Death Eaters doesn't mean they regret their beliefs. Their beliefs were fine, even blowing up people here and there, a bit gauche but fine.

But maybe following Voldemort blindly was a bad idea.

Are They More Competent Than the Order?

No.

Tom Riddle is terrifyingly competent in that he infiltrates the government with ease, has spies everywhere, and all but proclaims himself minister one day and nobody blinks.

He gains the full support of most of the wizarding world's wealthiest and prestigious families.

But he doesn't actually give these people anything to do. Because there's nothing for them to do, with them, Tom's won. He owns the Wizengamot, the Ministry, everything.

There's no need to fight. It's over, there never was a war. Society is primed to accept Tom Riddle as their ruler.

However, the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange thinks there's a glorious war on, so "uh, go out and blow up a few muggles, have fun." And the young Death Eaters (and the older ones), think they've committed this great, daring, brave, and very important act.

Tom only seems to hand out real assignments when in desperate straits or else when being particularly vindictive.

Lucius, after messing up with the diary, is told to retrieve a prophecy he is not allowed to touch in a department of the ministry he should have no access to. If he fails: Tom kills his entire family. When Lucius does fail, Tom assigns his son to assassinate an already dying Dumbledore. These aren't real tasks, though they do have the appearance of one, and consequences for failure.

Barty, Tom is forced to rely on, as he is trapped in this dying infant's body. And better Barty, someone who is truly loyal and seems fairly clever, than Peter Pettigrew who is a miserable scum bag who'd sell his grandmother for a bar of soap.

Barty, of course, fucks this up. Rather than just kidnap Harry Potter at any of the many easy points this could be done (Hogsmeade trip, lure Harry out to Hogsmeade with super secret serial information about Voldemort/Snape being a Death Eater, etc.), Barty is determined to make use of the Triwizard Tournament to destroy his father's legacy.

This means rather than a few weeks, it takes months to kidnap Harry, and even then they bring along an extra boy who then gets killed and provides some evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned. (Somebody murdered Cedric). It takes months and Barty actively ensuring Harry makes it through the tournament and does well, leaving open the possibility that he might get caught helping Harry cheat at any moment. And of course, Barty has to pretend to be Madeye Moody for months, keeping his man locked and drugged in his trunk.

Thankfully, Moody's such a paranoid wreck, no one even notices.

Quirrell, Tom is forced to rely on. Quirrell fucks up, though admittedly not as badly as Barty. Quirrell fails to steal the stone when it's in transit/in Gringotts. He fails to murder Harry Potter, an eleven year old boy in the world's most dangerous school. He rouses Snape's suspicion almost immediately. Then of course he doesn't get the stone. He at least gets to the room with the stone and nearly overpowers Harry and gets it had he not been mysteriously lit on fire by the power of love/Lily Evans.

The only one Tom ever really relies on by choice is Snape. Snape is charged with spying on Dumbledore and later running Hogwarts (which he fucks up).

There is only one competent man in Britain: Severus Snape. Which is, of course, why he's a double agent that Dumbledore and Tom both extensively rely on despite his being a double agent.

There's no one else.

Tom Riddle doesn't make use of the Death Eaters but given they prove themselves enthusiastically incompetent at every turn I don't blame him. Just pretend to give them something to do and hope it makes them feel important.

That's all I've got in general, you want anything else you'll have to ask for something more specific.

[msookyspooky]

Random Headcanon's for the Scream Character's

Billy really was a normal sweet kid and a good boyfriend before his mom left. Everyone paints him as always being crazy and his mom just triggered him but I honestly don't think that's true. Sidney and her parents would not have been okay with her dating a bad boy from Sophomore year onward. Sure it happens and maybe she saw past it but If Sidney would have seen how Billy acted with Randy in the videostore; instant break up imo. He could not have hid that side of himself for two years straight. Remember, they were dating a whole year prior to Maureen cheating. My theory is he may or may not have had a 'side' to him or other undiagnosed disorder in his gene pool (Mrs Loomis snapping too.) but Billy's psychotic breakdown was mostly situational + groomed by Roman and there were other things in his life that probably were boiling over and Debbie leaving him completely broke him. So, he was in an extremely vulnerable state when Roman came around and molded him. THAT is why Sidney trusted him so much in Scream before the phone incident and even somewhat after. Because Billy was a good boyfriend before her mom's murder and she would have never suspected it. Now how her or no one else could see him tumbling into madness or at least deep depression before Roman sank his talons in is beyond me. Maybe she did and he shrugged her off? Either way, the situation made him shut down all empathy towards other people and changed him. His empathy is towards his mom, possibly his dad since Hank never died and that is it. He has symptoms of a psychopath and even though that is usually genetic I 100% think a psychotic breakdown could do it as well.(Don't come for me bitch I'm not trained in any of this just using what I know from research 🧍‍♀️) If his mom never left and Roman didn't come along; Billy would have never been a killer

Contrary to Billy's situational psychological crazyness. Stu was always going to kill. I don't even think it's is he a sociopath vs a psychopath argument as much as he is just disconnected from reality. (Though he would most likely be a Sociopath if he was bc of his lack of boundaries as well impulsive behavior. Thinking killing was a game.) Stu possibly suffered abuse as a child. He was terrified of his parents more than the law. Either A. They abused him and permanently terrified him. Or B. He really has a stunted mentality and thinks of killing as a game and fears his parents more than the law bc the consequences are just not clicking LIKE A KID. He's like a giant little kid with no sense of how things work. He still could have been abused and that is what stunted his growth mentally. However, his violent tendacies were always there. Never preplanned just urgent anger or sadistic glee he couldn't control. Billy just suggested the killings and he was instantly down. Like, hell yeah cool. Most ppl no matter what mental illness they have or how severe are not that easy to convince. Whose to say he hadn't killed before or was planning to? My theory is he is so disconnected from reality that killing really is a giant fun game to him and he would have eventually murdered someone even without Billy.

Idk why this isn't more thought of throughout the fandom. Billy and Stu did not rape Maureen bc the evidence would have pointed to someone other than the guy they were framing. Cotton Weary had sex with Maureen, left, Billy and Stu taunted her on the phone and lured her away, they killed her, police suspected rape bc A. they didn't know about the affairs. B. Cotton's semen or her discharge or bruising being there. They naturally assumed it was rape but in actuality no one raped her. Cotton's dna from their affair incriminated him even more. Not saying that Billy and Stu would think of rape as morally wrong enough not to do in their book BUT it would have been stupid on their part and made it obvious there were other suspects besides Cotton.

Stu isn't a lapdog. Stu literally revealed on the phone he was going to throw Billy under the bus. He hesitated giving him the knife. Stu is like a kid. He most likely suffered trauma that regressed his mental age. He's eager to please, desperate for attention and most likely fawns over people he feels close to in an obsessive way. He could have even been in love with Billy and vice versa which is why he was so eager to please him. However, he was not nearly as stupid or a lapdog as much as the fandom makes him out to be. I think Randy saying it in the videostore sealed the deal for people even though he was only acting like that bc he was helping Billy too and covering their tracks. Billy was the one with the plan. Stu just tagged along out of the urge to kill. But he 100% had his own plan to kill and bail if needed. My mind is made up on that.

There was a third killer in Scream and it wasn't a teen or Roman. You're telling me two 17-18 yr old guys could come up with every detail? Roman only told Billy the basics. How did they get tactical police shoes? How did they get to the houses so fast and leave just as quickly? How did they both take down and restrain Steve or Neil by themselves enough to tie them up? Sure, Stu was deranged and tall but these two lanky teens were able to take on a football player with muscles and a grown man? Possible but stil meh to me. Their plan was too thorough for two teen boys to come up with on their own. Both crazy. One completely unhinged and disconnected from reality and the other so blinded by revenge he was stupid at times. (Fucking stabbing yourselves before killing Neil and Sidney. Not even thinking to AT LEAST tie Sidney up as well...Really? Jill was smarter in 4 in that respect tbh.) I truly think their was an adult involved in Scream helping them or guiding them. I would say Roman if it wasn't for him going back to Hollywood. But Billy and Stu had help DURING the killings 100%.

