#another reason i’m leaving this profession is the stupidity of parents

[lewmagoo]

i love when parents blame teachers for things that aren’t their fault. i have a kiddo who recently had a tooth abscess and it turns out she had 6 cavities. 6! and the mom goes “please stop feeding her candy at school” like girl…we rarely give the kids candy. this little one comes in with sugar filled lunches, and almost zero protein sources. her mother sent her in with a large iced coffee this morning 💀 she’s literally 6 years old. teachers aren’t to blame for that one. that’s your fault as the parent.

[whosjunglejim4322]

Best friends brother!Johnny

Warnings: voyeurism, jerking off, blonde johnny bc yes this is a fair and just warning, spitting, inexperienced (of age) reader, finger fucking, teary eyed orgasm

You know it's wrong, on so many levels. You should retreat back to the room, should leave him to do whatever it is he's doing. But it's as if he did it on purpose, cracking his door open after hearing your footsteps and rummaging downstairs as you fixed yourself a glass of water.

It had been closed when you passed previously, warm light illuminated underneath the door, from somewhere inside his room.

There's always been a...tension, for lack of better term, between the two of you for about two years now. It's incredibly hard to not seem so obvious around him, with his plush pink lips and tall, lithe frame. He'd purposely make eye contact with you during dinners or movies, just to watch you squirm and look away, cheeks hot.

Its not fair, he carries a tangible aura around him, the type that makes your belly warm and heat spread throughout your inner thighs. Maybe it's a crush, or simply just you, being irrationally attracted to a man who's pretty and definitely has big dick energy.

But still, you can't ignore the voice of reason that echoes in the back of your head as you fight the urge to sneak a peek, having heard soft, but purposeful expletives in a low voice that could only be his.

It's not even necessarily panick that you feel, inching closer and closer on the tips of your toes, your brain filled with vivid, fever inducing images of what he could possible be doing, even if it's already blatantly obvious.

A part of you wants to rationalize, but the other half has not even a hint of doubt that he's doing it on purpose, a cruel punishment of some sort.

Tonight he'd caught you staring a bit too hard, a bit too shamelessly. Your bestfriend and their parents were engrossed in a coversation after dinner, you and Johnny on opposite ends of the long grey couch.

He was wearing a black tee that fit snug around his biceps in an unmissable way, slim grey sweats on his bottom half that allowed his thick thighs, among other things, to be seen clear as day when he sat down.

As always, your gaze gravitated towards him like a magnet, pupils wide as you divulged in raking over his entire figure. From his tousled, and recently dyed golden hair, to his elegant yet sharp profile, and then lower. And lower. You were confident enough that everyone else was too distracted to notice, that he too was engrossed in the conversation being had.

But then you felt it, his eyes, burning holes into you. This time, when you met eachothers stare from where you were sat, something deranged and idiotic inside of you decided that you wouldn't look away this time, that if he wanted to play this game with you as he seemingly had been for the past couple years, that you'd play along too.

Something about it felt oddly safe, like, what? Your bestfriends older brother is going to rat you out and tell everyone that you're staring at him? Not likely.

So, you glanced from his lips and then back to his hooded eyes, something inside of him whirring at the small but obvious notion.

To your surprise, he was the first one to break. You had almost gasped, as if the whole time you'd been in a trance and forgotten where you were, who he really is. He cleared his throat, running his slim fingers through the front of his hair before standing, quickly.

"Feeling tired, gonna go to bed early."

He'd stated, politely yet in a manner that felt all too unusual in comparison to his usually steady, confident tone. No one else seemed to notice, but you definitely did. You felt stupid, staring at his broad back as he trotted to his room.

Once he was at the top of the staircase, you could have sworn he threw you a glance over his shoulder.

He didn't leave the room after that, and now here you are, being severely unhinged and deciding that it's a good idea to listen closely, and eagerly, to the pants coming from behind his door.

Maybe you're letting your fantasies get the best of you. What if he's not even doing that? As unpleasant as it is to think, what if all this time you've just been this hormonal mess around a person who is just existing as the sexy and somewhat flirty man that he is?

Afterall, he is effortless in nearly everything he does, it's not like it's hard for him to capture the attention of others. Maybe he's weirded out, what if it's all just in your hea-

"Fuuuck, Y/N."

Your eyes go wide, heart pounding so loudly you're almost scared he might hear it. You feel like every nerve in your body has been struck with a live wire.

There's no fucking way.

But then he moans again, louder this time, and you find your inhibitions almost completely disappearing as you saunter in the dark to a position where you can peek inside to get a clear look.

Nothing prepares you for the sight, not the thoughts your subconcious conjures up on nights where the need to relieve yourself becomes overwhelming.

He's so pretty, his head thrown back against his headboard, heart shaped lips parted and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You don't even pay attention to what he's doing yet, too focused on the way his adams apple bobs as he swallows, the shape of his jaw.

But it's impossible to ignore the way his bicep is flexing under his minisrations, leading your eyes south to where his large hand is gripping the base of his thick shaft.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He's big, the tip slightly darker than the rest, almost plum in hue. You can't take your eyes off of his long fingers, the way they're wrapped around his dick. You wonder how it would feel if it were you, jerking him off like this, being the source of his guttural groans.

It's just all so filthy, the sounds, the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

You feel slick between your thighs, overwhelmed at the sight of his manhood that surpasses any and every expectation that your daydreams have created, deciding to watch his face again and tuck the memory of his lewd expressions into the back of your mind for later use.

But it's as if your heart stops, when you lift your gaze to see that he's already staring right at you, eyes lowly lidded and indescribably dark as he continues to jerk himself off.

It feels surreal, like maybe this is all a dream and you'll wake up soon and greet him in the kitchen during breakfast or something and all of this will just be another reason to be overwhelmingly nervous around him.

But it is real, in fact you're sure of it because that's his voice, clear and resonant calling your name, beckoning you with a lascivious, yet welcoming cadence.

"Come here."

Your feet move on their own accord, brain not yet in sync with your body, still trying to comprehend the fact that this is all really happening.

You know you look nervous, bewildered as you step into his room, a room you've seen and snuck into many times before with your bestfriend to steal vinyls from his collection. Except now, said bestfriends older brother is stroking his dick while you suddenly rethink being so overly confident earlier tonight.

You instinctively close the door, too worried about someone seeing despite the fact that your bestfriends room is on the other side of the house, his parents on the first floor.

You realize as soon as it clicks shut, that you've solidified it; whatever is about to happen. Though you're not as scared as you thought you'd be, more so fascinated and unbearably aroused as you approach him where he's sat on the bed.

He pats the space between his legs, just below his knees as to not make you apprehensive or nervous. You do so, eyes wide with curiosity and exhilaration. You fold your legs underneath yourself, heart hammering from behind your ribcage as you sit.

"You know," He begins lowly, hand still wrapped around his hard cock, stroking slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. As if this whole thing is as casual as eating dinner together. "It's rude to work me up so much and then not even say hello while you're spying on me."

Your cheeks burn, gut twisting with a mixture of arousal and embarassment. You look everywhere but his eyes, knowing they're on you, examining your every expression.

"I-I'm sorry I wasn't trying to spy, I just heard you and-"

He interrupts with an amused chortle, loving every minute of your shy fidgeting.

"And what? Just had to look, huh? I knew you would, always had eyes for me," He states in a manner that has your sex throbbing between your legs. "You were really bold tonight, I mean look how hard you made me baby, could barely stand it."

You can't resist peering up at him through your lashes now, his countenance hungry and full of desire; it almost has you whining, the source of your sexual frustration sitring right in front of you professing that you're the reason his dick is being fisted in his palm.

"I didn't even know that you thought of me like that, to be honest."

He chuckles, head cocking to the side ever so slightly.

"I do, I have for a while now, after I knew for sure that you felt the same way. You think you're so slick, staring at me like that."

His hand quickens in pace and you finally find some courage within yourself, his admittance leaving you slightly breathless but the comfort of his room and the quiet of the house allowing for an appropriate atmosphere.

As appropriate as this could be.

"Johnny, I want to touch you."

It almost comes out as a whisper, you can see him swallow.

"Go ahead baby, you can touch me."

Your fingertips trace the inside of his thighs before you hesitantly grasp his dick in your hands, disbelief clouding your senses at the realization of what's happening, and that it can't be taken back now. Not that you want it to.

You take mental notes of the moment, the softness of his golden skin, the slight stickiness of his precum and the curve of his length. It's so pretty upclose.

His own hand is suddenly wrapping around yours, dwarfing it completely as he shows you the pace he enjoys, the contact causing you to squeeze your thighs together.

"Just like that," He bites down on his plump bottom lip, a flutter of heat suddenly rushing between your legs. "Have you ever done this before?"

He removes his hand but keeps it close to yours, allowing you to work as you shake your head in a silent confession.

"Are you okay with this? Really?"

You both regard eachother with a shared gaze, the softness of his voice giving you more butterflies than you'd like to admit.

"Yes, yes I'm really okay with it."

At this you pick up the pace, twisting your hand in the same manner you saw him demonstrate earlier, taking pride in the groan that leaves his throat. You feel like you're on fire, but in a good way.

"Y-You moaned my name earlier." You state, free hand wandering over the thighs you've dreamt of riding, and over his agile hips. His skin is silky.

He hums in admittance, cock twitching.

"I was thinking about you, about this. I've been cumming to the thought of you more often recently."

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Your surprise must be written all over your face, his arm reaching out towards you, smooth knuckles caressing your sweltering cheek.

More often, as in, he's done it before. As in, you haven't been the only one fantisizing. It feels like your head is spinning.

"You're really so clueless, don't even realize how fuckin' horny you make me."

He bucks into your fist, your senses becoming overwhelmed. It's the arousal fogging your brain that finally leads you to speaking more than just a few words per sentence.

"I just wasn't sure, I spend more time than I'd like to admit thinking of all the things I want you to do to me, all the things I want to do to you," Your palm twists over his tip, his mouth slightly agape as he listens with rapt attention.

"Your dick is much prettier in person, you should feel how wet I am right now."

It feels as if you've just run a mile, out of breath. A bead of pearlescent precum cascades down his frenulum.

"Can I?" He asks, the strain in his rough voice evident. You nod eagerly, gasping as he suddenly reaches out and clasps his large hands just under your arms, to pull you onto his lap, sitting you on his thighs.

"Open your hand for me sweetheart."

You do as he asks, worked up beyond belief and even more so as he purses his lips and spits into your palm.

You're gripping him again as he cups your pussy through your leggings, middle finger tracing your slit through the thin material. It's a foreign feeling, having someone else touch you so intimately; you're not prepared for the surge of desire that washes over you.

He senses this in the way your wrist slows, rythym faltering just slightly. You pick it back up as he slips his hand past your waistband, the warmth of his digits against your slick folds all too much to bear.

You let out a soft mewl, and he slips his middle finger inside of your warm, welcoming walls, sucking in air through his teeth as your slick coats the digit.

He begins to thrust into you in time with the pace you stroke his cock, the sticky sounds of your wetness driving him more wild than it does when he's picturing it inside of his head.

The moment is so vivid, for both if you. His fingers are so much longer than your own, skilled and curling inside of you as his middle digit nudges your cervix. The pressure of him rubbing your sweet spot has you barely holding your eyes open.

"Feels good, sweetheart? You like when I finger fuck you?"

You're fully in it now, senses overtaken with a yearning, a need. You're already so gone yet irrevocably present, the depravity in his voice causing a knot of desire to swirl in the pit of your abdomen.

"Y-Yes I love your fingers J-John- oh!"

You hiccup your words as he adds another finger, his eyes glossed over with astonishment at how wet you are, coating his silver rings and soaking his palm.

"You love em' huh?" He uses his free hand to wrap around your throat, gently but firmly, forcing you to look down at him. The knot of his eyebrows and the parting of his lips is enough to have you twitching around him.

You're using your fist to fuck just his tip now, as you've noticed even despite the haze of your arousal how he's more sensitive there. You wonder if he's as close as you are, as he suddenly pulls you down to his parted lips, pressing your mouth to his.

This feeling is different, it's blissful in an agonizing way. Your body is tingling all over, the pleasure reaching a sweltering peak. He pulls back but doesn't move his lips from yours, delivering slow and sloppy pecks as he speaks.

"I want you to fucking cum, show me what you do when you touch your little pussy to the thought of me."

It feels like you might cry, the sob you let out never reaching past your lips as he places his palm over your mouth; fingers fiercely fucking you through your orgasm. You notice he's cumming too when spurts of warmth drip down your fingers.

Still, he's so focused on you, the way you're writhing. Nothing will ever compare to this.

"Shh shh, that's it baby let it go, fucuuuck-" he grits through his teeth, unbearbly handsome face blurry through the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

Your thighs tremble atop his lap, his cock half hard and still in your hands. He slips his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, tongue lapping at your release.

It has you twitching, underwear almost soaked through.

He finally removes his palm from your mouth just to kiss you again, sweetly and with a softness that gives you whiplash.

"I think I'm gonna steal you, from now on." He mumbles, after the two of you finally catch your breath. You can feel the corners of his mouth lift as you hum in agreement.

"Guess I'll have to stay the night more often." You reply, nibbling on his plump bottom lip. You can hardly believe any of this really just happened.

He grasps your jaw.

"Only if I can have you again for breakfast."

[thomaslightwood]

“What if Paris was the first time we’d met?” || Thomastair University AU

I wrote this because 1) anxiety and 2) the idea of what would happen if Thomas and Alastair had met for the first time in Paris is killing my soul so here you go

•

Thomas closed his notebook with a sigh.

“I know you want to say it,” Thomas grounded.

Lucie looked at him with big innocent eyes. “Say what?”

Thomas rolled his eyes.

Lucie smiled at him and while they both stood up, she said with a grin, “Okay, I will say it. I told you not to drink last night. I told you.”

Thomas signed again. “Yeah, you did. In my defense, that guy was cute and I was nervous!”

“No excuses!”

“Mr. Lightwood.”

Thomas stopped on the exit and looked at the professor. “Yes, Mrs. Jahanshah?”

Sona Jahanshah handed him a list. “Your paper. I wished to give it to you yesterday but well.” You weren't here was left unsaid but they both knew what she meant.

Thomas felt ashamed. His Farsi class was his favorite and Mrs. Jahanshah was an awesome woman. Strict and rarely allowing compromises but amazing teacher. Thomas didn't want to let her down by missing her classes to get drunk. Especially on the second day of the new semester.

He hesitatingly took the paper and looked at it. A small smile appeared on his face.

“Thank you Mrs. Jahanshah,” he said. He hurried to Lucie who was waiting for him at the door.

“Well?” she raised an eyebrow.

Thomas grinned but only said, “Nothing.”

“Come on, let me see!”

“Nope.”

Lucie tried to grab it from him but she was too small compared to him. And in general. In the end she gave up but said this wasn't the end.

“One day I will read your work, Thomas Alexander Lightwood, remember my words.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said with a smile.

Together they left the university and went to the near coffee shop where they were supposed to meet with Lucie's friend, Cordelia.

Thomas was a little jealous how Lucie could find a soulmate so fast. It has never been so easy to Thomas. It will never be. Maybe he was just too awkward. Sometimes he felt like his insecurities were written all over his face.

Lucie's smile widened. “There she is. It seems her brother is also here.”

•

“I have work,” Alastair said.

“We all have,” Cordelia said.

“Okay, I have a lot of work.”

“Come on,” Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “You should take a rest from time to time. Or else your brain would explode.”

“Sure,” Alastair said sarcastically. “Tell me again, why am I here? To rest? By meeting people?”

“It's just Lucie! And one of her friends, Thomas, who is a really adorable guy. It would be fine!”

Alastair wasn't convinced but didn't say anything. Cordelia was determined to make him talk with people for some reason.

“Oh, I see Lucie. She's right there.”

Alastair followed his sister's look. He spotted her friend, Lucie Herondale, a small but lively girl. They have spoken a few times but Alastair didn't really know anything about her except the things Cordelia told him.

Next to Lucie was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a shy smile that was laughing at something Lucie said.

Alastair felt like someone kicked him in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You didn't tell me your friend is so cute.”

Cordelia blinked at him and smiled playfully. “I didn't know he is your type.”

“He is now,” Alastair stated.

Cordelia couldn't help but grin.

“Fuck,” Alastair said again looking at Thomas.

•

Thomas and Lucie sat on the table with Cordelia and Alastair. He was introduced to the Cordelia's brother and Thomas got worried he'd do something stupid and would make fool of himself in front of the beautiful guy next to him and-

Thomas forced himself not to space out too much but to listen to what the rest were talking about. He did his best to join the conversation but it wasn't easy to concentrate.

At some point Alastair said he's going to the bathroom and Cordelia went to ask for more coffee. Thomas breathed out and turned to Lucie.

“Why didn't you tell me your friend's brother is so cute? You know I don't know how to act around cute guys!”

“You are doing just fine,” Lucie said, trying to calm him down.

“Well, I was drowning in anxiety. But... I think it was sort of... the normal anxiety?”

“You mean...”

At this moment Cordelia returned to the table and Lucie didn't finish her sentence. Thomas was grateful. He was diagnosed with social anxiety and didn't feel comfortable talking about it in front of strangers. Only a few close to him people knew and Thomas did not want too many people to find out about it. It made him, well, anxious.

When Alastair got back he said he should hurry up for his next lecture and said goodbye. Thomas was a little disappointed.

Cordelia, Lucie and he had almost an hour until their next class so they remained in the cafe. Thomas wanted to know more about Alastair Carstairs but he thought asking Cordelia may look creepy and out of place. He may ask Lucie to do it. Or he himself to ask. Some day.

•

Thomas was nervous. It was his first time in a new class where he didn't know anyone (he didn't know many people in the university as a whole but still).

As he entered the room he tried to calm down. Took a deep breath. His anxiety was still there but after Thomas took his seat he felt like he wouldn't get an anxiety attack in front of the whole class and will survive this. Probably.

He prepared to take notes, took out a few pens (just in case) and tried to breath normally. He reminded himself no one was paying attention to him. There were a lot of people in the room, he was just another guy in it. It was going to be fine.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

Thomas turned to the person talking to him and blinked. Alastair Carstrais.

“Sure,” Thomas said after a second.

Alastair smiled a little and Thomas couldn't help it - he returned the smile.

“The room is just so full. I was worried there weren't any left seats.”

The room was indeed full. Thomas was happy he got here early so he could sit at a place he liked.

“Cordelia didn't mention you like history.”

“Cordelia is awesome but I'm not very close with her,” Thomas said. “And I'm a little bit of history buff,” he admitted.

“Enough history buff to take a class for it, it seems,” Alastair said with a small smile.

Thomas laughed. “Yes, apparently.”

The professor walked into the room and it got quiet.

Thomas listened with interest to the lecture, taking detailed notes. But he was also excited because of the person sitting next to him.

•

Thomas wasn't sure how much time had passed but he knew he was hungry.

“Hey,” Thomas turned to Alastair who had a little strange expression as he said this. “Wanna, like- I mean if you're not busy, to have lunch with me? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?”

Thomas' stomach did a flip but it was a good kind of flip, nervous and excited.

“I would be happy to have lunch together.”

Alastair smiled. It was a real, warm smile. “Okay.”

They went out of the university and Alastair said he knew a good place in the area. Thomas followed, careful to remember the way to it. He may need to come here again, hopefully.

As they sat, menus appeared in front of them almost immediately. Thomas ordered tea, Alastair - coffee until they waited for the food.

They talked about the lecture. It was about the history of the Ancient Near East. Alastair was half Persian and Thomas was fascinated to hear a few curious history facts about the Persian culture from him.

“I admit,” Alastair said. “My love of the Persian stories and songs is influenced by my mother. Sometimes she says it's her duty as a teacher to tell us, Cordelia and I, as much as she could about our heritage. Which of course has nothing to do with her profession but we don't say anything," Alastair laughed a little.

“Your mother is a teacher?” Thomas said curiously.

“Yes, for a few years now. She's a professor here.”

Thomas' eyes widened. “Wait, your mother is Sona Jahanshah?”

“The same,” Alastair said before drinking from his coffee.

“Whoa,” Thomas said with a smile. “I should have thought about it earlier. You have the same eyes.”

Alastair's eyes sparkled at this. He looked amused. “Most people would say we share the same temper not eyes.”

“This too,” Thomas laughed.

The conversation went in different directions a few times. They found out they share a great love for music. That Alastair's favorite book is The Prince by Machiavelli. Thomas in returned said his is Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ. They promised to read each other's favorite books because they haven't read it before. Thomas found out Alastair can play a piano and sing. Thomas wanted to hear him.

“What made you choose to come to France?” Thomas asked at some point.

“It's mainly because me and Cordelia wanted to study here. Paris is one of the cities where we were the happiest. So we moved here.”

Thomas wanted to ask about his father but he knew from Lucie Cordelia and Alastair's father was a sensitive topic so Thomas decides to leave it alone.

“How about you? Are you a big fan of France?”

“Not exactly,” Thomas laughed nervously. “Actually, coming to France doesn't seem very wise. My father wanted me to go study in Spain or Wales. Which would be logical because I know Spanish and Welsh. My father has connections in Spain and Lucie's father is Welsh. I started to learn French only a year ago. But...” Thomas tried his best to explained it. When he was saying it out aloud it sounded like a stupid decision but it makes sense Thomas' head. “It's about the university. The history of this city. I admire it. Lucie and I talked about it and our parents let us study here only because they know we're together.”

The waiter came to serve them the food and Thomas paused. He even didn't remember ordering a second time.

“You probably think I'm silly," Thomas said, feeling stupid.

“No, no," Alastair shook his head. “Not at all. I think I understand.”

Thomas looked at his eyes. He believed him.

“Also, you speak Spanish, Welsh and learn Farsi and French? I'm impressed.”

Thomas smiled a little shyly at that. He didn't mind compliments but coming from Alastair felt different.

The time was passing and they barely noticed. They both missed their lectures but as much as it was unusual for Thomas he barely cared. He did not regret the time spent with Alastair.

They exchanged numbers and social media. Alastair promised to send him more book recommendations. Thomas kept smiling the whole day.

•

the tree: sorry luce i can't have lunch with you today

small bean: ooooh, and why is this, little john?

the tree: i'm just not hungry

small bean: yeah yeah and i'm cinderella

small bean: are you seeing someone? someone dark haired maybe?? 👀

Thomas blushed a little and put his phone back into the pocket without answering.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Thomas followed Alastair through the exit and together left the university.

They sat in the same place as the last time. Even on the same table. Thomas liked that.

“Okay, I suggest not to miss our lecturers this time,” Alastair said.

“Agreed,” Thomas said, laughing. “I can't survive this class only on Lucie's notes.”

They talked about books. They both have read each other's favorite book now and had thoughts to share. Alastair passionately talked about one quatrains of Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ while Thomas was eating from his toast. Since he left London he has forgotten the pleasure of talking about books with someone who was as much investigated in it as Thomas.

Same as the last time the conversation went in different directions. They talked a little about themselves.

“I miss my friends and family,” Thomas admitted. “We were always together, very close to each other. It was weird at first when I came here, without them being around.”

“Tell me about them.”

With almost every other person Thomas would think they were trying to make small talk. Alastair though, Thomas knew, didn't speak things he doesn't mean.

So Thomas told him. He told him about his sisters but not much about Barbara who had passed away because he felt like this was too personal. About the Merry Thieves and a little bit about how they're families were friends.

In return Alastair told him about the cities he had traveled to and what he likes about them, which places were beautiful, the history of them. After his parents' divorce when Alastair was almost 18, he, Cordelia and Sona moved to Paris because the siblings wanted to study here.

They could talk for many more hours but an alarm sharply interrupted them. It was Alastair's phone. He shut it down.

“This is for me. My lecture starts after ten minutes.”

“Oh,” Thomas couldn't hide his disappointment. “Okay.”

“Hey, do you want... to meet tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday?” Thomas said, confused. “We don't have classes.”

“I know,” a strange look appeared on Alastair's face. Thomas in shock realized it was nervousness. “Actually, I... I’m asking you to go on a date with me.”

Thomas' heart skipped a beat. It was impossible to stop the smile on his face.

“Okay.”

•

“You're nervous.”

“I am not,” Alastair said defensively. Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Try not to freak out too much. He's just a guy.”

“A guy with a cute smile.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia laughed. “But you're cute too.”

Alastair frowned at her. “Don't you have homework?”

“I have,” she admitted. “But I also have a brother who has a date.”

Alastair sighed. “He is far from the first guy I have a date with.”

“But he's the first after you-know-who.”

Alastair shook his head. “His name is not a trigger. You can say it. And it doesn't matter. It was a long time ago.”

It wasn't too long ago and Alastair maybe wasn't too happy about his situation with Charles but Cordelia didn't need to know this.

Alastair out on his shoes and coat. The weather wasn't too chilly.

“Actually, I meant... Doesn't matter,” Cordelia said. “Just have fun, remember he is just a guy as nervous as you and don't break his heart because he's Lucie's friend and I like her.”

Alastair couldn't help it but smile. He kissed his sister's forehead and went out.

•

Thomas saw Alastair coming and tried not to look too anxious or look if his clothes were okay. 

And he tried his best not to stare at the gorgeous view Alastair was.

Alastair led them on the way to the place he had in mind. It was far from the center, in a small alley that had one beautiful fountain. As they entered the small restaurant Alastair said a few words to the staff member and she immediately led them to their table.

It wasn't what Thomas imagined. They went upstairs. This floor was definitely emptier than the first one - the tables were farther from one another, with only a couple of people on them.

Their table was on the balcony. Thomas' breath stopped when he saw the view. He barely noticed as they sat and the waiter put menus in front of them.

Paris was beautiful during the night. The city of lights. The Eiffel Tower stood gold and sparkling.

“It's beautiful,” Thomas said and turned to Alastair. He caught him staring at Thomas with a smile on his lips. 

“It really is,” Alastair said and also looked at the view before opening his menu. “I got lucky to reserve a table here. Part of which was that my mother and the owner are good friends,” Alastair laughed.

Thomas smiled and also opened his menu. “So. What do you recommend?”

Alastair carefully scanned the page he was on. “The toast is awesome. And the desserts are unique. Here is the best tiramisu in Paris.”

“You really like coffee, don't you?” Thomas said with a smile.

“Yes,” Alastair said. “I admit, I do love coffee a hella lot.”

Soon the waiter came to take their orders. After he left, Thomas said, “I'm curious about something. How did you come out? Wait, are you out to your family? Is this a sensitive topic? Oh god, I'm so-”

“It's okay,” Alastair laughed. “Do you always ask every guy such questions on the first date?” he teased.

Thomas blushed a little. “Well. Sometimes,” he cleared throat. “Anyway! Answer my question. Or don't if you don't want to.”

“I'll answer,” Alastair said, trying to hide a smile.“I came out to Cordelia first, a few years ago. Then she convinced me that coming out to Mâmân wouldn't be a disaster. And she was right. It was difficult at first. But it's mostly fine right now.”

The waiter came with their drinks - ginger beer for Thomas and black decaffeinated coffee for Alastair. 

“How about you?” Alastair asked after they were alone again. “Are you out?”

“I am kind of out to my family and friends too, yes.”

“Kind of?” Alastair arched the eyebrow.

“It's a funny story actually,” Thomas said. “At first, one of my cousins, Anna, came out as non-binary lesbian. Not long after this Matthew, one of my best friends, came out as bi. And you see, in some way they cleared the path for me. When I came out no one was even surprised. I think they kind of expected everyone to come out as gay at some point,” Thomas laughed.

He didn't mention how sickly anxious he was to come out because he was worried his parents would react bad. Or how he worried his friends and sisters won't understand. Or the irrational, freezing fear to let even one person know something so personal about him. 

They talked more about London. Alastair said he was there only once but would like to visit again. They joked that Lucie would drag Cordelia there for the first holiday that appears.

At some point they started to talk about Paris. Which museums they have visited so far. Alastair was scandalized Thomas hasn't visited the Louvre yet. They agreed they should go to one museum together some day.

It was a beautiful night, warm, with a nice breeze. They talked for long, so long they were the only ones left in the restaurant. In another time, in another life the same was happening. They were both different people, with different pasts and so different memories, unsaid words and broken hearts. But as the city of light was watching over them tonight they had this sweet memory, echoing through the centuries.

[kisskeiji]

P R O L O G U E

Lost & Found

WARNINGS: language, cheating, violence (?) 

 When it comes to love, we all expect a fairy tale, a happy ending where the prince and the princess stay together forever and ever. Where love remains untouched even when time passes by. In real life, that fairy tale means a future together, the need for domesticity and endless support from and for your loved one, at least, that's what she thought, and she was fine with daydreaming about a life together with the man she spent the last four years with.

Y/N was hardworking, in fact, sometimes, she was too much of a hard worker, pushing herself to the limit to fulfill all her goals. As a mass communication major, she studied hard every day and tried to keep up with everyone’s expectations, including her own. As a bartender, she worked every night at some popular bar to pay for rent, school and basic needs. Even when she came home at ungodly hours and passed out from exhaustion she was always up in time to get ready to head to class. As a daughter, she tried to make her parents proud by doing her best at school, catching up with them weekly and sharing all she could. As a sister and friend, she was doting and always available, up to anything, the type to make you laugh and stay with you at your lowest. And even with her hectic lifestyle where she barely had time for herself; she was a girlfriend.

Y/N was devoted.

She had more love inside her than she could ever handle. She loved with everything she had, and if she loved and cared for her friends and family, all her adoration and devotion was focused on her boyfriend, Iwaizumi Hajime. She loved the man dearly, he was the reason why she worked so hard, the reason why she kept going even when her own body screamed for help, and she tried so hard to make him happy and proud. So proud that he could see a future with her by his side. She wanted nothing more, even if it meant leaving a lot of opportunities behind just to be by his side.

You see, after being in a long-distance relationship for a little over a year, they both thought they could go through anything and still be there for each other. They both promised to never be apart for that long again, they couldn’t take it.

Everyone rooted for them, they saw their love bloom, grow and go through one of the roughest patches in every relationship. For everyone, including them, their love was invincible. Stronger than any bond. The type of love that lasts forever. But lately the love they both professed to each other was often overlooked, more like, all her sacrifices and efforts were not enough proof of how much she loved him.

She noticed. Of course, she did. When she started to stay more hours studying for her upcoming finals, when she took longer shifts at the bar and spent more time out rather than home. She noticed how his eyes lingered on her when she got up to get ready for school and how much he longed for her touch. She also noticed when he stopped.

‘He thinks I don’t love him’ She thought to herself. And she tried, she really did. By cooking his breakfast and lunch everyday before leaving, by leaving sticky notes where he could see them, by kissing him goodnight and texting him all through the day to check up on him. And still it was not enough.

Acts of service could never replace the value of intimacy and physical touch, and she knew that.

‘Just a little longer’ she tried to convince herself everyday when she walked home from work. ‘It will all be worth it.’

And that comes down to this very moment, when she opened the door of their  shared apartment with fatigue numbing her limbs and making her feel dizzy. She left her bag right beside her shoes and walked in. Something was off, that was all she could think of when she made her way to the living room.

A moan.

Her breath hitched for a second and with fear she looked up, finding Iwaizumi kissing another girl on the kitchen counter both missing many clothing items.

