#because yeah i can do calligraphy but also you get different writing with each hand

[sancta-seraphina]

Idk my assumption with your art is "damn this person probably has INSANE handwriting"

A fun fact about my illustrations & graphics is that a lot of the words you see in the pictures were either hand-lettered by me or made with fonts created by me (in which I drew the letters). Not all of them, sometimes I'll toss a pretty font in there that I got elsewhere.

They're still a little different from my actual handwriting, which is very round and slightly messy with my right and very neat and orderly with my left. And yeah, both hands write very well thanks to me breaking myself so many times (most recently in 2021, so not even long ago).

[Make a super specific assumption about me based on my art style?]

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 26 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; ... Chapter 25)

The Last Chapter - May 1946

Emily’s mother frittered about smoothing the creases of Emily’s dress and plucking at non-existent lint.

“Mom, mom...mother!” Emily waved her mother away. “Let it be, I’m fine,” she tried to keep her voice calm.

Her mother took a step back with her mouth pursed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Mom,” Emily raised her eyebrows in warning.

Her mother had the decency to direct her judgmental look at the floor. “It’s just,” she said in a hushed voice, “a divorcee?”

“Yes,” Emily said dryly, somehow this subject continued to come up. Emily probably wouldn’t have told her parents that Nixon was divorced if it could have been avoided. However, between the end of the war and the scramble to prepare for their future, the last year had been a whirlwind. “But let’s not forget, he was also a Captain!” That title had originally excited her parents when she first broke the news of their engagement, before they had learned the wedding had to be postponed until Nixon’s separation from Kathy was finalized.

That reminder seemed to perk Emily’s mother up slightly, “yes, a Captain. It was really quite nice of Lewis’ family to contribute as much as they did,” the compliment sounded obligatory. Emily’s mother would never truly comment on the Nixon’s wealth, it was undignified. But Emily was sure that fact somewhat amended Lewis’ disgraced martial status in her mother’s mind.

“Your father wasn’t pleased about it but you know how he can get. He wants to be the one to give you everything,” her mother continued. Emily began to tune out her mother’s ramblings. Once again she found herself wishing for more female friends so that she didn’t have to endure this time alone with her mother. Unfortunately, her cousins all had babies to attend to and had already excused themselves from the dressing room.

A knock at the door sounded and Emily felt instant relief. Finally, some sort of distraction from her nerves. She moved to open the door but her mother beat her to it. The door opened to the apprehensive face of George Luz, “uh, hi,” he said to Emily’s mother. Then his eyes landed on Emily. George let out a low whistle, “wowza, you look incredible!” he said appreciatively.

Emily blushed and smoothed her skirt, “thank you, George.”

“I got somethin’ here for ya,” George held up an envelope. He glanced at her mother for permission and her mother stepped aside to let him in. “Well,” George said, “Joe had it for ya but it was easier for me to run it over, because, well you know,” he shrugged and handed her the letter heavy with postage.

It was addressed in Marwa’s handwriting; her sweet friend had remained in Europe and was unable to make the trip to Chicago. But Emily and Nixon had made plans to meet up with her over their honeymoon

“Who’s that from, dear?” Emily’s mother asked.

“A friend, remember the nurse?” Emily responded already opening the envelope.

“Which nurse? I don’t remember a particular nurse.. oh that Arab girl?”

Emily shot George a look. “Mrs. Rooney is it?” George interrupted, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!” Emily mouthed her gratitude to him as he directed her mother to the settee. George winked and held up a thumb behind her mother’s back. “You know I’ve never been to Indiana, are there many churches there? I wouldn’t want to go if there wasn’t anywhere to attend mass on Sunday,” George’s flattery faded away as Emily turned her attention to the letter.

Marwa’s beautiful calligraphy transported Emily back to the last time she saw her friend. Their goodbye had been tearful, mostly on Emily’s part. But the friends had stuck to their commitment to write. It was in a letter to Marwa that Emily first put into words Nixon’s unconventional proposal.

Nearly a year ago Emily had stood beside Nixon looking down into the breathtaking Bavarian landscape from a balcony in Hitler’s Eagles Nest.

“Lew,” she placed a cautious hand on his hip, “what’s next for you?” It was a loaded question. Deployment to the Pacific was still an option. Emily was free to return to the states when she pleased but so many things between her and Nixon remained unresolved. The past few weeks had been a dream supplemented by good food and beautiful scenery. Emily had felt hope return to her - hope that extended beyond the end of the war. She wanted to know what life would look like next year, five years from now, and beyond. The first step in preparing for the future was to find out where Nixon saw himself.

Life had returned to Nixon the past few weeks; the receding war and his submission to Emily’s love had begun to heal him. Their time in Bavaria had been a relative heaven, but a temporary heaven.

Nixon pulled his gaze away from the captivating view to look into the grey eyes that had guided him through so much. “Dick and I are going to re-deploy to the Pacific,” he said matter-of-factually. There was no sugar coating it. He and Emily had found their sweet spot of upfront honesty. 


Emily nodded as if she had expected as much, “and then?” she asked.

Nixon had hoped she would ask that. He had seen the footage coming out of the Pacific - he needed her hope to get him out alive, he needed her to have a vision of ‘after’. “Well, I’ll go back to New Jersey, marry you and I don’t know, buy a house or something,” he leaned on the balcony.

An impulsive smile spread across Emily’s face, “marry me? Di- did you just propose to me, Lewis?”

He smirked, “I suppose I did.”

Emily narrowed her eyes playfully at him, “you suppose? Do you even want to marry me?”

“People get married all the time for many different reasons, they’re lucky if it’s for love. You should understand that better than anyone,” Nixon said, “and I love you, so yeah I want to marry you.”

Emily bit her lip to keep the smile from overtaking her face, “well who say’s I want to marry you?”

“If you were smart, you’d marry me now and hope I get blown up over Tokyo. Take me for everything that I’m worth,” Nixon joked darkly.

“Lewis!” Emily smacked his arm. He chuckled. “That’s terrible,” she admonished him, “besides I’m pretty sure Kathy beat me to that.”

“Touche.”

“That is the question though…” Emily’s tone turned serious.

“Yeah,” Nixon turned back to look out onto the landscape, “are you up to waiting for me?”

“I’ve already waited years for you to come around, what’s another few?”

Luckily, they only had to wait a year. Now, Emily found herself standing at the entrance of a grand room dressed in white holding onto her fathers arm for dear life. The loss of the marital sacrament had been a blow to her parents but after a lot of tears they had accepted that their daughter was getting married in a club hall, not a church. Emily couldn’t be bothered where she got married. Planning the wedding had been exhausting and distracting from what she’d actually been interested in planning: the honeymoon. Emily had spent far too much time mediating between her mother and her future mother-in-law.

The first couple of months back in the states, Emily had been a guest at the Nixon’s many properties along the eastern seaboard. New York City had been fun, until her mother came to visit and meet her future in-laws. Though cordial, the mothers seemed to agree on very little. However, they did manage to unite in order to bully Emily into wearing the gaudy ring Lewis had bought her out of obligation.

But Emily didn’t consider that her real engagement ring - it was simply for appearances sake. The ring she would wear as his wife would be a gold band engraved with flora. Nixon and Emily had picked it up in Paris on their way home to the states. That was all Emily had wanted. It was more fitting; a simple testament to how they had grown as individual’s and in their relationship. An ornate diamond strongly juxtaposed the world in which they had fallen in love.

As the wide doors to the hall swung open, Emily’s father squeezed her hand. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. Emily looked up at him in shock but her ever stoic father was already looking straight ahead as if nothing had been said. But his words were monumental, that’s all she had ever wanted to hear from him.

The view down the aisle seemed incredibly long. The people who sat closest to the door were the people Emily knew the least; family friends from her parents church, the Nixons’ obligatory invitees. Emily’s hand grew sweaty around her bouquet as she gritted her teeth into a smile. She didn’t want any of them to see how nervous she was.

She began to relax as her father led her past the faces of her friends who sat closer to the front; her first co-workers from the O.S.S., the grinning faces of Harry Welsh, Frank Perconte and Babe Heffron. Emily’s throat closed with emotion as she passed Bill Guarnere and Joye Toye who wobbled, but leaned on each other, both determined to stand for the bride. Joe Toye smiled and nodded slightly from where he stood, “not just a work-wife,” he whispered jokingly as she passed. Emily’s giggle sounded nervous but confidence surged within her at his acknowledgement. Finally, the view of the altar was clear in Emily’s vision; she saw Dick Winters standing proudly beside Nixon. Suddenly, she felt so overwhelmed by emotion that she could hardly bring herself to look at her future husband.

George Luz was the first person to greet them at the end of the aisle. Emily focused all of her nerves on his steady smile. With a wink, he took Emily’s bouquet and made room for her mother to adjust her train. And then Emily was looking into the face of Lewis Nixon. The rest of the world melted away as he gazed into her sparkling grey eyes.