Randy is not this mecha survival final boy like the fandom thinks. The kid watched one too many horror movies and based them on real life. Scream itself is making fun of slasher movies and Randy was supposed to be the narrator setting most of the dumb rules up into play. Everyone is like "omg that's so out of character how he died in 2" no its not. If the rules work then him losing his virginity did him in. He was drinking, he was pissed off and not thinking. Plus Mrs. Loomis attacked in broad daylight, something no one thought of. (And the whole debate how a middle aged woman could pull him in. LOOK. Randy is a fucking small guy and she grabbed him backwards, using momentum to haul him back into the van. PLUS she was enraged at what he said about Billy. Adrenaline is a hell of a super drug as far as testing the bodies limits. I have seen tiny girls become the hulk when they are pissed I'm jus sayin) Point is, Randy was just a teen boy that loved horror movies. He was not some survival guide especially since it showed him even on the couch not aware of Ghostface behind him. He was a giant satire showing how even he didn't always follow the rules of slasher movies and how dumb the rules are.

Tatum loved Sidney and had more chemistry with her than Billy. I am not saying they weren't just BFF's and I don't want to ruin female friendship with constantly thinking "omg they are gay together" any time two women are close. BUT it is strange that it was only those two as friends especially since Sidney didn't fit into Tatum's popular social circle. It's like Tatum went out of her way to be friends with Sidney. Maybe they were childhood friends and that's why? But I think it's entirely possible that just like it's speculated that Stu and Billy were secretly in love; Tatum possibly was at least bi and in love with Sidney.

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction ||Prank Wars [Request]

BTS X GN!Reader

WARNING: FAKE PHYSICAL FIGHT IN JIMIN’S REACTION

SEOKJIN:

Jin smirked to himself as he finished applying the small fake hickey's up and down his neck, he was proud of himself for making them look at least a little convincing in low light. He knew you were due home any minute and he was determined that he was going to be the one winning this prank war the two of you had seemed to have found yourselves in together. It started off with the small squirt of water here and there but now it had turned into a full-fledged war between you both, each of you outstepping the other. The door turned to the bedroom and he picked up some concealer from the desk quickly pretending that he was attempting to cover up the purple marks when you walked through the door. 

"J-Jin?" You stuttered out as you stared at the marks on his neck, your heart sinking as you began to think of him sleeping with someone else, someone that wasn't you.

"Babe, it isn't what it looked like-" You began crying into your hands dramatically as you thought of him with another person and Jin couldn't help but feel bad at the thought of a joke making you this upset. 

"Baby please, listen-"

"No, we're done...I-I can't believe you would ever cheat on me." You whimpered as you walked out of the bedroom door, tears rolling down your face as you headed towards the front door of your shared home. Jin continued to plead with you to turn around and look at him but you stood at the door with your back to him, 

"I can't believe you would ever do something like that...T-That you think I would fall for something like that," You laughed as you turned to look at him, turning on the flash light to show the sparkles of the purple eyeshadow he'd used on his neck. 

"Dang it," He hissed out as he realised you had been pranking him, of course, you knew they were fake the moment you walked into the bedroom door, the light reflected on the glitter and he'd left the evidence all over the vanity.

YOONGI:

Yoongi whined out as you continued tickling his sides, you knew just how ticklish he was under his arms and down his hips so you were doing your best to tickle him in revenge for him putting salt in the sugar pot making your drink salty.

"You're evil Min Yoongi," You cried out as you straddled his lap continuing to tickle him as he thrashed around beneath you doing everything he could to get you off him but that was when he came up with the genius idea. 

"Babe! Stop!" He whined out as he continued trying to push you off him, slapping your hands away before he whined again. 

"Areum stop!" You froze in place at the mention of his ex-girlfriends name and you stared down at him, 

"What?" You questioned thinking you might have just misheard him through all the laughter and whining but he frowned, 

"I said stop Y/n," You shook your head as you struggled to get away from him,

"You called me Areum-" As soon as a giant smirk took over his face you knew that it was his plan to just get you to stop tickling him so much so you grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face, laughing as he rolled back against the floor in a fit of chuckles.

HOSEOK:

You stared over at Hoseok as he worked on his laptop from home, he had planned to take some time off and spend it with you but so far he'd been working from home. 

"Hoseok can you get me my jacket please?" His whole body tensed and you smirked to yourself knowing that your plan was working, he slowly turned to look at you with sad eyes. 

"What?" He questioned, you glanced over at him innocently as if you had no idea why he was so upset all of a sudden. 

"Hoseok, can you get me my jacket? Please..." You repeated but his eyes seemed to get sadder and it felt as though you were staring down at Bambi. 

"Why? Why are you calling me Hoseok? Did I do something wrong? Did I forget our anniversary?!" You could hear the panic in his voice as he rushed to his feet checking the calendar as you did your best to hold back a small laugh as you watched him.

"Baby relax, I was just playing." You laughed as he looked at you, his eyes still sad as he began to pout a little, sitting beside you and kissing you all over your face. 

"I promise to spend today with you after I've finished this email." He whispered before going back to his laptop.

NAMJOON:

Namjoon left half an hour ago to go to the studio for some kind of emergency leaving you home alone after watching the scariest horror movie you'd ever watched. You thought you would be able to manage it without being too scared but that was before Namjoon up and left you in the middle of the night. 

"I'm fine, it's just a movie." You whispered to yourself as you headed up the stairs to bed, flicking the light switch on as you entered the bedroom, you sat down on the bed and tried to calm yourself down when all of a sudden the light turned off and you let out a scream. 

"I-It's fine! It's just the light bulb, it's old." You tried to reassure yourself but it came back on only to go off again a couple of more times making you scream out and hide under the blankets as Namjoon continued turning the lights on and off from the main switch downstairs. 

"Babe!" He yelled out as he heard you crying to yourself under the sheets, he sprinted up to you bringing you into his arms as he did his best to hide his laugher.

"I was just playing around, I'm sorry." He whispered as you sniffled in his arms, shaking at the thought of a ghost being in the house only for it to turn out to be your dumb ass boyfriend. 

"If I wasn't so scared you'd be sleeping on the sofa." You complained before pouting up at him.

JIMIN:

Jungkook and yourself had been practising the routine for weeks, you had fake sugar glass around the apartment as well as fake blood pods stashed in your pockets. Jimin had the genius idea of starting a prank war between everyone and you and Jungkook teamed up together to end it, deciding to "fight" one another as if a prank had gotten out of hand and you were truly mad at him. 

"You're a fucking bitch!" Jungkook yelled out as soon as the front door opened to reveal a concerned Jimin standing there watching you both. 

"Yeah! Well, at least I'm not a fucking cry baby!" You yelled out as you playfully shoved Jungkook against the wall only for him to light push you back, knocking you into the coffee table that smashed and made you hit the ground. Jimin yelled out for you to stop but Jungkook stood above you, pretending to punch you since Jimin couldn't see which was your cue to bite down on the blood pill in your mouth. Jungkook was dragged off you and placed on the floor as Jimin began to lecture him about how much of an idiot he was, getting ready to hit his friend when you jumped up. 

"Now will you stop with the stupid pranks, before this really happens?" You gestured to the floor as Jimin's face ran pale realising all of it had been fake, he nodded before kissing your face softly relieved that you were okay.

TAEHYUNG:

You woke up from a nap to see Taehyung sitting above you with a panicked look on his face, you frowned wondering what was wrong when you suddenly felt something on your head. 

"B-Babe?" You questioned as your fingers graced over the piece of paper that was attached to your eyebrow, 

"Baby, don't overreact...I-I was going to prank you by "waxing" your eyebrow but I've accidentally put a real wax strip on." Taehyung's voice gave you all the sincerity you needed to know he was being serious and you let out a whine at the thought of having one eyebrow.