The world stopped. She couldn’t think of anything else more than the scene that unraveled in front of her. Was she dreaming? Because it was not funny, it felt more like a nightmare. The numbness of her limbs travelled all the way until it reached every part of her body. Tears gathering in her eyes but never falling. She just walked backwards trying to run away but at the same time unable to stop looking at him as heartbreaking the scene was, her eyes were on him filled with hurt and disgust.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around on her heels and tried to walk away, to her disgrace, her presence was sensed by the girl who was now in Hajime´s arms. Terrified she pulled away and told him to turn around and fear invaded his body. He turned around and saw her pick up her bag and leave the apartment without a word.

“Y/N!” He called.

“Who was that?” the girl asked petrified.

“My girlfriend.” He replied looking for his phone dialing her number.

“You had a girlfriend?” She asked. She didn’t know. When he didn’t answer her question, she hopped off the counter and tried to gather her clothes to get dressed.

He pulled his pants up and throwing his shirt on he ran after her. When he got to the hallway, he saw her on the elevator, pushing the closing button repeatedly for it to close faster.

“Y/N!” He screamed. She looked at him with nothing but pain in her eyes. His heart dropped “Babe. Babe please listen to me; I can explain but please come back.” He tried to talk to her making his way as fast as possible, but the doors closed right before he could reach her.

 Once she was out of his sight her shoulders dropped and released all the air she was holding in.

‘What the fuck is going on?’

Even when no one was watching the state of shock took all over her body, she just stared at her distorted reflection with blank eyes. A loud ‘ding’ followed by the doors opening brought her back to reality and she took a step out walking towards the end of the hall. Knowing he will be looking for her outside her only option was to hide somewhere else, luckily two of her friends lived a few floors above. With three knocks at the door she sighed once again and prayed for Akaashi and Bokuto to be home.  A minute later, Bokuto’s tall figure opened the door and greeted her with excitement.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked with a smile.

“Hey, Bokuto, uhm… Can I come in?” she asked trying to hide the urge to cry with a forced smile.

“Sure.” He moved out of the way and let her in “Are you okay though?” He asked once he noticed her unusual mood, before she could answer he called for his roommate “Hey, Akaashi, Y/N is here.”

“Y/N?” Akaashi’s head peaked from the kitchen as he watched her sit on the couch.

“Hi Akaashi, sorry for bothering you guys so late.” She forced another smile at him and waited for the inevitable question.

“Something happened? Where’s Iwaizumi-san?” Akaashi walked towards her.

“Outside.” She answered trying to find a way to explain what just happened. How are you supposed to tell people you just saw your boyfriend fucking another girl on your kitchen counter?

“Outside? What is he doing outside?” This time Bokuto took a few steps closer and crouched in front of her with concern on his eyes.

“He is looking for me, but I don’t want to see him right now.” She explained without looking at the two boys who stood in front of her. Before they could ask anything else, she spoke “I came home, and he was with another girl.”

“What?” Akaashi asked startled, regretting it almost instantly.

She sighed.

“He cheated on me.” Was the only thing she could say before she trembled and started crying, instinctively Bokuto embraced her in his arms and she broke down completely.

“What did I do wrong?” She asked in a whisper.

“You did nothing wrong Y/N, you gave your everything to him, it’s not your fault, it’s on him for taking you for granted.” Bokuto tried to console her, both of them letting her cry for a while knowing she needed to let it all out. 

“I’m gonna kill him.” The gray haired said once she pulled away.

“Bokuto.” Akaashi tried to stop him but he was already at the door.

“Bokuto, please don’t, he is going to know I am here, and you can get in trouble.” She said standing up.

“But he deserves it, Y/N, he made you cry and-”

“And it’s not worth it. Please don’t do anything stupid.” She said and he looked back at her unable to express his anger. It was so unfair for you to feel that way and he wanted nothing else than breaking Hajime’s nose.

“Fine. But if I see him near you, I will beat the shit out of him. We are not going to let him hurt you again.” He said as he walked back to the kitchen.

“Thanks. Can I use your bathroom for a bit?” She asked, looking at Akaashi.

“Sure, I’m making you some tea so you can calm down.” He said following Bokuto. She nodded and entered the bathroom.

She didn’t know what she was looking at. Was it the same person or her reflection was tricking her? She did not recognize herself at all. She felt stupid. For thinking their relationship would last forever, for loving so hard, for sacrificing everything for him and getting a heartbreak in return.

‘What am I supposed to do now? Do I know how to live without him?’ All those questions started to flood her mind all at once, there was no way she was coming back to him. She knew better than everyone that she was strong, but this was different, a different kind of pain, her heart felt heavy and she could barely breathe.

She joined her friends in the kitchen after a few minutes and a call to her sister, they both shared knowing glances as she entered the room, Akaashi finished brewing the tea and poured the beverage for her.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Akaashi asked as he handed the mug.

“Oh no, don’t worry, I just called my sister. I'm staying at her place tonight.” She explained taking a sip from her drink.

“Is she picking you up?” Bokuto asked.

“I’m taking a taxi; she doesn’t live that far from here.”

And so, she did, after she finished the tea Akaashi made and called a taxi. Bokuto made sure Iwaizumi was out of the way so she could leave accompanied by Akaashi who walked her to the car. She thanked him and gave him a hug before she left.

Walking back to his apartment, Akaashi saw Iwaizumi walking frantically inside the building while he talked to someone on the phone.

“Hey, Kaede, right? I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.” 

Akaashi’s blood boiled when he heard him but decided to avoid an unnecessary argument that could possibly upset Y/N even more.

“Do you know where she could be by any chance? Oh, wait a second.” He said when he saw Akaashi walking back to the elevator. “Hey, Akaashi!” He called.

The former setter paid no mind to him, trying his best to not turn a round and give him a piece of mind on how he is probably the last person he wants to talk to and how he doesn’t deserve to talk to Y/N ever again until Iwaizumi got a hold of his shoulder and made him turn around.

“Can I help you?” He asked with clear annoyance in his tone.

‘He knows’ Iwaizumi thought. “Where is she?” He asked.

“I think that’s none of your business right now, Iwaizumi-san. She already had enough for the night, and being honest I don’t have a reason to associate with you anymore, so please, don’t come to me or Bokuto, we are not going to help you clean your mess.” Akaashi said, blue eyes piercing deeper than his harsh words, with nothing left to say he made his way to the elevator again.

“You don’t know what you are talking about, Akaashi, please where is she? I need to know if she is okay.”

“Good night, Iwaizumi-san.” With that the elevator doors closed and Hajime found himself alone once again. Feeling the anger building up inside him he cursed himself for being such an asshole. He knew damn well she did nothing wrong, and that angered him even more, he knew he was doing the wrong thing, he couldn’t even find the reason why it all started.

But it was too late and he knew that she won’t go back to him even if he begged, she asked for one thing, the bare minimum, what you expect from a partner; loyalty. And he failed to deliver that. He was fucked and he knew it, but he still had hope that she would at least listen to him. 

(a/n: hey! so uhm, this is my first time posting a hq fic and im really excited about it, i hope all of you enjoy it as much as i enjoy writing it, please excuse my grammar/vocabulary mistakes if you find any. feedback is appreciated. <3 thanks for reading once again)

masterlist

[coldmorte]

Hey! I really really like your blog and all the Dutch content, and I read your posts on Molly and Dutch and I just felt like sharing my thoughts :) If you don’t feel like it, just ignore this

I like Molly, even though I agree that she’s very much a snob and very paranoid at times.

It’s always felt very clear to me that Molly really, truly loves Dutch. And love makes you do stupid, desperate things (just look at Arthur).

Molly’s interaction with Abigail is about Dutch’s love for Molly, not the other way around. It’s Abigail saying that Dutch doesn’t love her and Molly lashing out (probably to protect herself from the truth).

This is brought up again in An Honest Mistake, when she talks to Arthur about Dutch, questioning how Dutch seems to him. When Molly says, “I really love him, you know,” Arthur averts his eyes and doesn’t look at her. I’ve always seen this as Arthur knowing Dutch doesn’t love her in the way Molly wants him to, if he loves her at all.

I’ve always seen Dutch as being kind of ahead of his time when it comes to certain progressive ideas (especially as it pertains to race), but when it comes to women, he’s very much a product of his his time. The way he talks about them and to/at them, whether it’s Molly or Abigail or Mary-Beth or Sadie, is often either dismissive or condescending.

While he doesn’t outright say it, the way he acts around the women at camp has always left me feeling like he prefers women (at least the ones he takes an actual interest in) to fit into the roles society has carved out for them; they have to be beautiful and docile and romantic-minded for him to take an interest.

You’ve said yourself, that Dutch deals with a lot of self doubt and that stems from wanting to be seen as a great and powerful man, who the people in camp can look up to, and women (especially young women) were (and to some degree stil is) seen as symbols of status. Molly is a beautiful woman from a wealthy family; she could have anyone she wanted, and she chose Dutch and ran away with him, leaving her old life behind – that’s the ultimate powermove on Dutch’s part.

I’ve always thought of Dutch as a romantic, the way he talks about love and how it’s the one thing worth living for, and I believe that he may have at some point actually loved Molly or at least convinced himself that he did, but the second he grows tired of her and realises that he doesn’t actually love her, he’s moving on to another, younger woman.

His inner romantic and his ego and need to be perceived as powerful are at odds with each other, and as the game progresses we see how his romantic and kind side wilt under the weight and pressure of his responsibilities as a leader and his need to be perceived as powerful and a great leader.

Those are my thoughts at least :)

Hello!

Thank you for the ask and the kind words! That really does mean a lot!! 💜💜💜

I am very grateful for your message, and no!!!! I don’t want to ignore it!! That wouldn’t be very fair of me, as I feel like you bring up some good points to discuss. Also, I appreciate the respect in your message and for taking the time to write so much out! I’d be happy to give you some of my time in return 🥰

(Warning: SPOILERS below)

I’m going to take your points one at a time here. So, starting with liking Molly, it’s totally fine! I don’t want to be too negative on my blog, and I don’t want people to feel like they have to think the same way I do. That wouldn’t be any fun, so it does make me happy that you can enjoy her character. I don’t want to take that away from you!! By all means, love her to your heart's content!!! ❤️

Furthermore, though I don’t personally like Molly, I don’t think she was a truly bad person. Just like every other character in the game, she had flaws and made mistakes. I primarily wish I could have gotten to know her better because she was presented during a very dark time in her life. I feel like this affected my perception of her, and I might have seen her differently, if I had gotten the chance to interact more with her character (especially outside of the RDR2 timeframe). Everybody deserves not only to love somebody, but everybody also deserves to have faith that the person they love can truthfully say the same back to them. I felt bad that Molly died such an unhappy, loveless death.

About the love Molly had for Dutch, I agree that she loved him. My point in bringing up infatuation was to primarily highlight the reason and the degree to which she honestly loved him. Did Molly love Dutch for the man he was, or for the idea of the man he was? Maybe, it was a mix? I am not sure there is enough information to give a conclusive answer to this (as I somewhat mentioned before).

To be fair, the same thing could (and should) be asked of Dutch. Did he truly love her, or did he just love the idea of having her at his side? Again, it would be fascinating to see the early part of their relationship. It would answer a LOT of questions. You mention that Dutch arguably saw Molly as a symbol of status, and I agree that it was very plausible. I think, to some degree, both Molly and Dutch saw each other as being favorable for what they represented, unfortunately.

In regard to the interaction between Molly and Abigail, I realize my response was unclear about this (that’s my bad). I'll try to write it better here, but this is really complicated to put into words! I'll do my best!!

What I said was that Molly got angry at people she “perceived” as challenging her love (this was subjective to her POV and not necessarily reflective of true reality). My original answer was not objective (nor was it meant to be - I was trying to write this part from her POV), and there are a few layers I want to analyze here. First of all, from an objective perspective, you are correct. The conversation between them was ultimately about Dutch not loving Molly the way she wanted to be loved. However, the first thing Molly did was state to Abigail that she loved Dutch. If she didn’t see this point as being in question, why did she feel the need to immediately justify it before saying anything else? To me, it seemed like she needed to actively prove that she loved him to others.

This was also seen with Karen and Arthur. The conversations with Karen were confusing because they didn’t have much context, but perhaps, that was the point - to show the extent of Molly’s paranoia (in other words, that there was no context and that she was imagining Karen to be against her out of insecurity). Molly continually complained that Karen said bad things about her, and she insisted that she not only loved Dutch, but that he loved her as well. Then, as you mention, Molly emphasized to Arthur that SHE loved Dutch (it was not directly about his love for her). Again, by constantly having to profess her feelings, it was as if she thought people were doubting her on some level.

But here is where the contradiction comes in - I believe that Molly was smart enough to know that this doubting wasn't entirely genuine. She knew it was never really her love that she should have been concerned about. Although, by focusing on herself, it was a way to deflect from her insecurity regarding Dutch and the fact that she knew, deep down, he didn’t truly love her (at least, not anymore). That’s why she got so upset when Abigail, for instance, brought this point up. As soon as the conversation shifted from Molly’s love to Dutch’s love, she lashed out and stormed away.

So, to try to summarize this all up, what I am trying to say is that Molly “perceived” challenges to her own state of emotions as a means of shifting away from her concerns about Dutch’s feelings. She knew her "perceptions" were really more like lies to herself. Molly wanted the conversation with Abigail to seem like it was about her because she felt she was more in control of that and could handle it better. From a neutral perspective, the conversation was definitely not about Molly - it was entirely about Dutch, which Molly knew (she just didn’t like Abigail directly pointing it). I hope my response makes more sense? Sorry, if I am still being confusing!

Now, as for Dutch and his progressive ideas, I think a lot of them were formed in his youth. Little information was given about his childhood, but he did seem pretty sensitive about the fact that he grew up fatherless. His dad died in the Civil War (a conflict primarily centered around the issue of slavery and states’ attitudes towards it), while fighting on the side of the Union. One reason Dutch was probably so progressive in regard to race was because of his anger over losing a parent to racially-motivated violence. Racism seemed like a waste of time and life, so he was bitter towards people who still harbored racist sentiments. He knew firsthand how destructive they could be.

Minimal insight was provided into Dutch’s relationship with his mother, other than the fact that it was quite strained and unhappy. He left home at a young age and essentially disowned her. He obviously didn’t keep in touch with her, judging that he didn’t even know she died until years after the fact. Could this have affected his attitude later in life (towards women)?

I suppose it’s possible. Maybe, Dutch would have looked better on women, had he been closer with his mother. I consider his attitude towards women as pretty average for the era. It’s not entirely fair to compare him to Arthur, who was very progressive for the time and definitely above normal standards. As you say, I think Dutch was a product of his time. In RDR2, he didn’t come across as physically abusive, nor did he overtly sexualize women. However, he did seem to expect women to act in a subordinate manner. It's not great (and I certainly do not agree with his attitude), but again, the contemporary standards in regard to gender roles did not exist in 1899.

Lastly, I COMPLETELY agree about Dutch being VERY romantic, sentimental, and idealistic. This wasn’t just limited to interpersonal relationships either - it also fit his entire perspective of America and the values he held dear. Just take a look at some of his quotes:

“The promise of this great nation - men created equal, liberal and justice for all - that might be nonsense, but it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in.”

And:

“If we keep on seeking, we will find freedom.”

In the beginning, he had such high hopes and strong faith that he could find a way to live free from social and legislative demands. Compare that to the end, where he started to say things like:

“You can’t fight nature. You can’t fight change.”

And:

“There ain’t no freedom for no one in this country no more.”

Dutch wanted to believe that there was a chance to live free from the threat of control, but as he started to lose people he loved and got closer to losing his own battle, he started to take on a much more cynical tone. He began to realize that his romantic notions and idealistic visions of life were not always obtainable - no matter how hard he tried to reach them - and it broke him. This change in his life outlook was kind of similar to his interpersonal relationships. When he realized they were a lot of work and not always happy/perfect, he seemed to grow frustrated. Love requires a lot of patience and energy. Despite full effort, love still does not always succeed.

Also, I just want to add that I think Dutch knew he had a problem with his pride, but he tried his best to maintain his tough, confident persona because he didn’t want to be perceived as weak. He definitely realized he messed up in putting his pride first in the end, but at that point, it was too late. Whatever was left of his idealistic aspirations in life died with Arthur up on that cliff.

Anyhow, I’ve said more than enough. I’d like to once again thank you for the ask!! I hope my response was worth the time to read and that it makes sense. Feel free to share any more thoughts you may have!!!

~ Faith 💜

[friendofhayley]

I’m back after my hiatus from fanfiction, to give y’all the best multifandom recs of the fics I read this month. Shoutout to all content creators who helped us live to see the close of this year. This fic includes 15 fics for Sterek, Larry, Winteriron, and Geraskier. The starred ones put me through heaven and hell *chef’s kiss*.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

1. Six Letter Word for Romance by @troubleiwant | domestic kink - omg there’s only one bed - soft Derek - oblivious idiots in love - 6k

Stiles definitely starts off thinking it’s fucking hilarious that Derek-sourwolf-Hale does crosswords and cares about scuffs on his furniture.

But at a certain point, and he can’t pinpoint exactly when, “fully functional adult couple” somehow becomes a massive fetish of his. Derek in sweats and bare feet, nudging his glasses up his nose while he does the Sunday crossword? Unff. Derek filling out forms to get some renovations on his property approved? Oh God, yes. Derek putting away groceries and bitching that the corner store was out of the right type of Greek yogurt? Take me now, Stiles thinks, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.

This can’t be normal.

2. *Dirty Little Secret* by @isthatbloodonhisshirt | Cora & Stiles bffs - no one can resist the Stilinski charm - celebrity Derek - human au - 91k

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”

3. Can You Feel A Whole New Part of Your World? by @isthatbloodonhisshirt | i genuinely don’t look at authors names i just click i am sorry for spamming you but you write too good - neighbors Sterek - emotionally mature Stiles - the ideal fluffy world you’d want to live in - 53k

Can you hear me singing in the shower?” Stiles blurted out, because he had to know, now. If one of his neighbours had slid that note under his door, then it meant Parrish as another neighbour could hear him, too! He had to know if this was all a huge joke and one person had walked by and overheard him and decided to fuck with him.

Parrish gave him a weird look at the question, but answered anyway, making Stiles’ plans to leave the country speed up in his mind.

“Of course I can. You’re actually not bad. Though you have been singing a lot of Frozen lately, getting kind of tired of the soundtrack.”

4. Theory of Overprotective Canines by @petals42 | derek can turn into wolf - oblivious Stiles - future fic - mutual pining - 11k

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Larry (One Direction)

5. **The Changer and the Changed** by @homosociallyyours | literally the best fic of all time i want to live in there - girl direction - NYC ‘70s au - trans Zayn - the girls are so lovely - 59k

It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians.

Louis Tomlinson works at a popular women’s bookstore in the Lower East Side, Womon’s Direction, where she spends her days reading feminist literature, writing poetry, exchanging friendly barbs with her boss Niall, and dreaming of finding someone to love.

When Harry and Louis meet, their connection is instantaneous. Slowly but surely, Louis welcomes Harry into her community of women. Stonewall veteran and old school butch Niall; Liam, a land dyke who’s moved to the city for love; and Zayn, a lesbian musician who’s been ostracized by a vocal part of women’s community for being trans, welcome Harry with open arms, ready to help her find her place in New York City’s bustling lesbian scene.

6. others i’ve seen might never be mean (but they would never do) by @cherrylouvol6 | aaaaaaaa it’s lesbian When Harry Met Sally !!! - rom com - girl direction - coming out and first times - really great sex - 20k

Louis sighs.

“Do you remember what I said to you the first time we met?”

“That I’m naive and neurotic and would be hard pressed to ever find someone who could put up with me?” Harry snaps.

7. some things fade (some never do) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed | aaaaaa this story took me apart and back together again just like Louis and Harry - urban fantasy au - second chances - exes to friends to lovers - hurt/comfort - 25k

Matching tattoos. He’d never thought he’d be the type for tattoos to begin with, let alone matching or magical ones, but once Harry had put the idea in his mind it had never quite managed to disappear. And it had made sense. With their relationship a long distance one, this was simply another way of feeling close to one another. Of knowing where the other was, how they felt. It had made so much sense.

Back then.

8. we can take the long way home by @eleadore | i usually don’t rec my porn but there’s so much feels in this one - canon-divergent - kink discovery - friends to lovers - this was written in 2015 as a future fic but it felt like it was taking place now so good job - 27k

“Fertile,” Louis says, and then laughs because it sounds stupid to say out loud. He hasn’t ever really thought of himself in those terms. Baby-making terms. It’s just one of those things his body can do, like exercise, or go without tea. Doesn’t mean he will.

Winteriron (MCU)

9. **Dig No Graves** by @missaphelion | Tony finds out about his parents right after winter soldier au - Tony Stark has a heart - Bucky heals with bots and lots of sugar - slow burn - 142k

"I'm here to kill you, Terminator," Tony said slowly, "does that compute?"

The soldier looked up at him with wide blue eyes and no expression. "Okay."

Tony froze. "Okay," he echoed. "I tell you I came here to kill you and your response is 'okay'?"

10. A Rifling Matter by Penndragon27 | Winter Soldier has such a big crush on Tony’s weapons, he escapes Hydra au - identity porn - pining Bucky - fluff and angst - Winter Soldier is a fanboy and it’s cute - 37k

All the Asset knows is fighting, killing.

He also knows a good weapon when he sees one and Stark Industries... they make some great weapons.

11. *Winter is Coming (aka Fifty First Avengers Dates)* by @tisfan & @everyworldneedslove | enemies to friends to lovers to 50 first dates - pining Bucky - Tony gets amnesia - no Steve bashing but he’s a little bit of an ass - mental health issues - 109k

Bucky Barnes is still mostly The Asset, and he's pretty sure Hydra is going to come back for him soon, so in the meantime he's just going to keep an eye on the Avengers for them. But then Clint spotted him hiding in the shadows, so Tony came out and dragged Bucky back to the Tower, threw him in the shower, and fed him cheeseburgers.

Now The Asset is having anomalous feelings. In his pants.

Geraskier (The Witcher)

12. *no reason to run* by @yoursummerfrost | different meeting au - only one bed but camping - cursed Jaskier - soft Geralt!!!! - poly negotiations - 61k

"You'll change your mind one day," says the innkeep. "The road can't love you back."

What a strange way to flatten something so beautiful, Jaskier thinks. What a small way to love.

13. *He Fell into a Faerie Ring* by @geraltnoises | Jaskier gets bardnapped after the fight au - non-human Jaskier - soft Geralt - Jaskier encourages people to be kind and becomes a god - emotionally mature Geralt - 57k

Traders are a gossiping sort. If there was a scandal within the noble houses of Posada, you’d hear about it in Cretegor by the end of the week. So, the quick spread of a rumor about a little village in the Kestrel Mountain range was not at all surprising. What was surprising was the story that the traders wove. They said that Luibhtorrach, a sad, ghost of a farming town, had miraculously become a hub for trade, as if overnight. Their lands unbelievably fertile and brimming with crop. Even stranger, each and every one of Luibhtorrach’s people professed that their good fortune was the work of a mysterious beast they’d claimed as their personal deity. Most recent news foretold of their plans to throw a midsummer festival celebrating this newfound god. In preparation, silken blue banners were erected in every corner of the town, each bearing the symbol of their new patron: A delicate dandelion wrapping around a golden sun.

14. Barking Up the Wrong Tree by KHansen | 5+1 things - I’m worried about Geralt’s skills - non-human Jaskier - monsterfucker Geralt - crack treated seriously - 11k

Geralt is 100% certain that Jaskier is a vampire.

He's 100% proven wrong.

15. Bardic Idyll by Lisztful | fake relationship - Geralt is soft and oblivious - pining - fluff and angst - Jaskier you can’t show your emotions mainly through song! - 13k

Jaskier is certain he can win the Continent's annual bardic competition, but he needs to be accompanied by a dashing romantic companion in order to enter. Enter Geralt, who is definitely, for sure, only interested in the free food, and not at all in staring lovingly into Jaskier's eyes.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Seklos and Gaylen, They Were Cagemates! Chapter 2: The Disappearance

Douxie and Krel have a conversation. Their respective loved ones wait for them to come home.

And we're onto chapter 2! Huge thanks to everyone who has been supportive so far.

Trigger/spoiler warning for: assumed child death, background torture, and weighing of lives. 

AO3

FFN

Being a familiar had gotten easier over the years, in Archie’s opinion. He had no idea why no one was taking up the profession anymore. It had gotten easier as Douxie had learned to talk in full sentences instead of just babbling and pointing. It had gotten easier as Douxie had figured out how to con people and pick pockets instead of relying on whatever Archie could hunt and the two of them trying to beg for food. It had gotten easier when Merlin had taken them in.

And, it had gotten easier in many ways with the modern world. Archie had tried following Douxie to the school he was having to attend, taking on the forms of flying insects, but eventually Douxie had told him to stick to the apartment. Apparently, it was strange for him to be followed by butterflies and bees. And, well, Archie would certainly admit that it was easier to lay about in one place, occasionally masquerading as the bookstore’s cat.

Maybe he should have gone to the Battle of the Bands today. Been supportive of his familiar’s musical prowess. Douxie had been so excited for today, though it wasn’t like he was expecting much, if any, competition. Besides, Archie had been to Douxie’s other concerts in the past. He had improved so much from the lute he had found and attempted to play, only to drive Merlin, Morgana, and Archie to agree that teaching Douxie how to use magic to soundproof a room might not bring more harm than good.

Archie had been tempted to leave the apartment, but the sky outside had turned orange. There was probably yet another fire going on. Pity. Even though he was a dragon, Archie wasn’t a fan of smoke inhalation. It wasn’t good for Douxie. It was bad enough that he had gotten so sick in those first few months after the two of them first came here because of all the pollution he hadn’t been used to.

And Douxie hadn’t come home, even though the sky had returned to normal.

Maybe he was out with friends, and he had forgotten to call. Or maybe he had been called into work at the bistro, and he had forgotten to call. He was fine. Archie was going to lecture Douxie when he got home, but it wasn’t like Douxie was hurt or anything. He was seventeen and could take care of himself; Archie was just worrying too much. That was why he felt so strange.

There was a loud, familiar knock at the door. Perhaps that was Douxie now. Archie flew to the door and peered through the peephole.

Oh.

Archie opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

Merlin looked old. He had always looked old, having been elderly when he achieved immortality, but he looked older than he had ever. At the very least, he looked so much more tired than Archie had ever seen him.

“Archie, I’m so sorry.”

Merlin never apologized. On occasion, he would say things that sounded somewhat like apologies if you knew what to look for, but he wouldn’t outright apologize. Then again, it had been longer for Merlin than it had been for Archie, so perhaps he had changed? Gotten kinder in his old age?

Archie tilted his head. “What for?”

Merlin sighed. “So it wasn’t recent, then.”

“So what wasn’t recent?”

“Hisirdoux’s death. I know it must be incredibly hard for you since you… were his familiar.”

“Excuse me? He’s not dead, I saw him just this morning, so it would’ve had to have been recent, and since you didn’t find a body –”

“No, but I didn’t sense his magic, either.”

Archie opened his mouth to make a snarky retort towards the wizard, but then he closed it.

Archie couldn’t sense Douxie’s magic. He had always been able to sense Douxie’s magic, even before they had sealed the familiar bond, but after sealing the bond he would always be able to sense Douxie’s magic, no matter how far away Douxie was.

But Archie couldn’t sense him now.

“There, there could be another reason.”

“Like what?” And that sounded more like the Merlin Archie had known. Cantankerous, as opposed to mournful. “It’s not like there are any antimagic zones in Arcadia, and I highly doubt Hisirdoux has learned how to create one in the years since I sent the two of you here.”

Archie narrowed his eyes and flattened back his ears. His tail flicked. Merlin had never cared about Douxie, had never recognized just how much skill and potential Douxie had. “Why are you here? Last I heard, Morgana was your largest priority.”

Granted, it had been a long time.

“Morgana’s threat was finally neutralized today; in case you didn’t notice her attempt at the Eternal Night. I’m going to the other side of this continent to find a Heartstone as well as to take care of some personal matters. You’re welcome to come with; I’ll keep the trolls from eating you,” Merlin said.

Archie sniffed. “I’m not abandoning him.”

Not like you did.

“Hisirdoux is dead, Archie. We both know it to be true.”

“No, you’ve just given up on him!” Like you did before. “I won’t. There has to be another reason why we don’t know where he is. Besides, I’m his familiar. I know him far better than you ever have.”

Besides, Archie had never abandoned Douxie. His parents had, Morgana had, Merlin had, but Archie had been with him through it all. Merlin didn’t get to lay claim to Douxie’s life and death like that. He had no right to.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. Stay here, waiting for someone who will never come back for you. I’ll come back later when destiny permits it.” He then closed the door behind him in such a way that Merlin had once lectured Douxie about.

What a hypocrite.

“Oh, sure, wait here for someone who will never come back for you, he says,” Archie complained to the too-empty apartment. “Never mind that that’s exactly what Douxie did for you, you selfish old man.”

And just like Merlin did, Douxie would come back.

No, not just like Merlin. Archie would welcome back his familiar.

Though, Archie supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to find Douxie instead of waiting. If Morgana had finally attempted the Eternal Night, Douxie could be hurt.

As a cat, Archie travelled the streets of Arcadia Oaks. Troll bodies littered the streets, though there were a couple gruesomes already beginning to eat them. Archie frowned as he stepped on a piece of smooth wood instead of rock. He looked down.

Surely that wasn’t Douxie’s guitar laying broken beneath Archie’s feet. Even if Douxie had run away he would have taken his guitar with him. Besides, it had been the Battle of the Bands. There would have been so many others with guitars, and surely this wasn’t the only red-and-white electric guitar that had been present. Archie pushed at the base of the guitar, checking to see the underside. The only marring of the wood would be from battle.

The underside had a portion where the initials CO’D had been carved, crossed out, and replaced by HC.

The guitar belonged to Hisirdoux Casperan. He’d bought the guitar at a thrift store, had gotten Zoe’s help to fix it up, and then had made it his own. Douxie had been so happy to have this modern version of a lute.

Douxie wasn’t here.

Archie curled up on top of the broken guitar, mewing pitifully.

Douxie couldn’t be dead. Archie would know if his familiar had died. He had raised the boy. He would know.

He would know.

Right?

“I mean, I don’t exactly know where here is. You do?” the caged human asked.

“An Earth military base called Area 49-B, but I thought they just studied and tortured life beings that aren’t from Earth.” Krel’s voice shook with terror. He wrapped his arms around himself. Kleb, oh kleb. He was going to be tortured. And experimented on. And they had taken his clothes; how had they taken his clothes? They were meant to be difficult to remove and helped to regulate responses to the environment as well as protect his core. He felt so exposed. “And you’re human, so, why are you here?”

“I mean, apparently to be tortured,” Douxie said, trying to hide the panic that rose with every heartbeat. It seemed that humans hadn’t changed by much after all these centuries, still trying to hurt those with magic because they didn’t understand it. Well, magic or whatever this alien had. “But I’m a wizard.”

The four-armed boy stared at Douxie. Douxie suspected he was raising an eyebrow in disbelief, though the lighting made it hard to tell. And, well, Douxie would have expected such a reaction from his classmates (especially before the Gumm-Gumm attack), but this guy wasn’t from Earth. And on one hand, wow, he wasn’t from Earth, but on the other hand, shouldn’t he not be like everyone else assuming that magic didn’t exist anymore?