Everything that had happened to them the last couple of years had culminated into this very moment. It was in the moments without each other’s touch that they had learned to love each other; they had grown wiser with each fight, stronger with each shared moment of vulnerability, and in deprivation they craved only to give the other the world. Neither of them would have expected that they would end this way. That’s because this was by no means an ending; this was the beginning of life renewed.

Nixon took Emily’s trembling hands in his steady ones. “Finally,” he said with a smirk.

The End.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who read this story. This was my first long fanfiction story and all of your support kept me motivated and encouraged to keep writing. Love you all <3

[nikarmy]

Equilibration ~ Prologue

Masterlist

Pairing: Waterbender! Jungkook x fem!Firebender Reader feat platonic!Bts

Genre: The Last Airbender Au, fluff, angst, kinda slowburn, s2l

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: judgemental stares in public, cursing, slight inner aggressiveness (how do you call that?), self hatred, mentions and descriptions of war,   childhood trauma, flashbacks, reader is insecure af, mentions of killed people and humans screaming out of fear,

The looks from the passengers started to intimidate you.

How should one react to unwanted attention? Stare back, insult them, ask them what's wrong, or put their powers to good use and knock them down? Fuck no. That's not the right thing to do.

But the old lady in the olive robe has been fixating her gaze on you since she entered the train, only stopping her inspection when a young man offered his seat to her 5 minutes ago. Unfortunately, as soon as she made herself comfortable on the metal bench, she restarted her action.

Her face looks remarkably punchable to you right now.

Red was never your favourite colour.

In fact, you despise it, even though it perfectly described you.

Anger, Aggressiveness and Harshness. Perhaps that's why you've been considered as a prodigy and as one of the most gifted trainees back in the fire nation. You are basically the embodiment of the hot flames, symbolizing destruction and war.

You hate it. And now your red attire made you hate the colour even more, as the result was having judging looks on you all the time.

Teachers, parents and elders of the fire nation always tell stories and legends about the benders of their kind, emphasizing their heroic actions, and everyone listens to them attentively.

Although you know these stories by heart, you longed for more, for a view outside of the borders that separate your people from the other elements.

You read folk stories of waterbenders, earthbenders and airbenders, satisfying your curiosity by practically studying their culture.

But the more you learned about the peaceful water tribe, the disciplined people of the earth kingdom and the imaginative

air nomads, the more you felt ashamed about the fire nation, about yourself.

The insecurities grew as your father forced you to join the military as a soon – to – be soldier at the tender age of 8. He wanted to “use your abilities to good use”, so you just went with the flow and trained along with other talented students, destined to end the war in a brutal way and make their parents proud.

Years went by, and not too long ago, marking a week now to be exact, you went on your first “mission” to a city of the earth kingdom, whose name you don't even know, to occupy them and take over their land in a brutal way.

The pictures of killed people and destroyed houses are engraved to your brain, highlighted by the destructive flames surrounding a once peaceful town. You'll never forget the children screaming on top of their lungs and the parents begging for their lives.

The next sleepless nights you sat at your desk and started making plans on how to escape the fire nation, whilst writing a goodbye note to your family and trying to persuade them to not search after you.

And now, days later, you are standing in a train to Ba Sing Se, not even having a clue on what to do next. Your backpack consists of a bottle of water, some sparing clothes (but still not much), your toothbrush and money.

Finally you hear the male voice on the speaker say the awaited words: “Ba Sing Se Central Station”. You leave out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding, glad to be at your destiny and also glad to get out of the stinking train with the rude old lady.

During your targetless walk through the city, you notice a lot of eyes on you, and to be honest, you don't blame them, you hate firebenders too.

So you guess a new start also means a new appearance, right? Luckily you walk past a thrift shop. Its appearance is very pretty, the building is made out of wood and warm tones, the curtains which could be seen behind the big windows were a light shade of green, above the small door you could see golden calligraphy spelling “Kim's Thrift Shop” in all it's pride. It's not modern, but it looks comfortable.

At exactly that moment you choose to enter and change your black and red attire to search for one with a colour that is much less hated, like blue, yellow or green.

Entering the shop you immediately face a young man behind the counter, and you swear you've never seen a more handsome human being before.

He had perfect features, his broad shoulders and his tall figure instantly catching your attention. His raven black hair was voluminous. He could easily pass as a prince.

As much as you drooled over him as a result of his striking lineaments, he looked at you, well, weirdly. That wouldn't surprise you if he looked at you like you were his enemy, just like the other people here, but he stared at you, like you were some kind of god. Like he is genuinely happy that you entered the store. His eyes light up with hope.

“FUCKING FINALLY! NAMJOON LOCK THE DOORS!”

What. The. Hell.

Never in your life have you been so confused. Does he want to kidnap you? Oh fuck he wants to kill you.

The only logical thing to do right now is turning around and leave the shop. And you do just that.

But as soon as you can grab the door knob with your right hand, another one holds it, preventing you from fleeing.

You look who this hand belongs to, and next to you stands a man with blue hair and tan skin. His biceps and height frighten you and you realize that you're in big trouble. He has a tight hold on your forearm and leads you to the backroom of the shop in a quick pace, behind you the black haired cashier.

The backroom looked comfortable, the carpeted floor creating a cozy feeling. But the atmosphere was the complete opposite.

Here you stand, surrounded by five boys. You inspect each other and you realize that two of them are airbenders.

There stands the cashier, then your eyes land on the guy who held your forearm as if his life depended on it, and a third guy who sat on the sofa. His appearance was remarkably charming, full lips, blond hair, round face and soft features, he was quite short compared to the others. All three of them have green clothing on, so you assume that they are earthbenders.

But what really catches your attention are the last two guys. They wear yellow and red robes, both of them having a blue arrow drawn through the middle of their foreheads.

You've never seen an airbender before.

“So umm sorry if we scared you back there” the blue haired guy interrupts your thoughts. “But we are really desperate for someone like you right now”

“Someone like... me?” You curiously ask.

“Yes. The guy there..”

he points to one of the airbenders. The boy has wavy dark hair and as soon the blue guy mentions him he flashes you a cute boxy smile.

“This is Tae. Short for Taehyung. He is someone special. You see, for how long has the last avatar died?”

“70 years ago.” you reply. It's true, Avatar Aang died many years ago, and that at the time the world needed him the most. If he was still here, the war could have been prevented before it even escalated.

“Yeah” he answered “Tae is the next one”.

You gasp lightly and feel your eyes coming out of their sockets from having them wide open in shock.

The avatar is standing right  in front of you.

“And we are searching for different benders who can teach him in all the elements. See, we kind of established a secret alliance against the Fire Lord, to end the war. He already knows that the avatar came back and is searching for Tae like crazy, we had to move out of our hidings four times now because he always managed to find us. Now we have to find teachers quickly, the sooner the better. Tae has to learn to be a great avatar so he can fight against the Lord. We thought we would never find someone from the Fire Nation, but then you came. Are you a firebender?”

“Yes?”

“Perfect, you're exactly who we're looking for. We'll cut you a deal. Since we assume you're not a spy, we ask you to be Taes teacher in mastering the art of firebending. In return, you'll get to live with us and we'll give you food for free. Jin is a great cook. I know this is a lot of information to handle right now, but what do you think?”

You didn't even think twice about it. Even though you don't know these guys, what do you have to loose? It's not like you had plans anyway. And stopping the fire nation seems to be just the right thing for you right now. And finally you can use your skills to good use, not for war.

“I'm in.”

Later you get introduced to all of them. The Avatar, Taehyung, is an airbender, and you swear you've never seen someone who behaves this childish before. But it's not a bad childish, in fact, it makes you feel jubilant. Maybe because his bright ambience makes up for the childhood you never had, the childhood you spent in training and learning that brutality is the way to power, and power is everything.

The guy with the blue hair is Namjoon, an earthbender and Taes teacher in that field. He seems like the leader of the group, always explaining and answering your questions.

The black haired handsome guy is Jin, a nonbender. He felt very excited when you said yes to joining them.

The other airbender is Hobi and also Taes teacher, the first thing you realize about him is his very contagious smile.

The blond dude is Jimin, a nonbender who is from an earth kingdom village.One day he knocked on their door of the shop and wanted to thrift there. But instead of finding clothes, he started talking to Tae who sat behind the counter. The Avatar liked him so much that he insisted on having him join the “Gang”.

The thrift shop actually belongs to Jins aunt, and sometimes, when he's in Ba Sing Se, he has to work here. It's also a good place to hide from the Fire Lord.

“So we need a waterbender too?” you examined.