"You can just draw the other one on." He said as he tried to remind you that this was all going to be okay but you were up on your feet and staring at yourself in the mirror trying to come up with a way to take it off without taking the hairs out. 

"Here, the internet says to do this-" Taehyung spoke as he looked at his phone, you turned to look at him wondering what it was when he suddenly ripped the sheet off making you scream out. 

"BABE! MY EYEBROWS!" You yelled turning back to the mirror in a panic to see it was still sitting there fine while Taehyung died of laughter in the background.

"Oh it's on." You breathed out as you stared at him, 

"You want a prank war...You'll get one," You smirked at him, turning to leave the room to come up with some ideas to prank him back with.

JUNGKOOK: 

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," The boys were all crowding around you as Jungkook bought a cake into the room, your age on the cake with sparklier candles as all of them sang together. 

"Happy birthday to Y/n, happy birthday to you!" They all chorused as the cake was placed down in front of you, you smiled happily as you saw an image of you and all seven of the guys sitting on top of the white cake, it looked like it was going to taste heavenly. 

"I want my face," Yoongi said as he watched you picking up the knife to cut into the cake with, Jungkook was watching with a smirk on his face the entire time while Namjoon set his phone to record. 

"Does everyone want their own face?" You questioned innocently not knowing that the cake wasn't a fake at all but that Jungkook had covered floral foam in icing to make it look real. 

"Sure," They all said together as you tried to stick the knife in, the smile fading from your lips as you thought maybe the cake had gone bad,

"Baby I can't cut it." You looked at Jungkook who told you to try again but when you did you heard a creaking noise and you knew why, 

"You're evil!" You whined as you stabbed the knife into the centre of the "cake" and wiggled it apart to see the green floral foam poking through you began pouting playfully while all the boys laughed. 

"Here baby, a real cake." Jungkook laughed as he placed a real cake down in front of you this time.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @taestannie @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1​ @agustdjoon​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @justbangtanthingz​ @anxiousbobatea​

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part III

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.9

Author’s Note: Here's Part 3!! This was super difficult for me to get out, but I think I'm happy with it. I rewrote it like 3 or 4 times

It's Delicate: Part III

Spencer notices everything. He’s been trained to notice the slightest change in his environment. He supposes that his profiler training has helped him be more comfortable in social situations. But still, Spencer feels like a fish out of water as he pushes the door to the bookstore open. He knows he should feel at home when he’s in a bookstore, but his heart seems to be racing. Spencer tries to quiet his nerves before he can feel himself running away.

Thinking that it might be a good idea to distract himself, Spencer walks over to the bookshelf filled with books from the floor to the ceiling. He runs his fingers along the spine of the books. Some are old and used, and others are well cared for with their enabled and embossed writing on the spines. He recognizes some titles, but others aren’t too familiar. There’s a whole world of books out there that Spencer has yet to explore. There’s a couple other patrons in the store, an older woman who sits on the soft rocking chair in the back corner and a young woman who already has a pile of books tucked under her arms.

Looking around, Spencer walks towards the back of the store where a glowing sign directs him to the restroom. He goes into the Men’s Room and locks the door behind him. Spencer looks at his reflection in the mirror. He wouldn’t consider himself a vain man, nor would he consider himself aloof about his appearance. He’s very much aware of the deep lines that collect around his eyes and the dark bags underneath. Spencer runs his fingers through his hair, wondering if he should have gotten a haircut. He likes the way his longer hair looks. It took so long after getting released from prison to get his curls back. His hair is the one part of his physical appearance that Spencer can say he likes; the rest he’s a little less than indifferent about on a good day.

Spencer shuts the light off in the bathroom and heads back to the front of the store. He approaches the store clerk, who sits behind the counter. She’s talking with the young woman who had the pile of books tucked under her arms. Spencer looks around the store, trying to find a sign for where the book club meets. He realizes that he doesn’t even know what Y/N looks like. He decides to take out his phone to text Y/N that he’s here. Spencer walks to the short stories section of the store and looks for the “P”s. Once he finds the book he’s looking for he takes a photo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: How have I not discovered this place sooner??

He doesn’t expect for Y/N to text him back right away, so he tucks his phone back into his pocket. Spencer walks to the front of the store. The display highlights the books of the month with different authors, genres, and themes. It’s a quaint little store and Spencer wonders why he put off visiting so long. The young woman finishes with the clerk and brushes past Spencer, her face buried in her phone. Spencer walks towards the shelves of True Crime books. He sees Rossi’s latest release about the Golden State Killer. Before Spencer can pick up the book, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: Ooooh a man after my own heart :) I’m guessing you’re here too

Spencer: Yes...I just realized I don’t know what you look like?

Y/N: Well, I guess that means you have to find me

Spencer looks around at the patrons in the store. The older woman and the younger woman seem like the only logical candidates. The young woman doesn’t look up when Spencer brushes past, her attention is intently focused on the book across her lap, while the older woman swipes on her e-reader.

Spencer: You know I could just call you and your phone would ring

Y/N: That’s like cheating

Y/N: Turn around

Spencer turns around and is greeted by the young woman who brushed past him before. She smiles up at him and Spencer can’t help but grin back at her. He didn’t really give much thought to what Y/N looks like, and he can only hope that she didn’t think too much about him in that way. Spencer has to stop himself from that spiral, and remind himself that it’s not a date.

“You’re Y/N?” Spencer asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound too nervous.

“Yes, and I really hope you’re Spencer,” she says, “you’re nothing like I pictured,”

Spencer’s face must have shown his shock because Y/N’s hand comes up to gently touch his upper arm in an attempt to quell his worry.

“No, nothing bad, Spencer. You just text like a grandpa so I figured you were a lonely old man. I’m just surprised that you’re pretty...young is all,” Y/N finishes her voice climbing up a couple of scales making her nerves evident.

Spencer nods in agreement, used to people thinking he’s older than he actually is his entire life. He supposes that’s because of his intelligence coupled with his social ineptitude.

“Well, judging by your texting, I predicted that you would be around my age, or younger,” Spencer says he’s always had difficulties keeping conversations going, yet right now his mind is swimming of different things he can tell Y/N.

“So you ready for your first Book Buddy meeting?” Y/N asks. The corners of her mouth turn upwards in a playful smile. Spencer likes her smile and grows disappointed that the only time he’ll be able to see it is when they meet together. As much as he is technology adverse, he wouldn’t mind being able to see her smile through her emojis and snarky messages.

“I’m still not too sure what we’re supposed to do, but at least I’ve got you to show me,”

“Come on Book Buddy virgin,” Y/N says winking at Spencer as she walks past him to the staircase that leads to the store’s basement.

Spencer tries to ignore her comment, but even with his brain power he can’t stop his ears from turning pink. He’s always blushing around people who listen to him, especially when those people are so enthralling to watch.

In the basement, there’s shelves and shelves of books lining the walls. A couple of couches and sofas are tucked in the corner with a table and lamp. The soft light is warm and inviting. Spencer’s eyes can’t help but to scan the various titles in the collection. Y/N flops down on the couch and taps the seat, signalling for Spencer to sit next to her.

Sitting down next to her, Spencer wonders how much space he should put between them. He doesn’t want to sit so close and have her think he’s only here to make a pass at her. Nor does he want to sit so far away, because the scent of her peppermint and eucalyptus perfume threatens to mesmerize him.

Y/N brushes her hair from her face with her right hand, that’s adorned with a ring and a couple gold bracelets. She looks over at Spencer apprehensively and he tries to give her a comforting smile back, but he’s afraid that he just looks awkward. He suddenly is very aware that his breath tastes like stale coffee and his hair is wild, pointing out in several directions.

“So Spencer,” Y/N says, “usually we meet in a big group to do these Book Clubs, but this year the store decided to do this Book Buddy thing. Reading and picking out books for someone can be a very personal thing, so I’d like to get to know you a little bit better if that’s alright?”