“I mean, I’d show you, but my magic isn’t working right now.” He’d tried to use it to break out. It didn’t help that his bracer had been replaced with these stupid cuffs. The only good thing about them was the fact that they gave off a very small amount of warmth, because the cage was otherwise very cold, and his white gown was very thin. “But these Area 43-“

“- 49-B,” Krel interrupted.

“-goons took me out when I was using magic,” the wizard said, not seeming to care that he was interrupted. “I just hope I was the only one taken from my… community. I, it’s not like I’m the only wizard on this side of the continent, and I wouldn’t want them to be waiting to get tortured.”

“I think I understand,” Krel said. “I’m not the only one from my planet here on this mudball, and I hope they weren’t captured, either.”

Maybe this could work. Krel wasn’t a fighter, but neither was Stuart, and Stuart had escaped all those keltons ago. Plus, Krel might have an ally. One who could talk, while it seemed like Buster was unable to. They could discuss an escape plan together.

The wizard shifted the way he was sitting and looked upwards. “Huh, so other planets do exist? I guess they really weren’t trying to mess with me and Arch when they said that there were more than four other planets and none of them revolved around the Earth.”

No, this wizard could not be considered a useful ally. He was clearly an idiot, more so than everyone else on this mudball. More than metaphorically the wizard seemed to actually think Earth was somehow the center of the universe. If Krel were to somehow escape on his own, he would leave the wizard behind.

Even if Krel felt horrible right now, watching two of the orange-suited scientists remove the wizard from his cage, hitting him over the head when he tried to fight back. Figuring out a way to escape – hopefully without getting tortured at all – so Krel could save his planet was more important than saving this one life-being Krel had shared a conversation with. Krel wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head. Besides, this wizard might be even worse at physical challenges than Krel was, and Krel already knew that figuring out how to escape without outside help would be difficult even without factoring in the burden of taking someone else with him.

But, hopefully, Krel wouldn’t need to figure out how to escape. Surely Aja was coming to rescue him right now with Stuart, Zadra, and Luug in tow, and Krel would even let her gloat about it.

Aja woke up to the sound of birds. Ah, what a happy sound to wake up to. Their chirping was so lively. It was another good thing about the Mothership being so far from the city. Aja liked the humans, but some of their technology was far noisier than any similar equivalent back on Akiridion-V. But chirping? Chirping was a happy, lively sound.

Aja climbed out of bed, running a hand through her hair, and stretching two of her other arms. She yawned. She and Steve had stayed up late talking. It was good to know that they wouldn’t have to start worrying about having a long-distance relationship yet.

She walked over to the breakfast nook. Lucy was making pancakes, and Zadra was reading reports while Ricky tried to strike up a conversation.

Varvatos wasn’t there because he had sacrificed himself for her parents. Aja frowned at the memory, and then she frowned even harder when she noticed another absence at the nook.

“Krel’s not up yet?” she asked. That was odd. Even on nights where he stayed up late, he was still up early in the morning, grumpy and pretending that he had gotten far more sleep than he actually had. “Or is he skipping breakfast again?”

“The king-in-waiting is not down in the lab, I already checked when I tried – and failed – to contact the resistance at the start of the delson,” Zadra said. “Eat, and then we’ll go wake him.”

Aja nodded, frowned, and began eating. The taste of Lucy’s pancakes cleared her frown but not her worry.

That really didn’t sound like Krel. Well, not unless he had snuck past Zadra to get to his lab. Aja hadn’t even realized her brother was interested in doing things like sneaking off before yesterday evening. Back on Akiridion-V, he had never gone with her, even when she had asked him to sneak off with her.

Aja swallowed the rest of her food, and she and Zadra made their way to Krel’s room. She placed a hand on the doorknob.

“Krel, come on, you don’t want to miss –“

Krel’s room was empty. Was this what it felt like for Krel every time she snuck off? Had he been afraid every single time?

“Uh, are you sure he isn’t in the lab?” Aja asked, trying to mask her fear.

“I’ll go check again,” Zadra said, frowning and narrowing her eyes. Aja followed her, wrapping one pair of arms around herself.

Krel wasn’t in the lab.

Krel wasn’t in the Mothership at all, and they had checked every room, calling for him.

“I thought he came home last night,” Aja said, quickly scrubbing away the tears that threatened to form.

“What?” Zadra asked.

“He snuck out yesterday evening.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

Aja shook her head. She should have, or she should have gone with him.

Zadra stared at the ground away from Aja. “I don’t understand, he’s never snuck out before. This isn’t like him.”

But it’s exactly like you, came the unspoken accusation. Zadra had dragged Aja back to the castle so many times in the past, but never Krel. Krel had been the quiet one, the child who stuck to the background and his technology. He didn’t go outside.

He was the good sibling, and Aja wasn’t. She was the one who usually snuck off. She was the one who didn’t protect her little brother. She was the one who prioritized talking to Steve instead of making sure he would be okay.

Whatever had happened to him, it was her fault.

Aja waited for the lecture.

It never came.

“I’m going to go see if I can find him near the ship,” Zadra said. “Stay here. Akiridion-V can’t lose you as well.”

As soon as Aja was out of Zadra’s sight she pulled out her phone and called Steve. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hey there, my ninja-kicking angel!”

“Hi, Steve. Have you seen my brother?”

“Uh, not since the trolls attacked yesterday. Why do you ask?”

Aja burst into tears.

Author’s note: the scratched-out initials on Douxie's guitar are based on the initials of his VA; they will not be important to the fic.

[trillian-anders]

the harlot - iv

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, angst, fluff, smut,

word count: 2.8k

description: harlots inspired au;

one last run before shipping off steve rogers is brought to a brothel to love a woman in case of his untimely demise at war. he meets the reader, young and fresh, not yet tainted by the world they’d been born into. a torrid one night love affair that costs their mother greatly. a promise and years later they meet again, the reader resentful and distrustful. the charming, now captain rogers, seems as captivated in reader as ever. but it’s never meant to be. and you both know that.

His jaw was more defined. His brows fuller. Hair longer than you could remember it being. His eyes were almost dark in this lighting. Not their usual blue, but something more serious and hardened. His bottom lip was just as pink and full as before, you vaguely remember how it felt between your teeth. It was silent. Tea growing cold between you as the question hung in the air.

He swallowed, taking a sip of his tea. The sound of the cup hitting the saucer before he started, “I wasn’t lying to you.”

“But you omitted facts.” You cross your arms, “You withheld information.” He shakes his head,

“When was I supposed to tell you?” He reasons, “We had one night, I wasn’t too keen on explaining my family history.” No, he’d been far more concerned with making up for his shortcomings, having you writhe on this tongue before he hardened again. And you met twice more that night. Whispers of dreams that could never be shared between you, and a stupid promise that should have never been made.

“So explain.” He leans forward resting his arms on the table, eyes scanning the wood and he says,

“Where to start?” He shakes his head, eyes meeting yours from beneath his lashes, “My parents…”

They’re Sara and Joseph Rogers. Old money from being a staunchly military family. He shrugs, “Every member of my family has fought for the British Military.” But not so much lately. They were full of Barons and Marquess. “I’m to take the title of Lord soon.” He was going to sit in the House of Peers and with his familial status and his own Lordship…

“You’d control half of Britain.” You sit back against your chair, still fingering the piece of cheese, thinking.

“And my family the other half.” They were steps away from the palace. “And when my father dies…” He would be less than fifteen seats from the throne itself.

“So Pierce…” He shrugs,

“Wants to get in my good graces so that when it happens…”

“You’ll let him keep doing his villainous deeds, he would have a greater barrier of protection.” Steve nods.

Politics were a mess of titles and owned land. Who has the bigger property? Who has the more lavish surroundings? Who can spread their coin around? And if the gold fastenings on his shirt were anything to go by, the foregone wig and the cleanliness of him, he could do whatever he wants. Even have Brock murdered tonight, without anyone batting an eyelash.

“I don’t want to leave you here.” He admits honestly. His hand reaches across the table to still yours. “I said I would come back to you and I did.” Warm and calloused. It gave you a small bit of comfort.

“We were children.” You could feel it bubbling in your chest. The emotion. You weren’t going to cry. “We didn’t know what promise we were making.”

“I knew.” His hand tightened slightly on yours. “Y/N…” You pull away. “The only reason I didn’t come back for you more quickly was for my term at war… I’ve been working—”

“For what?” You tug on your teeth out of nerves, “It’s been almost ten years, Steve.” He sighs and looks at you with reverence.

“I was working… to first free the Americans.” Against his King’s army. “They deserved their freedom, and everyone knows it.” He softly grabs your hand again, “After that I joined a group…” Shaking his head, “I had to build these foundations before I came for you again.” He looked hopeful almost, wanting. His tongue comes and wets his bottom lip.

“Even if you did take me from here, what am I to be?”  A harsh laugh, “You’ll marry.” The corners of his mouth twitched but did not give into a frown. “You’ll marry and you’ll have children and a legacy… and I will just be your whore to visit and buy pretty jewels for.” You pull away from him, scooting your chair back and standing from the table, scrubbing your face with your hands, you turn from him.

“I don’t want anyone but you.” He claims. You scoff, turning to look at him. And in the shadows of his face you can see that boy now.

“Then you obviously haven’t grown as much as I thought.” You shake your head, the tears betraying you by slipping down your cheeks, “You need to marry, and you can not marry a whore.” He steps from the table, rounding it to meet you, softly grabbing your hands which still frame your face and taking them in his own.

“Y/N…” His lips meeting your right wrist and then your left. “I can do whatever I want.” You roll your eyes,

“And be ruined for it.” He takes a step closer, his chest brushing against yours and his forehead meets yours and he’s close, so close.

“Y/N…” His mouth meets yours and you’re unable to say no. You’re unable to do anything but melt against him. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you harder against him as you part and meet again. Your hand gripping his bicep as your ass meets the hard edge of the table. He parts from you with heavy breath on your lips, those pink lips now red and flushed. “I would gladly be ruined if it meant I were to spend the rest of my life next to you.”

A gasp of a pant as his hands cradle your face, his cheeks flushed against his pale skin. You tremble under his gaze.

“There’s just one thing we need to do first.” He presses his lips to yours again, “And I need you to trust me.” His thumb brushing against your bottom lip before bringing you back to him in a slow and savory way, “I will never let anything bad happen to you again.”

“You can’t promise that.” His thumbs pressing into your cheeks as he presses his hips against yours. You can feel that hard familiar length of him. Your knees locking him in against you as you relish in that old feeling.

Maybe this was a mistake. How could you have let him get so close so quickly? You gave in at the press of his lips. The feeling it bred in your body like a drug you couldn’t help but find yourself addicted to. The memory pales against the real thing. The way it makes your skin shiver and your fingers tremble where they lay on his arms. He could tell you to do anything right now and you’d do exactly as he asked. A dangerous thing when it comes to your profession.

Those years of building up a guard and becoming objective and distanced. You couldn’t care less if Pierce wanted another whore for the night, something he did occasionally, or if he found his way to you. You didn’t care to be left alone for days on end in this big house with only books and a morning and evening stroll to take your time. But in this moment, you feel like you might die if he left you.

You might die if he were to let you go.

He meets your lips again, tongue brushing yours, a steady joining and parting. Soft and wet.

“I need you to help me bury Pierce.” His touch so warm and comforting, “Help me take him down and then,” A press of his forehead against yours, “And then I’ll take you to the country estate, just like I promised.”

“Is that all you want from me?” He shakes his head,

“I want everything that has to do with you.” His thumb soft across your cheek, “We need to secure your money first, everything you’re owed.” You whimper against him as his hips press further into yours, “And then you can help me take this bastard down.” A press of his lips to your throat, to where the neckline of your nightdress met your skin. And your heart raced as he pressed his mouth to the bruises on your skin. His hands gentle against your tender flesh as he sunk to his knees before you. “You had bewitched me the moment I saw you,” A gentle kiss to the skin of your thigh, “I would do anything for you.” His hands pressing your thighs further apart to settle his head between them. “Anything.”

He laid a plan out between your thighs, hand gripping your hips steady on his face as his tongue worked you to falling apart. Your fingers twisted in his hair as he let you benefit from the friction on your sex. Nipples hard beneath your shift, arching up against him in gasps and moans as he brought you to a trembling end. Mouth and tongue pressing sloppily against your thighs and hips.  

“When Pierce returns,” A whisper against your lips, “We will begin.”

With him gone and the house empty you grew clearer. Less foggy and drunk with his presence. But he said Brock wouldn’t be back for the rest of the night, right?

You powder makeup on in the mirror, covering up the bruises best you could. Maybe you could risk going to see your Ma.

The single opportunity presented itself and you would be a fool not to take it. And your Ma would know what to do. She’d be able to clear your head about this.

You did what you could to hide Brock’s handiwork, but your Ma was sure to spot a mark or two. The trepidation in that was drowned by the excitement to see your Pa and Peter again. Your steps quick and heart beginning to flutter as the prim and proper clean homes turned into the thick dark wood and the volume of the town louder than the sleepy homes you’d just left behind.

Drunks in the street and a loud row in a pub, passed by as you continued to your destination. The vibrant noise and the sounds of people stuffed in alleys sampling the wares on the streets.

You saw your Pa first. His hair greyer than you remember. Chatting outside with a man you didn’t recognize, just outside of the house you’d grown up in. He must have felt you coming. His eyes drifting over to you and smile splits his lips. The emotions you’d felt all day spilling over onto your cheeks as you run into his open arms.

A hug tight enough to squeeze the breath from you. It pushes out a sob. His hand on the back of your head as he held you to him and you felt like a child again. Scared of a storm. Weeping into his shoulder as he soothes the cracks of thunder that woke you from your bed.

“My sweet girl.” He pulls back to look at your face and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve missed you so.” His hand firm in yours, “Come.” A tip of his head to the man he was talking to before your approach and he brought you into the house. The noise of creaking beds drowned out by the twinkle of keys at the piano you’d not touched in years. Your Ma was found in the parlor. And your eyes immediately went to the tall boy behind the piano. Peter.

Your heart lept in your chest as he ran to you, wrapping you in his arms. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Happy and eager.

“I was left alone for a night,” You smile at him, looking over his shoulder at your Ma. “I have until morning.” You laugh, stepping back from Peter. “You weren’t lying Ma,” You grin at him, “You’ve grown quite a bit.”

“There’s so much I want to talk to you about.” He says, “I just don’t know where to start.” You brush a hand across his cheek and in his face, you could see the little boy who pulled on your skirt begging for sweets. The little boy who cuddled you in your bed after falling asleep reading. And you felt your heart full for the first time in a while.

“Let her breathe,” Your Ma held her hand out to you, “Are you hungry love?” And you realized you were starving. You’d forgotten the last time you had stew. Rich people didn’t eat the scraps from their table all blended together like this. They hadn’t the need to.

It was food of the poor. The indentured. And it gave you more comfort than you could put into words. A hunk of crusty bread on the side and you were being spoiled.

Your Ma’s finger gripped your chin and turned your face in the soft candlelight. “When will he let you go.” She sighs, “I thought you’d be living free by now.” With a 400 pound a year pension and living the way you’d like. “I’m so sorry love.” You pull from her, scraping your bread over the sides of the bowl.

“I need to ask you something, Ma.” Bread swallowed and belly full, you gaze across the table at her, much like the way you looked at Steve earlier. “Do you remember Steve?” Her shoulders visibly tense, of course she did.

“He swore to me he wouldn’t talk.” Her voice tight, “Did he say something to Sir Pierce?”

“No.” You shake your head, sipping your wine, “No, he didn’t.” A swallow, “But he’s come back… and he wants to take me with him.” Confusion clear on her face.

“Take you with him where?” Her fingers rapping on the table, nervous. “You’re under contract.” You tug on your lip,

“Yes,” Your Pa and Peter enter the room. Parlor cleaned up and,

“Shut the door.” Your Ma orders, blocking this conversation from the rest of the house. You look at your Pa and Peter, before directing your attention back to your mother.

“This can’t leave this room.” Your voice sterner than you thought it would be. “Do you understand?”

It was going to be complicated. You’d told Steve earlier, “I don’t want to be your whore.” Your lips both swollen from kissing, “I have my own money. I want my own home and my own things.” Soft and emotional, “I don’t want to belong to anyone.” A nod, a prayer on his lips and he said,

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

You begin to explain, “Lord Steve Rogers,” Your Mother’s brow lifts, “He takes his title this week. He’s going to help me get out of my contract and help me keep my money after.”

“For what?” Your Ma shrugs, “What does he want in return.”

“What does he have to gain from it.” Your father adds. You lick your lips.

“He’s trying to take down Pierce.” You admit, “Get rid of his villainy over the city.” The murdered in the streets. The vile and wretched dirty dealings with him giving out loans and taking exceeded interest. Drowning families and destroying homes.

“And he wants you to help him.” Peter finishes.

“Yeah,” You give him a half smile, “I’ll be helping him.”

“Absolutely not.” A pound of her hand on the table and your Ma steps from it. “Peirce would see you hanged for betraying him and I refuse.”

“But Ma—”

“Your Ma’s right, sweetheart.” A sigh from your old Dad. “It’s a large risk to take, and no one knows if this would actually work.” It wasn’t a lie. If Pierce finds that you’re working against him you’d soon find your hands around your throat and your body tossed away like garbage. And maybe you were being foolish. Maybe this was a mistake.

“I could help.” Peter offers. “I mean… Steve.”

“No.” Firm and absolute.

“Listen to me,” You start, “Pierce would rather see me die than leave his side regardless of whether or not I help Lord Rogers or not. He’s shown that to me time and time again. Without fail.” Your voice rising in volume, “I’m not dumb enough to get swept away in this game, but it needs to be played, Ma.” If you were ever going to survive this.

“Send him here.” An order from your Pa. “Let me talk to him and we shall go from there, but your Ma and I want no word of either of you pursuing this.” His voice turning softer, “I want you back, not gone for good, do you understand me?” You nod.

“I understand.”

[smartguyreviewed]

2x6 - Trial and Error

Original air date: Oct 15, 1997

Okay, so we begin this infuriating episode with Floyd coming home and calling out for his biological children. None of them are home. Except for Mo. Mo broke into the house. No, seriously. He broke into the house and started eating somebody’s leftovers. Now in any other case, this would warrant a passionate ass whooping and a call to the parents of this child because what the fuck are you doing so wrong to have your son breaking into houses and not stealing anything except for food? However, this is sitcom world and Floyd just seems more annoyed than anything since Mo is always there anyway.

Mo tells Floyd he needs to be more careful about locking the windows. So linebacker ass Mo really needed to eat and somehow oozed through a window just to get food? Ok, I take back what I said about him needing his ass kicked. Mo is clearly malnourished even though he’s huge. His parents must be poor and therefore can’t afford to feed him. Holy shit was that dark. Moving on. 

Food and TJ’s brain are the reasons for his crime. His parents are going to kill him if he brings home another D. This is really helping me build a theory that Mo’s parents are abusive, so let’s assume his parents are literal this time about the kill thing. Floyd then realizes that Mo’s punishment would equal him not being over again to eat up their food and casually break in so he tells Mo that TJ joined the Marines. Nice, Floyd.

Just then, the rest of Floyd’s flock comes in babbling about who got what part in a play. TJ is naturally upset because he wanted a bigger role, still not getting used to the idea that he’s a 10 year old and unless he’s playing the role of a character with dwarfism, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have a huge part. TJ storms off in a huff. Typical TJ things.

The next day, everyone is atwitter over a test from their more over it than Lisa Simpson teacher. This man wants all of his students to fail. He hates his students. He’s a teacher and yet he hates teaching. Maybe this is the wrong profession for you, bruh? And it’s evident his ‘over it’ level is on a million from the way he comes in and tells his class to “get ready to hate me.” The deadpan, dry delivery was funny though. 

His first task is to give his students an assignment so hard that even he doesn’t know all the answers. Um, why? If you don’t know the answers, how are you gonna grade the tests? Isn’t this just creating more work for you, someone who already hates his job? Why the fuck does Piedmont hire such bad teachers and faculty, dammit?

Even TJ is intimidated by this test! Mo asks Mr. Bringleman why stuff from another chapter he previously said wouldn’t be on the test is on the test. He simply says he lied. This man is evil. I hated teachers who did that bitch ass shit. Yes, I only studied for what you said was going to be on the test because I have other classes too, ya know. I’m a teenager, not a machine!

I’m just gonna call him Mr. B for the rest of this review because fuck this most likely racist white man. His ass was listening to the boys talking about how hard the test was and then Mo says he wishes he could do to Mr. B what he does to all of them. Mr. B asks if he’s threatening him and Mo stammers. Then Mr. B insults his intelligence by asking if he ever has a complete thought. Before he can even fix his mouth to call him the N word, not Linda Ellerbee shows up to see what’s going on. Oh yeah, and she’s the new principal. She’s the third one so far and this is only the first half of the second season.

Anyways, she needs someone to cover a class and outright forces him to do it. Ha-ha. When the boys laugh at him, Mr. B says he’s going to grade Mo’s test. Nice, I just love seeing teachers bully students.

At the play rehearsal, TJ is still campaigning for a lead role. Mackey has to be the one to humble him, asking for duct tape. Marcus’s play related arc in this episode is pursuing acting seriously in case music doesn’t work out. His part has no lines so he’s trying to act with his face. He can just feel the SAG membership card in his hands.

Just then, Yvette bursts in wearing a Prince-inspired outfit and lets everyone know there was a fire in the chem lab. Dun du--pause. Why the fuck is she telling everyone? Wouldn’t they have had a fire drill? Are there no fire alarms in this blasted school? How the fuck did nobody know about it or smell smoke and why is Yvette bursting in like the town crier in this Purple Rain ass outfit???

All the students are happy until Linda Ellerbee hands Mo his charred playbook and asks him to come into her office. Dun dun dun. Later we find out that Mo was expelled. Because he is an abused child who only feels safe at the Hendersons, Mo has once again broke into their house and begun working out in their garage. Floyd is over it.

TJ comes home and talks to Mo. He is sad to learn that nobody thinks he’s innocent but says that TJ has to believe him because he has the “wide-eyed innocence of a child.” He follows this up with shitty examples of kids trusting adults who end up being assholes. Once they finally get on a good example, TJ is able to see that Mo is innocent and decides to help Mo get back into school.

The next day, TJ is in the principal’s office waiting for Linda Ellerbee. She has mice in her office because Piedmont is the worst public school ever and is resorting to playing the Spice Girls to get them out. Is that supposed to be a diss to the Spice Girls? Fuck anyone who disses the Spice Girls.

Sis is not budging when it comes to letting Mo back in the school. Sounds like a job for TJ’s cuteness and persistence! He gets her to agree to a mock trial where Mo would have to come back to the school. I...whatever. Order in the courtroom!

TJ is Mo’s defense. The opposinjg side calls Marcus to the stand so we already know this will end in disaster. It takes less than a minute for Marcus to admit that Mo threatened Mr. B. Ugh! Stupid Marcus. But he doesn’t even do the worst on the stand. Mo actually manages to fuck it all up! Marcus and TJ are trying to paint Mo out to be, what the kids today would call it, a “punk ass bitch.” Rather than play along and accept it, dumb ass Mo puts his stupid, fragile masculinity ahead of his chance to get back into school and says that he follows through on all threats. Once he realizes his gaffe, he immediately sits his ass down. Yvette is annoyed.

Vice principal Millitch, who will later replace Linda Ellerbee in one of the only sensical things I’ve seen regarding Piedmont, qualifies that Mo’s playbook was found at the scene next to Mr. B’s burnt gradebook. It was nice knowing ya, Mo. We know how the legal system works.

So then the loser teacher gets on the stand and tries to make it seem like he doesn’t intentionally make his students suffer by giving them ridiculously hard tests and lying about what’s even going to be on the test. To him, Mo is just a stupid, violent nigger so of course he’d want to commit a crime instead of studying harder. And then he lays it on thicker by insulting his intelligence again, explaining what the word combust means in the most smug ass, irritating way. It’s fucked up upon re-watch but at least it’s super realistic how predominately black public schools get racist white teachers often. They’re usually there for the tuition reimbursement.

TJ is now realizing that he may not be able to help Mo out of this jam. While eating dinner, Yvette comes in and apologizes for her lateness, saying the trial is over and now the school can continue with the play rehearsals. She tells an adamant TJ that Mr. B, also assuming the trial’s conclusion, was chain smoking cigarettes and humming “Don’t Worry Be Happy.” Floyd is appalled at the latter. TJ’s gears begin shifting. Side note but doesn’t Mr. B just look like a miserable ass teacher who smokes in the classroom?

TJ and Mo break into the school. Geez, so much trespassing in this episode! Mo isn’t even worried about being caught because what are they gonna do, “expel him from college?” Slapstick ensues while TJ collects samples from the gradebook. Mo, on the other hand, is battling a mouse trap. I was super high when I watched this last night but this scene had me in stitches. Omar Gooding is really good with physical comedy. Look, even TJ gets stuck to him when they’re leaving! Priceless!

At court the next morning, TJ calls Mr. B to the stand. He brilliantly examines him and exposes him for smoking in the classroom, which was the actual cause for the fire. This man is fucking evil! He was actually about to get away with very possibly ruining a teenager’s life until a fucking 10 year old stepped in and dug deeper. He could have seriously gotten him disowned by his parents, making him homeless, forcing him to turn to the streets for survival. All because he’s an asshole and didn’t have the heart to own up to what he did. Hell, it’s fucking Piedmont! I’m sure they would have kept him!

Seeing as he just gets sent to Linda’s office, he’s most likely getting a slap on the wrist and paid vacation leave. Oh well. Also frustratingly realistic. At least Mo isn’t expelled anymore. Too bad Mo’s unwashed hands are still sticky when he shakes the principal’s hand and the joke continues.

At the end, Marcus gets bumped up to the illustrious Juror #2. Gotta love a true thespian! Case dismissed. Bring out the dancing lobsters.

Things I noticed:

- Stinky Steve is Mr. B’s defense.

- Piedmont has no respect for their students’ time. The mock trial began at 8am. Assuming that their school day begins at 9am, I bet the play participants probably hate TJ for forcing them to get up an hour earlier than normal, on top of having to do the play after school.

[elderkale]

do you see me now? i’m right here, behind the mirror.

tell me we’ll never get used to it - do you see me now? i’m right here, behind the mirror.

His childhood stood out to him in the forefront of his mind, vivid and still, like a series of photos laid out neatly in an album, or an oil painting of roadkill three days old. What was that they said about time slowing before a disaster?

Something like that, except for a decade of his life.

“Troubled child.” That’s what they’d called him. “Ill. Unwell.” No specific terms—they’d thought him too young—but he had an idea of what they were saying behind the door. He was a doctor, after all.

There was irony in that, he thought. No, not irony—wrong word. Incongruous? Not him being troubled, the other thing.

He’d come to school late, by almost three months—an eternity, back then. What he’d give to have that back.

He remembered the crunch of gravel beneath tires, the chill of the car window when he pressed his forehead against it, the sting in his palms when the edges of the seatbelt dug into his skin.

Be good, he remembered them saying. Play nice. Do well. Yada yada yada. A hug, stiff and awkward, a firm hand on his shoulder that was just a bit too heavy and sent him stumbling. The rumble of a motor, and they were gone, a speck in the distance leaving nothing but a trail of smoke behind.

And him.

He hadn’t gone to class—no point, not on the first day. The woman at the front desk, with the long dress and dangling jewelry, and a smile so bright and stretched so wide it had scared him, offered to stay, to lead him to the library, to show him the grounds. He’d nodded, politely, meekly. The moment she glanced away, he’d turned and bolted, charging down the halls on little legs that hadn’t grown nearly as much as he’d hoped since then.

He’d thought about that day a lot through the years. Strange, the way things happen. What would have happened, back then and afterwards and now, if he’d gone another way. If he’d turned left instead of right, gone up the stairs or out the doors instead of down the hall. If he’d paid a little more attention to where he’d been going instead of glancing over his shoulder so much.

If he hadn’t crashed into her.

A loud yelp, a squeaking, skidding noise, and he was on his back, head throbbing, palms burning. She’d winced as she clambered to her feet, her knees skinned an angry, pinkish red.

For a moment, they’d just stared at each other.

Funny, how long a second can last.

And then she’d grabbed him, thin, pale fingers gripping his wrist tightly enough to cut off circulation, and dragged him into an alcove.

“Hey!” he’d protested, which he thought had been fair of him.

She’d already been on the ground, arranging her skirt over neatly folded legs. Begrudgingly, he’d slid down the wall and slumped onto the ground to face her. Such was the way of children.

“What are you running away from?” she’d asked.

“What makes you think I’m running away from anything?” he’d asked. The alcove had been small, an empty space beneath the stairs you wouldn’t have spotted unless you were looking, really looking. Cobwebs had hung from the slanted ceiling, brushing the tops of their heads, and they were practically squished against each other, but, back then, it had felt like the biggest place in the world. Like a secret cave.

“Well,” she’d said, the perfect picture of reason, “you’re running, and now you’re hiding. Most people don’t do that for fun.”

“You’re doing it,” he’d said. “Sort of.”

“Yeah, but I’m not most people.” She’d tilted her chin up pompously, and he’d felt like hitting her.

“Oh, yeah?” he’d sneered. “What makes you so special?”

“I’m very smart,” she’d said, clearly and plainly, like she was stating a fact.

“That’s stupid,” he’d said bluntly.

She’d nodded sagely. “Sounds like something a smart person would say.” There’d been a band-aid across her nose, and her hair had been a burnt reddish-brown, tangled into two ponytails that bore striking resemblances to the heads of mops. She’d looked about his age and, seriously, what lunatic had thought it was a good idea to lock a bunch of eight-year-olds up in a castle in the middle of nowhere? It was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

(Hardee-har-har.)

“Are you new too?” he’d asked.

“No,” she’d said. “Why, are you?”

“Obviously,” he’d said with a sniff, looking down his nose at her with disdain. Sometimes, back home, when he’d felt well enough to get out of bed, he’d sneak around the house and listen to his parents, the programs they’d left playing all day on the telly, the phone calls that always left his father either strutting around the house, pleased as punch, or sour-faced and growling and snarling at anyone who came near. He’d gotten used to imitating their haughty tones.

“How old are you?” she’d demanded.

“Eight,” he’d said.

“Oh.” She’d beamed—she’d cycled through emotions like they were pairs of socks, back then. Still did, it seemed. It used to send him reeling. “Me too!”

“Okay,” he’d said. Not the starting point one would expect, but a starting point nonetheless. He wasn’t very nice to her, but she wasn’t very nice to him, either, so he supposed it balanced out.

He wondered when it had all gone to shit.

*

“What,” Koschei had said one cold December night.

Theta had grinned, hair fluttering in the breeze. “Hiya!”

“What,” Koschei had repeated.

Theta had gestured at him to move over and, after a brief scramble, grabbed the edges of the windowsill and swung into his room. Koschei had leapt backwards, wrinkling his nose, as chunks of dirty snow tumbled in along with her, landing on the carpet.

“Vansell’s at home this week,” Theta had said in way of explanation, patting her hands dry against her coat. He’d wrinkled his nose at the wet brown stains she’d left and took a quick step out of arm’s reach.