“Yes” Namjoon was the only one to answer again “We have to travel to one of the tribes to find one. It won't be that hard.”

a/n: Thanks for reading! I would like to apologize if it’s bad, I’m not very content with my writing style, but I am working on it, since it’s my first fic and I have a long way to go:) What do you think?

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 36

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: the next chapter is gonna be the last one and i think i’m gonna need therapy. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was dressed in a baby pink and white tweed two piece, her almond white heel hitting the ground as she looked around the same halls she used to run as a child. Yet, this time everything seemed a bit more somber, the red of the walls seemed to almost swallow her in her own mind. Everything seemed a blur to her, from Dan showing up at the house with most of Mr. Forrest’s men to Sebastian being taken away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been, all she knew was that she had been moved around by Dan and several other associates from place to place until she had finally been placed in her old bedroom of her childhood home. However, the home no longer felt like home and as she waited outside Mr. Forrest’s office, fingers picking at the fabric of the very expensive skirt which for the first time seemed to fit her like a second skin. 

The door opened and one of the maids gave her a kind smile before pulling the door completely open. She stood up on her heels, wondering what awaited her behind the threshold into the office of the man she had just discovered was her father. Not that it was a completely bad new, Mr. Forrest had never been anything other than kind to her but it was odd. It was odd that the father she always wished would be around during Father’s day, who would come to see her recitals had always been there but at the same time it wasn’t. He had always been in the crowd, unbeknownst to her and as she stepped inside his office and looked at the man she had seen ever since was little standing up, staring at her as if she would disappear at any minute, she wondered how she felt. Between Sebastian and being moved around like a lost package hadn’t given her enough time to even consider how she felt about her actual parentage. The young just turned heiress wasn’t sure how she felt about actually having one parent alive yet being somehow the reason as to why her mother wasn’t around anymore.

    - I know you probably have several questions, Y/N. - his voice trembled, almost in fear of what his daughter had pent up inside of her. - If you allowed me, I would like to explain it to you what really happened.

    - I guess. - her hands held the top of the chair, not sure if she should sit or not. 

    - I really loved your mother. I met her at the Opera, I swear I can still hear her voice in the quiet of the night ... I nicknamed her Robin, gave her the necklace you’re wearing. She loved you so much, she painted your nursery herself, spent hours and hours deciding on a name before finally sticking with Ella and would constantly read you her favourite books even before you were born. We were so ready to have you but after your mother I just, I just couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. I thought many times about placing you with some of my associates but then they put you in my arms and I saw your mother’s eyes on you, how tiny you were, I just couldn’t let you go. I do realise it was selfish of me and I know you probably will never forgive me for lying all these years but all I did was to protect you ... Not that it worked very well in the end. 

Y/N just starred at the powerful man in front of her lay it all down. Maybe it was her curse to get powerful man at their most vulnerable yet Y/N just couldn’t be mad. She knew she should be mad, she should be mad that all this time she had a father, she had a completely different name in her mother’s eyes without even mentioning being in the shadow. Yet, she couldn’t be mad, when she looked at him all she saw was a man who had lost the woman he loved and the opportunity of having a daughter, or at least having her the way everyone ordinarily had one. 

She sighed, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her lips as she walked closer to the old man, wrapping her arms around him. What use was it be mad? They had both lost something, something important and while Y/N had lost her mother, he had lost the woman he loved. As much love Y/N held for the mother she never knew, her father had lost the woman he had loved and the opportunity to have an ordinary lifestyle. She was in no place to be mad at someone who had lost so much.

   - I forgive you. - she took a step back, her eyes slightly glancing to the little robin attached to the golden chain. 

   - We should get some dinner. I would love to show you some photos from when your mother was pregnant. 

   - I would love to but I’m afraid I have to check on someone. - Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if she should mention her relationship with Sebastian. She had mostly begged Daniel not to mention it and while Gwen had jetted off the moment she didn’t have to get married anymore, she was wise enough not to drop it on her newly found father that she was not only in a relationship with the man who was supposed to marry Gwen just a few weeks ago but also pregnant. Either way, she wanted to go check on Sebastian. No matter how much she asked, no one would tell her anything and her phone had been removed right when they both were rescued from Mr. Williams. - Maybe later on?

   - Make sure you take Daniel with you. - Y/N nodded as one of the employees escorted her outside the study and back to the hallway where Dan was.  She gave him a playful smile before walking up to whom she guessed she now had to call her step-brother, not that he hadn’t act like one since she was a little girl. 

   - Tweed? Starting to dress like an heiress, Y/N? 

   - One of the maids left it in my bedroom. - she twisted her foot slightly behind her, a bit of heat climbing up to his cheeks. - Mr. Forrest, I mean, my father said I need to take you if I wanna go somewhere. 

   - It’s okay, he only told me he was his father when I was 10. You get used to it eventually. 

  - How do you get used to suddenly becoming first in line to owning ... - she motioned around her. - All of this. 

  - I’m sure you can ask Sebastian for help. - his words made her stop on her tracks, a furrowed eyebrow at his statement before Daniel took a file from under his shirt. - I had my suspicions but after he was ready to sign off his place in the mob for you ... well, didn’t take long to puzzle it out. 

  - Did you tell anyone? - she grabbed the file away from him, not wanting anyone to hold it and mostly because she wished to destroy it or give it to Sebastian. 

  - I don’t think Gwen would be too interested in it considering she went on holiday with one of his bodyguards the moment she got told the wedding was off. Besides, if someone is to tell our father about it, it certainly won’t be me. 

  - I thought you hated Sebastian. I’m sure you called them standoffish and murderous. 

  - I still dislike him but ... you like him and considering you’re gonna be my boss someday, I don’t think I should really go against what you want. 

Y/N merely chuckled at him as both of them got into the car and, following a bit of banter discussing if it was the best idea to go visit Sebastian or not, started to drive up to the Upper East Side. Sebastian hadn’t been taken to the hospital despite most of Y/N’s complaining, whenever she did all Dan would say ‘we don’t want the police in our business’ so all she could think about was if he was alright and recovering just fine. It wasn’t like someone would harm her if she made a call, however Dan and the other associates were firm on keeping Y/N as isolated as possible for the very first weeks.

Maybe it had been for the best, she had spent the two weeks feeling sick or very tired and weirdly enough, only a few days ago had she been able to get up without feeling like a goblin. However, she sure hoped he was alright and as his apartment because visible, her heart soared. It wasn’t like Sebastian had tried to contact her either, maybe he didn’t want to see her. After all, she was the reason he had three bullet holes in his body. As Dan parked in front of the building, her heart beat faster.

    - I’ll wait for you here. - Dan took her off her mindset. - Be safe, okay? 

    - I will. - Y/N climbed off the car, scarily walking over to the door which was opened by the doorman with a smile on his face. She entered the very familiar lift, looking at the light buttons on the switch panel until the penthouse was reached. The doors opened horizontally and the once familiar house felt cold. Maybe it was because there just wasn’t so much staff running around. Actually, she could only spot a few bodyguards and overall staff before Amelia came strutting her way.

   - Miss Y/N, I was so worried. When you didn’t come back with Mr. Sebastian. Thank god you’re alright, you look so good. 

   - Yeah, they’ve been moving me around for a few weeks. Do you reckon I could see Sebastian?

   - He’s been in his room for a few weeks, doctor’s orders. I told him to go the hospital but the police rule. - she started to walk up the stairs with Y/N right behind her until she led her to Sebastian’s room. - You let me know if you need anything.

Y/N took a deep breathe, trying to shoo away all of the negative thoughts she had within her mind before pulling on the door handle, pushing the door open to see Sebastian laid down in bed surrounded by several papers, most likely contracts, with his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. She leaned against the wood of the door lining, her eyes calmly set on his tense forehead as he went through each paper faster than a computer, writing what looked like unreadable calligraphy. He was the one to notice her first, taking his glasses off as a soft smile appeared on his face.

    - Didn’t think your father would let you near me any time soon. - he spoke out, voice slightly raspy as if he hadn’t caught a wink of sleep in the past weeks. Y/N merely rolled her eyes at his statement, walking up to his bed and taking a seat in a spot free of papers. - Are you alright?

    - I should be asking you that. - her hand creeped up to his, her fingers shyly touching his. - You should’ve gone to the hospital, Sebastian.

    - Just bullet wounds, angel, nothing new. 

    - I thought I lost you, Sebastian. You didn’t try to reach out to me for two weeks, I was worried. - she bite down onto her lip, afraid her emotions would get the best of her. Sebastian noticed this, pushing the contracts away from his lap before his hands wrapped around her waist, pushing her closer to him despite the lingering pain of the gun shot wounds still present but he didn’t care.

    - Angel, I thought you were gonna die and it was my fault. I promised nothing bad would happen to you and that ... that despicable rat had you chained to the ground .. the things he said he would do to you and if he had done it it would’ve been my fault.