Spencer’s eyes steady the woman before him. She looks over at him, her eyes never breaking from his. Psychology shows that holding eye contact is a sign of confidence, for a litany of reasons, Spencer has always had difficulties maintaining eye contact. He sighs loudly. It’s almost a mix between exasperation and confusion. Even though Spencer has spent a good portion of his adult life surrounded by very forward people, he still feels slightly nervous when he comes across those types recreationally. Especially when those types seem to have smiles so contagious that they throw every scientific study on germs out the window.

“You want to know about me?” Spencer repeats. He can feel his ears flush, and is thoroughly reminded that he hardly knows who he is.

“Yes, I want to know all your salacious stories Spencer,” Y/N says with a sly smile.

Spencer chokes out a strained laugh before he tries to think of an answer. He can’t remember the last time someone wanted to get to know him. Or maybe he does, and just wants to pretend that those memories died with her. But he can’t, because they are painful and real.

“I’m an FBI Agent, uh the Behavioral Analysis Unit specifically. We track down serial killers and other time sensitive cases,” Spencer says, used to giving the speech about his job on the rare occasion he does talk to another lonely soul at a random bar in a city.

He looks over at Y/N, ready for the reaction he usually gets. Sometimes it’s pity, other times it’s awe. But it all tastes the same with a shot of whiskey.

“That must be an incredibly exhausting job, Spencer. It takes a special kind of person to do that,”

That’s strange, Spencer thinks. Her words aren’t full of pity or awe, but almost understanding. It’s strange, but Spencer likes strange things, after all.

“It is,” Spencer says. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with useless words that he knows are stale and meaningless. Somehow the silence doesn’t feel awkward.

“How long have you been in the FBI?” Y/N asks. She’s curious, but cautious to proceed and Spencer appreciates that.

“Since I was 22. I’m 34. I’ll be 35 soon,” Spencer says, still not fully believing that he’s spent nearly 13 years at the BAU.

“22, that’s a baby. I didn’t think that the FBI would recruit that young,”

Spencer grimaces, realizing that sooner or later this conversation would arise. He figured it would have come up when he got through the books in an hour or two. Spencer hates having to tell people about his intelligence. He never wants to make someone feel inferior about themselves because of his brain chemistry and genetic lottery.

“I’m kinda smart. Technically I’m a genius but I really hate that term. The idea behind intelligence testing has a very sexist and racist background. Besides, I don’t think true intelligence is accurately quantifiable,” Spencer tells her, repeating his speech usually reserved for arrogant detectives.

“That sounds like something a genius would say. You’re a humble genius. That’s a rare breed, Spencer” Y/N says, that contagious smile turning up the corners of her mouth and threatening to take over Spencer’s.

“I think that’s a compliment,” Spencer says “what about you? Tell me about yourself?” Spencer says, trying to remember the points of the conversation books he used to read as a kid in hopes of making a friend.

“Let’s see, you already know the boys. I don’t have any siblings and my mom lives in Florida, so we don’t see each other too often. I’m a Funeral Director in Alexandria, took it over after my dad passed a couple years,” Y/N says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Spencer responds. Y/N smiles again, clearly a little tense to be talking about a sensitive topic.

“So Second Cat, I take it you’re a Poe fan,” Spencer says, holding to help ease into a more pleasant conversation.

“I like his short stories the best, but Emily Dickinson poetry will always have my heart. There’s something so ordinarily beautiful about the way she writes. She was so brilliant. And her and Susan, that’s a tragic love story,” Y/N finishes. She plays with the hem of her jacket absentmindedly almost like she wants to say something more.

“I first read “The Tell Tale Heart” when I was around 5,” Spencer starts, he rests his elbows on his knees to tell a story and he can’t help but feel a little excited when Y/N leans in a little closer to listen in, “I checked it out from the library and brought it home to read. Now it just so happened that I got a chemistry set. I will not incriminate myself but I may or may not have used the set as the directions intended,” Spencer says, holding up his hands in innocence.

Y/N scams him with a calculated stare, it’s not mean or judgmental, but cautious and careful. It’s like she’s deciding if she can trust him or not. He supposes she does when she winks back and says, “I’m sure that’s true Agent Reid,”

“It’s actually Dr Reid, but I’ll get there another day,” Spencer says quickly, eager to get back to his story, “so the chemistry set had some chemicals, the kind that won’t hurt kids. But I stole some sodium chlorate from the local gardening store and a pack of gummy worms from the Mini-Mart. Then I got back home and took out the chemistry set. I drop some of the sodium chlorate and gummy bears into the test tube and it starts to glow!” Spencer says, his voice gets excited when he remembers the experiment. There’s very few happy moments of his childhood, and this is one.

Y/N, listening to him eagerly, wears an excited expression as Spencer continues with the story. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone so interested in what you have to say.

“How does Poe fit in?” Y/N asks. Spencer’s fingers make a “1” as if to tell her to be patient.

“So I do the experiment and there’s pieces of molten gummy worms in my hair and on my clothes, but then I hear my mother walking up the stairs so I panic,” Spencer says, he’s an animated storyteller and Y/N is a captivated audience. He tries to not pay close attention to how her eyes hardly leave his or how they seem to be looking at him with wonder. But it’s hard to ignore that when you’ve never been looked at like that before.

“I scramble into my bed and shove the experiment under the bed, and it’s still smelling like burnt chemicals and gummy worms, mind you. And I pretend to read, but I’m reading The Tell Tale Heart, which you know is about a man who’s trying to cover up a terrible deed but literally shoving it under the floor. You know I think my 5 year old mind exploded that day,” Spencer says, he leans back so his head rests against the wall.

“It must have made quite an impression on you at what 5? How on Earth did you read Edgar Allen Poe at 5 years old? I didn’t read that until like Freshman year of high school,”

“I told you I was kind of smart,” Spencer replies, hoping that it would suffice.

“Yeah, but like a child prodigy that must have been very lonely,” Y/N says in a voice that tells Spencer she knows a thing or two about being intensely lonely.

“No one ever says that,” Spencer says in a hushed tone, “no one ever gets that it’s a lonely thing being a genius,” he finishes, putting air quotes around genius to show his discomfort with the term.

Y/N nods, “I’m not a genius by any means, Spencer, but I was an only kid. Part of me thinks it’s my fate to lonely,”

“I’m an only kid too,” Spencer says, “when I asked my mom why they didn’t have anymore kids she just told me why mess with perfection. I know it was meant to make me feel better, but part of me wonders what it would have been like to have a built in friend,”

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, I tend to do that, but do you want kids?” Y/N asks, she twists a ring that’s wrapped around her finger over and over like it’s a bad habit. She looks at him, expecting an answer, from the corner of her eye.

“I did,” Spencer says in a quiet voice, terrified that he’ll reveal too much to this enticing woman with eyes that never seem to want to look anywhere, but his.

“So did I,” Y/N tells him. Her voice mirrors his in it’s guarded, yet scared to reveal too much tone. Spencer is too busy hiding his own worry to recognize Y/N’s.

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts, determined to end the stale silence that settled between them, “of what book I thought you’d like. It’s actually a personal copy of mine. I had know clue how these things work, but I thought we could write notes in the margins. You know our thoughts and ideas about the book,”

Y/N gazes over at Spencer intently, as if she’s trying to think of how she’ll respond. Spencer notices the way Y/N pauses to think before she speaks, he tries to subdue the profiler training that ebbs to the surface, but he can’t control what his instincts tell him. He knows that Y/N is holding something back, but then again, so is he and who is he to judge.

“You’re okay with writing in a book?” Y/N asks, “I know that could be touchy for some,”

“Most of my books have little writings in the margins. I always thought that a book is a love letter from the author to the reader. You get to see inside their mind and to me that’s incredibly personal,” Spencer says, rubbing his palms that grew sweaty on his pants. It’s useless, because they just slide off.

“Well, you’ve convinced me, I brought a book too, but it doesn’t have notes,” Y/N says, “but if this works out, I’ll do it next time?” Y/N asks him, the hope in her voice apparent.