“I know,” Koschei had said, watching her shrug out of her soiled coat (big and bulky and a shocking shade of highlighter yellow that he had no doubt she’d picked out herself) and kick off her boots.

She’d made a humming noise and flopped onto the armchair into the corner of the room. “The roof is nice,” she’d said. “You should come with me, sometime.”

He’d craned his neck to look up at the ceiling. “Is it cold?” he’d asked.

“Mhm.” Theta had been fiddling with the afghan Vansell had left slung across the back of the chair, twisting the fringe between her fingers.

“You’re stupid,” he’d informed her, as was custom at that point. She’d scrunched her face up in his direction, and he’d stuck out his tongue in retaliation. He’d flopped back down onto his bed and picked up the book he’d been flipping idly through when he’d heard the knock on the window. “Are you gonna stay there?”

“Yep,” she’d said, popping the P and pulling the afghan around her shoulders. She’d looked ridiculous, he’d thought, sitting there in pajamas that looked like they’d been through a shredder (knowing her, they probably had), feet not quite touching the ground.

He’d drifted off at some point, lulled to sleep by the rustle of frost-covered branches outside and the mind-numbingly dull plot of his book, her chatter fading into calming background noise.

When he’d woken up, she’d been gone, along with the biscuits he’d hidden in his desk.

*

Koschei supposed that, to some, he would have been considered a bully. It certainly was what he’d fancied himself, at the time. Theta too—partners in crime, in a sense. But only to a few. To most, they were just another duo of wandering weirdos. The nutter who never went to class and the serious one that coughed a lot, he once heard a janitor say.

They’d left a lot of messes.

They’d been close, she hadn’t lied about that. Maybe not him to her in the sense that she wanted, or her to him in the sense that he wanted, but close. Very close.

Predictably, this hadn’t been much help to either of them in their social pursuits.

Scuffles in the hallway were normal, expected, even, and if Koschei had a penny for every jibe and sneer that had made his stomach twist—their friendship, Theta’s family, his condition—he wouldn’t have had to stay at all. Yet, somehow, they were still the ones who’d get into trouble when they’d retaliate.

He remembered the glare that had been on Theta’s face as she’d watched Torvic, in all four and a half feet of compressed smugness and meanness, saunter out of the office, blameless, for the upteenth time. “‘M gonna kill ‘im,” she’d muttered around her puffy lip, and he’d nodded fervently.

He missed those days.

*

Oh, right. That’s when it had started veering off to hell.

*

Theta had grown bolder as time passed, and so had he. Sneaking across the roof of the dorms was, as Theta had declared, with all the smugness of the cat that had gotten the cream, “child’s play.”

“We are children,” Koschei had pointed out.

“Yeah, but we’re better.”

There was scarcely a day when they weren’t clambering over the roof or down the walls, or even through the gap in the gate and into the fields and woods beyond. Koschei hadn’t been foolish enough to believe that nobody knew, or that they were the only ones, though he suspected Theta might have been. He’d just counted himself lucky that nobody had phoned home.

Was it luck, he sometimes found himself thinking sometimes, or the opposite that had led him to follow them that night? Had it been the greatest thing to ever happen to them, or the worst? Philosophical and never-ending, and with more answers than he could shake a stick at, and not a single one of them clearer than a solid wall. Infuriating to no end. Sometimes he thought he’d chosen the wrong profession.

“When do you suppose the aliens are going to come?” Theta had asked. She’d taken her shoes off, despite the lingering chill, and was splashing her feet absent-mindedly in the river. It had been a big river, or big enough, and, sometimes, after the longest autumn storms, they would have to shout to hear each other over the rush of white water.

Not that night, though. That night, the water had been as gentle as a brook or a light spring breeze, breaking around Theta’s ankles and the smooth, worn stones in little ripples that Koschei had loved to drag his fingers through.

He’d contemplated the question for a moment, wrinkling his forehead and staring at the leaf he’d been shredding as if he might find the answer written in the veins. “Soon, I imagine,” he’d decided.

“I think they should hurry, don’t you?” Theta had said. “Earth’s boring. This part of Earth, at least.” She’d flopped back onto the bank, mindless of the pebbles digging into her back, kicking her legs and splashing water all over the both of them. “I’m dying down here!”

He never did learn the full story of what had happened that night. It wasn’t like they could have asked.

All he knew was that, one moment, he’d been sat on the bank, watching her braid a twig into her hair, and, in the next, he’d been knocked to the ground. The ensuing scuffle was but a blur in his memory, something he’d curse until the end of time because fuck.

He’d ended up losing (or what had constituted losing at the moment), and being kicked across the rocks. He still had the scar—a barely-there line, thin and white, across his shoulder—to prove it. There had been shouting, he remembered, and someone had been screaming—him or Theta or Torvic or all three of them, or maybe that had just been the noise in his head.

And then the water.

Theta had maintained that it had been purposeful. Koschei still believed he hadn’t had the faintest clue what he was doing. Not that it mattered.

The whole affair had been ridiculous, something more than clear to him now, looking back. A scuffle on the bank. But he could still appreciate what he’d felt at the time, which had been fear. Fear, and panic, and not much else. Desperation, too, and adrenaline. Very primal of him.

He could have drowned. He probably would have. Or maybe not. Who was he to know what had been going through the other boy’s head?

(Or maybe he knew too well. Not at the time, though. Not enough.)

And then—

And then—

He’d remember that moment for the rest of his life.

He hadn’t realized what had happened, not immediately. But Torvic’s weight had vanished, and he’d hauled himself out of the water, gagging and sputtering and spitting and shivering. It hadn’t been an instantaneous reaction, or one of horror or shock, like he’d seen described in stories. He’d scrubbed at his face with wet hands, rubbing at the sand and grit in his eyes, and it had taken him a few moments more to figure out why the water running down his arms was warm, and what that obnoxious fucking banging was.

It wouldn’t have taken a genius to see he was dead. Theta had still been swinging. Down and down and down and down. Splatters of blood had rained across her chest, her arms, her face, her hair, and he hadn’t been able to see her face.

“Theta,” he’d rasped, then coughed, more water spilling down his chin. “Theta,” he repeated. “Thete!”

A final swing and she’d stumbled back, stumbling on the rocky bank. Koschei had forced himself to his feet and staggered forwards. His legs had been shaking, though whether that had been from almost drowning (he’d regarded everything with a calmness that had almost been hysterical) or the body at his feet he hadn’t known. Still didn’t.

All in all, it had probably happened in a few seconds. But who could blame him for feeling like it had been an eternity?

He’d heard a thud, and the rattling of stones against each other. “I didn’t—” A breath like a death rattle, shaking hands reaching forwards. “He—”

Koschei had stepped over the body and kicked the bloody rock into the river. It had hit the water with a plop, and the droplets from the splash had been cold against his skin. “Theta,” he’d repeated, not for any particular reason—or one that he could think of, at least. Reassurance?

A hand on his sleeve, and he’d pulled her to her feet. How long had they stood there? His hair had been dry and his teeth chattering by the time she’d spoken again.

She’d cleared her throat, and her fingers twitched around his. “Water,” she’d whispered, voice hoarse.

She’d let go of him and crouched, grabbing his (its?) arms. “Water,” she’d repeated, voice stronger, dragging him (it) towards the bank. “Koschei!” she’d snapped when he didn’t move. “Help me.”

He’d heard somewhere, maybe in a film, that the body lost weight after death—the soul leaving the body. Or maybe that was just the water.

It had taken almost ten minutes to wade away from the rocky area by the shore, delayed slightly by Theta slipping and getting her foot stuck between two boulders, and another one to maneuver the body and push it away into the stronger currents.

And then they’d just stood there, waist-deep in a river neither of them were sure they had the strength to pull themselves or each other out of, watching the moonlight break against the water.

She’d never brought it up again, and neither had he.

*

It was almost laughable how desperate they’d been to make everything seem normal. They hadn’t needed to at all.

Not that nobody had noticed—it’s always rather difficult to overlook a missing child. He’d seen maybe one or two police officers on the first day, overheard a phone call on the third, and then nothing. He’d expected them to forget about him, but the speed at which everything had blown over had been astounding—nothing to spoil their good reputation, he supposed. Better to say a troubled child had run away then admit to having lost a perfectly normal one.

Troubled child. That’s what they’d started calling him.

They’d found the body a week later, bloated and rotted almost beyond recognition (or so he’d heard), caught on an overhanging branch a few miles down the River Irvine. Slipped and fell. How sad. This is why you have curfew. Their condolences. Please file all paperwork to a third-party outsource.

Torvic haunted the halls the way a graveyard haunts a highway, which is to say he didn’t. His room was cleaned, his name wiped from lists and his projects sorted neatly into files that vanished into cabinets that would never open again. There wasn’t anywhere a ghost could linger.

Nobody had even looked in their direction, and he’d felt his first stirs of what he’d later learn was called vindication.

*

If Koschei were more poetic, he’d have described their relationship as waves against a shore.

He didn’t want poetry. That had always been her.

There would be weeks where the most he’d see of her would be a flash of russet hair in the corridor, and she’d once gone a month skipping every class they’d shared (Which was, unfortunately, most of them. He’d ended up tracking her down in the art studio a week into the latest session of her silent treatment, and ended up with a tub of paste upended over his head for his troubles). Never for any reason he was privy to, and always coming back on her own terms. Never apologizing, either, or offering explanations; just sliding into the seat next to him or kicking his window open in the dead of night, regardless of time or roommates.

“It’s an asylum,” she’d stated one night, as blunt and self-assured as their very first conversation where she’d proclaimed her own cleverness, after a week of leaving every time he entered a room. She’d been lying upside-down on Vansell’s bed, hair brushing the floor and feet kicked up against the wall. Her heels had left scuffs on his posters that the other boy hadn’t stopped bitching about for weeks. “Clearly.” She’d hit another growth spurt recently, and her limbs had been long and gangly, like those of a newborn foal. She’d relished towering over him.

“Obviously,” he’d agreed, scratching out a word in his essay.

That wasn’t to say that he’d been entirely blameless, though. Fine, maybe he’d made a snide comment or three, and maybe his methods of retaliation were a bit cruel, and maybe throwing her bag out the window after finding her kissing Vansell (ugh) in their bathroom had been a bit much.

In his defence, he wasn’t the only one with a tendency to overreact. No matter what he’d said, the soup in his lap had definitely been unnecessary.

*

He wondered why anybody had been surprised when she started running away.

Not that she’d ever gotten far. Clever though she was, very few people were willing to pick up a hitchhiker in a dirty school uniform in the dead of night, and even she couldn’t walk all the way to Glasgow (though that hadn’t stopped her from trying).

“What the hell are you even trying to do?” he’d asked one night after she’d been dragged back, disgruntled and smelling like hot garbage, by an officer who’d worn on his face the weariness of a man who’d done a job a hundred times, and knew he’d have to do it another hundred times more. “No, don’t answer that,” he’d said, cutting her off. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

She’d shrugged, looking put-together in a way he’d never have expected from someone who’d reportedly been caught chasing a fox into an alley. “The tea’s better in Darvel,” she’d said primly.

He’d stared at her. “We have an exam tomorrow,” was all he’d managed to say.

“I know.”

“And you were in Darvel.”

“Newmilns, actually,” she’d said cheerfully. “Charming couple on the road, they gave me a lift.”

“No, they didn’t.”

“Well, they were going to.” She’d rolled her eyes, and Koschei had considered screaming. “But then the police caught up.”

“Fuck’s sake.” He’d felt faint.

“What?”

“You—” He’d scrubbed his hands down his face. His face had been prickly with the beginnings of stubble that she’d teased him mercilessly for (she’d pretended to sand a block of wood against his jaw at one point, and he’d hidden Ushas’s keys and told her Theta had been the one to take them. The fallout had been extraordinary). “You can’t just walk around Scotland.”

“Why not?” she’d asked. “I’ve been doing it, haven’t I?”

“You’re going to get expelled, at this rate,” he’d said, irritated.

“Don’t care,” she’d said.

“Yes, you do,” he snapped.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, you should.”

“Why?”

“What are you even trying to do?” he’d asked again.

“There’s a pub in Drumclog I think you’ll like,” she’d said. “The Thursday night barman lets me in after happy hour.”

“Where would you even go?”

“The botanical gardens, I think. Or Loch Ness. We could find Nessie! Ooh, what about the Science Centre? I heard—”

“Theta.”

She’d shrugged. “Does it matter?” she’d asked.

“Yes, actually.”

And, just like that, her face had shuttered and she’d stood. “No.”

The door had slammed behind her.

*

He wishes he remembered the last time he saw her better. ‘Course, he hadn’t known it would be the last time. Still.

He’d never been particularly fond of Christmas, as a concept or in general. He’d liked the presents when he was younger, but even those had lost their shine as he’d gotten older. And that was to say nothing of the whole family aspect. He counts himself lucky that the endless list of uncles and aunties and cousins from his mother’s side hadn’t driven him insane.

He’d gotten into an argument with someone (Cousin? Grandparent? Family friend that wandered in for cake twenty years ago and kept showing up ever since? He didn’t remember, and he didn’t care), and gone to his room to brood (he did not, no matter what Drax said, sulk).

(It had been a spacious room, he remembered. Not the largest in the house, but far from the smallest. He hadn’t been back in years, not since his father’s funeral. He couldn’t say he missed it.)

He’d have been reading a book, probably, or something. Playing the drums, maybe, just to annoy his family, if he’d been really peeved.

He’d heard a knock at his window, and, suddenly, he’d been eight years old again. Snow had piled on his rug and he’d squinted against the blast of chill air as she clambered in.

“What are you doing here?” She’d been shaking, he remembered, and he’d chalked it up to nothing but the cold. She’d been shoeless, socks soaked through.

She’d shaken her head, dragging trembling fingers through tangled, stringy hair. She’d opened her mouth, then closed it again. “See you,” she finally managed. Her cheeks were red with cold, and her lips were tinged a blue that was almost black.

Something worth crossing the country in the middle of the night for, apparently.

He hadn’t noticed the red under her fingernails.

She hadn’t spoken for the rest of the night, something Koschei never would have thought possible before. He hadn’t asked, no matter how much he’d wanted to, and he doubted she’d have told him, anyways, even under normal circumstances. So he’d sat there, next to Theta, trembling in her cocoon of blankets and jackets. They’d fallen asleep like that, and, when he woken up, she’d been gone, along with his jumper.

It had been, in a way, he supposed one could argue, his fault. For not stopping her, for encouraging her, for being a co-conspirator, or an influence (good or bad, he didn’t know—it was up for debate), or whatever they’d deemed to call him.

“I told you that girl was no good,” his grandfather had said during breakfast, eyes on him as he shouted to the whole table. “I told you, didn’t I? Nothing good can come from someone like her, I told you. Told you to drop her, didn’t I? That girl’s no good, I told you, didn’t I? You remember, don’t you, I told you, nothing good comes from hanging around—”

He’d nodded mutely, thumbing the corner of the newspaper with his thumb.

It hadn’t been the most flattering thing, the mugshot. At least they’d spelt her name right.

*

He’d watched him through the window. He’d looked entirely too pleased with himself, nodding in mute delight and false thanks and basking in the shower of simpering sympathy. The bandage plastered on his face had been a stark, sterile white against the muted reds and browns of the rest of him, and he’d shivered at the sight of the mottled green and purple bruising stretching out around it. Atta girl, he’d almost muttered.

It had taken all of his inconsiderable self-control to not barge through the doors and finish the job for her.

(Which he had, of course. Eventually.)

It was almost a shame, he’d thought later as he’d peered over the crumbling edge of the cliff. The polish and shine of the twisted tires had gleamed under the moonlight, crushed beneath the crumpled shell of the stolen car.

He’d have liked to take off the bandage. Her handiwork deserved to be seen.

He’d dusted off his jeans, then turned and began the long walk back home.

*

He’s never been good at forgetting.

[war-of-the-words]

The Best Friend Trap

Summary:  It's like the Parent Trap but it's their best friends and not their parents. Written Aug 2019 Read on AO3

Ran was just picking up some coffee, because God knows Shinichi will need it, when she saw herself walk into the cafe. Well, it was kind of her. The girl was about her height, maybe a little shorter, her hair much more messy, and her eyes a little darker, but they could have been sisters, maybe even twins. They made eye contact and Ran knew she had to talk to this girl.

 She patiently waited at a table near the door as the other girl ordered her drink, she could tell by the way she kept glancing over that she was interested in speaking to her doppleganger. Ran watched eagerly as the barista handed the to-go cup over the counter. The girl thanked the employee and turned to head for the door, she was still glancing at Ran, no matter how hard she tried to make it seem like she wasn't. "Excuse me," Ran called, making eye contact with the girl, "Can I talk to you for a moment?" The other girl looked slightly embarrassed, but she made her way over. "I'm sorry if this is strange," Ran began as the other girl sat down, "but I just had the feeling that I had to get to know you."

 "Not at all!" the other girl replied. Her voice was similar to Ran's, but she spoke in a more energetic tone. "I was so shocked when I walked in and saw myself, I knew I had to talk to you."

 "I'm glad we're on the same page," Ran giggled, "My name is Mouri Ran, but you can just call me Ran if you like." The girl had a bright smile, she wore all her emotions on her sleeve.

 "I'm Nakamori Aoko, but you can call me Aoko, Ran." In that moment, Ran was certain that she and Aoko were destined to become good friends.

 They talked about everything. Ran talked about karate, which Aoko found awe-inspiring. Both talked about their fear of ghosts, as well as commiserating over their father's profession. Starting on one topic lead to another, which sent them down a rabbit hole into niche topics that they couldn't believe they agreed upon. Ran felt relieved she had decided to wait on buying Shinichi's coffee until after she talked to Aoko, she knew the sleep-deprived goblin Shinichi became during long cases would drink it cold, but Ran liked to maintain some of her best friend's humanity if she could. Speaking of best friends, Ran checked her phone and cursed under her breath.

 "I'm so sorry, Aoko, but Shinichi expected me almost an hour ago now and I'm worried that if I don't see him soon he'll get too absorbed into work again."

 "Shinichi?" Aoko asked, a confused look gracing her face before it turned into a teasing smirk, "Is he your boyfriend?"

 "What?" Ran laughed, not having heard someone refer to her best friend that way in quite some time, "No, nothing like that, he's by best friend, has been since we were kids."

 "Like Kaito and I!" Aoko eyes lit up, "Ran, we have way too much in common. Please don't tell me your childhood best friend is also a world traveling magician."

 "No, he's the opposite actually, he works as a consulting detective with the TMPD, 'just like Holmes'," Ran said, in her best Shinichi interpretation, which made Aoko laugh.

 "I'm glad we have one thing that isn't in common," Aoko said, "Kaito is a magician, like his dad, I'm proud of him, but he only ever comes back to Japan for a few days at a time, I miss him." Aoko's smile turned melancholic as she reached into her bag. "Before he set off on his first tour of Europe, I complained that I barely had any photos of him, 'Phone pictures aren't enough, BaKaito! What happens if something happens to it!'" She pulled a torn, folded photograph out of her wallet, "Then he gave me this, I don't know why he tore it, but this is the happiest I've seen him, ever, I think." Aoko delicately unfolded the photograph, Ran's first thought was of how similar to Shinichi Kaito looked. Her second was how familiar the photo seemed.

 Kaito wore a tailored black suit, there was a red rose on his lapel shiny gold band on his finger. He was seated in some kind of office, which seemed unnatural for his state of dress. Most intriguing was how the photo was ripped; Kaito seemed to be leaning toward somebody toward the left, but there was only the ripped edge. "I have no idea where this was taken," Aoko said, staring at the photo intently, "and I don't know why he's dressed like that, especially the ring, he usually keeps his hands free of jewelry in case they mess up a trick." A light bulb went off in Ran's head.

 She began furiously digging around in her bag, desperate to find her own wallet. Why it took her so long to make the connection, she didn't know. "Ran, is there something wrong?" Aoko's concerned voice asked, but Ran was too focused on her task. She pulled out her wallet and quickly opened one of the small pockets, pulling out a folded up photograph of her own. She quickly unfolded it, revealing the image. Like Aoko's, it was torn on one side, and depicted her best friend, sitting in a fancy suit in some kind of office, a gold band on his ring finger. Delicately, Ran placed them next to one another, the torn edges matching perfectly. They both sat in stunned silence for a moment.

 "I think we have something else in common," Ran said, meeting Aoko's equally as shocked gaze.

 Kuroba Kaito and Kudou Shinichi fell in love, fast. In a whirlwind of emotions, only after half a year of dating they got married. It was a secret affair, too embarrassed to admit to their friends that they had been seeing someone at all, let alone married. They were planning on introducing their friends to one another, but that was for a later time, at least, it was supposed to be.

 Kuroba Kaito and Kudou Shinichi fell out of love, fast. They barely knew one another, they kept secrets from one another, and in a whirlwind of emotion, Kuroba Kaito hopped on a plane and left the country. The divorce papers came soon after. No one had known the two had been married, and the two never spoke about it. If they suddenly made great strides in pursuing their careers, their friends chalked it up to their dedicated nature.

 That was, of course, until Nakamori Aoko and Mouri Ran met.

 "I can't believe that Shinichi would get married and not tell me." Ran growled, "I can't believe that I didn't notice!"

 "It's not just you, Ran," Aoko replied, a murderous look on her face, "I can't believe it either." Ran sighed looking at the photo again. They had matched up timelines of when they thought this could have happened. They decided that it had been several years ago, they looked younger in the picture, before they had thrown themselves into their careers. The point in time when they both dove head first into the thick of their jobs matched up too, Kaito left for Europe at the same time Shinichi took on a heavier case load. Ran felt stupid for not pressing him about it, she knew he looked troubled around that time, but she brushed it off as inconsequential.

 "I'm such an idiot." Aoko interrupted Ran's thoughts. "When Kaito told me he was leaving for Europe, I knew he was upset about something, he had been upset and angry for months, but I never asked. On the day he left, he just seemed sad."

 "They look so happy," Ran looked at her best friend's frozen face, his smile wide and genuine, a light blush on his cheeks, Ran can't remember the last time he smiled like that, "I wonder what happened."

 "I wonder if they miss each other." Aoko added, "Kaito always says he's too busy for love, that he doesn't want to have to choose between work and a significant other, but he always looks pained when he says it. He thinks I don't notice, but I always do."

 "Shinichi's dated, but it never seems to stick, despite his mother's best efforts. This might be why. It's a shame he's too stubborn to admit it and try to make amends," Ran laughed.

 "So we make them."

 "What?" Ran looked up at Aoko, her new friend's eyes alight with a plan.

 "We make them," Aoko repeated. "It they're too stubborn to see one another, we make a reason for them to see one another." Well, Ran was intrigued; she motioned for Aoko to continue. "Ran, we look nearly identical, if I try hard enough I could easily make my hair look like yours, and a bit of roughing up can make yours look like mine, our eyes are nearly the same color and we are about the same height and weight. In order to see if each other's best friend is worthy of the other, and to force them to see one another again, we switch places."

 "You want me to be you?" Ran said, her brain still working out how the whole thing would work.

 "Exactly," Aoko was all confidence, "I'm leaving to meet Kaito in Paris in about a week from now, you go in my place, get to know him, and, when the time is right, tell him who you are. I'll stay here, take your place, spend time with Shinichi, and decide whether or not to get them back together."

 "Aoko," Ran looked at her sternly, "This plan is insane. I love it."

 "Well, I better get good at being you."

 "Ran! What took you so long!" Shinichi whined as his best friend let herself into his library. He had himself draped over the sofa so that he was staring at her upside down, a book resting open on his chest.

 "I was making friends." Ran replied.

 "With the barista? If you're trying to convince them to make you free coffee, let me tell you that it doesn't work. That's why Miki and I broke up."

 "Because you only dated her to get free coffee?"

 "You don't have to put it that way." Shinichi pouted at her. All of his relationships were this superficial, so Ran isn't surprised at his motive especially she was the fifth barista he tried to date. It made more sense now that she knew he had been married. Her best friend looked nothing like the one in the picture, his faced was creased with worry lines and his eyes had permanent bags under them. She was surprised to find him reading instead of working on a case, it was all he seemed to do anymore, when he's not busy hitting on baristas.

 "Come on, sit up," She instructed, making her way over to the couch. "I remembered your coffee."

 "You're the best." Shinichi sat up and greedily snatched the cup. "Ekoda really has the best coffee shops."

 "You can always go yourself you know," Ran reminded him. If she wasn't looking for it, she would have missed the way his body tensed. Kaito lived in Ekoda, Ran had learned, which made Shinichi's aversion to the area much clearer.

 "It's too far to go for coffee, I need to be here in case the TMPD needs me." Ran hummed in acknowledgement. The library was a mess as always. The desk was littered with case files; a few stacks had coffee mugs as the foundation. Loose papers lay nearby sporting Shinichi's handwriting; they were notes on different cases as well as a few doodles, which he sometimes does to help him think. She should probably tidy things up a little while she's here. Maybe probe for information while she does.

 "So," she began, conversationally, "Is there anyone new who hasn't been a barista?" Ran moved the folders off the desk in order to clear away the dirty mugs.

 "Hmm, not really." Shinichi looked bored, he always did when Ran tried to talk about relationships.

 "Not really doesn't sound like a no."

 "My mom is setting me up with someone again, that's all."

 "Well, I can't blame her. I don't think I've ever seen you in a serious relationship, Shinichi. Don't you ever want to get married?" Ran held her breath and studied her best friend carefully, there was a small look of pain on his face that he quickly replaced with boredom.

 "Eventually," Shinichi said, his tone perfectly neutral, "I'm just waiting to make sure it's to the right person." Unlike last time, Ran thought. Whether his ex-husband was a good match or not was still to be determined, but they had clearly made a mistake marrying one another when they did.

 "I get to be your maid of honor, right?" Ran said teasingly, although she was still a bit peeved about being left out on his first wedding.

 "Of course," Shinichi held eye contact, a look of concern on his face; he must have picked up on her anger. "I couldn't imagine a ceremony without you by my side." His sincerity startled Ran a little, she had only meant it as a joke. Which begged the question, what had happened the first time?

 "Aoko!" Kaito whined from the other end of a phone, "What took you so long? You promised to call me hours ago!" Aoko imagined the exaggerated pout on her best friend's face and laughed.

 "I was getting coffee at that little cafe you like so much. I made a friend while I was there."

 "With a barista? If you're trying to get free coffee, those baristas are won't crack, trust me, I've tried."

 "Of course you have. I was also double checking my flight info for next week."

 "I can't believe it's next week! I haven't seen you in forever!" Kaito's excitement warmed Aoko's heart, and made her feel a little bad for lying. She had actually changed the ticket into Ran's name. They might look alike, but Aoko wouldn't risk Ran getting stopped by customs. "Honestly, Aoko, you need to come visit me more often."

 "I'm not made of money, Kaito."

 "I've told you! I will buy your tickets, it's the least I could do!"

 "I'm not going to make you do that Kaito," and thankfully, she hasn't she wouldn't be able to get Ran the ticket otherwise. "I don't care how well off you might be, I can buy the ticket so I will."

 "Fine," Kaito huffed, "All that really matters is that you're coming."

 "Oh? Are you eager to show me your secret fiancée or something?" Aoko could hear the small intake of breath on Kaito's end, unnoticeable if she had been breathing.

 "I've told you, I'm not ready to get married. I don't want to put myself in a position where I have to choose work or marriage." Like last time? Aoko thought. She didn't know why the two of them got married, but it definitely changed Kaito. He used to be a hopeless romantic, despite the image his constant flirting gave off, now he was reserved and wouldn't allow himself to develop feelings for anyone. If this Shinichi turned out to be a bad person, he would pay dearly for what he did to Kaito.

 The next week went by in a flash. The two girls met up every day, for hours at a time. They took notes and quizzed one another about their lives, their likes and dislikes, what words they would use when faced with different situations, it was quite the intensive. They went out one day and bought new shoes, both with a heel, Aoko's a little taller to match Ran's height as closely as possible. They also went to a salon and cut their hair to a matching length to make up for any disparity between them. After that, they practiced styling their hair to look like the other's. It was a startling sight. The night before Ran flew to France, she stayed at Aoko's house, finalizing the other's schedule and doing final checks. Aoko packed Ran's suitcase so she would be wearing clothes Kaito could identify as Aoko's, and Ran gave Aoko half of her own wardrobe, just in case. "Aoko's" trip was supposed to last for a month, so they wanted to be prepared.

 Then the day was upon them. Aoko saw Ran off at the airport, which was strange since they had swapped styles. Aoko had plans to meet Shinichi for lunch that afternoon, and Kaito was meeting Ran as soon as she landed, so they had to look the part. The non-stop flight was 12 hours, so she could only try to get some shut eye, hope the jet lag didn't hit her too hard, and pray that the "Detective of the East" didn't notice he wasn't eating with a stranger.

 Aoko really hoped Shinichi wouldn't notice he was eating with a stranger. They really needed this scheme to last for at least a week, it wasn't long, but they should be able to get a hold on who the ex-husband of their best friend was. Aoko arrived early, per Ran's instruction, but it only allowed her anxiety to fester. Shinichi was some hot-shot detective, not unlike Hakuba, so the bar on disguises was nothing to scoff at. It was also weird to refer to someone she had never met by their first name, but they were childhood best friend's now, so what the heck. Aoko could do this, she had seen plenty of spy movies, and Ran was thorough in the "Mouri Ran Crash course".

 "I'm sorry I'm late." A man sat down across from Aoko. She instantly recognized him as Shinichi, as she now had quite the substantial library of reference images courtesy of Ran. What Aoko was not prepared for, was the intensity of those piercing blue eyes in person. It was like they could see through her, to the rouse she was pulling. She resisted the temptation to come out and admit that she wasn't who she said she was, she had to do this, for Ran, for Kaito.

 "It's fine, Shinichi, really. You say that every time." Speaking in a voice that wasn't quite her own had been a challenge, one that she know held her breath to see if she overcame.

 "I know I do, but I am really sorry."

 Score.

 "Like I said, Shinichi, it's okay. You're busy, I get it, I'm just glad you show up at all." Aoko gave him a warm smile. Ran had trained her in this exact scenario, it seems this is the usual way they start a lunch date. The smile Shinichi gave her in return made her see how Kaito could have fallen for him.

 "Well, at least let me treat you to lunch."

 "I certainly wouldn't protest to that."

 After lunch, which was a delightful meal in a cute little cafe Aoko had never been to before, they went for a walk, window shopping and talking. Aoko remembered all of the stores Ran had said she would most definitely force Shinichi to go in to, the kinds of things Ran said she would stop to admire, the kinds of small talk she would make and how she would respond to the comments Shinichi made, she was incredibly proud of her performance. Until, "Hey, Ran? Can I ask you something?"

 "Of course, Shinichi, what is it?" Shinichi looked at her, his eyes seemed to not look at her, but at the parts of her, like she was a painting and Shinichi was an incredibly harsh critic. Aoko pushed down the panic.

 "You seem... tense today. Is something wrong?" Well, at least he hadn't called her out for not being Ran, she could handle this, she was tense after all. She forced herself to relax and smile at him.

 "I'm just a little stressed right now, that's all, but hanging out with you really helps." That wasn't quite a lie, so far, Shinichi has been nothing but kind, making her laugh, treating her, indulging her fancies with only the half-hearted protest, he made her feel at ease.