   - Sebastian, it’s not your fault. - her hand raised to caress his jaw. - You couldn’t have done anything, whatever he wanted ... it goes way past me and you. 

   - I allowed him to be near you and I let you be alone at the hotel ... I should’ve just ran off with you, I should’ve just ... I should’ve just told you I loved you when I had the shot, we could’ve jus ...

   - It’s no good to live in the past, Seb. You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re fine. Whatever happened, let’s just forget it. - she took the documents from her purse handing it to him. - I thought you should have those. I don’t think it would be very safe for those papers to be wandering around. I can’t believe you would give it all up for me.

   - I would do anything for you. - he leaned his head against her shoulder. - How is the baby? 

   - Baby’s fine, probably got tired of making me feel miserable all the time. - she made herself comfortable in his bed. - How do you feel about it? The baby, I mean.

   - I would’ve rather heard about it in a less stressing situation but I just can’t really believe it. Somewhere in my life I must’ve done something good, I must’ve done something good because I really don’t deserve you much less a family with you.

   - I don’t really think it’s about deserving, it’s just ... maybe fated considering I was supposed to marry you all along. 

   - That is a contract marriage I can’t really complain about.

   - From now on, let it just be the two of us. Nothing else, no more Gwen, no more lost parents, just ... an ordinary family. 

   - I’d like that.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee​ @nikkipea​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​ @madisonpillstrom​ @cevans98​ @thelostallycat​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @anxiousdreamersworld​ @captainchrisstan​ @lookiamtrying​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen​ @sebastianstansqueen​ @nsfwsebbie​ @strangerliaa​ @emzd34​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​ @dreams-in-blxck​ @krismeunicornbaobei​ @buckysteveloki-me​

[mandoalorian]

Life Is Good [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Summary: you find Max Lord talking to his own reflection in the mirror, and help him prepare for a speech.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Rating: Suitable for all

Masterlist

Submit a request ~ (don't be shy, ask me to write some more Max Lord. Grr I love him so much).

Permanent taglist~if you wish to be added let me know!: @kiwi-the-first @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer

~ gif by @santigarcia

It was a normal day when you had come home from work, plopping your purse down on the sofa in the entryway and walking into the lobby. Checking the time on your wristwatch, you knew Maxwell would be home by now, but you were surprised to see he hadn't come downstairs to greet you like he normally did. You imagined him cooped up in his office, reading glasses perched on the curve of his nose, reading through contracts or files. He'd been doing a lot of hard work recently, and with his assistant on maternity leave, he had been really struggling.

You figured you'd make him some coffee and bring it to him. Heading into the kitchen you grabbed one of his favourite mugs and set it down under the espresso machine. Maxwell was weird. He liked his coffee black with no sugar. After his coffee had been poured out, you wrapped your hands around the mug, smiling as the rich scent filled the air and the ceramic warmed your hands. You carefully padded up the stairs and along the corridor.

Your hand was just about to reach down to the door handle when you stopped, hearing Maxwell's voice. "Life is good," he said. You scrunched up your nose in bewilderment. His voice sounded… different. "Life is good!" he repeated, this time, exclaiming the phrase like he was surprised. "Life...is...good!" he said again, this time sounding suspenseful. "But it can be better," he said and you furrowed your eyebrows together. "But! It can be better." Who was he talking to?

You slowly and quietly opened the door to his office, nursing the cup of coffee in your hands. You leaned against the doorframe watching your boyfriend stand before the full length mirror. He was all dressed up— hair perfectly styled and wearing one of his best suits. He turned to face the wall and then dramatically spun around on his heel, pointing a finger at his reflection in the mirror. "Life is good!" he charmed, his eyes wide and lips curving into an excited smile. "Life is good." he repeated, his movements becoming even more animatronic.

"But it can be better?" you asked through a giggle, your presence making Maxwell jump.

"How long were you standing there?" he asked, his voice going a little high and his cheeks flushing pink.

"Long enough," you laughed, handing him the coffee. He took it from you and placed it on his desk before pulling you into a warm hug.

"Missed you," he mumbled into your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. He placed a quick kiss into your jaw and pulled away, but still holding your arms tightly. "I have great news!" he beamed, a sparkle gleaming in his chocolate brown eyes.

"You do?" you smiled.

"The president has asked me to do a speech that will be broadcast internationally!" he grinned and your heart melted seeing how excited he was.

"The president?" you gasped. "Maxie that's great! Think about what this will do for the company. You can finally get sales from all over the world… oh this is so fantastic. You've wanted this for so long." You pulled him into another tight hug, nuzzling head into his chest.

"I'm so happy you're happy for me." he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. He went to sit at his desk and you followed, shuffling onto his lap. You handed him his coffee and he took a sip before placing it back down.

He loved you. He loved the way you sat on his lap and nuzzled into him, playing with the straps of his surrenders or running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. He loved the familiar scent of you that he had missed all day. It made him feel safe. It made him feel at home. He picked up his reading glasses, sliding them on his face and you couldn't help but smile at how adorable he was. He scrambled around a stack of papers, looking for something.

"Maxie?" you cooed.

"Hmm?" he replied.

"Are you going to tell me why you were talking to yourself in the mirror?" you chuckled, rubbing his back in a comforting manner.

You felt him stiffen up underneath you. "Yeah, I was hoping you hadn't seen that…" he trailed off, feeling just a little embarrassed. "Since the speech is going to be broadcast internationally, I figured I should make a new infomercial. One that kinda explains what Black Gold Cooperative is all about and, adresses a global audience. Rather than just our current US demographic." you nodded your head understandingly.

He finally found the piece of paper he had been waiting to show you. Printed was his writing in a neat calligraphy style. You always admired the way he wrote, he had told you his parents were very strict about it when he was younger. That a person's handwriting says everything about a person. "What's this?" you asked, tilting your head and examining the paper.

"I was preparing my speech for the president," he told you and a small 'oh' escaped your lips. "Could you help me?"

You couldn't help but smile. The esteemed Maxwell Lord asking you for help. "Of course I can, but I'm not sure if I'll be any good at this."

"Are you kidding?" Maxwell sighed, giving your side a little squeeze. "All my best ideas come from you."

You felt your cheeks radiate heat at his compliment and you started reading the speech. You cleared your throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," you scrunched up your face.

"You don't like ladies and gentlemen?" he asked curiously, biting his bottom lip.

"Hm, it's not very… Maxwell Lord." you shrugged, picking up one of his gold company fountain pens and crossing it out.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he chuckled, a false look of offense sprawled across his face.

"You know…" you laughed. "It needs to be something memorable. Everything you do is memorable. It needs to be big and bold and it needs… zazz."

"Zazz?" he raised his eyebrows, amused.

"Zazz." you confirmed with a small smile. "Also, it's 1984. Ladies and gentlemen just feels sooo 1983."

"I completely agree darling," he nodded his head. "What about this?" he cleared his throat. "Citizens of the world!"

Your mouth formed a perfect O shape in pure surprise. "That's great Max," you laughed, writing it down above where you had scribbled out 'Ladies and gentleman'.

You read the next part. "I'm here to change your life." and you nodded your head in approval. "See? This part is good! You're showing that you have the power to make change in the world."

Maxwell beamed like a child getting 10/10 marks on their homework. You continued to read. "As the founder of Black Gold Cooperative, I promise to ensure that, by purchasing shares of my oil fields, you will be earning money-" you paused, furrowing your eyebrows together. "I'm going to be honest Maxie," you gulped as Maxwell prepared himself for the worst. "I know you're enthusiastic about oil… but I'm not sure the rest of the world is." you scribbled out his words. "I see that you're trying to lay down the fundamentals of your business, and that's good, but, a lot of people… might zone out. Might get, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, bored."

"I understand." Maxwell replied, nodding his head slowly. "So what do you suggest?"

"Something that will engage them… awaken their minds and make them want to know more. Everyone in the world wants money. Everyone wants power. Max, you can give it to them." you whizzed, biting the tip of his pen in your mouth. "You need to play on what they want."

You both spent a moment in silence, pondering, until you finally saw the lightbulb appear over Maxwell's head. "How about this?" he straightened his posture. "Citizens of the world, I'm here to change your life. Everything you want… everything you've dreamed of you can have it."

"Nice!" your lips curled into a proud smile as you pressed an encouraging kiss into his cheek. "You're illustrating that they should trust you because you have the power. That you can make all their dreams come true."

"I love you so much," Maxwell revealed, taking the pen from your lips and kissing you himself. He was intoxicating. "Thank you for all your help." he said, pressing his forehead against yours.

"You came up with all of this yourself." you giggled. "Proud of you."

"But I couldn't have done it without you." he admitted.

You spent a few long moments cuddling each other, taking in each other's warmth and feeling nothing but adoration and gratitude for one another. Then it hit you.