“I’d love nothing more than that, Y/N,” Spencer says, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush his fingertips against Y/N’s. Her hand keeps on creeping closer to Spencer’s, he thinks that she’s trying to send him a signal, but Spencer feels too wounded, too raw to take that first big leap.

“So,” Spencer starts, he decides to clasp his hands together to avoid this new predicament, “what book did you decide on?”

“Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, it’s one of the few books that is perfect,” Y/N says, putting emphasis on the “perfect,”. Spencer thinks that he can grow to be eager to wait each week for the hour or so he’s able to watch Y/N speak with such passion and love.

“I’ve heard about, but I generally read technically books and other that it’s mainly just books that aren’t in English,” Spencer tells her, he rummages through his bag, looking for his book for Y/N.

“Close your eyes please,” Spencer says, he hides the book behind his back, he smiles as Y/N’s absurdly contagious smile grows.

“Come on Spencer, I don’t like being teased,” Y/N whines, faux pout and all.

Spencer grabs her hand and guides it to the cover of the book, The Goldfinch. He lets go of her hand; his practically stinging from the way her fingertips pressed up against the back of his hand, even though it was only for a couple of seconds.

“The Goldfinch” Y/N says, “ooh how on Earth did you know I love Donna Tartt?”

“Lucky guess, I suppose,” Spencer says, a surge of confidence bolstering him enough to wink at Y/N.

Spencer watches as Y/N flips through the pages of her book. Spencer read it a couple of weeks ago and loved the way the author intertwined the mystery to create a riveting story. Spencer checks his watch, realizing that nearly two hours have passed since he and Y/N sat on the couch.

Just as Y/N goes to say something, Spencer’s phone rings, ripping him from his modest paradise. He gives Y/N an apologetic look and mouths “work” as he steps away from Y/N.

“Reid,” he says, he forgot to check the caller ID, a little too excited to finish this call and get back to Y/N.

“Is that seriously how you greet your favorite person in the world?” the voice, presumably Garcia asks.

“Garcia,” Spencer says, unable to hold back his slight annoyance.

“I know it’s time off, but I guess like male serial killers don’t respect women, they don’t respect our time off either,” Garcia quips.

“I’ll be there in 20, I’m out and I’ll need to get my go bag,” Spencer tells her, preparing for the inevitable.

“I know exactly where you are, Spencer. A little birdie told me you’d called him in panic. I really hope your lady friend appreciated your lavender shirt,” Garcia says. Spencer can hear the click of keys as she talks.

He rolls his eyes, but knew that this was to be expected, “Later, Garcia,” he says, hanging up the phone call. Spencer walks back over to Y/N, whose face is buried in the book. She twirls a pen in her right hand, like she’s thinking about what she’ll write in the margins.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I have to cut this short, work emergency,” he explains to an Y/N understanding Y/N, who nods her head.

“Don’t worry, text me that you got home safe, please,” Y/N tells him, looking up at him with genuine worry in her eyes.

“I promise, Y/N. I’ll see you soon,” Spencer says, grabbing his book and making his way up the stairs. He reaches the top flight when his phone buzzes.

Y/N: I mean it :)

Y/N: It was nice meeting you officially….

Spencer reads over the messages as he walks, replaying the interaction in his head. It’s strange to have someone care if you make it home say. The only people on Earth, besides Spencer’s mother, that care if Spencer makes it home are the people that risk their lives with him as well.

Spencer shoots a quick message back.

Spencer: I promise and I hope you like the book, it’s very special to me.

Y/N: I’m sure I’ll love it! Now go save the world :) :)

Spencer smiles to himself as he reads the message, amazed that her contagious smile can make its way through the string of code from his smartphone. As he drives off, Spencer thinks about the way Y/N actually listens to him or the way her hair sees fall perfectly into place. He thinks about her laugh and the way she almost makes him feel safe in the short time he’s known her.

But all those good thoughts amount to nothing, when the biggest thought on Spencer’s mind revolves around the shiny ring that sits on her left hand on the finger between her pinky and pointer finger.

A wedding ring.

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Thank You For Reading

[ahtsumu]

HEAVEN (IS A PLACE ON EARTH WITH YOU)

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 120

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader

tags: angst, fluff, chicken soup for the soul ; wc: 2k

synopsis: he lives.

Nanami Kento wakes up with the taste of ash in his mouth.

His fingers twitch first–– the ones on his right hand tighten their grip on the handle of his sword when they recognise the familiar object. The ones on his left feel the bumpy ridges on the floor. Tenji blocks. What?

And then his eyes open, blinking rapidly as the fluorescent-lit world comes into focus. Only when they set on the severed arm next to his head does Nanami remember where he is. Why he’s holding his sword. What he was doing before everything went dark.

Meiji-Jingumae Station.

Instantly, the blond sits up–– feeling his spine pop as he does–– and scans the empty subway station for a patchwork doll-looking spirit. The sound of his neck cracking as his razor-sharp gaze rotates left and right echoes through the station. Oddly enough, the popping joints don’t feel like byproducts of time and age. For the first time, his stiff bones feel like evidence of unuse.

Nanami Kento feels like a pair of ballet shoes that need to be broken-in before being worn. New.

He hasn’t felt like this in years.

Mahito isn’t here. Excluding the maimed bodies of ex-humans that surround Nanami’s sitting figure, the subway station is completely empty. Is it over? A sinking feeling unfolds in Nanami’s stomach as he runs through the possible outcomes of the fight. The worst case scenario is that everyone is dead, he thinks as he brushes the dust off his clothes and stands up, still on alert for any unwelcome surprises. Nanami pauses as he considers what the best case would be, then.

It’s so foolishly optimistic he’s afraid to put it in words.

But miracles happen. The fact that he’s alive is proof of that. Well… Nanami hovers a hand over his wrist and pauses. Does he really want to know? This must be how Orpheus felt bringing Eurydice back from the underworld, he muses, letting his hand drop back to his side. Afraid to have been cheated of resurrection, yet even more afraid to check.

A thought, wrapped in hazard red and flashing all over, suddenly pushes itself to the front of Nanami’s whirring mind. It’s not necessarily a question; in fact, he doesn’t even know what he needs to know about you right now.

The whole thought is just two words and it’s your name.

A second thought puts a calming hand on the first one’s shoulder. It’s alright. You’re at home. You’re probably curled up in bed right now, a book in one hand and a steaming mug of chamomile tea in another. Nanami smiles softly and imagines crawling into bed beside you, falling asleep with you in his arms. That’d be nice.

He’s done enough, hasn’t he?

It’s time to go home.

ii.

“Nanami Kento.”

His head jerks up at the sound of his name, but he fails to pinpoint where it’s coming from. Even if he could, it’s not like he’d be able to see who said it.

Everything is black.

“Am I dead?” he rasps. His voice echoes through the space, each morpheme layering over another like an endless canon.

“Yes. But you don’t have to be.”

Regardless of the events that had occurred in Shibuya, it’s still jarring to see the heart of Tokyo–– or at least, one of the hearts of Tokyo–– at a standstill, looking like a ghost town. Nanami’s sharp blue eyes dart around the intersection, noting how much worse the destruction the city has been dealt looks under daylight.

Daylight. He freezes. It was nighttime when he arrived at the station. The fight’s probably over now. How long has he been out? Frantically, Nanami feels for his phone in his trousers' pockets, muttering a string of curses when he realises that the device isn’t in any of them.

Deep in his left pocket, however, his fingers brush against a 10,000 yen note and a thin red card with the words “Pleasure Doing Business with You” engraved in gold.

Nanami hails a taxi back.

iii.

The thing about souls is that they exist before the body does.

So they also die after the body does.

And that means a soul can live without a body. (For how long is another discussion.) But the fact of the matter is that after the human body’s death, the soul remains living for a period of time. And in that time, humans are most connected to the Universe.

Some can even speak to it.

Fewer can bargain with it.

“A binding vow with the Universe itself.”

Nanami nods. “I have…” an image of your face flickers behind his eyes “…unfinished business on Earth.”