 "That would explain the haircut, and all the shopping you're doing, those are new shoes, aren't they?" Well, Aoko wouldn't complain if that's how Shinichi decided to write off the changes in "Ran's" appearance.

 "I just felt like a change, that's all," Aoko pouted and played with a strand of hair.

 "It's cute," Shinichi said with a smile, playfully ruffling her hair, which prompted Aoko to swat his hand away. The small laugh he gave in return really reminded her of Kaito. So did the way his face fell as he turned away from her. They walked in silence for a bit before he spoke again. "Ran, have you been on a date recently?" Aoko was a bit taken aback, but this was a golden opportunity to get the man's opinions about love straight from him, and Ran had prepared her for these sorts of questions.

 "No, not recently, why, have you?"

 "Yeah, my mom made me meet up with some girl the other day. Her dad knows my mom, apparently he owns some fashion magazine and they swear up and down she is going to be the next big thing in the industry."

 "Who is 'they'?"

 "All of them. Mom, her father, her, all of the blogs and articles on her I looked at after Mom gave me her name."

 "Well, how was the date?" Aoko could hear the anticipation in her voice, she was just hoping Shinichi didn't.

 "It was a date," Shinichi shrugged, a bored look on his face, "We had dinner, she talked about her dreams, mentioned how rich I was, gushed about how brave I must be for working in homocide and how she 'could never bear to see another human being who had died in such an awful way.'" The way he said the last part was with as much drama as you could expect from an actress' son.

 "But did you like her?"

 "Well, I guess? I mean, she was a model, so of course she was pretty, and she was polite in conversation, although she did find some way to mention how rich my family was every couple of minutes. I'm going on another date with her next Wednesday, so we'll see if the conversation improves any." A second date? Ran said most don't last a whole one! It was probably just because his mom was making him, but something about the situation didn't sit right with Aoko.

 "You better tell me all about it.  I expect a full report on Thursday."

 "Yes ma'am." Shinichi laughed, but the way it didn't quite reach his eyes was far too much like Kaito.

 Kaito was an absolute bundle of energy. As soon as Ran walked out into the baggage claim, she was swept up into somebody's arms. "Aoko!" the voice cheered, and Ran was glad she was able to suppress her first instinct, which was to take whoever decided to touch her down. Craning her head to the side, she could see the man who had picked her up. He had a brilliant, 100 watt smile and his mischievous eyes were just a shade off of purple. He was clearly Kuroba Kaito, rising star in the magic world, and Ran instantly liked him. "I missed you so much."

 "I missed you too, but you better put me down before I make you." Kaito, unintimidated, gave her another squeeze before gently putting her down. Ran felt bad she had threatened him, but that's how Aoko said she would greet him. She turned to face the magician, once again captivated by how earnestly happy he was to see her, was he this joyful around Shinichi? Did he greet her best friend with such a warm and caring expression?

 "You cut your hair," Kaito stated letting himself look at her properly for the first time as well, "It's short, but I like it." Ran pulled at some strands self-consciously, it had been a long time since she had cut her hair so short.

 "Thanks," she replied, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

 "Aw, Aoko, are you embarrassed? You didn't get all dolled up for me, did you?"

 "BaKaito," Ran responded in the fashion Aoko instructed, "Last time I herad, you weren't interested in dating, I got dolled up for all the handsome French boys I'm going to meet."

 "Aoko! You wound me! Am I not a handsome French boy? I've lived here for more than half a decade now. Besides, I can go on dates with people, I just won't get into any serious relationship." His expression changed ever so slightly as he said it, like the joy that was there so effortlessly before had to be forced to keep its place. Ran knew that expression, it was just like Shinichi's when he spoke about romance. Ran hated that look.

 "Well come on then 'handsome French boy', take this girl out to get something to eat, I'm starving!"

 "As you wish." Kaito smoothly brought Ran's hand up to lay a kiss across her knuckles, a teasing look in his eyes, and, yeah, Ran could see how Shinichi could fall in love with him.

 Ran spent two weeks with Kaito before she got the call. It had been a wonderful time, accompanying Kaito to his performances to different venues across France, hanging out afterwords, eating all kinds of new food, visiting museums, it was the vacation she needed. With each passing day Ran fel more in love with Kaito, platonically, of course. He was charming and sweet and just a bit mischeious. Most importantly, in Ran's eyes he cared so deeply about those around him. Not only did he dedicate all of this time to "Aoko", but after shows he would spend time talking with the audience, answering questions, taking photos, being genuinely interested in their lives. He was kind to the store clerks and waiters as well, always smiling with them and making small talk without seeming patronizing or overbearing. He carried joy with him, wherever he went, spreading it to others whenever possible, yet there was still sadness lingering in his eyes, just like Shinichi.

 She saw it there, but only because she was so used to having watch Shinichi for those same signs, the subtle way smiles won't reach the eyes, the melancholy that comes and goes in the blink of an eye, getting lost in thoughts and then brushing off her questioning. He didn't want her to get involved in his sadness. Aoko said he was a hopeless romantic, but the look in his eyes when they would wander to a couple at a different table, the way they would laugh with one another, Ran could see the sad longing in his eyes. Ran suspected he hadn't completely forgotten about Shinichi. Especially considering what happened the day before the call.

 They had decided to spend the night at Ran's hotel, indulging in the luxury of delivery chain pizza and cheap alcohol. They were just relaxing, watching whatever random movies crossed the screen, which Ran couldn't understand so Kaito dramatically translated. It was just dumb fun. Then Kaito had a few too many beers. It didn't matter, he was planning on spending the night in Ran's extra bed, but Ran quickly learned that he was an emotional drunk.

 "How come they get to be in love," Kaito complained, groaning at the couple that was currently making out on screen. He had stopped translating a beer and a half ago, so Ran didn't really know what this movie was about, but the man had just clearly proposed, which then prompted Kaito's rant. "It's not fair! I tried so hard, but did I get a happily ever after? Nooooooooo sir." Then he started crying. Ran was beginning to get concerned. "Aoko," he sobbed, "Did I do something wrong? I did my best, but was I just not good enough?"

 "Kaito, I think you've had enough to drink now." Ran used the gentlest voice she could, the one she saves for children, and an equally drunk and upset Shinichi. "I'm sure you did your best, but maybe it was the other person who didn't try hard enough." Ran didn't doubt that, Shinichi could get sucked into his investigation and ignore everything around him, he could have fell head first into an investigation and blocked everything else out, including his husband, as much as she hated to believe he could.

 "No!" Kaito sat up and stared at her with large, innocent eyes, "It wasn't their fault! Sure, they would forget sometimes, but they would always make it up to me. They tried their best, too. I know they did." Kaito sniffled some more. Ran was shocked, she didn't expect him to defend his ex, but the look in his eyes was clear. He believed in Shinichi, whole-heartedly, and he was still in love.

 "Come on, Kaito. I think it's time we go to bed, what do you say?" She offered her hand to the boy and pulled him up from where he has slumped on the couch. She helped him to the bathroom to brush his teeth, then made sure he didn't collapse before she got him onto the bed. He hit the pillow and was asleep before Ran made it back to the bathroom for her own nightly routine. She let out a sigh, she made her decision a while ago, but this set it in stone. Ran liked Kaito, and she thinks Shinichi is a fool for ever letting him go. She has to at least try to get them to reconcile, she didn't know about fixing their marriage, but it was at least a place to start. Ran decided she could think about it in the morning.

 Ran didn't have the time to think about it in the morning. Ran woke up to the sound of her phone ringing. She had a slight hangover, and it had just turned 10 in the morning. She groaned and pulled her phone over. The caller ID read "Ran". Ran instantly woke up, she hopped up and ran to the bathroom, closing the door gently behind herself as she answered the phone. "Hello?" she answered in a quiet voice.

 "Ran, we have an emergency," Aoko said in a panicked voice on the other end of the phone.

 "What's wrong? Is Shinichi hurt? Was he kidnapped again?" Ran's voice began to rise, panic twisting in her gut.

 "He's fine, but this is worse, in a way."

 "Aoko, hurry, tell me what's wrong!"

 "Ran, Shinichi is engaged."

 "What?" Ran asked, but her voice was devoid of emotion.

 "It gets worse," Aoko continued, "The wedding day is in two weeks."

 Aoko stood in the bathroom, listening to the silence on the other end of the phone. She was glad it was deserted as the patrons of such a high class place might not enjoy hearing about Aoko's current crisis. Really, she just thought Shinichi wanted to treat her to a nice meal to make up for missing breakfast the other morning. That was one of the great things about Shinichi, he always tried to make up for even the slightest inconvenience. It wasn't his fault he missed breakfast either, the TMPD had all of their staff finishing up preparations for a huge drug bust they were pulling off that morning, Shinichi had been in the station for over 12 hours when he called Aoko to apologize for missing the date, just about the same time her dad texted her to complain about having to be brought in to help the team prepare.

 She let out a sigh, Ran still in shock on the other end, and thought about the two weeks that lead up to this moment. She and Shinichi hang out constantly, and if they weren't together, Shinichi was working, or so she thought. She forgot all about the second date that Shinichi went on with the model his mom had set him up with. That Thursday, Aoko went over to have breakfast at Shinichi's before they went to go see a new detective movie that was released early that week.

 "How did the date go?" Aoko had asked that morning, watching Shinichi rub the sleep out of her eyes, hopefully distracting him from the way she fumbled around the unfamiliar kitchen trying to get a pot of coffee brewing.

 "Mmm, fine," was Shinichi's sleep tinged reply. Aoko finally managed to get the coffee maker going and Shinichi moved toward the machine in a zombie like fashion, apparently drawn to just the mere noise of a coffee machine starting. Aoko laughed and waited until he had had a couple of sips before continuing her question. One thing she had quickly learned was just how bad of a morning person he was.

 "No, really, Shinichi, tell me about her," Aoko pressed, nudging his arm in a playful manner.

 "Have I told you she's pretty?" Shinichi began, eyeing Aoko like he really wasn't sure.

 "Yeah, you said she was going to be the next big thing in the fashion industry."

 "No, I said everyone else said she was going to be the next big thing. But, yeah, she has the looks to get noticed, that's for sure, and with the connections her father has, it wouldn't surprise me if she makes it big."

 "So, do you like her?" Shinichi hesitated, obviously mulling something over in his mind.

 "Enough to go on some more dates, yeah. Although she doesn't seem like the type who can handle dating an always busy-law-enforcement-type for too long." Aoko laughed, she knew that life far too well, he dad was almost never home, especially after the return of Kaitou KID, although the thief now barely showed himself and was rarely holding heists in Japan. "She's witty, and can keep a conversation going. She can be a little self-centered, but she's a model, what else could you expect?" Aoko hummed in reply before changing the conversation.

 At the time, she only thought that Shinichi was vaguely interested in her on a physical level. It was clear to her that this model was the materialistic type, and she thought Shinichi could see her real personality better that Aoko could, what with him being the Heisei Holmes and all.

 She had shown up to the restaurant in a nice dress, excited at the prospect of eating some upper-class cuisine, just hanging out with Shinichi. Despite his chaotic schedule, he was fun to be around. He was a little nerdy and liked to talk about books more than Aoko could handle, but he gave her some good recommendations and his discerning eye and dry wit made people watching quite the treat. Despite all that, it was obvious just how emotional a person Kudou Shinichi was. He always felt guilty for making Aoko wait, even if it was for only a few minutes, and when he talked about some of his recent cases, which he apologized for before doing but said he just needed to get it off his chest, he talked about how terrible he felt for the culprit, the man had recently lost his wife in a car accident which caused him to hunt down the man who had hit her. Obviously, he believes a criminal should pay for their crimes, but he also tries to understand the reason behind it, Shinichi never forgets that first and foremost, people are human and flawed. So, yeah, Aoko approved of Shinichi, she was just worried about worried about how flippantly he treated romance, but Ran always talked about what a secret romantic Shinichi was, until just around they predicted their divorce to have happened.

 When Aoko spotted Shinichi, she was absolutely astounded to find a woman already at the table, seated next to him. “Ran!” Shinichi’s face light up when he saw her, and it made her regret not going to see Kaito, just a little, so she could see the joy in his own eyes.

 “Hey, Shinichi,” she greeted, taking a seat across from him, “who is this?”

 “This is Midori Kyoya. She’s the model I told you about.”

 “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Shinichi has told me so much about you.”

 “Likewise,” Aoko replied, a formal smile on her face as she took in this new development. She was pretty, that’s for sure. She had long, wavy, black hair and fair skin. She wore a dress that made Aoko almost embarrassed and she was fairly certain all of the diamonds she was wearing could buy her a house and a half. The thing that really caught her attention was the ring resting on her left ring finger.

 “I invited you so that you could be the first to know, Ran,” Shinichi said, his smile still wide and shining, “Midori and I are engaged!” Aoko felt her heart stop. This was not good. Thankfully, she believed even Ran would be just as shocked in this situation, so Shinichi didn’t think twice about the way she froze, "And I know this is kind of rushed, but we get married in two weeks."

 “Con-Congratulations Shinichi. I- wow- I’m speechless.”

 “I know it’s kind of sudden, but like you’ve said, I need to start taking romance seriously, and then Midori came into my life and it just seemed like fate, you know?” Shinichi scratched his head in embarrassment while his fiancee cooed over him.

 Shinichi, this is not the time to be a romantic. Aoko silently cursed him. “Well, that’s fantastic!” She said instead, she could be quite the actor when she wanted to be. “I’m really happy for you!”

 “Shinichi’s shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you think so, honestly, I was afraid you would be mad at me for making my decision so quickly.”

 Absolutely furious. “Don’t be silly! If this is what you believe is right, who am I to stop you!” Shinichi began to talk about his bride to be, while she herself jumped in to embellish some facts and add dramatic commentary. Aoko allowed herself to be spoken too, maintaining the proper decorum for such a situation, until they had ordered their meals, then she excused herself to the bathroom, which is where she know finds herself.

 “I can’t believe him!” Ran finally answered from the other end of the phone. “This is completely insane! He’s only known her for, what, three weeks at the most? And he decides to get married!? Aoko, I’m coming back and slapping some sense into that boy.”

 "You can't! We have to keep up the ruse; I think it's still our best shot at getting the two to meet back up." Ran was silent for a while.

 "So you think so too? That they are good for one another?"

 "I think?" Aoko let out a sigh, "I don't know how they were in their first relationship, but something tells me that they are meant to be with one another." Ran laughed on the other end of the phone.

 "I'm glad we agree, so, how are we going to get it through their thick skulls?" A devious grin spread across Aoko's face.

 "I'm so glad you asked. You see, they're checking out the hotel they want to have the wedding at this Saturday, and I think we should give them a surprise."

 Ran had a devious smile on her face as she got off the phone with Aoko. It was a wild plan, the only kind the girl seemed to formulate, but it could work, and it would definitely get the boys to see one another. But before she could really get this ball rolling, she had a confession to make.

 "Aoko!" Kaito yelled from the other side of the door, "What are you yelling about so early in the morning? I have a headache." Ran rolled his eyes at his complaint and grabbed a couple painkillers and a glass of water, pushing them on him when she opened the door.

 "Here, you goof."

 "You're the greatest," Kaito said, adoration on his face as he swallowed the pills. "But really, what were you yelling about? You sounded really upset." Curiosity and worry mixed together on his face, and Ran decided that now was the time.

 "Kaito, about five years ago, did you get married?" Shock filled the magician's eyes, and he gaped like a fish for a while before finding his voice.

 "Aoko, what on earth are you talking about? You know I would tell you if I ever did, I wouldn't have a wedding without you! Besides when would I have even met a girl-"

 "But it wasn't a girl," Ran stated flatly, walking over to her purse and pulling out her half of the photo, handing it over to Kaito.

 "Shinichi," Kaito breathed, looking at her best friend's face. His face softened and a nostalgic smile graced his lips before he remembered where he was. "Aoko, where on Earth did you find this? I haven't seen this photo in half a decade."

 "I'm just going to rip the band-aid off, Kuroba, I'm not Aoko." He looked at her confused, then he began to really look at her, and apparently, found the evidence he needed.

 "Oh my God, you aren't Aoko," Kaito said, his voice more in awe than in anger, "You aren't my best friend and I didn't even notice. But if you aren't her," Kaito continued, suspicion now filling his tone, "Then who are you?"

 "My name is Mouri Ran," she said, sticking out her hand, "and half a decade ago you married my best friend."

 Kaito said nothing, walked over to the bed, face planted into it, and screamed into a pillow. Ran thought he was coping with this new information fairly well. After about a minute of that, he sat back up and looked at her. "I can't believe I finally got to officially meet you," Kaito said, wonderstruck. "Shinichi and I always talked about when we should get the four of us together, we wanted it to be this big surprise," he began rambling, his eyes drifting back to the memory, "We were going to introduce you and then ask for the two of you to be our Maids of Honor. We were going to have a big ceremony for our one year, a proper wedding, you know? We just wanted to wait until we could pay for it ourselves, without relying on our parents' money."

 "But you divorced before that happened," Ran finished for him, taking a seat next to him on the bed, "And you cut all contact with one another, then, five years later, those same friends have a chance encounter where they come to quite a shocking conclusion."

 "Of course this was Aoko's idea," Kaito laughed, "Her ideas were always even crazier than mine, but they always seem to work in her favor, but to switch places and have you fly over seas to meet a complete stranger? I'm surprised you agreed."

 "Well," Ran offered, "How could I say no to the man who has my best friend's heart?"

 "Had, you mean. I lost that before we ever got a divorce."

 "I don't think so, I've seen the way he gets lost in thought sometimes, and he hasn't taken any relationship seriously since then, he's become so lost emotionally."

 "You think he's still in love with me?"

 "Somewhere deep down, yeah, I think he does."

 "I'm sorry, Ran," Kaito shook his head sadly, "Our marriage failed because we were never in love, we were just young and stupid, Shinichi made that perfectly clear. We will never be in a relationship again, so if you came out here trying to set us up, it's not going to happen."

 "And that's okay," Ran said, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, "From what I heard from Aoko, and from my extensive knowledge of Shinichi, I just think the two of you should meet up and make up. Even if you weren't meant to be married, leaving a relationship in such a terrible way is a heavy weight to bear for the rest of your life."

 "You want us to see one another?"

 "Yeah, just meet up, switch us back, and try to resolve whatever left a bad taste in your mouth, I'm not asking you to get back together."

 "'Switch us back'? So Aoko has been hanging out with Shinichi the whole time you've been here? I can't say I'm too surprised. Does he know?"

 "Of course!" Ran lied, he couldn't know about the engagement. "He really wants to make up, too."

 "Really?" There was a hopeful look in his eyes, Ran nodded in confirmation.

 "So, you aren't mad about this?" Ran questioned, the guilt of it all weighing on her mind.

 "Of course not." Kaito looked at her with such tenderness, such kindness, that she knew no matter what happened between him and Shinichi that she wasn't going to let Kaito stop being her friend, if that's what they were, hopefully. "Ran, I've wanted to meet you for years now, the way Shinichi smiled when he talked about you, I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if I never got the chance to become your friend." Ran felt joyful tears well up in her eyes and she pulled Kaito into a tight hug. "So," he said, wiping a few tears from his eyes, "How are we getting you home."

 Aoko was going to lose. Her. Mind. Midori was the text-book two-face. After she returned to the table, having calmed down after calculating their next move, Shinichi excused himself to the bathroom, giving Midori a kiss before he left, gross.

 "So, are you in love with him?" Midori asked as soon as Shinichi was out of earshot.

 "What? No! Of course not! He's been my best friend since we were little!"

 "Oh, come on," Midori looked at her like she was something that belonged in the trash, "You look like you need his money, and marriage is the perfect way to get to it. I'm sure you were banking on the fact he was never going to get married, so you would just suggest you two do so "as friends". Well too bad sugar, I beat you to the punch."

 "So you only want him because he's rich?" Aoko had to control her anger, she didn't want to make a scene.

 "Oh no, of course not! Not only is he rich, but he's also incredibly handsome. Great arm candy for someone like me. Plus, he's busy so often that he is barely around, meaning I can practically do what I want."

 "You're disgusting," Aoko spat, "There is no way in hell Shinichi is going to marry you."

 "Oh darling, but he is." Midori sat back, a smirk across her lips. "He feels so pressured by you and his family to get married, the boy is desperate, he won't believe a word you say about me." Her voice was sickeningly sweet with pseudo-affection. "My poor Shinichi just wants a pretty wife he can show off to his mama to make her happy. And that's just what I am!"

 "I think I'll go," Aoko replied coolly, standing just as Shinichi returned to the table.

 "Ran, what's wrong, did something happen?" The concern in his eyes made Aoko want to shake some sense into him then and there, but she knew Midori was right, Shinichi was desperate, she could see it in the way he was constantly looking over at her over to make sure he still had her approval, and how he clung so tightly to Midori, as if she would decide to get up and leave any second.

 "No, Shinichi, everything is fine, I just forgot I promised to go see Dad tonight, I'll leave the two of you to a romantic dinner, have fun!" Aoko walked away before Shinichi could stop her, storming all the way back home. It didn't matter whether or not she could convince Shinichi that this marriage was a terrible idea, Shinichi was a grown man, he could decide that for himself, all she needed to do was make him see Kaito again.

 God bless Shinichi and his air-tight dedication to his friends. He, of course, insisted on bringing "Ran" with them to look at the venue for their wedding, which must have upset Midori judging by the constant glares Aoko was receiving, thankfully, she knew how to keep a poker face. She could feel the anticipation of the day welling up, a mixture of nerves and excitement. Now knowing both boys, she was hoping this little reunion ended with at least reconciliation and friendship, not that she would complain if they became something more.

 Shinichi wandered off, leaving the two girls alone, trying to find the person who was showing them around the hotel today. Aoko controlled her breathing, promising herself to maintain Ran's cool composure, even when left alone with Shinichi's vile fiancée. "This is the worst." Midori was the first one to break the silence. "Not only does Shinichi decide on some cheap hotel to hold our wedding in, but he just has to bring along a charity case."

 "I'm sorry?" Aoko replied, the reins on her temper slipping ever so slightly.

 "Oh come on, you know it's true. Why else would Shinichi keep you around? Helping the poor is an easy way to feel better about yourself. He probably just chose this hotel so you wouldn't feel so bad about yourself." She didn't make eye contact with Aoko, just stood there, looking bored, doing something on her phone while she waited for Shinichi to get back. "I'll just make him cut ties after we're married, happy wife, happy life." She muttered the last part to herself, but still loud enough that Aoko could hear. Aoko was about to retort when her phone buzzed.

 Plane landed, be there soon. Thank the heavens, the cavalry was here. Why should Aoko be the one to tear this girl to ruins when she can let Ran do it herself, it would be such a delight. Armed with this comfort, Aoko was able to maintain her composure. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Midori."

 "I'm back!" Shinichi called, half-jogging his way back over to the girls before either of them could say anything more. "Is everything okay, Midori?" The girl had a pitiful look on her face, classic crocodile tears.

 "It's nothing," she sniffled, wiping away a non-existent tear, "Ran just said something about me just being another fling." Shinichi looked at Aoko with confusion and hurt in his eyes.

 "Ran wouldn't say something like that," Shinichi said, a twinge of doubt in his voice, "You probably just misunderstood something she said, right, Ran?"

 "Of course!" Aoko replied, a bit too defensively, "I said absolutely nothing of the kind to her!"

 "And now she's saying I'm a liar." Midori sniffled some more, achieving in actually producing a few tears. "You don't think I'm a liar, do you Shinichi?"

 "Of course I don't," Shinichi replied, a soft look on his face that Aoko absolutely hated. "I'm sure this was all one big misunderstanding. Now, let's go see that ballroom, okay?" Midori gave a pitiful nod and Shinichi took her hand. Aoko screamed inwardly.

 Ran was so nervous she was going to be sick. Her stomach was twisting in all sorts of knots, but when she looked at Kaito, she knew he had it worse. He was pale, and jittery, his foot tapping wildly in the back of the taxi they were taking to the hotel. He must have looked through his bag five times before he finally allowed Ran to pull him away from baggage claim. Now, he was just talking to himself, mumbling all kinds of undecipherable phrases that Ran thought better then to attempt to understand. Frankly speaking, he was a mess. When they finally pulled up to the hotel, Ran had to physically pull Kaito from the backseat. "I'm not ready!" Kaito shouted, desperately clinging to the taxi door. "I'm not presentable!"

 "That's why we have a room!" Ran shouted back, pulling just shy of full strength, not wanting to pull his arm out of its socket. "But you won't have time to get presentable if you don't get a move on!" That seemed to make sense to Kaito's scrambled brain, as he suddenly dashed forward to reception, all of their bags in tow. Apologizing to the driver and paying the fare, Ran made her way in. Just in time to see the door closing on an elevator with Kaito in it. Fantastic. "Room 412!" He shouted, thinking to give her the room number, but not hold the elevator. What a mess. With a sigh, she walked over to the elevator, requesting the next car, when the other one opened. A woman walked right into her.

 "Oh," the woman said, looking disgusted, "I thought you were still looking at that hideous reception room with Shinichi."

 "What?" Ran eloquently replied, the woman was wearing an expensive looking dress hugging her fit figure, clearly trying to show it off. Her face was scrunched into a disgusting scowl, but it was evident she was  pretty.

 "Of course you wouldn't think so," the woman's face turned to boredom, "Well, if Shinichi is so set on it, I don't care. I just want to get this over with." That informal way of addressing Shinichi, her good looks, the deplorable aura she was giving off.

 "Midori?"

 "What?" The woman snapped. Well, Ran knew her best friend's fiancée now. Ran was thankful Aoko decided they should wear matching outfits today, she hadn't planned on meeting Midori so soon.

 "Nothing," Ran said.

 "Well, go do something useful and go find Shinichi for me." She pulled out her phone and checked her head for stray hairs, completely ignoring Ran's existence. Bless Aoko and her willpower.

 "Sure thing," Ran said, making her way on to the elevator as quickly as possible. Midori stood there for half a beat more, missing the person who came out of the elevator, a messy-haired magician who was looking around guiltily for the person he had abandoned in the lobby, but didn't miss her finace walking toward her, he himself unaware of the other man in the lobby.

 "Babe! There you are! What took you so long?" She cooed, draping herself over the man as they walked into the elevator together.

 "Sorry, Ran was really invested in the kinds of lights that would look best in the room, she went to the bathroom, but she'll come up in a minute."

 "Ah, too bad, guess we'll just have to have some alone time." Midori leaned in and Shinichi kissed her without a beat, when he pulled back, as the elevator doors closed, he could have sworn he saw... No, it couldn't have been.

 Kaito, in his own right, was equally confused. He saw Shinichi, far too early, he wasn't presentable, but Shinichi was also making out in an elevator and looked very confused when he looked up and saw Kaito. He needed to talk to Ran, who was, thankfully walking out of the bathroom at that moment. "There you are," he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the elevator. "Sorry about ditching you, but I'm just really nervous," he kept rambling as they got on, "and I really need to talk to you about something because I don't think you gave me the whole truth there," the elevator dinged and he pulled her out and toward her room, "because I just saw Shinichi and-" and there was Ran, sitting in front of the room, but Ran, when he looked behind him, was also being dragged behind him, a surprised look on her face. Kaito sighed, unlocked the door, and walked into the room. The girls walking in silently behind him.

 "Um, hey?" One greeted as if it was a question, he couldn't really tell which one it was, which made him feel better about not realizing that he spent two weeks with a stranger, but he assumed it was Aoko, the real Aoko. He walked over to the bed and flopped face first into a pillow; this might be the weirdest day of his life. "It's nice to see you, too." A weight settled on the bed next to him, and a hand started running through his hair, yeah, definitely Aoko.

 "You have the worst ideas." Kaito gave her an evil look, which made her giggle. He missed her.

 "I thought it was a great idea, so did Ran." He glared at the other girl now, she was an accomplice after all.

 "Hey!" She said, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at him in return, "Hanging out with me wasn't all that bad, mister 'I didn't realize you weren't my best friend.'"

 "We can't all be a detective!" Kaito retorted. "Speaking of, he doesn't know I'm here, does he?" The girls had the gall to look sheepish. "Well, know it makes sense why he was making out with a girl in the elevator. I can't believe you brought me here when he's with his girlfriend!"

 "Fiancée," Aoko said, voice soft.

 "What?"

 "Not his girlfriend, his fiancée."

 "You brought me here, unbeknownst to Shinichi, while he's here with his fiancée? Why on Earth would you think that's a good idea?"

 "Because she is the absolute worst!" Aoko yelled, flopping down next to Kaito. "She's rude, and snobby, and completely wrong for Shinichi! He absolutely can't marry her!" Ran nodded in solidarity.

 "Shinichi is a grown man!" Kaito sat up, hurt by this new revelation." "He can decide who he wants to marry, and I certainly have no say in his decision."

 "What I said back in Paris hasn't changed," Ran spoke up, "I'm not trying to set you up with him, I just want the two of you to make up." Kaito sat quiet for a moment, letting all of this madness settle in.

 "Fine," Kaito finally said, "I don't like how you went about this, but I'm here now, and it won't kill me to just say hi."

 "I'm glad you agree, oh, and Shinichi doesn't know I'm not Ran."

 "Seriously?" Kaito looked sceptical, "You've spent two weeks with him and he never noticed a thing?"

 "Nope, he just thinks Ran is having an identity crisis," Aoko joked, which prompted a "Hey!" from Ran.

 "Ha! The Great Detective has lost his touch!" Kaito burst into a fit of giggles. "Fooled by the great Nakamori Aoko! He'll retire for sure once you tell him."

 "I can't wait to see the look on his face," Aoko giggled too, and soon, the whole room was laughing at how absurd the whole situation was. They calmed down after a solid couple of minutes of laughter. "I think it's time we go clue in the detective."

 Shinichi was getting worried about Ran, he hadn't seen her since she left for the bathroom, and it had been a little over an hour since then. Midori had begged him to come with her to look at the pool, but he was too distracted to really give it any thought. He was probably over thinking the whole thing anyway; the stress must be getting to him, especially considering he saw... Yeah, the stress was definitely getting to him.

 He sighed, looking around the pool; Midori sat down in a lounge chair and said something about ordering a drink. "I'm just going to take a quick walk," he said, not really hearing her reply. He wandered around the edge of the pool when something caught his eye on the other side.

 Shinichi wasn't crazy. It really was him. Here, in Japan, at this hotel, the very same day he was here with the woman he was going to marry. What were the odds? Staring at him in wonder, Shinichi started making his way through the dense crowd toward him, giving out half-hearted 'excuse me's and not watching where he was going, which, of course, meant he fell into the pool.

 There was a splash, and it took Shinichi a second to realize what had happened. He stood up, thankfully it was the shallow end, and wiped the water off of his face. His suit was soaked, and it would be miserable to walk around in for the rest of the day, the light gray now shades darker. Looking up, there he stood. His eyes as mirthful as he remembered, although that was most likely due to what an idiot Shinichi looked like at the moment.

 "Would you like some help, Great Detective?" he asked, one corner of his mouth pulling up just a pinch more than the other. Shinichi stood there, still in the water, just staring at him, before he realized the other was offering a hand to pull him out. Shinichi took it and was soon face to face with him. "Hey," he said, casually, like they hadn't spent the past five years apart with absolutely no contact. Shinichi was just glad he didn't seem angry.