"What was all that 'life is good' stuff you were talking about earlier? It wasn't in the speech." Maxwell winced at your impression of him.

"Do I sound like that?" he sighed.

"It's a little dorky, yeah." you laughed.

"That was for the infomercial." Maxwell informed.

"Oh, well, no need to change your voice!" you teased. "Just be yourself Maxie. Everyone will love you."

"I don't know how I ever lived without you." Maxwell admitted and you rolled your eyes, kissing him once again.

[aperrywilliams]

Letters to me (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Summary: What happens when Reader received some love letters?

Word Count: 7436

Rating: All Audiences. I would say “Fluff” enough.

Warnings: Some curses, that’s all.

A/N: Anderson deserved better :)

——————–

If I said my life is boring working at the BAU I would be outright lying. What more exciting than chasing serial killers across the country? For real, I’ve seen many horrendous things thanks to this work, but good overcomes the bad one and at the end of the day you realize something good you are doing in this world and it gives a different taste in life.

Even though much of the time is about work, there are things even more important in this place: my friends whom are my family too. When I joined the team 5 years ago I couldn't be more grateful to the people who received me with open arms. In those years Hotch was the unit’s chief. With his always appropriate posture he was warm enough to make you feel welcome immediately. As well as JJ, García, Morgan, Rossi and the good Dr. Reid. All of them had known each other for many years, so I was the “new” one and, therefore, the team's reason for concern from then on. Despite my 27 years old they felt urge to take care of me like a little girl. It didn't bother me much, I knew it was genuine concern, but sometimes it was frustrating. I must admit it. Perhaps the only one who understood how I felt was Spencer. Sure, for many years he was the BAU's baby. Until I arrived, in fact. When we talked about it, he told me several times I was destined to be the protégé until someone new and younger arrived, he even joked about felt somewhat displaced since I came to the team.

Thanks to hours we spent working late, traveling on the jet and the hallway conversations I came to love them all as if they were my own family. I cried a lot when Hotch left the BAU, as well as when Morgan made the decision to leave as well. Of course we all understood. But feeling that nothing is forever began to provoke anxiety. It made me wonder where I really wanted to lead my life. I never doubted about  my job, of course not, but I did doubt about my personal life. I needed more things in my life and I felt like I suspended this needs because I believed the BAU was everything for me.

One day in lunch time, I told Spencer about my fears. I wasn't expecting to be very exhaustive and I wasn't expecting very elaborate advice, maybe some statistics on how people change as they get older, but just that.

“It is very common for people turned 30 to feel doubts about the decisions they make in life. There are studies that point out people who have stressful jobs delay these questions for a couple of years due to daily pressure, but it happens anyway. Even so, this type of situation is much more common in women than in men, given their state of reproductive maturity…”. This was the analysis Spencer shared with me after telling her how I felt.

"Spencer, my problem is not my reproductive maturity, if it's what you are suggesting...". I said laughing and trying to relieve the atmosphere I had caused with my questions.

"No. I didn't say that. I only said the 30-year crisis could be more acute in women given their hormonal status… ” he replied very seriously.

"So is it true I'm in the 30-year crisis?... Hell, it wasn't what I wanted to hear, but you may be right. Did this happen to you when you turned 30?" I asked to him.

"Ehhh, yeah. I think so. Back then my conflict was about the things I had accomplished at time. It is true, I had many doubts too, so I think the theory of 30s crisis is correct” he confessed.

I like talking to Spencer. Over the years we managed to establish a very close friendship. Perhaps because we are the closest in age within the team. I don't know. And even though sometimes his impulse to have data for everything despair me, his genuine concern for those around him make Spencer adorable and an impossible not to love. What I like the most is over time he also trusted me enough to speak open about himself. Sure, it doesn't something he do spontaneously, but whenever I asked him how he is or how he feel, he answers with complete sincerity. Spencer even listen to my advices and take it seriously, which I don't even do with myself, I must confess.

"And what is exactly disturbs you? What your doubts are about?" Spencer asked me. The truth I didn’t expect to development more this subject, so his question took me by surprise.

"Ehh... well, what I was saying. I don't know if I'm doing things right... or if I should make changes in my life...". Sure, but I had already said that and it was nothing specific. He knew it.

"Ok, but… what do you think you need to change (Y/N)? What do you think is missing in your life?" he asked without losing sight of my gaze. I knew the answer. But at that point I felt a little vulnerable and I didn't know if I was willing to be more detailed on the subject. And of course, it's not I didn't trust him, it's just this topic was more uncomfortable to talk about during lunch time. But… it was Spencer, my friend. Why not trust him?

"Ok. Truthfully?... Although it sounds strange, I feel I lack emotion. I mean, it's exciting to go after serial killers and all that stuff. But it’s my job. In other aspects, I feel my life is quite 'simple'…”. Spencer studied my body language closely and tried to assimilate my words. I tried to help him by digging deeper into my thoughts. “For example, my love life. It is quite simple. I've had some relationships, but I can't say I've ever fallen in love and felt reciprocated in a special way. In other hand, I know men are simple, no offence, but I’d like to find someone who is really interested in me. I don't know, having romance, something exciting, something different from the relationships I've had before…”. Spencer looked at me weirdly.

"Like… in the movies…? I didn’t think you are the type of women who like romantics fantasies..." he told me with curious eyes even after my explanation.

"No, it's not I like romantics fantasies per se... but... I don't know. It's just sometimes I don't feel wanted, do you get it? And I don't speak about sexual side. I'm talking about love, feelings, whatever that means after all…”. Spencer nodded as if he understood what I was talking about. Frankly, I don't know if he understood, but I was already feeling uncomfortable talking about this, so I didn't want to continue my explanation. I decided the topic ended there and started talking about something else for the rest of the lunch.

The weeks passed and due to the amount of cases we had, I suspended my questions and doubts for a while. We just returned from Alabama. It's was already night and I just wanted to go to my place and sleep. I was exhausted. We got to the 6th floor to collect our things. At that time there was no one left in the BAU. Just dragging my feet I managed to get to my desk site.

When I looked over my desk I saw something different: there was an envelope with my name in handwritten. I took it and opened it. Inside was a piece of paper, also handwritten, with meticulous calligraphy. That is the first thing surprised me, because I never was able to write like this. I didn't be able to do it even in school.

"Dear (Y/N). After all these years, I finally gathered the courage to send you this letter. I must first apologize myself for this boldness of mine. I do not mean to bother you but I can’t just not express how I feel about you. It’s impossible for me not to put into words what my heart is feeling at the moment. The first time I saw you, I felt like I was out of breath. Your natural beauty stunned me from the first day. Look at you walking by hallways of the FBI makes my heart pounds faster and I think every day I fall more in love with you. Yours. Anon"

My first thought was this was a joke. I gazed everywhere and only saw my colleagues with whom I had just arrived from Alabama . No one was looking at me. I felt my cheeks redden and there was nothing I could do about it. A secret admirer in the FBI?... a secret lover? I scrutinized the envelope again for any indication of the sender. Nothing. I had been working here for 5 years and something like this had never happened to me. I was speechless and didn't know what to think either. I wanted to stick with the idea it was a prank. But who would want to do me something like that? Spencer noticed my shock and asked me what was going on. I was not able to tell him what I had just seen and read. I just said "Nothing, I'm fine. Just a bad joke. Good night Spencer”. I took my belongings and left the BAU towards my apartment. That night I fell asleep thinking it must be a joke and I would have to find out who is ruthless enough to do something like this.

When I got to work the next day I immediately glanced my desk. Everything was as I left the night before. I tried to relax and even dismissed my initial idea of chasing after the person responsible for the prank of day before. I went to take my usual morning coffee and started working. It was not until after we returned from lunch when I looking over my desk and saw another envelope with my name written on it. My heart stopped and I think I stopped breathing too. Emily and JJ noticed my stupor because they immediately asked me if I was okay. I just nodded and took the envelope opening it and taking out its contents: again, a piece of paper written with perfect calligraphy.

"Dear (Y/N). I dare to send you a new letter. You should know every day passes I fall more in love with you. It's only fair I declare this because my heart would explode if I couldn't. Oddly enough, looking into your eyes I feel as I can see your soul, your beautiful soul. The one that deserves to be loved utterly, the one that deserves to be treated with all the veneration and grace in the world . If I had the courage to approach you and if you let me love you, believe me I would never could let you down. Yours. Anon"

"What the fuck ...?". It was the only thing I could say as Emily took the piece of paper in my hand and began to read it. Then she passed it to JJ to do the same. Both of them didn’t know whether to laugh or not, but when they saw my daze they chose to debrief me.

"Since when do you have a secret lover in the FBI?" J.J. asked.

"Not just any secret lover, is a lover who ‘can see her soul through her eyes’" Prentiss teased looking at J.J.