“The hero cheats death for love.”

“I’m not a hero,” he replies firmly, “I’m just a regular guy with some irregular abilities. And I’m not cheating death.” He wonders how to phrase his next words without coming off as an ingrate. “The fact that I’m here right now means you planned this all along.”

It’s 8:27 AM on November 1st. That’s the date on your phone. Nanami found it sandwiched in the crack between the sofa cushions after looking around the first floor for your familiar figure. You also have around a hundred missed calls and even more unread texts. “I’m so sorry for your loss”s and “are you okay?”s clutter the screen, all from names he recognises. As he scrolls through the notifications, it becomes clear why you’d left your phone in the sofa.

At some point, the “sorry”s become oppressive.

So you know he’s dead. Or, he quickly corrects, you think he’s still dead. Thankfully, he was only gone for a few hours. Maybe that’ll make his unexpected appearance easier to process. Nanami sets your phone down on the coffee table and silently walks up the stairs, making a beeline for the bedroom. Slowly, he pushes the half-closed door open.

The curtains are shut and messily so, like you’d just yanked the fabric once on each side towards the middle before moving on. The thinnest streams of light peek through the cracks you’d left in your haste, each seeming to stop and pool at the figure curled up on the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room.

Nanami feels something cold reach for his heart and squeeze.

You’re asleep, curled into a ball wearing one of his old sweatshirts, your face buried into a pillow with discoloured streaks everywhere, likely the doing of your tears. Letting out a guilt-laden breath, Nanami treads carefully to your side and places a hand on your shoulder. He gently shakes you.

And your eyes, puffy from crying, flutter open.

They meet a familiar pair of thin blue ones.

For a moment, you just stare at the man in front of you. The sunlight coming through the curtains ricochets off Nanami’s golden hair, forming a soft halo around his head. A small–– slightly apologetic–– smile plays at the corner of his lips as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Ken?” you breathe, sitting up instantly.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

That can’t be him, you think as you stare up at Nanami with wide eyes and a hanging jaw.

“But Ieiri said you were burned everywhere. And your eye––” you touch your own, you don’t dare touch his “–– she said it was gone.” Ieiri had also said that there’d been a hole burnt through his chest. That Itadori saw him disintegrate with his own eyes. That he was gone forever. This can’t be Nanami.

“Yeah. I, uh, died,” the blond says, looking down at the ground. “But then I made a binding vow with the Universe and… I came back to life.”

A moment of silence passes.

“If I touch you––”

“I won’t disappear.”

“Promise?”

Nanami feels the red card in his pocket. This, he thinks, must be the reassurance Orpheus needed but never had.

“I promise.”

Your arms around his waist are a little firmer than usual but Nanami doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to be in bed beside you with the curtains drawn (properly this time), holding you closer than close, feeling your steady breath on his neck.

When your hands briefly tighten around his side as if to check that he’s still there for the tenth time that hour, Nanami grins and finally asks, “What?”

“I just… can’t believe that you’re alive,” you murmur into his chest. It’s firm–– always has been–– but the feeling of the muscle and bones pressing back against your face brings you a certain peace you never thought you’d crave. “A binding vow with the Universe… is that even possible?”

Nanami laces your fingers together. You admire how his skin buzzes against yours, each pulse of the blood pumping through his veins a reminder of his still-beating heart.

“I think it’s similar to how reality is composed of layers that show themselves depending on the viewer,” Nanami says slowly, looking up at the ceiling. “For example, humans can’t see cursed spirits. That layer only shows itself to sorcerers.”

You hum in agreement.

“And so whatever it was I made that binding vow with… I think, in that moment, it let me see through another layer of reality.”

His words hang in the air as the two of you dissect them.

“What was the deal you struck?” you ask, peering up Nanami’s face.

The weight of the red card makes itself known in his pocket. “If I tell you,” he says, shifting so that you’re at eye-level, “you can’t give me shit about it.”

You nod.

Quickly, he reveals his end of the bargain. Anticipating your disapproval right afterwards, he shifts so that his chin rests at the top of your head.

“Kento––”

“You can’t give me shit about it.”

“… Fine,” you huff with a roll of your eyes. But you’re not pleased–– and Nanami knows–– and the conversation lulls to a stop.

(Your bodies stay intertwined.)

He waits for you to speak again–– because you always do–– so he’s not surprised when, minutes later in a quiet voice, you ask, “Did you see heaven?”

Nanami pauses. Did he?

“I think I did.”

“What did it look like?”

His eyes flick down at your face before looking back up at the ceiling. And he smiles.

“Like this.”

i.

Mahito’s hand on his charred chest. Haibara. Itadori. Haibara. Itadori. Flowery words that wilt into curses. “You got it from here.” Feeling his body crumble away into dust. Blackness.

All his memories swim past his eyes. He sees his parents talking at the dinner table, his childhood friends crawling over playground equipment, the Jujutsu Tech second-years grinning as he bows in front of them, the first cursed spirit he ever exorcised, the dull-faced employees at Sachs, Itadori’s optimistic grin…

And then, you.

You with that look of concentration on your face as you sit in silence across from each other in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table and noses buried in your respective reading materials.

You with flushed cheeks and reddened lips as he pulls away from the kiss to quip how it’s completely inappropriate for you to be interrupting him while he’s working, even if it is from home with a small smirk–– despite how he tugged you onto his lap in the first place.

You, sun-drenched and beautiful, laughing your head off in the passenger seat as he drives down the Shuto Expressway with both hands on the steering wheel, complaining again about your shit taste in music and begging you to throw on some Beatles tunes but still humming under his breath when you play another Britney song.

He’ll miss you.

Death is inevitable–– this much he and all sorcerers know–– so dying has never been a big deal to Nanami. And he’s never had a specific idea about how he’d die.

But as each moment flashes by and disappears in the periphery of his mind, Nanami realises that if death is inevitable, then dying like this, with you as the last thing he sees, is the best way to go.

Not everyone gets to die with heaven already in sight.

[ethrenisnotthehero]

@hogwartsmystory is a predator (final)

If you haven’t read the other parts of this callout, I encourage you to start here. As in both previous posts, the normal tags are not included in order to allow this to reach as many people as possible. Potential triggers are listed below, and the main content is hidden to keep sensitive individuals from being unintentionally exposed.

TW: Pedophilia, Abuse, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, NSFW Topics, Faked Illness, Faked Mental Illness, Faked Death, Victim Blaming

Originally, I intended to craft this final part to you, the reader, as an emotional appeal. To be wholly honest, there’s only so much evidence that can be utilized without either forcing Jill to relive unnecessary trauma or exposing deeply intimate or personal parts of her life. Until now, everything I’ve told you and everything I’ve shown you is what was enough to convince me when Jill first reached out to me. If you, the reader, don’t believe the factual information that’s been presented so far, then I don’t think that you will. If you, the reader, believe Jill and her story, then no further evidence is going to magically make her story more true.

However, I don’t have to. Instead, I can let the friends-- the family--that Ren created on his website speak for themselves, and show you with their own testimony just the kind of person he was. Jill wasn’t the only person that Ren hurt. Jill wasn’t even the only person Ren preyed on as a sexual predator. Many people on staff, and many people outside of it, knew Ren and grew to have what they thought was a close relationship with him. People regarded him as someone to look up to, to find comfort in, to aspire after, to lean on; people thought of him as a friend and a hero in his community.

On April 12, 2021, at 9:57 AM Greenwhich Mean Time, the current administrators of Advanced Scribes issued a statement addressing Ren’s actions and his faked death. An additional announcement was made the following day. While the announcements themselves and the replies (including moderator statements) are publicly available, I have saved a print-to-PDF versions on Google for you to browse at your leisure. 

I intentionally waited until the initial panic and outrage died out a little to let the most important statements come to light. Included in the PDF are sentiments that I personally thought were the most important sentiments; edits have been made and pages have been deleted, so you can see the current state of the conversations by visiting them directly. You can find the first discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42100#p1454263 and the second discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42107#p1454361.