 "Hey, Shinichi answered back, a smile unconsciously making its way onto his face."I think I need a towel." That made him laugh, a soothing, magical sound, like wind chimes on a bright summers day.

 "Yeah, I think you do." He led Shinichi over to a towel stand, throwing one over the detective's head and scrubbing furiously. Shinichi sat on a chair and relaxed as the other worked his magic.

 "It's been a while," he said meekly, glad the towel hid his face. "I haven't seen you in, what, five years?"

 "Just a little bit over, yeah." He stopped scrubbing and brought the towel down to rest on Shinichi's neck. "It's really good to see you, Shinichi."

 "It's good to see you ,too, Kaito." The name felt strange on his tongue, heavy from the disuse. "Congratulations on the upcoming special."

 "You knew about that?"

 "Of course, it's another step closer to your dream. Just because we aren't together anymore doesn't mean I don't support you."

 "I- um, thank you. That means a lot." A light blush dusted his cheeks and Shinichi felt his heart skip a beat. What was he doing? He was engaged now; he shouldn't harbor these kinds of feelings. Kaito made it clear a long time ago that he didn't feel the same way; they just weren't supposed to be a couple.

 "Oh my gosh!" Shinichi looked over to see Midori, she had a drink in one hand and pushed her sunglasses up with the other. "You're Kuroba Kaito! That upcoming magician! I called your manager, like, yesterday to see if you could be the entertainment for my wedding, but he said you were away on personal business. It is such a coincidence that you're here! And you've already met my groom-to-be! In fact, Shinichi, do you know one another?" Her voice was sugar sweet, excitement coloring her features. Shinichi winced; this was going to be awkward.

 "Shinichi! Are you alright!"It was Ran, concern on her features. Great, now he had to introduce Ran to Katio, like confessing he was married to his fiancée wasn't enough, now he had to admit to his best friend that he had gotten married with her knowledge.

 "That looked pretty bad, Shinichi. You aren't hurt, are you?" Ran said, but Ran's lips never moved. From behind Ran, came...Ran.

 When Shinichi fell into the pool, like the oblivious fool he is, Aoko had to hold Ran back from going to check on him. He had fallen in because he was too focused on Kaito, after all. Aoko hadn't planned for them to meet up like this, but having them interact more naturally was definitely the smarter option. It lead to the two of them talking, and, sure, the girls couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked like it was going well. They weren't arguing, at least. Then, of course, Midori came over and it was time to intervene. Ran ran over to them first, still concerned about Shinichi's well being, and Aoko followed not far behind. The look on Shinichi's face was absolutely priceless, but the mixture of confusion and outrage on Midori's face, doubly so.

 "There are TWO of you?!" She yelled, drawing a few unsavory looks. "Shinichi, why didn't you tell me there are TWO of them?" Shinichi just looked between Aoko and Ran, his "detective" face scrutinizing each of them thoroughly. Finally, he pointed at Ran.

 "You're the real one," was his eloquent answer. The girls shared a look and burst out laughing.

 "Yeah, Shinichi, I'm the real one," Ran replied through her giggles.

 "Shinichi!" Midori whined, "What is going on! Are you pulling some kind of prank on me."

 "No," Shinichi replied, keeping his eyes on the two girls, "but I think one was pulled on me."

 "Ooo, someone got busted," Kaito teased.

 "I think we should go somewhere else. Midori," Shinichi finally turned to his finacee, "You should go, you can't be late to that shoot this evening, I'm just going to grab dinner with Ran and... the others."

 "Okay, Shinichi," Midori huffed, "just make sure you call me tonight." She pulled his chin up so she could give him a deep kiss before she left. Aoko knew she did it just so she could prove to everyone there that she was the one who was engaged to Shinichi, and Aoko had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. Once she walked away, Shinichi turned his focus back on Ran and herself.

 "Seriously, we need to talk."

 "Good thing I made dinner reservations," Aoko smirked.

 Aoko, ever the schemer, had decided that the best way for the boys to reconnect was to make them have a romantic dinner. So, of course, she reserved a table at the restaurant atop the Beika tower as soon as she learned Kaito and Ran were flying back to Japan. Ran thought Aoko deserved an award for all of the effort she was putting into this thing.

 "Really, Aoko, we could have just gone to a family restaurant. I don't see why you needed to make this such a big event," Kaito whined, looking very embarrassed by the whole situation. Ran and Aoko had rushed to take chairs next to one another, forcing the boys to sit shoulder to shoulder.

 "Because I wanted something fancy," Aoko said, as if it was an excuse she used quite often, and the way Kaito rolled his eyes and accepted it seemed to confirm it.

 "Well, I hope you know that I'm not going to pay for any of this," Shinichi huffed, his arms crossed and just a twinge of annoyance on his face. "And I still want answers; don't think you can get out of this."

 "We know," Aoko said with a roll of her eyes, "Just let us order first and then we'll explain."

 Shinichi sat, annoyed, until the waiter came by and took their order. Ran hated seeing him look so angry, especially when it was with her. She never wanted to hurt his feelings, she genuinely thought she was doing what was best for him, she still did. As soon as the waiter walked away, Shinichi pounced. "Spill, why do you have a doppelganger and how long have I spent with them? And you," he turned to Kaito, "How long have you known about this?" Kaito put his hands up in a "I had nothing to do with this" kind of way".

 "Well, Aoko and I met at a cafe and got to talking. At first we were just surprised at how similar we looked, and then we got to talking. Eventually, I mentioned you and I showed Aoko this picture," Ran said, pulling out the folded up half of the wedding photo. Shinichi took it from her and unfolded it with a gasp.

 "I completely forgot I gave this to you," Shinichi said, his eyes still scanning the picture of his smiling face.

 "And when I saw that, I showed Ran this," Aoko added, handing Shinichi her half of the photo. Shinichi held the two halves together, looking at the complete photo. Kaito leaned in to look as well, and the expression on both of their faces made it clear just how happy a memory the picture held. It reminded Ran of when she and Aoko first saw the whole photo, it was like something had clicked and they knew that the two were perfect complements. Even looking at the two of them now, it seems so natural to see them together that Ran wondered what it would be like to see them as a couple.

 "Knowing that our best friend had hidden something so huge from us, we had to meet the other, so we came up with a plan. I was leaving to meet Kaito in Paris in a week, so we had to work fast."

 "Wait," Kaito interrupted, pulling his focus back to the girls, "You met each other, came up with a plan, and learned to confidently pretend to be one another well enough to fool their childhood best friend in a week?"

 "What, like it's hard?" Ran asked, her voice innocent. Shinichi burst out laughing and Kaito looked adequately flustered. "Anyway, I left for Paris instead of Aoko while Aoko spent time with you. We got to spend a good two weeks together before Aoko called to tell me that you got engaged. At that point I decided it was the best time to tell Kaito who I was and to fly back here."

 "And for the record," Kaito interrupted again, "Ran told me that you had also been informed, I didn't know you didn't know until earlier today."

 "Yes, and we're sorry," Aoko added.

 "So, did you or did you not do all of this so Kaito and I would get back together."

 "Not," Aoko immediately replied, "Ran and I just felt it necessary to know the person our best friend was married to." Aoko said it with a little bite in her voice and the boys had enough sense to look guilty.

 "We wanted too," Shinichi said, "but after the divorce, we didn't think we would see one another again. It didn't seem like it was important."

 "Of course it was important, Shinichi!" Ran looked furious. "You never told me you were dating anyone let alone got married. Why wouldn't you think that would be important? And then you got so sad after what I now know to be the time of your divorce. Shinichi, I was so worried about you and you told me nothing." Angry tears were pooling in Ran's eyes, so she got up from the table to go calm down in the restroom, Aoko hot on her heels, but not after a scathing look at the two very guilty looking boys.

 "Well, that's not how I was hoping the evening would go," Kaito said with a forced laugh in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "I think we really messed up, Shinichi."

 "Yeah, we really did."

 "They really are to smart for their own good," Kaito said with another laugh, this one more genuine. "Of course they would pick the restaurant we had our first date at, although I don't think they knew that."

 "It is one hell of a coincidence, especially since this is the same table."

 "You remembered?"

 "Of course I did," Shinichi said with a huff, "I wouldn't forget something like that,"

 "You forgot a lot of other things," Kaito mumbled, taking a sip of water.

 "I know I did, and I am so, so sorry." Shinichi met his gaze, trying to convey just how genuine he was. Kaito let out a sigh and grabbed his hand.

 "I know you are, and I forgive you, I always forgave you. It doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

 "That's why we got divorced."

 "That among other things," Kaito said lightly, "one of which was my constant use of you as a guinea pig for my new tricks."

 "As long as you acknowledge it, I mean, there was one week where you ran at least five by me every day."

 "Aw, you kept track?" Kaito teased.

 "I kept track of all of your tricks, I still have the notebook with all my feedback if you want." Kaito lost his words, he didn't think Shinichi had actually really cared about his magic career.

 "That would be wonderful."

 "I'm glad," Shinichi smiled, "I'll have to give it to you before you fly back to Paris."

 "We'll have to do something nice for them," Kaito said, gesturing to the empty side of the table, "I don't think I would have ever worked up the nerve to talk to you again if they hadn't done this."

 "You're right," Shinichi agreed, "Not that I'm happy about this whole situation, but they did do it with good intentions."

 "Unfortunately, I don't think they will accept any apology under the value of a thousand dollars."

 Everyone parted in good graces for the night, agreeing to meet back up tomorrow morning at Shinichi's house for breakfast.

 Which, of course, was a disaster because Midori just had to be there. Breakfast was a sacred tradition between Ran and Shinichi, they made sure that they met for it at least once a month, and anyone who knew them knew that intruding without an invitation was an egregious sin. When Shinichi opened his door to her, it was obvious that he hadn't invited her, yet he still let her in. This ticked Ran off more than anything else the girl had done.

 "Good morning, everyone!" Midori said with a sugar sweet voice. "I hope you don't mind me joining you! Shinichi told me you guys were meeting up this morning and as his fiancée, I just have to know more about his friends." Ran glanced over at Aoko and Kaito, who were sharing one side of the table, Kaito had a courteous smile on his face while Aoko made no attempt to hide her eye roll.

 "It's a pleasure to see you again Ms. Kyoya," Kaito said, although the formality was strange to Ran's ears. It was clear Kaito didn't feel comfortable around the woman. Midori was, of course, completely oblivious and quickly took the seat across from him, leaning in to his space.

 "Midori," Shinichi said, almost pushing the woman out of Kaito's space with what looked to Ran like a worried look in Kaito's direction. "Kaito is still a bit jet-lagged, try to go easy on him." The smile he gave his fiancée was one he would give a small child, trying to tell them what they were doing was impolite.

 "I was just chatting, Shinichi," Midori wrinkled her nose at him, "I want to know why you would invite a magician to your 'special breakfast', but not your beloved fiancée?" Midori batted her doe eyes at Shinichi with a pout in her lip.

 "It's not that I didn't want to invite you," Shinichi said, averting his eyes from Midori's, a tell Ran recognized as him not telling the complete truth, he probably just forgot about her, "the four of us just have some things we still need to discuss."

 "Well, whatever you need to discuss can be after breakfast," Midori said in a huff, "I am starving, what we are having?"

 Breakfast was dominated by Midori's ceaseless chatter. The topics pertained to things Midori was interested in and the other people only responded when Midori prompted them. They weren't able to get a word in otherwise. After breakfast, as Ran told Aoko, Ran and Shinichi went shopping together, just wandering around a mall or street as they saw fit. And, of course, today was no different. Shinichi was just mentioning this to Midori when Kaito spoke up. "Shinichi, I'm really sorry, but I think it's about time I got going."

 "What?" Shinichi said with a looking like a kicked puppy, although Aoko doubted he himself knew it.

 "You clearly didn't know I was coming, and I don't want to bother you anymore than I already have. I think I could get a flight out soon, so I'm going to get out of your hair."

 "No!" Ran and Aoko stood and shouted at the same time. They shared a look, they knew something like this could happen, so they had made some plans.

 "You can't just tell me no," Kaito crossed his arms, a look of annoyance on his face, "I'm a grown man, I can make decisions for myself."

 "I disagree," Aoko crossed her arms and gave Kaito an equally as annoyed look. "Last time you made a decision without me you ended up leaving the country after having your heart broken."

 "I wasn't heartbroken." Kaito said, a blush rising to his cheeks, as well as a short glance at Shinichi.

 "I agree with Ran," Ran said, her voice falling into Aoko's cadence. The look on the boys' faces told her their plan would work.

 "At least I have Aoko on my side," Aoko said, walking around the table to give Ran a hug.

 "You too playing this game isn't going to stop me from leaving." Kaito said, his eyes darting back and forth, revealing that he doesn't actually know who is who.

 "No," they said in unison, "But us having this will." They held up a passport bearing the name of one Kuroba Kaito, magician extraordinaire.

 "Hey!" Kaito protested, standing up from the table, prompting the girls to hurry up the stairs and into the Kudou library. By the time Kaito caught up with them, he didn't find two girls in the library, he found one. Copy and pasted into an identical person. The clothes, hair, facial features, the girls had perfectly combined their two looks to make it impossible to differentiate between the two. Shinichi and Midori were on Kaito's heels and the looks on their faces made the girls feel all the more confident in their plan. "Give me back my passport." It was a command, and Kaito's voice was clearly angry.

 "Not until you can tell us apart," the girls said.

 "And I would be careful," Aoko smirked, "if you try to pick it off the wrong one, well, I'm not a karate champion for nothing."

 "Shinichi," Kaito turned to the detective, who was still searching the identical twins before him, "Can you please stop this nonsense."

 "I can't," Shinichi replied.

 "What do you mean you can't?"

 "I can't tell them apart."

 "Seriously detective? You could always see through my tricks but you can't tell two girls apart?"

 "I was only able to see through those tricks because I had time to think about it. Your tricks were elaborate, complicated puzzles that I had to take a lot of time to crack, compared to them," Shinichi gave Kaito a smirk, "these amateurs will be nothing."

 And so, it was decided that Shinichi would take the girls shopping in order to more closely study them. Midori, of course, wanted to tag along claiming that she could help. They made their way to a shop lined street that Ran and Shinichi frequent. He probably expected to pick out Ran from how she responded to different shops and items, but shopping habits had been one of the many things the girl's had trained on for their switch. Some things both responded to in a Ran way and others they did like Aoko, ensuring that Shinichi would still be confused.

 Shinichi kept leading them around to different shops, the girls revealing no hint as to who they are, Midori persuading Shinichi to buy something for her, and continuing to the next one for over an hour until Shinichi decided he needed a break. He wandered off to the nearest public restroom, leaving the twins and Midori by themselves. It was quiet for a moment before Midori shot the two a scathing look.

 "I have no idea why the two of you are doing this, it's quite pathetic."

 "I'm sorry," Ran asked, probably just to say something before Aoko could.

 "How you're desperately clinging to these guys? It's pathetic."

 "They're our friends," Aoko steamed.

 "Oh, sweetheart, you can drop the act in front of me, I mean, with how famous, and no doubt rich, Kuroba is, it's no wonder why you would so desperately try to keep him in the country. I'm sure you could just make him pay you for his passport. I'm still not quite sure why he's here and why Shinichi knows him, but it sure did seem like he wanted to leave. And as for Shinichi, well, I get it, he's quite the meal ticket, but I already have him in my pocket, so I'd really appreciate it if you girls would leave him alone."

 "I've known him since preschool," Ran said in a cold voice, "I'm not going to stop seeing my best friend just because he got married."

 "Honey, you need to understand," Midori gave Ran doe eyes, as if they could sugarcoat all of the vitriol coming out of her mouth, "Alongside such a high-class item like Shinichi, you're just an eyesore. I mean, you aren't rich or famous like the family Shinichi comes from, you just detract from his value."

 "Oh? I think the idea of increasing someone's 'value' by being associated with them is nonsense, but if I did, I definitely think I add more worth than you," Ran said with enough bite that it made Aoko shiver, "What do you think, Shinichi?"

 It was then that Aoko noticed Shinichi walking back over to their group, hanging up his cell and something Aoko hadn't seen before stirring in his eyes. Ran also produced her cellphone, showing the fact that she had just been on a call with Shinichi.

 "Darling!" Midori cried, already falling into character, "Can you believe these nasty girls would manipulate me like that? You know I would never say anything so horrid." Midori fluttered her lashes at him as if they would cast him into a trance, but the look of pure anger on his face held fast.

 "Midori, I could handle you only thinking of me as some kind of get-rich-quick or just some arm candy, but the fact you would try to pry the people who actually care about me out of my life is the line."

 "I would never! Shinichi, you can't think that I-"

 "I know exactly the kind of person you are. The only time you're being sincere is when you talk about money or about your career. Every time you attempt to compliment me or look interested in what I'm talking about, you twirl your hair and look down left. Quite a simple tell, really, you're far too used to relying on your looks to be able to have a good poker face." Midori's face was frozen in shock as she tried to start a coherent sentence. "I'm calling off the engagement." And with that, in the classic Kudou dramatic fashion, he motioned for the girls to follow and they left.

 Kaito was waiting just inside when they came back. He smiled when he saw Shinichi, but it quickly turned into a frown when the passport thieves trailed in after him, then it became slightly confused. "Where's Ms. Kudou-to-be?"

 "Gone," the girls said in unison, completely on accident this time.

 "What?" Kaito looked to Shinichi for answers.

 "I called off the engagement, it turns out I have and always will be terrible with relationships."

 "Oh, Shinichi," Kaito said in a soft voice, resting his hand on Shinichi's shoulder, "It's not your fault she was completely awful and superficial."

 "So you knew too?"

 "You didn't?"

 "I guess I just tried to overlook it," Shinichi sighed, flopping down on the couch."

 "Well, there's your problem," Kaito followed him over and sat on the arm of the sofa, gently running his fingers through Shinichi's hair, "You always try to find the best in people, even if it means overlooking the worst in them. I mean that's what you did with me."

 "Kaito, that wasn't the 'worst' in you!" Shinichi bolted upright, "I knew you had your reasons and you wouldn't-"

 "AHEM!" Aoko coughed, gaining the attention of the boys who had clearly forgotten where they were. "You still haven't won."

 "My passport!" Kaito suddenly remembered "Well... I don't think I can figure it out quite yet...maybe...I should stay a while?" Kaito asked, looking toward Shinichi.

 "Yeah, I think you should." The smile on Shinichi's face was more at ease than Ran had seen in a long, long time. And the look that passed between Ran and Aoko was one of knowing.

 Months later the same look passed between them as they stood on opposite sides of an altar. It only took a few weeks for Kaito and Shinichi to start dating again, with better understanding of who they were as people and how best to navigate a relationship, and only a few months after that they got engaged. And of course, this time, they actually asked Ran and Aoko to be their Maids of Honor. And so that's where Ran and Aoko stood while their two best friends walked down the aisle, in matching suits. Aoko had fussed at them that they had to wear something different or no one would be able to tell them apart. This, of course only made them laugh. And as the two reached the altar and looked at their best friends, they had the absolute audacity, fuss with their hair and switch sides, making everyone in attendance laugh at their antics and the two Maids of Honor groan at the knowledge that they would never let them live down the best plan in all of history.

[thenovelartist]

A Bride for the Prince, chapter 5

A03  ~  < Previous  ~  Next >

Nothing quite prepares you for the sudden reappearance of a childhood friend back in your life. Especially not one Marinette thought she would never see again.

Slowly, Adrien gave her a sheepish grin. “You recognize me, then, huh?”

It didn’t matter that he had grown  several inches and his shoulders had broadened and his jawline had been chiseled into something sharp, she could still recognize him. “Y-yeah.”

With a huff, he glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wait,” she said, the gears in her mind slowly starting up again. “You… you knew, didn’t you?”

His grin turned from sheepish to devilish.

In an instant, her shock was forgotten. “I can’t believe you!” she cried, smacking his chest with the back of her hand just like she used to do. “You knew all this time? Is that why you singled me out?”

“Well, no,” he said, his eyes sparkling dangerously. “You were as klutzy as ever and ran into me—”

“I can’t believe you!” she shouted, smacking him again. This time, he chuckled, but took a step back to avoid her. Not that she would let him. “You you you… you scoundrel.”

His laughter only grew as he continued backing away from her. She smacked him once again for good measure.

“Hey,” he said through a chuckle, grabbing her hand to stop her next hit. “Is that any way to treat your old childhood friend?”

“Yes, considering it’s you.”

He barked out a laugh. “You’re just as fiery as I remember. Except your hits hurt a bit more now.”

She sighed, stopping her advancement. His mirth gradually died down, leaving the two of them staring at each other.

“In all seriousness,” Adrien spoke quietly. “It’s nice seeing you again, Marinette.”

She sighed, unable to keep the smile off her face as she looked up at the man she’d once known. “It’s nice seeing you, too, Adrien.”

His own grin widened. “I honestly thought I’d never see you again. And definitely not masquerading as a lady.”

Marinette blushed. “I have my reasons.”

“I know,” he said. “I wouldn’t doubt that.”

Somewhere in the distance, the clocktower rung the hour. “Thank you for your faith in me.”

“You aren’t the kind of woman who’d be here without good reason. You always had good reasons for most everything you did.”

Her cheeks warmed further. “How did you know I didn’t change?”

“I would severely doubt that you would go from honorable to a complete liar. You just… you just aren’t that kind of person.”

She didn’t know how to handle the compliments he was pouring over her, so she looked over to where Alya and Nino should be, only to find them gone. “Hey, where’d they go?”

Adrien looked up, only to discover that neither Alya nor Nino were anywhere to be found. “I think we’ve been ditched.”

“They must have gone off to Alya’s contest,” Marinette said with a frown. “But why wouldn’t they wait for us?”

“They probably wanted to be together alone. Or maybe Nino thought he might be able to talk Alya out of it.”

Marinette scoffed. “Not likely.”

Adrien chuckled. “How do you know those two so well despite knowing them so short a time?”

Marinette shrugged.

“Well,” Adrien said, leaning closer to her. “I’m not going to complain. I have a lovely young lady in my company so I’m going to enjoy it.”

With that, he extended his arm to her. Smiling, she wrapped her hands over his elbow. “I see you’ve become a flatterer.”

“Naw,” he dismissed. “Only with certain lovely young ladies.”

“Sure. I believe that.”

“You should. Particularly if it’s a lovely young lady I used to look forward to seeing in DuPont every year.”

Marinette’s smile faded at his comment. “Why did you never come back? To DuPont. You just disappeared.”

All mirth vanished from Adrien’s expression. “I… the queen died,” he answered. “Meaning I never had a reason nor opportunity to go back to DuPont.”

“Oh,” was all she managed. “I… I guess that makes sense.”

“I didn’t like it,” Adrien said. “I missed you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I missed you, too. But more than anything, I just wanted to know what happened to you. I wanted to know if…if you were okay. More than once did I think you were dead and that was why you never came back.”

His free hand reached over to cover hers. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For causing you to worry so much. I never intended that. Never… never thought you’d be that concerned about me.”

“You were the highlight of my summers,” she quickly countered. “You were practically my best friend. How could I not be worried about you?”

Her words seemed to catch him off guard. He stared at her a moment before turning away with a smile. “Thank you, Marinette.”

She cocked her head to the side, her brow furrowing in confusion. “For what?”

“Caring,” he answered simply.

But it didn’t satisfy her. She stopped, tugging him to a halt, as well. “I don’t understand, Adrien. What do you mean?”

He gave her a gentle smile that slowly calmed the curiosity in her. “Nothing,” he said, slowly pulling his arm away so he could take her hands in his. “Just that I appreciate your concern. To be honest, I mourned the loss of you every summer following. I thought you would have moved on by now.”

“I… well, I did,” she answered. “But I always wondered. And now you show back up in my life, and I can’t not catch up with you. I have to know how you’ve been. I still care even though I’d let you go.”

He smirked. “Well, I don’t intend on letting you go again so easily,” he said, giving her hands a tight squeeze. “But I’m going to ignore the inevitable parting and spend time with you now.”

Something warm washed over her. “I like that idea.”

He grinned then put her hands over his elbow again. “Come on.”

From there, they spent time wandering and talking, covering all the time that they had been apart. Adrien told her about his misadventures of becoming a royal guard but how he actually enjoyed the profession quite a bit. Marinette covered her adventures of sewing and dressmaking and being the lady’s maid to Lady Bug.

“And Lord Stoneheart told me that once this was all over, he would insist I come back to reclaim my position as Lady Stoneheart’s lady’s maid.”

“Loyal as ever,” Adrien commented. “I truly expected nothing less of you.”

She shrugged. “I think caring about the people you care about is important. That’s all.”

“And that’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you,” Adrien said. “You just… you care. And I feel like a lot of people in my life don’t.”

“Then you need to find some better friends.”

His smile turned pained, but she didn’t know why. “Yeah. I’m trying. Hey, are you hungry?”

She wanted to press him for the sudden change of subject but decided to let it go. “Are you hungry?” Marinette returned with a forced smile. “You never turned down food back home. Do you still have that appetite?”

He grinned. “I’ve calmed down a little,” he said. “But let me tell you, do you know how much I’ve missed your pastries?”

She giggled.

“Don’t laugh! There’s nothing like them in the entire kingdom. There’s only one little place out here that I found that can maybe satisfy my craving for your sweets.”

“Oh?” she asked, curious. “And that is?”

“This way, my Lady.”

She smacked him. “Enough of the title. I feel like you’re mocking me.”

A smug smile grew across his lips, prompting another smack.

“You’re so mean,” he said with a grin. “How dare you assault a royal guard.”

“You’ll get over it.”

He barked out a laugh, all traces of his previous distress now completely gone. No matter how curious she was, she would let it go in favor of the smile he gave her now.

Their teasing continued as he tugged her down a side street, then another before getting in a long line in front of a food stand.

“My, they sure are popular, aren’t they?”

“They have the best pastries in the town. I can’t say in the kingdom. You hold that title.”

“Oh, stop it,” she said, smacking his arm.

“It’s true.”

“Really?”

“I’m not a liar.”

“Says the man who didn’t tell me who he was.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember me!” he cried, expression falling like a kicked puppy.

“You were my best friend, and you didn’t think I wouldn’t realize who you were?”

“You hadn’t seen me in a while. I didn’t know.”

“You haven’t changed that much. You still have that wild mess of blonde hair and those pretty green eyes and that stupid smug grin.”

Instantly, she regretted those words as she watched a stupid smug grin slowly appear. “Pretty green eyes, huh?”

She hoped her cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt. “Yes. What of it?”

“You wouldn’t happen to find anything else pretty, would you?”

Yes. Yes, she did. She found a lot she liked. But he didn’t have to know. “No. You’re about as ugly as ever.”

The dumbstruck expression was worth it. “Oh, my poor heart,” he cried, his expression turning into an amused one. “Someone stuck a knife through it.”

“Walk it off, Chat Noir.”

Marinette succeeded in holding in her laughter for all of five seconds. She couldn’t not laugh when he was nearly on his knees in hysterics.

“Oh, Marinette,” he said, calming down. “Your tongue’s gotten sharper.”

“I’ve been working on it.”

“I can tell. At least none of the other ladies will want to torment you if you keep that up.”

They shared another chuckle before happening to get to the front of the line.

“Two eclairs, please,” Adrien said.

The shop owner handed over two pastries with a smile, and Adrien was quick to pay the man. “Thank you.”

Pastry in hand, they walked off to the side and away from the line. Marinette took a bite, discovering that he was right. The éclair was good, but she was always fond of her parents’ baking.

“See?” Adrien said, taking a bite of his own éclair. “Not as good. I’m left with subpar pastries thanks to you. You and your parents ruined me forever.”

“I don’t know,” Marinette said, swiping some pastry cream out of the center with her finger. “The pastry cream is pretty good. Just the right sweetness. I think the issue is dough itself; it’s just… off and I can’t tell why.”

Before she could lick the cream off her finger, Adrien grabbed her hand and did it. She squeaked indignantly as his tongue licked the cream off her finger, but the heat on her cheeks and the speed of her heart made it difficult for her mind to function.

That smug smile was back as he looked up at her, her finger now free of pastry cream. “You’re right. It is delicious.”

“Cheeky,” she growled, turning away to enjoy the rest of her éclair without him stealing it.

He chuckled, leaving her heart a mess.

She glared at him just as he took another bite of his own éclair. But before he could bite down, she reached up and squeezed the pastry, shooting all the cream into his mouth and causing him to choke out of surprise. Marinette laughed as he bent over, trying to get his mouthful of cream under control.

“And you call me cheeky,” he said with a smirk, staring at his now empty éclair shell.

She winked at him while taking another bite of her éclair.

He shook his head, causing her smile to widen. “I like this side of you,” he said.

“Oh, I’ll be certain to show it constantly, then. Or, at least for a week to pay back every day you never told me your identity.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No,” she answered with a grin.

He sighed, his head falling in shame. “Is there anything I can do to get back in your good graces, my Lady?”

“You can not call me that when it’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” he said, his brows waggling. “You mean there’s going to be more of just the two of us? How scandalous.”

Her cheeks warmed at the thought. Funny how a few years could make the difference between two friends playing together and a scandalous meeting. To her, it didn’t feel that way. Marinette was generally careful about what men she spent time with, and despite only having just realized who he was, Adrien was one of those men she felt comfortable with. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“Maybe?” Adrien repeated, smile growing smug as he leaned closer to her. “Hmm. Then I’ll do my best to be so charming you can’t say no.”

Marinette giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Proudly so.”

She shook her head before eating the last bite of pastry.

Close by, the musicians finished their song, drawing a round of cheers. The next song was announced, warning people to grab a partner.

Adrien bowed before her, hand extended. “Care to dance?”

“If I say no?”

“I’ll drag you out anyway.”

With a chuckle, Marinette put her hand in his. “I would love to.”

The smile he gave her caused her heart to trip, Quickly, she shoved the feeling away, only for it to return with a vengeance when he took her in his arms. Get a hold of yourself, Marinette! She had to. What did it matter that a dashing young man was holding her close? It was a dance between two friends. That was all.

That was all.

After that first dance, and the second, they found themselves shockingly close. Each song seemed slower than the last, prompting couples closer.

“You dance very well,” Adrien quietly commented.

“I had a great teacher,” she returned just as quietly. “I’m glad I paid attention to all the lessons you gave me before considering I’ll need them now.”

“I’d be glad to teach you more,” he said. “So that you’re more confident when any dances come up.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be your dance teacher from here on out.”

She smiled at him, warmth flooding her. “Thank you, Adrien. I know I tease you, but I could always count on you.”

“Well, I knew you did back then. I want to prove I never changed in that regard.”

“I trust you,” Marinette said, the words resonating within her and clearly hitting him hard, as well. “I know I probably shouldn’t—we haven’t seen each other in years—but I do.”

He squeezed her hand. “I promise not to disappoint you.”

I believe it. She squeezed his hand back.

The last song came to an end, meaning the dance partners parted and bowed to each other. Adrien gave her a deep bow, one full of respect for her while she gave the best curtsy she could manage.

The large town clock chimed. Adrien glanced up at it. “The light show is going to start soon.” He grabbed her hand and guided her away from the crowd. “Come. I want to get to the best place possible to view it.”

“Best place possible?”

Adrien nodded. “Yes. But it’s a secret. You can tell no one about that spot. Nino and I have commandeered it.”

“I promise. Who would I tell, anyway?”