"It must be someone's prank...". I tried to reason with them.

"Why a joke? It is perfectly possible you have captivated the heart of an agent on these sides..." argued J.J.

“But in these 5 years , nothing like this has ever happened to me!” I said with stupor.

"There is always a first time..." Emily said with a shrug.

"It must be someone new..." J.J. reflected

"I don't think so, the first letter makes me think it has been here for a while...". I said as I took the first letter out of my purse and handed it to them to read.

"Years... eh?... this is new. I think someone is burning inside of love for you (Y/N)”. Emily said laughing.

For the rest of afternoon I couldn't focus on any of my tasks. All the time I was thinking about the possible men who could have written these letters. Maybe letters was not too sophisticated but to think someone from the bureau was in love with me, and for so long, did nothing but widen my heart... and my ego, by the way. I was pondering on that when Spencer peeked around my desk.

“You cannot tell me nothing is wrong with you, because you have hardly worked today (Y/N). You've been contemplating the nothingness for hours”. Again Spencer took me by surprise.

"It's just... I’m... I don't know how to say it… I’m surprised?". And without saying anything else, I handed him the two letters I received. He quickly read them and frowned.

"What really mean this about ‘looking into your eyes I feel as I can see your soul'? That is physically impossible..." he stated in a seriously tone.

"Spencer, it's a metaphor. You are a genius, I think you know what a metaphor is…”. I said with a bit of annoyance. Of course, Spencer wasn't seeing the same as I in the letters.

"Ok. Metaphor or not... it doesn't seem very sophisticated to me". Yes, he had a point. These aren't great love letters, but for me the effort could balance the lack poetry talent of my secret lover.

"Ok. Maybe he isn’t a poet after all, but I think I like it..." I said a little embarrassed to admit I was flattered. Spencer smiled.

"Maybe you really have more action in your life after all..." he told me, giving me the letters before he returned to his desk.

Two days later I got another letter. This time I saw it over the desk just arriving to the office in the morning. After grabbing my morning coffee I proceeded to read it.

"Dear (Y/N). When I saw you yesterday I felt like talking to you, but I didn't dare. I have to admit that I am too shy to approach you. I always have been, but when I fall in love is when my shyness plays against me the most. Maybe I shouldn't tell you these things, but I also want you to know me more, even if it's through these letters. In the depths of my heart I have the hope that perhaps one day we could be together, and one day I could kiss those beautiful lips. Did I say to kiss?. And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever'. Yours. Anon".

Dammit! The bastard just quoted one of my favorite plays? Shit!. Maybe he isn’t illiterate after all. Another thing I noticed: in this letter he dared to reveal a little more about himself. Something I could not see in the previous two. Would this be more than platonic?. Throughout the day, as I walked through the corridors of the FBI, I couldn't stop looking at all the men I came across. Some of them didn't even look at me while others looked at me and some even smiled at me. I hadn't realized how many people I passed through the corridors of the FBI on a daily basis. "You work doing profiles, how can you not make a profile of your secret lover?". I told myself. Well, this was already an intellectual challenge, but I needed help. That afternoon, as we were in the jet on the way to a case in Houston, I approached Emily and J.J. showing them the third letter and asking them to help me discover who it was. They were more fascinated with the challenge than I was.

With the little evidence we had, all we could say he is an agent, who works for the FBI since at least a few years, probably suffered more than one love sorrows, and this is the first time he dared to do anything like write a love letter. And of course, he knew one of my favorite plays was Cyrano of Bergerac, or at least he suspected it. So it had to be someone I talked to more than once or knew something about my life and my past. It couldn't be someone I only crossed in the hallways. His calligraphy indicated dedication, organization and emotions contained.

"I think this profile outlines 50% of the bureau officers, except for the calligraphy and the play (Y/N) likes..." Prentiss said huffing.

"Ok. And in this 50%, how many of them have spoken with (Y/N) in these years enough to know things about her? Assuming he is not someone who takes risks…” added JJ. I just shrugged and started making a list of agents I remembered having spoken more than one word in these years and who were still on the bureau. I was surprised myself how friendly am I. The list was not short.

I kept receiving letters from my secret lover. In all of them he let a little piece of his heart escape, not only screaming his love for me, but his doubts about himself. That broke my heart. Was he so afraid to talk to me? Days later I received the last letter.

"Dear (Y/N). You may have noticed my early letters were more fearful. I was afraid you would be intimidated by my boldness. Now I feel a little more confident about you at least read my letters and motivates me to write more. I never thought I was going to confess my love to a woman in this way. And it's not I have fallen in love many times before in my life. To be honest, I think very few times indeed, and to be honest, never with someone like you. You’re a very special woman (Y/N). When you started at the BAU you immediately radiated all your energy to those around you. Always gentle, with a smile on your lips. Willing to help and do your job in the best way possible. You are so understanding, you care about the rest and this quality makes any man can fall madly in love with you, like me now. Always yours. Anon"

Wait… what?!, have I known this man for 5 years? I mean, he was here when I started working in the BAU. This fact shortened my initial list a lot. I told Emily and J.J. about my new findings.

"So... who is on this short list?" Emily asked.

"Well... according to my evaluation this leaves us: Stevens, Rogers, Martinez and Anderson". I said, going through my list. And I wasn't considering just the singles mans.

"I don't think be Stevens, he's a narcissist. He's not the type to send letters. He would just come up to you and to invite you out…”. Emily said, dismissing the first suspect.

"Rogers is a shy guy. But I think hopefully he read an entire book in his life. He is more RPGs type and that kind of nerdy stuff. The writing style doesn't reveal that kind of man…” said J.J. , rejecting the second suspect.

“Martinez is recently married. I know it doesn't mean anything, but according to they said around here, he was dating his girlfriend for four years until she said yes to the question, so it would be premature to think he is thinking in another woman…”. With this statement Emily dismissed the third suspect.

"And Anderson... well, Anderson got divorced a year ago. We never knew very well what happened. I once heard Morgan to say he married her because she was his high school girlfriend, but he was never very in love with her…”. J.J. explained.

“He is a very sweet man, without a doubt. Is shy. I always see him with books walking for the hallways, it seems he likes to read… it could be someone who can write letters…”. Emily indicated.

"Maybe love letters... yes... it is possible" added J.J. Both looked at each other as if they had discovered the Holy Grail. "It's Anderson!" they exclaimed at the same time.

"Fuck..." was the only thing I could say, also noticing and reviewing all my interactions with Anderson in the past years.

It’s true what Emily and J.J. said, Anderson is a very sweet man. Always considerate, giving you a smile. Very shy, no doubt, but sweetly shy. Of course he wasn't my type. I had never seen Anderson with different eyes. And to be honest, I had rarely seen other agents with different eyes. Of course, my job is more important. I tried to go over things I've talked to him in the past, and of course, except for some social meetings in Rossi’s house, our interactions had been quite limited. But it was a fact we saw each other regularly on the BAU. And surely he had found out things about me. It had to be him.

I didn't know much what to do with this information. Well, if it was him, what I’m going to do now? Confront the poor man? I wouldn't dare. Besides, what I could to tell him? I couldn't be in love with him, however to much romantic his letters were. My heart has already an owner even if I wanted to deny it to myself. And although many times I shouted to the four winds I was looking for the love of my life, the truth is I had already found it. The problem is this love would never be corresponded. Of course, the good Dr. Reid was just my friend and I chose this before doing a stupidity and showing other feelings towards him and ruining our friendship. I was pondering about this while we were on our way to the jet for another case out of town. The same voice Spencer pulled me from my thoughts.

"Still thinking about your secret lover?" he asked sarcastically. I didn't like his tone, especially after what I was reflecting.

"Yeah. And so what if it were?". I replied abruptly.

"Nothing. It's okay. You don't have to be mad at me” he said, noticing my defensive tone.

“You men are incredible. To be honest. How a man can be so blind, so clumsy, so shy when he shouldn't and so bold when nobody asks to. A real disaster!”. I exclaimed with my arms up.

"Hey, I didn't do anything to you...". Spencer protested. I just shook my head and kept walking towards the jet.

"Well, at least now I know who is he". I mumbled dryly before boarding the jet without waiting for any response, not even hoping Spencer had heard what I said.

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

Was it true what she said before boarding the jet? Did she know who was sending her the letters? Is the reason why she was mad at me? But how can I be so stupid?, how I didn’t think she might find out at the end? Sure, I could defend myself, saying it was a joke. But it was it? I mean, at first, when the idea appeared to me it was just because I wanted to cheer her up a bit. (Y/N) looked so confused and sad. I never liked seeing her like that. Of course, my genius neurons sometimes doesn’t work in the way I would like. I thought writing her a letter and making her think she had a secret lover could get (Y/N) out of the lethargy in which she was sinking with her doubts and anxieties.