Before you continue reading, please look over the statements and replies. The words of former staff former friends say more than I can ever hope to about Ren and the kind of reality that he stood for. Additionally, Jill herself has added to the conversation (username Rakuen), so you can read a bit from her perspective by looking into these announcements. After you’ve taken a look, continue below and I will sum up my final thoughts on this predator and his legacy.

Advanced Scribes • Our Statement (PDF)

Advanced Scribes • Change (PDF)

The Act of Grooming, Part 3: Entrapment

One of the reasons that predators get away with their crimes for so long is because they trap their victims. When they gain access to and successfully lure in their prey, they then engage in entrapment behavior to separate victims from other people and build reliance. The reason why kids are so prone to predation is because of how vulnerable they are. Young people just want to belong. They just want to have community, security, and affection. When they can’t get those things in their lives, they seek it out and take it where they can get it even when the situation is obviously bad. Kids can’t be held accountable for being smart because they’re kids. Jill was vulnerable. She wanted belonging and support. She fell into Ren’s lures, and he trapped her. He used his affection as a tool to solicit sexual favors and pictures from her, but never shared his face with her. She was always chasing his love, and all the while he was simultaneously preying on other individuals in the community. For God’s sake, this man had a selfie thread where underage girls would send pictures of themselves publicly on the site for him to look at, and he even intentionally disabled the website’s COPPA features.

Before Jill, there was Buttercup. Buttercup was also an admin, and she was also 13 when she met Ren. While Ren was a minor during he and Buttercup’s relationship, his behavior with her was just as predatory and Buttercup attempted to warn Jill via PM before she ended her relationship with him.

The picture he sent Buttercup wasn’t even him.

The entire time that Ren was convincing Jill that Buttercup was evil, and jealous, and a spiteful, hateful person, he was manipulating her the same way he was manipulating Jill. Ren is a predator who knows what he’s doing; he always has. He draws in his victims and makes everyone hate them so that he’s the only person they have. He makes them so desperate for his approval that they let him screw them over time and time again, and for what? Just to see his face. Think about what you read. He didn’t just do this to Jill and Buttercup. He did this to every person he cheated with or got close enough to get a grip on. Even if he didn’t sexually exploit someone, he emotionally did. An entire community of people suffered through this over and over and over again. Read the statements again. If you only read the live version, read the PDF. 

I also want you to bear in mind that everyone on staff was equally a victim as they were an enabler. It doesn’t erase their responsibility, but their roles in this story or more nuanced than “moderator bad, burn the witch!” Some of Ren’s supporters were as young or younger than Jill when they met him. The two people most notorious for standing at his side right now were both “rewarded” with a relationship with him in the fallout of his faked death.  

At some point, this man looked at his behavior and not only decided that he didn’t need to take responsibility, but that his victims daring to try and claim some kind of ownership over their own story was a personal affront to him. 

Ren is a monster of his own creation. He chose to be that monster again, and again, and again.

What makes his enablers equally to blame is when they became adults and made a conscious choice to ignore what was happening, which brings us to the next topic.

Finally... How Old Was Jill?

Despite everything I’ve said and shared so far, I still get this question in my inbox.

How old was Jill? Did she lie about her age? Is she free of guilt because she was a kid? Did he know how old she was? Was she legal in her country?

I gave you all everything I had. There were some things I just couldn’t confirm because there was no proof either way. However, all of that changed when the announcements were released. I now know exactly how old Jill was when they began dating, exactly how old she was when people knew about their relationship, and even that Ren was public with all of this information. I also know that staff knew everything, and chose to do nothing.

As you can see in the screenshots above of Buttercup’s message, it was sent on Jun 17, 2015. At that time, Jill was 14 years old. By Buttercup’s estimation, they had been dating for around a few months, which is how I was able to discern the previous exact age of 14 years old at the time they began dating.

However, Ren himself refutes that fact in a Valentine’s post for Jill. As pointed out in the “Our Statement” thread, the post that user amnesia. references includes very sexual and disgustingly graphic descriptions of Ren’s activity with her. It also says this:

As per the timestamp of this particular post (as seen below), Jill was 16 at the time. Ren, a man claiming to be twenty-five years old at the time, was proud to admit that he had been with Jill since she was 13.

You can view the full PDF of this post to see what else he said here, but please be warned that his descriptions are NSFW and absolutely disgusting. 

Warm Fuzzies Post (PDF)

No adult should talk about a kid like that. In the statements, several staff members admit that they knew that the two were dating when she was 16, and that it grossed them out. But none of them did anything. To amnesia.’s credit, they claim they tried to pursue legal action but found no viable routes. 

From the discussions and statements, we can discern five things:

1. Jill was 13 when she started dating Ren. 2. She did not lie about her age. 3. Ren did not lie about her age. 4. Ren knew how old she was. 5. Staff knew how old she was.

Jill’s feelings and her opinions on staff and their behavior are separate from my own. She does not share my beliefs here, and I need to make it very clear that what I’m saying next is entirely my own opinion.

To everyone who was staff at that time: shame on you. It’s one thing to be a victim yourself and to not understand how or when to stand up for what’s right, especially when you’re young; it’s another to become an adult and to have let something like this permeate your legacy and your community for all this time. From what I understand, none of you are completely innocent in this. Ren wasn’t secret, he was loud and proud and he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. Everyone who was an adult then and is an adult now shares some responsibility for that. Those of you who mean your apologies, thank you, but those of you who are using this event as a stepping stone to make that website into your own personal playground know who you are. Stop. There’s an entire generation of kids between AS and CS who have lost years of their childhoods to this shit and the only right thing at this point would be to turn the site over to the police so that Ren can answer for his crimes the right way.

To everyone else: protect the people around you. People like Ren don’t think about how other people think or feel. They don’t care who gets hurt or who they trample under their feet. Look around at your community, and ask yourself if those who interact with you know that you are safe. Inevitably, someone is going to get hurt. Are you the kind of person that they can come to when it happens, or are you the kind of person who will turn your head away? 

Be the person that everyone knows they can come to, because, eventually, someone’s going to need you.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: One

“Where’s she headed?” Bucky asked watching the woman loading the back of her small SUV with a duffle bag and assorted odds and ends.

She was a friend of Sam’s, one from his days at the VA, Bucky knew, but he couldn’t remember her name. Sam had got her the gig with SHEILD. I guess he figured they all needed counseling. Or a team mom. Or whatever it was she did. Outreach, Bucky figured. Generating good PR. 

“Looks like a mission of Mercy,” Sam said with a small, slightly sad smile. Bucky looked at him for explanation and Sam sighed, instantly looking sadder and a few years older. 

“She’s a third generation Army Brat,” Sam explained. “Dad never came home from Desert Storm and Brother didn’t come back from… whatever the fuck he was doing. Mom was a VA nurse before she retired… So Y/N knows a lot of grumpy old fucks that don’t like to leave their houses. She makes rounds a few times a week still, for the people she’s known since she was just a kid. Friends of her dad’s, some cousins twice removed.”

Bucky exhaled slowly and nodded. That he hadn’t known. He’d never really paid that much attention to you. But now he looked again. You were packing down styrofoam coolers with what looked like milk, eggs, cheese, and assorted lunch meat. And you had a few labeled boxes of cans. A couple cases of beer… That made Bucky smile a little. And he could respect what you were doing. 

“Y/N!” Sam called across the motor pool, “Who’s on your list?”

“Joe, Rocky, and Cooksy, at least for today,” you answer, “Mac and Wild man are still in the nursing home for rehab.”

“Joe, huh?” Sam said walking over, Bucky trailing after him looking confused.

“You wanting to go along?” you ask, smiling, tightening the ratchet straps that held the styrofoam coolers in place.

“That old man still owes me a rematch,” Sam said grinning. 

“Rematch in what?” Bucky asked, catching a case of beer that had started to slide of it’s perch and slotting it carefully into an open space for you. 