“I suppose that’s true,” he agreed. “One more thing: you still climb trees, right?”

That caused her brows to furrow. “I do,” she said.

His grin was full of childish giddiness. “Good.”

He snatched her hand, immediately tugging her through the crowd and weaving through buildings with shocking ease. Surprisingly, she kept pace with him as they continued their seemingly unceasing journey. “This spot of yours is far off, isn’t it?”

“It’s worth it,” he told her, pausing to look her in the eyes. “I promise.”

Somehow, those words calmed her. “I trust you.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand and making her heart leap in the process. “That’s all that matters to me.”

In an instant, they were off again, continuing to weave through the crowd until they came to an area with tall houses. From there, he pulled her down a completely clear alleyway.

“Here,” he said. “The rooftops.”

Marinette blinked several times before looking around. “I see no trees.”

He grinned. “I just wanted to know if you still climbed. Look. The slats on the house offers footing while there are handholds due to the clotheslines and structure posts and windowsills.”

The moon was full, otherwise, there was no way she would be able to see a thing. She studied the side of the house, creating a path in her mind’s eye. “Okay.” She bent down to fold up her skirts in a very unladylike way, but it allowed her the ability to climb.

“Do you want to follow me?” Adrien asked. “Or do you want me behind you to catch you if you fall?”

If his expression wasn’t as serious as it was, she would have smacked him. However, it had been a while since she’d climbed anything. “Behind me, please.”

“Okay. Up you go, my Lady.”

She glared at him for that.

He smirked. “What other endearments am I allowed if not that one?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“No!” she cried, spying that smug grin of his. “No. Not anything. Just not that.”

“What about—”

“Less talking; more climbing.”

He chuckled. “Okay. Just give me more time to think.”

“I regret ever telling you not to call me by my fake title.”

Several minutes later, Marinette finally made her way to the rooftop, Adrien following right behind. She nearly slipped once, but he’d caught her foot to give her stability.

“Thank you for that,” she said once they were both standing steadily on the roof.

“That’s why I was behind you, right?”

A blush was on her cheeks, she was sure of it. “Yeah. But still.”

His kind smile glowed I the moonlight. “You’re welcome, bugaboo.”

“Bugaboo?” she repeated, only slightly amused.

“I think it’s appropriate, Lady Bug.”

She scoffed. “What other ones have you thought of?”

At that, his grin widened, becoming bright enough to light the night. “I’m glad you asked—”

A whizzing sound came from the side, calling both their attentions, only for something to explode in the sky, illuminating the night with colored sparks.

Adrien grabbed her hand, pulling her up to the top of the roof and quickly taking a seat. Marinette was quick to settle herself beside him, finishing just as the next firework shot into the sky.

“Wow,” Marinette breathed. “We’re so close.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said, voice filled with awe. “I told you so.”

“You did,” Marinette absently agreed, watching as another firework whizzed into the sky and burst apart, colored flames disappearing as they fell back to the ground.

They stayed there for a while, watching in awe as every last firework exploded in the sky. And in one last huzzah, several fireworks burst together, before disappearing and ending the festivities.

“That was stunning,” Marinette cried, her voice nearly drowned out by the thunderous applause and cheers from below. “And so much bigger than anything back at DuPont. But I guess that’s to be expected.”

“As long as you enjoyed it, that’s all that really matters.”

Marinette hoped her blush was hidden by the moonlight. “I… think maybe we should go back to the castle. It’s getting late.”

“Once the crowds die down a bit,” Adrien said.

Marinette bit her lip. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be out later than I have to be.”

“It will be fine,” Adrien assured, reaching over to lay a hand over hers. “That… and I’m not ready to leave just yet.”

“O-oh?”

He smiled, glancing away. “Call me selfish,” he said. “But I’m just not ready to let you go for the night. The thought of taking you back to the castle and parting ways… doesn’t exactly sound appealing.”

Marinette blinked a few times, her mind not functioning. “Adrien—”

“Please?” he asked, turning back to face her. “I…” he swallowed. “I really missed you. And I didn’t realize just how much until now.”

Her mouth seemed dry and unable to give an answer. “I… I mean…” She swallowed, hoping something would come to her. “We can always meet again,” she finally said. “This doesn’t have to be the only time we cross paths.”

Slowly, Adrien’s lips picked up in a half grin. “Like clandestine meetings?” he teased.

She snorted. “You make them sound scandalous.”

“You’re a walking scandal, bugaboo,” he teased. “Our meetings would have to be secret.”

She hummed. “I suppose you’re right.”

He reached out to take her hand in his. “So, while we’re trapped up here waiting for the crowds to fade, I realized I never asked you a very important question.”

Her brow lifted along with the corners of her lips. “Oh? And just what would that be?”

“Have you been pursued by a suitor?”

Her heart did a funny skip before sending a burst of heat through her chest. “Most importantly?”

“I have to know if I have to march to DuPont and threaten some man’s life if he doesn’t care for you properly. Gems like you should be polished and kept at a shine, you know.”

He may have been smiling, but his expression conveyed his sincerity. It was almost scary to Marinette. “You don’t have to protect me, you know.”

“Sure I do,” he said. “I swore I always would.”

Her brow furrowed. The memory of a seven-year-old boy swearing his undying loyalty came to the forefront of her mind. “You still remember that?”

“Of course. I took that promise very seriously.”

“I won’t hold you to it, now.”

“You should,” he whispered. “I’m telling you to.”

Warmth raced from her chest up her neck to her cheeks. “Well… thank you.”

“You know you still haven’t answered my question.”

She chuckled nervously. “And here I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Never,” he said with a grin.

Amused, she shook her head. “There’s no one you need to worry about. There was an artist, then a traveling musician who were both once interested in me. In fact, he is the lead of the Couffaine troop.”

“The singer?”

She nodded. “Yes. He was passing through town and we became friends, but he wanted to pursue me even though he was traveling. No matter how much I liked him, I just… I couldn’t be with someone who would be gone more often than with me. It was the same with the artist. So in the end, I turned them down.”

“Wise,” he answered, nodding his head in approval. “You deserve better than that.”

She shrugged. “I’d like to think so. I want a family and a husband who’s actually around. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“It isn’t.”

“Several of the other girls said I was a fool turning them down.”

“You weren’t,” Adrien assured.

“You sound so sure.”

“Marinette.” The reverence in his tone stoked the fire even hotter in her belly. How it was possible was beyond her. Why she was feeling so flustered was even more confusing. “You are an incredibly beautiful young woman with many talents. There will be a good man out there for you. I won’t let you go to anyone other than the best.”

She didn’t know how to process his words. On one hand, she should probably scoff and call him ridiculous, but it didn’t seem like he was joking. Which made her embarrassed beyond belief because what was she supposed to say to that?

“We should go,” she said. “It’s getting late, and I have to be up early with all the other girls tomorrow.”

The way he looked at her meant he clearly knew what she was doing. However, he let it slide. “Then let’s go, my Lady.”

Never did that title sound more wrong than when he said it so melancholily.

The crowd had thinned out a bit, allowing them to easily weave through the streets back to the castle. Adrien struck up conversation again about life after they separated, which passed the time as they made their way back to the castle.

The vendors were putting away their wares for the night, closing shop and extinguishing the lanterns. But one caught her eye. The man looked as foreign as her mother and stood watching the people march by, seemingly refusing to call it a night just yet. The decorations were filled with familiar symbols, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

Adrien paused to look over at the shop. “Let’s go look,” he said with a grin, already pulling her over and closer to the shop.

“Good evening,” the man said. “Quite the festival we just had.”

“Definitely,” Adrien agreed. The fireworks were brighter than usual.”

The man hummed, stroking his small beard. “Good company usually affects such things.”

“Well, I can’t deny that.”

Marinette focused her attentions at the strings of brightly colored beads instead of how warm Adrien’s voice seemed.

“They’re good luck charms,” the man said. “Made with beads with good fortunes written on them.”

“They’re pretty,” Marinette said. “Despite being so simple, they’re so colorful and cheery.”

“You should get one,” Adrien encouraged.

“I don’t know—”

“Correction,” Adrien interrupted. “Pick one.”

“I can’t make you do that.”

“You’re not making me do anything. I want to get you one.”

Marinette hesitated.

“Tell you what,” Adrien said, reaching for one of the charms. “I’ll pick one for you, and you pick one for me. That way, we’ll each have something the other gave us to carry around.”

Marinette bit her lip. “Are you sure?”

His gentle smile was answer enough. “Please.”

She couldn’t resist. Not when she felt warm and fluttery and like she could melt under that grin. She turned back to the charms, looking all the options over before picking a charm of pink and green beads. Adrien, in turn, reached over to grab a set of blue and orange beads, one of which was shaped as a bird.

“Both good choices,” the man encouraged with a grin.

“I think so,” Adrien said, handing over a few coins.

The man took them with a bow. “Thank you. Have a good evening, both of you.”

“Thank you.”

Before they could leave the light of the shop, Adrien stopped Marinette. “For you, bugaboo.” He wrapped the charm around her wrist, tying off the end to secure it. He looked so proud of himself before offering his own wrist up to her.

With a smile of her own, she wrapped the charm around his wrist before securing it with a knot. “There,” she said. “Keep that safe.”

“It’s my Marinette good luck charm,” he said. “It’s very important that I do.”

Her cheeks felt on fire for the umpteenth time that night.

Soon enough, they were walking back home once again, and Marinette found she was dreading heading back to her room. Her grip on Adrien’s arm tightened. “Do you think anyone is awake to catch me?”

Adrien frowned. “I’ll lead you up to your room, just in case.”

“Thank you.”

For the second time, Marinette’s heart was pounding as she sneaked through the hallways and stairwells and corridors up to her room. Thankfully, no one was around to catch her, but when they reached her door, her heart dropped for an entirely new reason.

This meant the end of their night together.  

“Thank you, Adrien,” she said, releasing him and stepping back toward her door. “I had a really enjoyable time.”

“As did I,” he said. “We’ll have to do this agai—”

He was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. Before Marinette could act, Adrien shoved her door open and yanked her inside by the waist. Quickly shutting the door, he put a finger over her lips, and he didn’t remove it until the footsteps faded away.

Marinette’s heart was thundering in her chest. When Adrien pulled his finger away, she ignored the way her lips tingled and instead sighed in relief.  “You should go,” Marinette said. “I’d hate for you to get caught.”

He grinned ruefully. “As much as I’d love to stay, I think you’re right. But going out your door is a bad idea.”

Her brow furrowed. “Then…what?”

With a grin that caused her to worry, he walked over to the double doors that lead out to the little balcony attached to her room. “Romeo-and-Juliet-style it is.”

“What?”

“Down the balcony.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Please, don’t be an idiot.”

“I’ve done it before,” he assured. “Don’t worry.”

“Of course, I will.”

“Oh?” His brow quirked and that smug smile returned. “Will you worry about this lowly guard, my Lady?”

Fire flooded her cheeks and neck and chest and even made its way down to her toes. “N-no!”

“Really?”

“Oh, get out of my sight, you stupid alley cat!”

He barked out a laugh. “Whatever the lady says.” He leaped up over the metal railing, holding onto it with one hand. “Just as long as it keeps me in her good graces, I will bow to every command that falls from her lips.”

Her heart clinched. “Knock it off.”

“But I’m having so much fun.”

She grunted. “Please, just go. A-and don’t get hurt.”

“Don’t worry.” He reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, pulling it close and laying a lingering kiss on her knuckles. “Your loyal guard will be safe. For now, sleep well, my Lady. Good night.”

And with that, he let go of her hand and disappeared from sight.

Her knuckles tingled with the feel of his lips, causing her heart to flutter awkwardly in her chest. It was impossible to ignore the burning of her cheeks; the sensation had been a constant for nearly the entire evening. She rested her elbows on the railing, her hands crossing in such a way that she could feel the simple cord of small, wooden beads under her palm. “Good night,” she whispered out into the air. “Adrien.”

[malereader-inserts]

Underestimate Me (I Dare You)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: BAU team & Male!Reader Summary: You have a fatal flaw that will get you killed one day, it’s underestimating, and boy it has an effect on you. Word Count: 1,815 A/n: We love making the reader so powerful because it’s our imagination and if we can’t be badasses in real life then might as well project it on to some fics. yo, the reader is OP. NOW TAKING IN CRIMINAL MIND REQUEST ONLY OF THE OLD TEAM, I HAVENT WATCHED THE NEW TEAM SO NO LUKE ALVERZ (sp?) REQUEST

You might be young, but that doesn’t mean you know anything less.

You’ve been on the team since you were twenty-three, you were two years younger than the great genius that is Dr Spencer Reid, and just because you were the baby of the group does not mean you were treated to be treated like one.

You’ve proved your worth on the team for the past five years, sure you weren’t that much of a genius like Reid but you were smart enough to get onto the BAU young. They treat you as if you were a fragile parcel and sometimes it was exhausting, you get that they were just being protective over you during the case when there’s a possible chance of you getting hurt.

But, you knew what you were signing up to, it wasn’t like you trained in an academy to become a spy slash assassin at the age of fourteen before running away to start a better new life. You were trained to do bad things and yet through the intense training, you became “deviant” - before they could send you out to do missions you were challenging the system before making yourself a target.

They planned to kill you, you weren’t complying, you weren’t conforming.

You ran away from the academy when you were seventeen, through finding your feet and studying hard you found a new beginning, a job that you could put your training to the test whilst doing the good thing.

All you ever wanted to do was to do good.

The FBI director, deputy director, and Chief of Staff and Special Counsel to the director was aware of your background, it was one of the main reason why the had hired you and made that information locked.

You don’t know what had triggered you during this case, all you remember was being pissed at your team for underestimating you and your skillset. You were a damn good profiler and an efficient agent in the field, and yet, you singlehandedly took down the suspects without killing them, maiming possibly.

Then, you flew back home, you didn’t talk to the team whilst they lectured you about the case. You just got in your car, went to the hospital to be patched up and stayed at home for the weekend. Now, you called in for sick leave because despite taking down five or six fugitives, you were injured and in pain. 

Plus, it was an excuse to take some time to get away from your team.

Your bed was comforting, burying yourself closer to the depths of warmth that was engulfing you whole. You had to get up though, your stomach was rumbling - demanding for food.

As you get up you take a quick bathroom detour, washing your hands and staring at yourself in the mirror. 

“Man,” You say, touching your black eye and the bruising on your temple the opposite side of your face, at your jaw was discolouring as well, “Looking good.”

You chuckled at the sarcastic remark you make as you pulled over a shirt over you, deciding that you’ll have to live with the shirt rubbing over your bandages.

Then, as you were about to cook up some quick noodles before crashing in your bed, a knock had interrupted.

“Fuck off,” You grumbled loud enough.

“Kid, you’ve taken a sick day and we’re worried about you,” Morgan’s voice came through.

“We?” You asked, slowly creeping towards the door. 

“(Y/n),” Hotch’s voice calls out as you loudly sighed.

The team on the other side had been worried sick about you over the weekend, they gave you space during the two days and then talk to you when Monday came around however you were nowhere to be seen at your desk.

No explanation until Strauss had mentioned to Hotch you were taking a sick day, then they wondered if you were just avoiding them. 

You looked pretty unhappy on the flight home, in fact, they were sure you were uncomfortable and wincing in pain. 

You open the door before walking away, leaving the team to look at each other, slowly coming into your apartment. Cosy, full of books scattered across the floors since you’ve given up with the concept of bookshelves.

“So, what do you want?” You asked, moving your face into the freeze - cooing at the fresh cold breeze it had emitted out. 

“We wanted to talk,” Emily says looking at Hotch, who tilted his head profiling you.

“Then, talk.”

You pulled out an ice bag, wrapped it in cloth, pressed it against your bruised temple and turning to look at them expectingly. They stopped short, as you let out another disgruntled sigh. Moving passed them and lying on your sofa.

“Ow,” You softly say, adjusting yourself, “You going to talk or just waste more of my time.”

“Alright, grumpy,” Rossi voiced, lifting your feet up and sitting down, then lowering your feet onto his lap.

“What are you-oh,” You silenced yourself when Rossi starts to massage your calves, making Morgan, Emily, and JJ amused, “Still, going to give me a lecture-?”

“I think we already vocalised our lecture on the flight home,” Hotch says assertively before switching his tone more fatherly, “We were more concern about you, truth be told, you look... shit.”

You smile at your boss cursing as you moved your ice pack to look at the team, scoffing.

“I’m pissed at all of you,”

“We noticed,” JJ affirmed your anger towards them, “Still don’t understand why.”

“Because I’m tired of being treated like I’m good enough, I’m not a child, I’m a grown-ass man!” You exclaimed, before sitting up abruptly, causing you to wince.

Emily came to your aid to help you sit up, her hand affectionately rubbing your shoulder. Without you noticing she tugs on your short sleeves, exposing the dressing strip to the team.

“And, I’m not enduring another lecture about that case again, yes, I get it, it was stupid of me. I could have died, whatever, blah blah,” You rolled your eyes, “I’ve lost my sense of life years ago, good luck in trying to restore it because I’m a lost cause.”

There was silence.

“I don’t know why I just said that,” You admitted, blinking slowly before shifting the ice back over your black eye.

“What happened?” Spencer finally speaks, as you looked at him, he cleared his throat, “There was blacked out text on your file, redacted, I just figured it’s something that contributes to your sense of life.”

“I’m fucked up, man,” You hummed.

“Aren’t we all,” Morgan agrees, sitting in your armchair with JJ sitting on the armrest.

You opened your mouth to speak, hunching your shoulders and letting out a defeated sigh as they waited for your explanation, oh how the tables had turned.

“I’m a defensive guarded person, being closed off is all I’ve ever know. My parents never really acted like parents.”

“How so,” Spencer asked, before stuttering out, “If you don’t mind us asking.”

You shrugged your shoulders, not caring as Spencer shift his awkwardness between the balance on his feet. 

“My parents threw me into an academy for becoming a trained spy slash assassin,” You scoffed, shaking your head when you say it out loud.

“I heard about that,” Morgan nodded, pointing at you, “It was caught and the organisation ceased to exist now.”

“Oh, well, I cut my ties after becoming ‘deviant’ and having a grant over my head to be delivered on a silver platter,” You shrugged your shoulders, “There are a few things I’ve learnt is that one, what can be learnt can be unlearnt.”

“Behavioural approach in psychology,” Reid educated as you smile, nodding, agreeing.

“Two, I am a hardass, and three, I have a thing about being underestimated. It really grinds my gears that one, because they underestimated me. They didn’t think I could be a good guy after the shit I’ve been through, I hated that so I shoved it up their ass.”

Emily snorted, amusingly as JJ giggles, “So, underestimation?”

“Fatal flaw that would get me killed someday. I worked hard to prove to myself that I can be good and I’m not this killer machine they wanted, I’m a good person, so when you underestimate me as an agent it just got to me.”

There was a pause, removing the ice pack from your eye, opening the eye and allowing it to clear the blurriness way.

“Trust me, what I did in the last case was nothing compared to the training I endured,” You shake your head, “And, I’ve been worse than this.”

“With a background like that, I believe you,” Morgan says, eyes sympathetic, “Kid, you’re tough as nails.”

You huffed out a tired laugh, “Sorry for being moody, just-”

“It’s being human,” Hotch says, he was inviting and still had that fatherly tone to him, “Natural.”

“Yeah, kid, we’re your family, and family have each other’s back,” Emily noted to you, as you looked at your team, who smiles comfortingly at you, “But, you got to talk to us.”

“I’m not really a talker.”

JJ raised an eyebrow, “Well, you said it yourself, what can be learnt can be unlearnt, and we’re here to listen to each other.”

“I don’t want to burden you-”

“You’re really out of touch,” Hotch professed, “You won’t be burdening us if all we ever wanted was to have your back.”

Reid’s eyes sparkling with glee as you softly smile back, nodding slowly “Alright, alright, whatever, just stop being all gushy on me.”

Rossi gently squeezed your cheek, “Oh, we’re going full-on gushy.”

“Mhm,” You looked uncomfortable, “I’m not used to this.”

“Well, start getting used to it,” Morgan laughs, shaking his head, “It’s all you’ll ever get from now on, champ.”

You rolled your eyes as Emily ruffles your hair, your stomach grumbles as the team looked at each other.

“I’m making dinner! Reid, JJ, Morgan, Emily, come help!” Rossi announced, moving your legs back onto the sofa as everyone moves to your kitchen. 

You leaned against the backrest of the sofa as Hotch taps you on the head. You looked at him questioningly.

“You’re the youngest on the team, it’s only natural for us to be more protective, but, never mistake it for being an underestimation. I think we all know what you’re capable of.”

You opened your mouth before closing it, “I was about to say something self-deprecating but um, I’m guessing you’ll say something.”

“You might be smart and very trained, but there are some things you need to learn.”

“If you say love. I will hit you, whether you are my boss or not.”

Hotch snorts and pats your head, affectionately, “Heads up, you’ll be bombarded with affection.”

“Great.”

“You’ll love it.”

You smile to yourself, already excited deep down what this new chapter of your life entails.

[skylarmoon71]

Victor Stecker Fanfiction (Burn Notice -Oneshot

When Michael recruited you for this job, you were skeptical. In his situation you knew he didn't have many friends aside from Fiona and Sam that he could truly trust, so him coming to you was what you expected.

"(Y/N) please, we have to help him. " you just shook your head. "Correct me if I'm wrong but didn't he try to kill you?"

"He was getting back at the people that hurt him, it wasn't personal. "

"Right, well good luck. I told you I don't do this anymore. "

"He lost his family (Y/N)"." That made you freeze. "They killed his wife and kid just to recruit him. If that happened to me, if someone hurt the people I cared about, I can't say that I wouldn't consider the same thing. He's just like me (Y/N), please, don't let him die." you gritted your teeth. "It's low to play that move."

He knew all about your past, there's no way you would walk away now. "Fine, but it's gonna cost you. " Michael just wore that stupid grin, and you smiled shaking your head.

"You're such a menace Michael Westen."

"I do what I can."

~~~~~~

So that is what landed you in your current predicament.

"Seems like I got here just in time." shrugging off the scuba gear, Michael watched your soaking wet form in relief. "Happy to see me?" He was laughing softly. "Ecstatic." Victor squinted between the both of you, still holding the his bullet wound. "Not to break your little reunion, but there is a bullet currently lodged in my gut. Doesn't make for the best sitting arrangements."

You just glanced at the wound. "You were right, he is an optimist." kneeling, you opened the pocket on your right. Taking out a pill you gave it to him. "You need to take this, it'll help with the pain. You're gonna need to work up every last bit of your strength to get out of here." Victor shook his head, turning back to Michael. "You know as well as I do that I'm not getting out of this alive. " He was struggling to stay upright.

"I got it handled. There's a bomb under this boat."

"Yeah we know. Carla wanted to leave us a parting gift. Fiona dealt with her but there's still an army out there that wants the both of us dead."

"That may not be such a bad thing. " you spoke, they both gave you a look. " you frowned a little because you were still holding out the pill. "Listen, we can stay here and chat, or I can use my plan and we may just make it to see another Christmas." Michael of course was down for anything. Victor seemed reluctant, but he took the pill, swallowing it with a groan.

"Now put this on." It was an extra oxygen mask.

"Micheal, I need you to fire your weapon, then surrender. You can be the hero. They just lost two operatives, and I don't think they went through all this trouble just to kill you."

"They've got the boat surrounded, how do you suppose we leave." Victor grumbled.

"Same way I got in. Underneath." You smirked, advicing Michael to give you a hand as you lifted Victor off the ground. He grunted, but staggered to his feet. "You don't really expect him to swim in this condition, and he's losing a lot of blood. "

"Don't worry Michael, that little pill doesn't just deal with pain. It's clotting his blood as we speak. We'll have ten minutes before it starts to wear off. If you give me some time I can get the both of us out of here in five. "

"I can do that." He cocked his gun, and you helped Victor put on the mask. With a nod to Michael, you moved to the small entry you'd made to get in. The water had already started to fill up. You pulled the lid you made, and the water started gushing in faster.

"This is our way out." Ushering him down, you watched his head go under the water before pulling on your own mask, following him under. You could see he was struggling slightly, it wasn't easy to swim with a bullet in your body. Taking his shoulders, you tried balancing some of his weight as moved forward. When you got a reasonable distance away, you raised your head slightly out of the water. Victor surfaced with another low grunt.

You smiled from your spot when you saw Michael get into the helicopter. Now that he was out of the way, you could follow through with your plan. You pulled out a detonator, and Victor raised a brow. From the side, the SWAT Team was closed to breaching the boat. "Not today sunshine." With a click, the boat exploded, flames raging high. The few men that were within distance were forced back, and you could feel the blast make a heavy wave in the water, nuding you and Victor further back.

"What's with Michael's women and explosions." Victor muttered. You just smiled. "Come on, at least you can say thanks. As far as they know, Victor Stecker is dead. Cops will be looking into this, and I don't think Management wants anyone poking around. You should be grateful to Carla, her little bomb gave my own an extra boost. "

"I'll remember to thank her in the next life."

"Hopefully that's not soon, let's get out of here." Diving back under, you pulled Victor along, waiting a few minutes before you came out.

****

It took three weeks to help Victor back on his feet. After attending to the bullet wound, you carried him to one of your safe houses. It was a small apartment in Miami. Not many people knew about it, Michael being the exception. Since you were a registered bounty hunter, you had ways of making yourself invincible. In your profession there was always a chance that you'd tick off someone.

Having multiple venues across Miami was a good way to ensure safety. When the residual danger was over, Michael checked in with you to see how Victor was doing. You advised him against visiting. 

Management was still looking into him, and if they discovered that not only he helped Victor escape, but he was still associated with him, it would not have ended well. Victor was surprisingly a very cooperative individual. You'd dealt with a couple spies, the fall out of nearly being killed wasn't a pleasant experience. You thought for sure he'd act all macho and try to do everything on his own. But he accepted your help when he needed it. Even thanked you after every encounter. You were starting to realize he wasn't the psycho Michael assumed at the beginning. You guessed it was really due to his lost family that he fell off the edge.

"So, I have to ask, how did you and Michael meet." you blinked, shifting to get a piece of gauze to apply to his wound. Usually when you were dressing his wounds he told you of some of his missions back when he was a spy, and you'd entertain him by giving some hilarious stories of the bounties you captured. That question though, it was a tough one. You were sort of hoping the topic would never arise. Friendly banter was one thing, but personal issues of the past, that was another.

"Come on, it can't be any worse than my most recent brush with death." When he saw the way your fists tightened on the pair of scissors, the humor left his voice. That pain in your eyes, he knew it way too well. "You too huh." he didn't clarify what he meant, but you didn't even need it.

"Who did you lose?" You were never one to go spilling your guts to people. Especially ones you'd only know for less than a month. Maybe it was the genuine look in his blue eyes. One of understanding and sympathy. Not what you would expect from someone like him. It could also be the fact that you knew he could relate. Whatever it was, it gave you a strange sense of comfort.

"My family. Parents were in the house when the shots went off. Cops said it was a robbery, but I knew better. My dad was a retired spy. A lot of secrets, a lot of enemies." you mumbled. You're head lowered and you snipped the excess gauze of his bandage. "My sister she..she was only two. They didn't have too..she wouldn't have been able to identify them. They could have..could.." A single tear streaked down our cheek, and you pressed the back of your palm to your nose.

With a few labored breaths, you finally wiped at your face, schooling your features back to normal. You were about to get up and leave. It was a bit pathetic in your eyes, letting anyone see you so vulnerable. The palm that pressed to your cheek softly made you tense. Victor was watching you, empathy reflected in his sapphire gaze. 

"I guess we're both just broken and alone then." You inhaled, letting out a shaky breath. You were finding it a bit difficult to say much with him touching you so tenderly. His hand felt so soft, not something you expected with his past. For a split second your eyes slipped to his lips, but you caught yourself, moving back and out of his reach. His eyes lifted, and you just ran a hand over your cheek.

"I-I should get started on Dinner." Just like that you rushed out of there. The minute you were out of sight, your back pressed to the wall, with a heavy sigh, you bit your lip. "Shit." Apparently you'd gotten closer than you initially thought. And it was terrifying.

~~~~

One more week of you playing doctor, and Victor decided it was really time for him to move on. It wasn't like you didn't expect it. He wasn't going to stay with you forever. Still, you got so accustomed to it, to him.

"It's been a wild run, but I should get out of here. I think I've caused you enough trouble." He smiled, and you just giggled. "Please, you're a much better patient than Michael. Don't think I would have lasted a day if it were him I was nursing back to health."