Apparently it had worked. After first letter, it was evident her mind began to wander and that cheered her up a bit. I didn't think it was a bad thing, but of course, she thought it was some kind of prank. Of course, she didn’t think someone in the FBI could fall in love with her. Why not? How about a second letter to make it clear to her? A little more bold than first one. And surprisingly to me, it seemed it was easier for me to put words on paper for her than I had thought myself. The goal was accomplished: she no longer believed it was a joke, but I had forgotten how obtuse and obsessive (Y/N) could be at times.

When I savored the pleasure of just write about my feelings for her, I started to do it with more enthusiasm. In several letters I let myself go enough to show how truly I see her. And yes, even if I had been tortured, I would have denied it to death. I wasn't going to admit I was hopelessly in love with (Y/N). Why should I? We are friends. Very good friends. She trusts me and I trust her. Why ruin our friendship for something I knew was never going to happen?. It wasn't even worth the try. After 5 years everyone assumed, and so did I, that we were meant to be friends forever, and just that, friends.

And now, after a series of letters I wrote to her, this friendship was about to break. I’m a real idiot. But before taking my responsibility in this disaster, I needed to find out more about what (Y/N) knew, because maybe only she assumed things. No one says she actually knew who was sending her these letters.

Cautiously I sat in one of the seats of the jet and began to scrutinize how (Y/N) was speaking with Emily and J.J. , all over the trip. (Y/N) looked annoyed. Damn it! Precisely that was not my idea! Just the opposite. She almost never made eye contact with me. And the time she did, her eyes revealed more annoyance. So apparently my suspicions were accurate. At moment I saw (Y/N) get up with Prentiss and go to talk to Tara and Luke. I had to find out what was going on, so I went to sit in front of J.J. to try to dig a bit about it.

"What's it Spence?" J.J. asked me once I sat and looked at her with my hands crossed on the table in front of us.

"I wanted to ask you about (Y/N)... is something wrong with her?". I asked in the most innocent way I could. She, however, raised an eyebrow and looked at me curiously.

"Why do you say something is wrong with (Y/N)?" She asked.

"Ehh, well... when we were boarding the jet she looked annoyed and she didn't want to tell me what was happening... then ...". I said trying not to stutter.

"You are worried" she interrupted. I nodded immediately.

"Is it all because of her secret lover?". I dared to ask.

"Do you know about that?" J.J. asked me. She not quite sure what I knew or didn't know.

" Yes, well... she showed me the letters...". I lied, of course.

"Well, I think we found out who he is...". I felt like I was having a hard time swallowing and some air was missing from my lungs.

"Ahhh, yeah?... wow... that's... interesting...". She nodded. "And... who is it?". I asked with fear of the answer.

"Anderson" she said confidently.

"What?, Anderson?... no way!...". I couldn't help but say it out loud. J.J. looked at me with 'shut up, they'll listen to you' eyes. (Y/N) believed Anderson sent the letters to her. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or defeated. "And how does she know it's him?"

“We discarded all the suspects from our list and we got to him. It has to be Anderson” she concluded. I swallowed harder than before and I could see she was analyzing my reaction. I tried to stay calm so as not to create suspicions.

"And... what is she going to do about it?" I asked, trying to keep my composure.

“That is what confuses her. I guess she is pondering what to do about this. So don't bother her, Spence. The poor girl is a mess of nerves” suggested JJ. I just nodded, got up from the seat and went where I was previously.

My head started to spin. (Y/N) thinks Anderson is her secret lover, and they have hardly spoken in all these years! Was I even on her list? Despite being partially relieved, my heart broke a little more. But it’s ok, it was confirmation of I already knew: 'ours' could never be a reality. Maybe it was better she thinks it was him.

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

The case was being quite demanding to get me out of my thoughts. But I still felt upset. Not with poor Anderson, not even Spencer anymore. With me. This matter was killing more of my neurons and nerves than it should. And, what would I do? Nothing, there was nothing I could do. I would just let time pass and if he didn't get close to me, I wouldn't. That would stopping letters at some point. I decided passivity would be the best strategy and I would let everything cool down.

And so I ceased thinking about it too. It was our third day in Texas and we had managed to locate our unsub. With part of the team we went to make the arrest: Luke, Emily, Spencer and me. When we arrived at the place, we noticed something strange was happening. There was no electricity in the house where our unsub was supposed to be. We had to get in, so we made pairs to cover two entrances. Prentiss and Spencer took the front door and Luke and I the back door . We got in with our lamps and scanned the place, there were no traces of our target. I noticed there was a door leading to some kind of basement, I motioned for Luke to come down with me. I was up front and he covered my back. What didn’t expecting was when I was in the middle of the stairs a hand took my foot making me fall down. Obviously I dropped my gun and the flashlight I was holding. Luke started down and before he got to where I was, I felt a strong blow to the head. After that I don't remember anything else.

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

With Prentiss we heard (Y/N) yelled from the back of the house, as well as Luke's voice shouting at someone to stop. We both ran to a door that led to a basement, we heard Luke fighting a man under the stairs. Emily immediately went downstairs to help Luke reduce the unsub, who was already badly hit so it wasn't difficult. I looked with my flashlight where it was (Y/N). Suddenly I saw her lying on the floor, unconscious. Luke yelled at me "call for an ambulance, this motherfucker hit her in the head". I froze for a second. I ran outside to alert paramedics who came to the aid of (Y/N) who was still on the floor and was not reacting. I panicked. They took her to the ambulance. In the already lit street I could see how her head was bleeding profusely. They put her in the ambulance and without thinking I got in with them. I wasn't going to leave her alone now. I held her hand. There was no reaction yet. Arriving at the hospital, I could only come with her to the emergency room entrance. From there she disappeared along with a whole medical team monitoring her vital signs. She was alive, but no one knew the severity of her injuries.

Sitting on one of the benches in the waiting room, panic didn’t leave me. True be told, it was not the first time (Y/N) had been injured during a case. But this was the first time I felt real fear for her health condition. More knowing we were not on good terms and she was possibly mad with me. I hated that feeling. I hated the feeling of knowing after all this mess my emotions were finally coming out stronger than before and maybe I wasn't even going to have a chance to open up to her about it.

I was deep in thought when Emily arrived with the entire team. They looked at me asking if there was any news. I just shook my head. Nothing was known about her yet. We all remained silent, waiting.

After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor came to talk to us.

"Family of (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?". We all stand up and approached to him. Emily spoke first seeing his visible confusion.

"We are her coworkers. How is she?" Prentiss asked.

“The hit to the head was quite strong. Fortunately, there is no major damage, except for an ugly bruise. But with painkillers and rest, she should get better with the days”. I felt my chest release from the tension. I was really relieved. We all were, really.

"Can we see her?" J.J. asked

"Yeah right. She is wake up. Follow me if you want” doctor said to JJ, but she didn’t move and on the contrary, looked directly at me.

"Spence, you should go first". I looked at her confused. She approached me and whispered in my ear: "I think it would be good if you saw her first, so you can explain to her about the letters...". I froze. How…?. I stared at her in a stun, trying for the millionth time to pretend I didn't know what she was talking about. “Don't ask me how, but I know. It's you. Don't torment her anymore, or torture yourself more with this” she said to me and went to sit where the rest was. In silence, I followed the doctor to the room where was (Y/N).

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

I love painkillers. They give you a feeling of relief and you think everything is fine, even though you know you are hurt and eventually you’ll feel as if a truck has hit you. But I didn’t care in that moment. Now I just enjoyed not feeling pain in my body. When I woke up in the hospital, I had a hard time remembering what had happened. With an intense white light blinding my eyes, I could only feel the beep of the machines and an intense pain dissipating as medicines were injected to me. There I realized what had happened. The entrance to the basement, the fall down the stairs, the knock to the head. ‘Damn bastard’ was all I thought.

In my medicinal lethargy, I had my eyes closed. My senses were lost in a parallel dimension where I could hear things around me, but without the need to be alert. That situation suddenly changed when I felt someone took my hand. I opened my eyes and saw Spencer looking at me very closely. You could tell he was inspecting my wounds. Hell, I bet I looked horrible.

"Hey ..." said Spencer when he saw I opened my eyes and was looking at him. I couldn't say anything, I just returned a smile. The truth is I was glad to see him. Plus his concerned face made him look more adorable than usual. "How do you feel?" he asked.

“At the moment… I don't feel any pain. But I know it’s going to hurt tomorrow". I said with a grimace.

"We were worried ... I was worried ..." he said muttering but in a level I could hear.

"I’m sorry it was not my intention…". I said.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. It is good to know that… you are ok”. His words were cautious. Apparently I did give them a hard time, I could guess. I also felt bad. I was aware I had treated Spencer harshly throughout these days. I had barely spoken to him, and that was unusual for us. I know he felt it too.