“Dice,” you snort, “Sam swears he cheats.” You give Bucky a smile of thanks and slot a small gift bag in next to the case and Bucky has to look away from you. His face feels hot and he feels like you’re looking through him. So he looks at your hands. Work roughened. Nails bitten to the quick. Useful hands. Not just ornaments at the ends of your wrists. Efficient. 

“He Does!” Sam’s voice breaks through Bucky’s distraction and jolts him back to the world. Back out of his head. And for that, Bucky is momentarily grateful. And a scolding gasp from you immediately makes him too aware. 

“Get off my bread you fucking heathen,” you grouse, only half playing as you give Sam a shove away from a bag.

“My bad,” Sam said, quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “You got a minute though?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Go get your stuff. I don’t want to wake Joe up before he’s ready.”

Sam gives you a grin and trots off and Bucky sighs, mentally trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day. He didn’t want to assume he was going. 

“Joe did intelligence work during WWII,” you tell him, “You guys can always swap some bullshit stories… If you want to come.”

Bucky looked at you. You aren’t looking at him, instead you’re leaning on the bumper of your car and looking somewhere not quite the middle distance, but at something, anything else. And he can’t decide if you’re nervous or just awkward. And he can’t decide how he feels about making you nervous. He was nervous. His palms felt clammy and the rolling in his stomach couldn’t decide if it wanted to be butterflies or hornets. 

“Joe won’t mind?” Bucky asked. 

“A friend of mine is a friend of his,” you say, and Bucky can see that the corner of your mouth is upturned in a smile. “He’s a cousin… kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“He’s a cousin of a friend of my mom’s… He used to look after me sometimes when mom had to run a night shift.”

Bucky nodded, “That-” he couldn’t decide if that was “nice,” or “Cool,” or “weird.” 

“He taught me how to draw in three point perspective, gamble, and make a decent martini,” you say, and Bucky can hear the fondness in your voice. “Most importantly I guess, he never let me be a weirdo by myself.”

Bucky let himself chuckle. And when you chanced looking up at him, the rolling in his stomach decided it was butterflies. 

You were smiling. The kind of smile that would be seductive outlines in red. But right now? With no make up on and your hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail? You looked like a kid about to cause trouble. And he wanted to see what trouble that was going to be. 

Sam retuned before Bucky could formulate something flirty to say. Something that wouldn’t sound too dirty or too corny. Something that might make you swoon a little... though. As you swore at Sam across the motorpool telling him to hurry the fuck up, Bucky doubted very much that you had ever swooned in your life. But he could absolutely see that having a grumpy old man baby sit you had had some other amusing outcomes. 

Swear words didn’t look like they fit you. Your mouth was too sweet looking and the words were too blunt and ugly. It looked like they would fit wrong and come out worse. But. The way you said them was so casual. As if you had never not said them. And that… For some reason, tickled Bucky. He likes smart girls. He liked girls with a temper. And listening to you bicker with Sam just… It definitely burst some more butterflies out of their cocoons. It was nice, Sam having to put up with a smart mouth instead of being the one to dish it out. 

__________

The drive was fine. 

Sam didn’t even complain about the music you played. A blend that gave Bucky whiplash and something of a headache behind his eyes. But. That wasn’t your fault. A lot of the music past his own time did that. 

The Audio bombast of discordant sounds and coded meanings of the ever evolving slang was… a lot. So he mostly focused on the scenery. The cars. The people. The sky. The architecture. That helped. Some things about New York would probably never really change. There were more people now. Fewer dresses and more people in pants… And fewer roving packs of kids. But. It felt the same.

It wasn’t until he was standing on the doorstep. He and Sam looming over you like bodyguards that he noticed differences. The lack of washing hung out to dry. The consistent low hum of multiple air conditioners. The lack of kid noises. The lack of… community. The way everyone was together, and apart simultaneously. 

But when the door swung open slowly, and Bucky was greeted by a little old man. One with thick glasses, a bald head, and stooped shoulders. A neck that made him look like a turtle… A sudden warmth washed over him. 

“There’s my favorite ray of Sunshine,” he said, pulling you into an unembarrassed hug. The kind men in his time reserved for their mothers and beloved children. “And my second favorite pain in the ass!” he said, rasping a laugh as he clasped Sam’s hand in his. 

“I moved up a spot,” Sam chuckled.

 “Eh, the neighbor’s dog died last week,” Joe said, giving Bucky a steady, appraising look.

“Aww, Bear died?” you say sadly, “poor old man… How’s Irene doing with it?”

Joe turned back towards you and chucked you under the chin gently with a small smile. Bucky didn’t miss the tears that had welled up, and evidently, neither had the old man. “She’s heart broke,” he said, “But, she told me to tell you he loved the blanket and it made his last couple weeks more cozy.”

Joe stepped back and ushered you into the house, letting you pass him to go and quietly pull yourself back together, Bucky figured. The butterflies in his stomach catching a sudden chill. 

“Who’s he?” Joe asked, arms folding across his scrawny chest as he straightened himself to his full height… or as close to it as he could manage.

“Winter Soldier,” Sam said grinning, clapping him on the shoulder before going to get the stuff you had for him out of your trunk.

“No shit?” Joe said, adjusting his glasses.

“No shit,” Sam answered, calling over his shoulder. 

“Well Son,” he said to Bucky, “Come on in. I gotta add a bottle of Jack to my grocery list… it looks like I lost a bet.”

And Bucky can’t help it. He laughs.

In the Hall, just inside the door, Bucky  can hear you rattling around. It sounds like dishes being done. And maybe a broom being used and Joe shakes his head. “She’ll make someone a nice wife some day, but fuck if I know what kind of man could handle her.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was for him to hear or just Joe Musing to himself out loud, but he smiled anyway and followed him inside. On the walls, there were pictures. Covered bridges, flower gardens, portraits… Presumably of people that the old man knew. Or had known. And the smell of dust and old paper. Decades of smoke from meals cooked and packs of cigarettes. It smelled like age. A sepia tone that mellowed and dulled all the colors around him. But somehow there was nothing harsh. Or forbidding. 

“Will you sit down?” The old man groused, “I have a broad that comes in and does all that shit.”

“Then you’re paying her too much because she ain’t been doin’ it right, old man,” you tell him over your shoulder as you rinse a plate. 

“Bah,” Joe said, flapping his hands at you. Clearly realizing that this wasn’t a fight he could win as he lowered himself into his spot at the kitchen table. “Siddown, son,” he said to Bucky, “Take a load off and let these stupid kids do the grunt work.”

“Kids,” Sam scoffed, putting boxes on the counter with an eye roll as he nudged you.

“I hear him,” you snort. “Careful old man,” you tease, “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin and at your age, replacement parts are hard to come by.”

“Listen Heifer,” Joe said, eyes dancing behind his thick glasses, “If you wanna kick my old ass, you better pack a lunch.”

You shake your head, and pull the top off a styrofoam cooler, “I got your lunch meat and some eggs. That was it right?”

“Yup,” Joe said, “How much do I owe you?”

“A Dr. Pepper,” you answer over your shoulder, making Joe give you a stern look. 

“Young Lady-”

“You’re not giving me money, ya old coot,” you say, more fond than scolding as you kiss the top of his bald head.

“The hell I’m not-”

“I’ll tell momma and she’ll have both our asses. Me for taking the money and you for payin’ me.”

“She’s got you there Joe,” Sam said, grinning. 

“You shaddup,” Joe said grumpily, eyeing your back. And Bucky could see he was trying to gauge how likely it was that he could slip you some money without you knowing you’d been given any. Bucky grinned and Caught Sam’s eye before bumping the table with his knee to get the old man’s attention.

Once the Old man’s sharp eyes had fixed on him, Bucky glanced meaningfully towards the coat rack. Where your jacket hung so conveniently.And Joe followed his gaze, he grinned and touched his nose in acknowledgement. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ do it,” you say not turning around. 

And Joe made a silent “rats” gesture, before sticking his tongue out at your back