"Mr. Westen does have that charm." With a small smile, you reached over, pulling him into a hug. Somehow you'd found a very unplanned and unlikely friend. "Don't be a stranger, and try not to catch any more bullets in the near future." He held you close, running a hand over your back. "I'll do my best." You both stayed there for a while, neither really wanting to separate. When you finally did, he was still smiling down at you. He leaned in, and you actually blushed when he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Thank you (Y/N), for everything." When he leaned away, he seemed proud at the obvious flush on your cheeks. Pulling the bag unto his shoulder, he gave your arm a gentle squeeze right before he started heading for the car. You took slow steps, and as he ducked to get into the car, you wanted to say something, maybe convince that he really didn't have to leave. But the guarded side of your brain kicked in, and you closed your mouth, giving him one last smile as he pulled out of your driveway. Gone. Possibly forever.

~~~~~

~Two Years Later~

"Oh Michael, quite a pickle you've gotten us into once again. " he ducked at the next bullet that hit barrels you were hiding behind.

"Could we not discuss this right now!" You smirked. "I think now is the perfect time to discuss this." you raised your own gun, firing a shot at your assailants before moving back behind for shelter. "So how do you suppose we get past those two thugs. I'm almost out of ammo and they're just getting started. "

"I'm thinking."

"Well think faster einstein. Of all the days we could be doing this it just had to be Valentine's day. I have a bottle of wine and junk food waiting at home. "

"You think I planned this, what do you think Fiona's gonna do if I miss our date." You winced. "Your right, she'll rip your arms out."

"You think!!" His yell made the men on the other side laugh. For a second you thought they were gonna move in, but then you heard two other shots, and bodies dropping to the floor. There was a yell and sounds of struggling and you glanced at Michael who just shrugged.

"You both can come out now, I've dealt with the problem." That cheeky voice, it made you raise slowly. You were stunned to see the azure eyes that looked back at you. Your eyes shifted and you could see the two men on the ground tied up, duct tape around their mouths. "Cops will be here in five so I suggest we get a move on."

Michael was already moving from behind the barrels. You could see the small smile that graced his face. "Never thought I'd be so happy to see a guy who tried to kill me." Victor returned the smile, patting his back. "Glad you've found it in your heart to forgive me." You stopped when you were standing in front of him, and when his eyes landed on you, they lit up slightly.

"I..honestly didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I'm offended, I do owe you after all. Thought I'd finally pay back." For a few moments you just smiled at each other, and Michael's eyes moved between you. "Can we, you know, leave. Not to sure the cops will be looking forward to hearing our side of the story."

"Right, let's go." you all headed for where Victor had parked a car, and in the distance, you could hear the police sirens wailing. As soon as you were all in the car Victor pulled off. "So what brings you to this part of Miami, not trying to kill someone else are you?" Michael questioned. Victor eyes moved to the rear view, and you caught it. "Don't worry I'm not offing anyone. Let's just say I had some unfinished business." you swallowed at the way his gaze penetrated you. You turned your head, looking out the window to try and regain some composure.

~~

Victor had dropped off Michael, and you slid into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt. The moment you were next to him, Victor sent a smile your way. "So, where to, still got that place at South beach." You nod at him, trying to keep your face neutral. For some reason you were a little weary.

Victor hadn't completely dropped off the face of the earth. Every few months he'd send a letter, or even call you on a burner cell. That day he'd left, you expected him to cut all ties, but he hadn't. Now he showed up out of nowhere, and you didn't know how to feel. Those repressed feelings from that short time you spent together were quickly resurfacing. You kept your eyes out at the streets, silent as Victor kept his eyes on the road.

"He's just passing through."

He probably had a job or some kind of business here. The last letter he sent he told you he was now working as a bounty hunter, under a different name of course. You should have been glad that you had a somewhat positive impact on his life. At least he was catching criminals instead of killing them.

"Giving me the silent treatment, am I in the dog house." you looked over, and he still had his eyes trained forward. "No I just..I'm surprised." you mutter the last part, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Would you believe me if I said I missed you." nibbling on your lip, your palm closed over the edge of your shirt. "I missed you too Victor." One of his hands slipped off the wheel, and he took your hand softly, pulling it away from your shirt and linking your fingers. The warmth felt so familiar, even though you'd never even held his hand before. "Still as soft as I remembered." you mused. So for the entire ride back, he never let go, just squeezed your hand comfortingly.

Slipping the key into your door, you stepped in, flicking on the light. Removing the gun from the back of your pants, you grinned when you checked how many bullets were left. "Good thing you showed up when you did, not sure I would have taken them down with just two bullets. " he nods at you, shutting the door as you moved to put away the weapon.

"Michael says I have a knack for showing up at bad times. Guess it paid off." You let out a soft laugh from the other room. When you walked back into the living room you slipped off the t-shirt, revealing a black tank top. That job took out a lot more than you anticipated. You huffed, and when you looked up Victor was just staring at you. For a second you forgot who you were with. You basically just striped in front of him.

Around Michael you never thought twice. He was like your brother. But this wasn't Michael. You tried to play it off, taking a step back with a nervous giggle. "Where's my hospitality, you must be tired from your trip. You can crash here until you've finished your job. I don't mind. Are you thirsty, I got some beer in the fridge."

You draped your shirt at the back of the couch, heading into the kitchen. Maybe the air from the fridge would cool down your body, and rushing thoughts. You could hear Victor's steps behind you, and you grabbed two beers, shutting the fridge and spinning around. "So I got-" you didn't have a chance to finish, because he was a lot closer than you expected. "Woah, scared me." you spoke with a little smile. He took both bottles from your hands, placing them down on the counter before turning back to you.

You felt cornered, trapped. Because you were pressed to the marble surface, and Victor's eyes felt like they were trying to say something.

"I didn't come back for a job (Y/N). I came back because our calls and letters....they weren't enough."

"I-I'm sorry. I tried to send a couple earlier but I'd get so caught up in my gigs and time would just fly by I didn't mean to."

The fact that he was a few inches taller than you didn't really help. He was almost towering. You felt too vulnerable in this situation. You didn't like the lack of control you had. Especially around him. He smiled, entertained that you were apologizing for something you had no control over. It wasn't like you had to respond to him, he was touched that you made the effort.

"That's not what I meant. What I mean is I want more. I've wanted more since that day you told me about your family. " You remembered, how could you forget. The way he looked at you, touched you, it was engraved in your mind. What scared you is the fact that you were feeling so much for a guy you'd never even properly kissed.

You'd saved his life one time, yet you were clinging unto him like he was the one who rescued you, and you were trying to repay some debt. In a crazy way he did save you. That day, you cried, more than you did when you lost your family. After that you felt light, like it was needed. You'd bottle up so much over the years and pretended it didn't exist. If he didn't ask that day, you would probably still be carrying that load.

"Well, you were right, we're both broken and alone." This time when his hand reached out, you thought it would land on your cheek, the same gesture as last time. But his thumb grazed your lips, and you had to hold your breath, because your pulse increased.

"I think I'm done with being that way, don't you agree?" he said it so softly, and when he took his last step forward, he pressed into you, and now you were scared he could hear the way your heart was hammering against your ribcage.

"Victor.." He shuddered at the way you said his name. Laced with emotion. He took his time, bringing his lips closer, and when your hand stopped his advances, he looked down at you. There were tears in your eyes, and he knew exactly why. You were a mirror of him. You'd toughen yourself up to the world. In this case you had to be far younger than he did. You weren't even given the chance to form a family of your own. In a lot of ways he was fortunate for the years he did have with his.

"I can't...I don't want to..." You didn't want to let him get any closer than he already had. Because that was just another opportunity that you could lose it all again. You barely survived the first time. "You're not going to lose me. I didn't come here to join Michael's little crazy bandwagon. I want you to run away with me. Somewhere quiet, no wars, no death. Just two people living regular lives. " His offer made your eyes widened.

Was he serious?

"When I was out there, catching bad guys I..it reminded me of why I started before. Talking with you, as short as it was, it reminded me of a time when I was happy. Truly happy. I want a chance to feel that again, and I want to do it with you. We can make new identities, start fresh. Just follow wherever it takes us. If you realize that it's not worth it and you want to leave, then you can, I won't stop you. But at least try, please try with me (Y/N)." his eyes were pleading. Everything he was saying, you could just imagine it. Being in a small town, no chasing scumbags or battling drug lords. Just a normal, simple life.

"Okay." He blinked, and the genuine surprise in his eyes made you smile. "Why do you look so shocked, you nailed that speech."

"I was kind of bluffing, but I guess it worked. " you scoffed, laughing. "You're lucky you're a smooth talker." he returned your smile, finally closing the distance. That kiss, it was all you anticipated, and so much more. He was so gentle, but passionate. A wonderful mix. With your body pinned to the counter, you pushed yourself up, hooking your legs around his waist as you pulled him in. He groaned, slipping his hand into your hair, slanting his mouth over yours eagerly.

The kiss was long overdue. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off of you, and you were having the same problem. You started unbuttoning his shirt hurriedly, dying to feel his skin. The moment you got it free, you pushed it down his shoulder, running your hands down his firm body. Your hands drifted lower, lips still locked, and when he felt your hands on his buckle, he took both your hands softly, retracting reluctantly.

With heavy breaths, you watched him hungrily, a little annoyed now that he was depriving you of what you wanted. Victor's breathing wasn't that much better. His eyes were still closed, and he pressed his forehead to your shoulder.

"As much as I...want this to progress, I'm thinking maybe I should take you out first." you whined, planting little kisses on his neck to get your point across. His grip on your hands tightened slightly and you smiled. 

"Dinner sounds nice, I'm starving." you cooed, nipping at his ear. He inhaled, releasing your hands, finally opening his eyes. He leaned back to stare at you, and you could see the way his eyes were dilated. You had him right where you wanted him. "You're really not making this easy on me. Here I was trying to be a gentleman. "

"If you really want to be a gentleman then you should take care of your woman properly. Don't you think." With a suggestive look, you slipped off the counter.

"Take care of me Victor." he didn't need to be told twice. This time when he kissed you there was a lot of unfiltered need, and you revelled in it, returning it with just as much. Victor picked you up, and you wrapped your hands around his neck, giving him a loving smile.

This was one of the few times you were grateful for Michael, because that favor he'd enlisted you for, it changed your life. 

And now you had a shot of starting a new one, with someone special.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #294

“maybe it’s not too late to learn how to love and forget how to hate”

Is your bed big enough for two people? Yes. What is your favorite board game? I like Battleship. Have you ever been hospitalized for more than 2 weeks? I think one stay at the psych hospital stretched over two weeks, maybe three. I don't remember. When was the last time you heard someone scream? Irl, probably at some point visiting my sister's family and my baby niece was upset. If you include via audio, a couple days ago when watching Egoraptor's Kingdom Hearts 2 stream. He's a Loud Boy. Who was the last person to call you baby? I have no clue. Why did you last go to the airport? I was going home from Sara's. Have you ever showered with another person? Not since I was a little kid with my sister. Is there something you are keeping a secret from your parents? I mean, nothing major. There are small things I don't tell them, though. Are you able to forget people easily? FUCK to the NO. What disgusts you about bathrooms? Sharing a toilet with literally anybody. Have you ever had gum stuck in your hair? I mean maybe at some point, but I don't think so. What was the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before you’ve dated them? If you’ve never been in a relationship before, do you watch Scrubs? I knew Jason maybe two/three weeks before he asked me out. We clicked so damn fast. Don’t you hate it when people talk about their relationships constantly? It can become a bit much. I have (had?) a friend who did this profusely to the point it was pretty impossible to have an actual conversation, and then she fell off the face of the planet. Being in love is an absolutely amazing thing, but like... that's not all you can talk about. Do you enjoy old movies? Yeah, there are some great ones. Do your neighbors annoy you in any way? Someone a few houses down has a dog that NEVER shuts the fuck up. I don't know how it doesn't lose its voice. What was the last party you were invited to? A Halloween party hosted by my friend Summer a few years ago. It was a good time. Are you honestly happy with your life right now? N O P E Do you find it fun to pray for people? I don't pray, but even if I did, "fun" seems like the wrong word. Generally when you pray for someone, there's something negative going on in their life, so like... I think "fulfilling" is maybe a better word? Has your mom ever crocheted you a blanket? My mom has deadass been working on a massive blanket since she was in her 20s (maybe even a tad younger), and she's at the tail end of her 50s. She works on it less than once in a blue moon. She started with the intention of passing it onto her kids. Do you regret letting a certain guy slip away? Debatable. It's questionable if I ever would have gotten competent help without Jason leaving, and if I didn't, what if he finally had enough when we were already married with kids (that's what I wanted at the time, anyway)? That would have broken me even worse. What show did you want to be on as a kid? Whatever the Nickelodeon one was where you got slimed lol. Do you have regrets? Of course I do. Does anyone really know you? My mom and Sara, at least. What song do you want played at your wedding? It depends on my partner and songs we consider special. Are you a fan of Taylor Swift? No. I do, however, love me some "Love Story." And you are LYYYYYYINNNNNGGGG if "Picture To Burn" doesn't make you feel like a Bad Bitch. Would you ever dye your hair unicorn colors? I would DIIIIIEEEEE to do that in pastel tints. I wish my damn hair took color well... I have literally only had ONE very effective hair dyeing experience, when my friend spent hours turning it red. It stuck for MONTHS. List 3 of your pet peeves. 1.) Turning tragedy into a competition; 2.) making mental illnesses "trendy;" and 3.) elitists of pretty much anything. Do you type fast? Very. What do you like to put on your pancakes? Typically just maple syrup, but I'll put butter on them if given it at a restaurant. Have you ever accidentally drank spoiled milk? I've taken a sip and immediately realized and spat it out. Have you ever had your heart broken? More like shattered into incalcuable pieces. When you were 3, was your natural hair color the same as it is now? No, I was dirty blonde. Have you ever received a scary message from someone online? Yes, I'm pretty sure. What does your first name rhyme with? "Infamy" is close enough, ig, if we're excluding other names. Do you have freckles on your face? No. I did as a kid, though. Who is your favorite Lisa Frank character? Probably the angel kitty (I had a coloring book, even), but they're all SO pretty. I love Lisa Frank stuff. Does your family always have your back? My mom and dad do, at least. My older sister does, meanwhile it's hard to tell with my little sister. She's not very affectionate and expressive of love to the point I question a lot if she even likes me. What type of wedding do you want to have? Gothic! Are you more of a leader or a follower? A follower, within reason. I'm definitely not a blind one. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Quite a few, actually. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, at some point. Do you have a regular vacation spot, or do you always go somewhere new? We don't really go on vacations. It's not an expense Mom can really afford. Where were you working 10 years ago? Nowhere. ... 5 years ago? Still nowhere. ... 1 year ago? Nowhere. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like a day. I know it sounds bad, but I left Girt already knowing I loved Sara, and I didn't really have anything to heal from. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? We'd have Saltines, chicken noodle soup (which I never really liked), and ginger ale. What's your favorite art style? Probably hyperrealistic fantasy stuff. What time period is considered to be your country's 'golden age?' I don't know, I'm not a history buff. Have you ever done LSD? I've never done any drugs. Are any of your coworkers currently out on maternity/paternity leave? N/A What is your favorite parody movie? Maybe the Paranormal Activity one. I barely remember it, though. What kind of first impression do you hope others have of you? That I'm kind and friendly and really care about their feelings. Do you have a good sense of balance? NOOOOOOOOOO. I stray like a motherfucker when I walk. Have for many years. It's weird. What is your least favorite ice cream flavor? Strawberry, ugh. Does your car have heated seats? No. What's something that has been in your local news lately? I don't watch it. What's your favorite internet meme? Oh, I have no clue, I love memes lmao. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing, really. I'm not very adventurous with pizza. Can you name any books or movies where all the main characters die? Not off the top of my head. Do you live alone? No, I live with my mother. What’s the grossest thing you’ve encountered in/at a fast food joint? *shrug* Do you swallow chewing gum? No. Do you ever get goosebumps while listening to songs? EXTREMELY easily. Like that is so, so regular, be it from the lyrics, the singer's voice, or just the music. Are there any amusement park rides you refuse to go on? Why? Most, really. I get dizzy way, way too easily and don't want to faint. What is the best roller coaster you’ve ever been on? I'm afraid of roller coasters, so I can't answer this. Never touched one. Don’t you think black jellybeans are icky? Ugh, YES. What was the last thing you measured with a ruler? I helped Mom use the long, flexible kind to measure the couch because she was gonna move some furniture around. What’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen? Oh, I'm sure the mountains when driving to Tennessee. I was too young to remember it well, but I can never forget that I marveled over them. Would you rather have a Playstation or Xbox made console? I'm a Playstation gal. What if you were watching COPS and saw your significant other on there? I'm... not gonna lie, if it was Jason for doing something stupid and not, like, murderous, I'd probably cackle. Have you ever tried to write to any celebrities? No. When was the last time you blew bubbles? I ain't got a clue. Have you ever stumbled across a beehive? More like wasp nests. What food(s) make you cringe? Quite a lot, given my extreme selectiveness with textures. More than anything, probably egg yolk. Have you ever played an automated 20 Questions game and beat it? Ha, I actually had one of those! I have, but damn was that hard. Have you been to a restaurant where they cook the food in front of you? Yup, Ichiban. Pretty cool. Do you feel that presidential campaigns make people too competitive? I mean, no. People care about who is going to be the head of their country. Do you find Family Guy hilarious or offensive? Neither. Do you still write letters to people, even though there’s e-mail now? No. Have you ever had an accident involving a microwave? Ha, I'm a travesty of a cook, so yeah. I remember on one occasion I accidentally dialed in many minutes for popcorn and entirely forgot about it. Safe to say I didn't eat it. I've split hot dogs in there, and I'm certain there's more. Do you like the movie Forrest Gump? I adore that movie. One of the best films ever imo. Can you handle heat well? I honestly doubt you'll meet someone who handles it worse than me, especially physically. I have severe hyperhidrosis, so I will literally sweat like a pig in 70* weather. I absolutely cannot handle it. Do you smoke weed? What are your opinions on its legalization? No. Legalize it for at least medicinal purposes. Have you ever had a school shooting at your school? HA, I can promise you my high school must have at some point. Are you usually the first to do something, or are you more of a follower? I don't pay attention to this. What is your favorite way to eat a potato? Fries, yum. Are roses your favorite flower? No, but they're high on the list. Have you ever been to a horse race? No. I think they're abusive anyway. Do you like lobster? No. Have you ever swam in a lake? Yeah. There's one lake I swam in that was so clear you could see pretty far and just watch the fish and turtles. Have you ever convinced someone to show you their private parts? "Convinced"????? That's fucking coercion. I've seen people naked, but not by fucking pressure. What is the greatest treasure you have ever found? My older sister found a cracked amethyst geode once. Idk where it's at now, but I hope she (or we at the house, depending on where it is) finds it at some point, though. My niece has come to love smooth rocks and pebbles, and I think crystals would blow her away, never mind one that size. Do you eat beef? Regrettably. Are you good at card games? I mean, what's the game? I'm not exceptional at any I can think of. What is your favorite musical? I don't like musicals. Did you ever play the Oregon Trail game? Omg yes!!! I LOVED playing it as a kid, especially the 3rd one, I think? Do you watch It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia? No. Who is your favorite country singer? I actually do enjoy Tim McGraw pretty consistently, but I don't actually seek out his music. Do you know anyone who is Mormon? An old best friend was. Do you like grunge? Yeah. What’s your favorite kind of cheese? American. What’s the most historic thing that has happened in your lifetime? Most likely Covid. What’s your funniest story involving a car? It's not hilarious, but once we were behind someone whose license plate said "omw" lmao. What scientific discovery would change the course of humanity overnight if it was discovered? Well, a proven Covid vaccine. Do you think that humans will ever be able to live together in harmony? Nope. What’s the scariest non-horror movie? Idk. What’s the most amazing true story you’ve heard? I'm not sure. What’s the most awkward thing that happens to you on a regular basis? Having to explain my Mark tribute tattoo lmao. What was one of the most interesting concerts you’ve been to? I've only ever seen Alice Cooper, and while it was great, "interesting" seems like the wrong word. Where are you not welcome anymore? Probably Jason's house, at least not by him. Or Colleen's, probably. Idk how she feels about me by now. What’s the most recent show you’ve binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. What’s a common experience for many people that you’ve never experienced? Paying bills. What’s the smartest thing you’ve seen an animal do? I kid you not, our first cat would look both ways twice before crossing the street across our house. (Please do not allow your cats outside.) She'd do it even more when bringing her kittens there too to hunt. Chance was truly incredible. I could really give a lot of examples of her intelligence. I also had another childhood cat (my favorite before Roman) who would respond to a certain clap pattern I'd do if Mom let me bring him inside. Wherever Charcoal was wandering, he'd come running. What’s the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? Oh, I'm sure it was RP-related stuff as a kid. What’s the longest rabbit hole you’ve been down? I'unno. What’s the saddest scene in a movie or TV series? Possible spoiler warning for a super old movie??? Probably when the main character of Old Yeller had to put the dog down because of rabies. But I cry like a bitch easily, so maybe there's something that tears me up even more or just as badly. What odd smell do you really enjoy? None that are "odd," really. What’s the coolest animal you’ve seen in the wild? I've seen a mink once when fishing with Dad deep in the woods. What’s the best lesson you’ve learned from a work of fiction? Oh, I don't know. I'd have to think for a while & I don't feel like it. What food do you crave most often? Probably ice cream. Who in your life has the best/worst luck? I don't know about best, but my mom absolutely has the worst luck. Which apocalyptic dystopia do you think is most likely? A meteor, maybe? If you had a HUD that showed three stats about any person you looked at, what three stats would you want it to show? I'd want to know if they were criminals or just dangerous. What’s the funniest thing you’ve seen a kid do? Oh, my niece is so funny. One of the things that gave me the biggest laugh (and was most adorable) was this time I was taking family pictures for Ash at a local lake, and Aubree went running into the gazebo, span around totally like in a princess movie, and exclaimed, "It's enormous!" She is such a darling. If people could read your mind, what would they usually find? Just how bored I am, memories of Jason bc trauma, lamenting my disappointment in myself, "why is Mark so perfect," worrying about Sara, thinking of RP character developments... What celebrity would you like to meet? Mark. 100%. I would die to just thank him (if I could get words out, oof) and hug him and try not to soak his shirt in tears lmao. Do you need money to be happy? Don't bullshit me, you wouldn't be happy homeless because you can't afford a home. So to a degree, yes. What's a good idea you've had recently? Hm. What gift would you like to receive? At this current moment, Cloak's (Mark and Jacksepticeye's clothing brand) limited edition "life after death" design for a shirt. It is so fucking pretty, and I love the nature focus. What are you most excited about right now? Honestly? Getting my laptop back. I wanna play WoW lmao. What's your favorite song from a movie? Maybe uhhhhhh was "Supermassive Black Hole" actually written for Twilight? Where would you like to volunteer? I very, very badly want to volunteer to take pictures of animals up for adoption in shelters for like their social medias and stuff. I've asked like the two local places, but no bites yet. What's the last song you listened to? Metallica's cover of "Turn The Page." What's the last YouTube video you watched? I'm watching Gab Smolders play SOMA. Fantastic game.

[memnonofarcadia]

Remembering Joey Bruno

Originally published in the Sacramento Jazz & Blues Quarterly Bedtime is sometime around dawn. Dinner is usually whatever you want it to be. Shall we go to Iceland? Festivals, fliers, wristbands, Sharpies on skin, smoke, grass, hash, molasses, sky, blue, crisp, clear sky. And yet I’m still writing all this within a grey airport terminal, locked into some kind of strange Druid-esque ritual with pen and paper. Deadline is tomorrow, where were you when you were supposed to be working? Don’t have any answers for now, just that I need to write and get it out to my boss within the next day. Or two. It wouldn’t have been the first deadline blown. But think, distract myself with the McDonald’s coffee and keep putting down adjectives and phrases from places I’ve been, things I’d seen, dreams I’d never have again with people I’ve never met and music I had. 40 minutes till boarding starts, I’ll be last, of course. It pays enough to fly but not enough to enjoy it. Been getting harder and harder to deal with the travel, at any rate. Starting to notice the spell everyone is under, the sleepwalking nature of the corporate employee. It had only been noticeable after it had been broken, which I had no problem doing, ever. When your home is a hotel you take your shots however you can get them, besides it wasn’t like you have to live in any particular town past a few days at most. Half-heartedly started keeping a list of rejections and their professions, making sure to note that there was only one waitress on the list, most were from bookstores or places where there was an escape for all parties. Don’t need to make it more awkward than it has to be. Sorry, I didn’t mean, then the words fade off into the ocean. On the edge of nowhere, like a little seaside town. Maybe that’s where I’d like to end up, like a lifeguard in the post-apocalypse, no responsibilities, just looking cool for the seagulls. How many life guards had I asked out? Not many, either way. Concerts didn’t go well with water, not in my experience. Can’t seem to find a way to write about anything other than something on the present times, life and times. I struggle, already flipped through the notebooks to jog the memory with some tit and tat that had to be discarded for the sake of length from another article. Or two. Or four. Or 12. Throwing yourself to the wolves, towards and into the meat grinder that one might just pay the bills with the right amount of ink in the right places on a blank piece of paper. Who cares about music festivals and pop culture when there’s McDonald’s coffee and the cold inside of an airplane to look forward to? Four times I’d attempted to ask about an airline attendant’s relationship status, thrice I’d been rejected. Once she’d pretended not to hear me and instead moved to the opposite end of the plane for the remainder or the flight. Understandable, no harm done. No harm done. By anyone, right? Who said this was ever going to be a love story, you and I?

College had been a breeze, not that I’m bragging. State schools were like that, at least then, and Californ-I-A’s were no different. No doubt now there’s better options available for where I was at when I had to decide where to go to school, but there you are. A degree in journalism is a degree in journalism, and I had little else to go on other than my love of music, substances, travel, female company, and a shocking talent at being able to string together sentences. In a way it’s always given me a bit of a guilty feeling. I never sat down and really worked at learning or improving with regards to writing, I just sort of could do it. That’s the short version of how I found my niche of a career, one I thought I could exploit anyway. Turns out I was right, and in a way it was everything I could (and did!) hope for. Except everybody’s got to grow up sometimes, and I did, regrettably. There’s only so many hungover mornings a human being can take before they’re permanently reduced to a shambling, sickly mess of what used to be a humanoid organism, and I had certainly put myself on that path. Got off of it, thanks to the countless AA meetings I made myself go to, but I digress. That had been the first mark on the wall of things that I could no longer enjoy about the gig, the fact that now I had to do the whole thing sober. The hardest substance I have confidence I can enjoy responsibly now is coffee, and even then the ugly demon of acid reflux put me back in my place before too long. Suddenly all the kids were much more annoying than usual, the travel a hassle, the food revolting, and the music itself just kind of bad, which was the real heartbreaker. Some days before it had been all to keep me going, minus the women, which were always a constant. “Festival sluts” is the term you’ll want to Google (or DuckDuckGo) if you’re curious about what I mean, also colloquially known as upper middle class girls whose parents were too busy working to devote anything past a friendly “hullo” to their children, and thus succeeded in raising a bunch of hedonistic, attention-desperate, and morally naïve young people with excess income and too much time to spend it all in. Nasty ain’t it? But it kept me coming back for more, like the good-natured animal that I am. We all are. That’s the secret that I learned more than anything from the beat, we are all more simple and pleasure driven than we could ever articulate or realize. It’s what keeps the lights on at home, for everything and anything. Probably. Or maybe I’m just bitter. Most of the friends I made during college or were colleagues in my escapades writing about indie rock et al. around the globe are gone now. Burnt out, some burnt up, most just couldn’t hack it anymore and left to go get real jobs at real newspapers. The circus, or pirate ship, as is probably more accurate a nomer, is not for everyone, and rarely does it last forever. Bet you’re wondering where that leaves me. Still bitter, but still coming back for more, just like I was always going to. Always. So why don’t I quit? You tell me. Because I know why.

The finest writer I ever met was a journalist by the name of Joey Bruno, a guy I came across one of the many late nights I spent at the pathetic office of my college’s newspaper. I was editing a freshman’s piece about how the White Album was actually really bad, sighing uncontrollably the whole time, when Mr. Bruno walked in and struck up a conversation with yours truly. I happily engaged, as any activity that didn’t involve that stupid piece of writing was fine by me. He explained that he was friends with the real Editor , who was at his parents’ in Wisconsin for the weekend, and would drop by periodically when he got off work to help out where he could. “Why spend your time working on bad writing by dumb college kids?” I’d asked him. “Free beer, plus it can be fun sometimes. There’s been plenty of stuff come through here that I rewrote beyond all recognition just for fun, and nine times out of ten the original author doesn’t even notice. Good times.” Maybe so, I’d thought. In any case every other Friday or thereabouts I’d get a late night revising buddy to help cull the newspaper’s intimidating stack of submissions. It was in those early morning hours that I came to the conclusion that I wanted to become a music journalist, mostly from talking to Mr. Bruno about his own adventures. But I don’t think I listened, not really. Maybe if I had I’d be off this conveyor belt by now, but then again maybe not. Maybe I’d never have started. One night in particular while we were enjoying our cigarettes, coffee, and beer (all courtesy of the newspaper of course), he retailed me with a story of his long lost love, a girl he’d known briefly in the California punk scene of the late 80s. I was instantly entranced. “It was a magical time,” he’d said to me while stroking his magnificent beard. “But I’m glad it’s over now. It was getting messy there at the end,” I brought up how those little parts of the world, at that time were being romanticized an awful lot in contemporary media then. “And for good reason, too.” He’d responded wistfully. “A lot of great things happened for a lot of good people. It was about as close to the 60s as anyone came since then, I think. That much hope,” And this is where he began to tell his story, the story of “the rebel known as ‘Justine,’” as he’d put it. However it had happened, the two had come into contact through the various zines they’d each produced and sent out to the other punks in town. The closest thing to an internet forum for back then was to just be louder than everyone else, apparently. That was the only real way to get heard, to start a dialogue of some kind. That or take your chances at the shows, which they did anyway, but there wasn’t much talking going on there. Joey had written to Justine complimenting her on “Pop!,” which was her way of pushing her radical politics and militant-feminist views out on to the unsuspecting public behind the thin-façade of a bubblegum periodical. The art had been good, and the writing made everyone Joe showed it to laugh out loud, so he made a point to let the author know, whoever they were. There was an address included in the back for people to write in, so he did just that. He also included a copy of his own creation, the somewhat popular (in those circles anyway) “Buzz ‘n’ Stuff.” “What was it about?” I asked as my friend rolled himself another cigarette. “Nothing really, I just sort of made stuff about interesting things I found at the library then slapped it together in that. It seemed to work. I remember the one I sent her had something about how to get popped bubblegum out of your hair without cutting it all off, so I think that’s what got her interested. There wasn’t anything of value or substance in there, let’s be real,” Joey took another swig of his beer and reached into the cooler below his desk for another, being sure to throw me one too like a sport. “Thanks, boss. But continue, you got me interested now,” So he did. It had started slowly, really, with the trading of zines and letters, the occasional patch or pin by mail too. Eventually after a lengthy correspondence they made a plan to meet up at a concert, The Vandals to be precise. Joey had taken painstaking measures to show up in the most hip clothing of the day, studded leather jacket, combat boots, the whole nine yards. “I looked like a freak,” he told me with a chuckle. “But then I saw her,” Justine had arrived looking like everything and nothing Joey had expected her to. She had the familiar punk gear, Doc Martins and an army jacket covered in patches and safety pins, but the rest of what she had on departed from the norm drastically. It had been some bizarre cross between a punk, hippy, and cult leader all in one, macabre golden jewelry offsetting the “meat is murder” t shirt underneath. “It was great,” said Joey. “People were afraid of her at that show. She looked really scary,” They hit it off and had a jolly old time watching The Vandals play, and later they found themselves alone on a hill overlooking the suburbs, talking about the issues and passing a joint back and forth. It was all music to my ears, as it would be for most any young person, I suspect. “Tell me more,” I’d implored. These were fantasies that I needed fulfilled. Joey paused and rocked back and forth in his chair contently for a few seconds before he complied. My heart sank before he spoke. “We were inseparable after that first time. It really was something. We could go anywhere, do anything, and we would always end up on the same page somehow. It was easily the deepest spiritual, emotional, whatever you want to call it connection I’ve ever had with another human being, let alone girlfriend. But then a year or two later her Mom moved her and her brother up to Connecticut to be closer to the rest of their family. Last I heard she went to school in Maine, but that was it as far as we were concerned. Finito,” He smiled through all this as though recalling some rosy-cheeked memory but I was aghast. “What do you mean that’s it? You didn’t try to follow her or anything?” Joey just laughed. “Yeah, that was really an option at 17 without a car or money. It was just something that happened when we were kids, nothing really. I’m glad it happened at all, now.” Well then. What do you make of that? The conversation drifted pretty heavily after that point, as it always did when Joey and I got to jabbering and drinking, and as usual it was stories of the times he’d been on tour years later with Ozzy Osbourne or The Stooges or someone, then got to interview them endlessly and write about it. The usual vices were there as well in his stories, the drugs, the travel, the women, the glamor, the romance. But it all left pretty quickly once the novelty wore off, hence why Joey had quit after a few years and moved back home to Sacramento. When I knew him at the college newspaper he was a jazz correspondent, if you can wrap your head around that, for several of the snootier publications in the area. “I skipped to the fun part,” he told me. “The shows never get old, now. Plus jazz cats have the best shit,” he said with a wink. I probably just laughed, I don’t know, maybe downed the rest of my beer. I’ll be bound to have another once I get on the plane, off to Finland this time. Apparently it’s festival season in Scandinavia and its surrounding territories. Guess I’ll be writing about that all then though, from a different airport terminal that looks just like this one, with coffee and food and cigarettes and beer that shortens the life as much as the ones that came before. I could go on, but I won’t, for both our sake. There’s no moral to be gleaned from all this just a simple explanation of the reality, and how I’m passing the time in the airport by writing this, because I said I would. I promised. It’s my group now, and I have to go.