"Spencer... I’m sorry, ok?". He looked at me curiously.

"Why do you say that?"

"It’s I have treated you awful these days. Even before we got on the jet. Sorry, I didn't want to be mad at you"

"I’m the one who should apologize... I’ve been insensitive to you in this whole letters issue. I haven’t behaved like you needed"

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. I don't want to talk much about it, really. But it's not your fault…"

"Yes, it is…" he said with his usual stubbornness.

"Are we really going to argue over this?... no, stop it. Look. Furthermore, the matter is resolved. I know it’s Anderson who sends me the letters. And while I find it adorable, there's nothing I could do about it. I feel sorry for him, but it's not enough to… ”

"Falling in love with him...?" Spencer interrupted me.

"I was going to say it was not enough to tell him about this... but yes, I suppose there is implicitly the fact I’ll not fall in love with him". I said laughing. But my words didn't find any resonance in Spencer. On the contrary, he just stared at the floor. That was odd.

"But did you like the letters...?”. He asked in an almost inaudible voice.

“Yes, I liked them, they were very flattering, indeed. Yes, my ego went up. Yes, I found it exciting. But that’s it. I don't know if I can say much more about it. Is something wrong with you?". I saw how his hands trembled. What was wrong with him? I had never seen him like this before, at least in front of me.

 "And... what if I told you... isn’t Anderson who sent you those letters?..." he said, again in an almost imperceptible tone.

"But I know it was him... with Emily and J.J. we realized it after analyzing...". I was not able to finish the sentence, because I could see how Spencer's glassed eyes looked at me even more cautiously. He exhaled and began to speak again.

"And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever'…” he recited almost without blinking or breathing. I recognized those words immediately. And no, it wasn't from any of the letters I showed him at the beginning, so he couldn't have memorized it... unless... fuck!

"It was you... it was you all this time...". I wasn't asking but I needed confirmation. He said nothing, just nodded. "But ... but why? What kind of prank was that Spencer?". The bastard had mocked me all this time!

"No! It was not for that. Wasn't a joke" he hastened to reply.

"No?... come on!... You wanted me to believe I had a secret lover on the FBI! It's not fair what you did. You played with my feelings and that's not fair…”

"It’s true you have a secret lover in the FBI!" he interrupted me, raising his broken voice.

"What?... now what are you going to fabricate this time...?". I said tiredly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Me. I'm your secret lover. I’m the one who loves you (Y/N). I love you. All the things I wrote, I wrote them thinking of you…” he said with a sigh of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from him. Sure, a weight that now fell on me.

"You what ...?". My head started to spin. Was Spencer Reid declaring his love for me in a hospital room?

"Yes, I must to recognize letters started because of the conversation we had one day where you told me you felt your life lacked emotion. I wanted to cheer you up a little, get you out of the routine. But... it finally became an excuse to me for tell you how I feel about you. Those I have felt for so long and I have never dared to say. And it's ok. I don't expect you to feel the same way about me. And if this means losing you as a friend, I'd rather never have. I can't bear to see you mad at me. I couldn't bear you to get away from me because of my stupidity… it doesn't make sense for me… I'm so sorry…” . By now I was sitting on the hospital bed, struggling if I got up to go to the bathroom or run out of there. It was a lot to process in that minute. Was I angry?. Was I excited?. Was I confused?. I think everything at once. I felt a knot in my stomach that made me nauseous. My eyes began to accumulate tears. My jaw began to hurt from clenching it too much.

"So... what is written on these letters... is it true?... is it what you feel?" I dared to ask, since I wasn't sure if I was understanding everything correctly. He nodded.

"Yes. I think the only thing I doubt so far was if I really can see your soul through your eyes… but that was the only metaphor that came to my mind the first time…” he said with a shy smile. I just laughed. He is an adorable dork. A dork I love with all my heart. If this is the chance, then... ok. I needed to take it. From the edge of the bed where I was sitting covered in my hospital gown, I reached out my hand to reach his. Spencer trembled a little when he felt my touch, but he relaxed when I managed to held his hand. I gently pulled him closer to me.

"I think we are both lousy profilers when it comes to ourselves, don't you think?". I said with a smile. Spencer snorted.

"Hey... precisely speaking you were the one who failed...". I shook my head.

"You still don't understand it? Do you? ... You also failed. Miserably. I can't believe you still don't realize I'm crazy about you. For so long that I can't even remember it”. I said as I kept stroking his hand. Spencer opened his eyes in real amazement, validating my theory of how bad we were by applying our profiler skills to each other.

"(Y/N)... so... are you...?". I nodded as I pulled him closer to me. I raised my head to find those beautiful eyes that ruined to me since the first time I saw them.

"I’m… lost, stupidly, grandiosely, incredibly… in love with you”. I said wrapping his torso with my arms. He returned my embrace pressing me against his chest.

"Though this confirms your theory, I am thrilled..." he proclaimed. We both laugh. Breaking the embrace, he stared at me and with his hands cupped my face, leaning enough to get us face-to-face. I just closed my eyes. It wasn't more a second until I felt his lips on mine. A long soft kiss. A kiss I had waited for so long. I’d have paid to stay like this forever, despite the discomfort of the hospital room. It was better than I even imagined. And although it happened as a result of our own missteps, it felt so good. As if fate really existed and was good for both of us. When we broke the kiss, we both smiled to each other like fools.

"Spencer ...?" I asked. He looked at me with the 'What?' implicit in his eyes. "Can I request you two things?" He nodded. "First one, could continue writing me letters like those occasionally?... Of course, now you must signed them properly". Spencer couldn't help but laugh.

"Ok. I think I can do that time to time. ¿And the second?". Spencer asked as he gently stroked my face with both of his hands.

"The second one: please don't let Anderson find out about this..."

———————

[weakzen]

Left on the detective’s desk, a single red rose and a note written in precise handwriting:

Alex,

What happened to you - you didn’t deserve it. You can be loved, if you let yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day

(yolo experimental style; alex/mason, early established relationship, angst and fluff; no direct mention of abuse, just oblique circling and fatalistic thoughts; rated m for mason; also on AO3~)

Even though I didn't finish reading it, even though I hid it from sight, imprisoned it in darkness, cast it to the depths of the bottom drawer until the end of shift, when it would be possible to smuggle the thing into the break room recycle bin without risking Tina's eyes or interrogation, that stupid fucking note has somehow still managed to reach up through all those heavy files and twist my stomach into knots.

For hours.

Plucking my nerves hard enough to make my hands fucking shake too. Typos in every report, backspace key pulling overtime without pay. Not helped by eyes that won't stop stinging. Armpits that haven't fully dried either, along with a weird chill, shivers that persist despite the sweater and the cranked-up thermostat.

At least the rose is gone. Snuck it into the arrangement on Tina's desk, the one I get her every year.

It looks better surrounded by friends.

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Can still smell it perfuming the air.)

And if I could get rid of my thoughts as easily, I would. Because after half a day of chasing them in circles, I still can't figure out who the fuck sent that goddamn note, who the fuck would write something like that—say shit like that, to me—who could possibly fucking think or know or say anything about that, or that I-I, that I—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuck.

That sickly feeling wrenches again, hard enough to jerk me forward over the desk, face buried in my hands while my breathing shudders into something unsteady and vaguely gasping.

Fuck.

It can't be Tina.

It can't.

It should be, but it can't.

The writing's not loopy enough to be hers, and it's not slanted enough to be Verda's, and the damn thing isn't covered in nearly enough heart stickers to be from Felix. We all should know. Nate's been sighing nonstop for the past week, scraping them off every available surface in the Warehouse—except for the lacy pink one Felix managed to sneak right between Adam's shoulders.

And the glittery red one I pressed covertly to Mason's ass.

(Maybe not so covertly. Found a few hearts stuck to my underwear later when I slipped outta my jeans, and the secrets of how the fuck he pulled that off are still locked behind his smirk.)

A smile tries to pull at my lips, but the tightness in my gut warps it crooked.

Another shuddery breath.

It can't be from Adam either. If he had something to say to me, he'd just say it, preferably after he finished laying me out on the mats, all sweaty and sucking down air from another session of his gentle ass-kicking. Nate, however, would write a note to me. Has written a note to me. Has written many notes to me and still not made a dent in that stack of expensive stationary, and although the card stock was silk cream, the pigment obsidian night, and the calligraphy swooping in almost a dead ringer, I know it can't be from Nate because he would never leave a rose with his words, not the ones meant for me.

But there isn't anyone else.

There's Mason

And it can't be from him.

It's not his handwriting, to start. I think. I'm pretty sure. I've never actually seen his writing, but I can't imagine it would be anything resembling neat or careful. It's gotta be complete chicken scratch. All cramped and illegible. He's left handed too, barely patient enough to sit through a stoplight, much less give ink the time to dry, so there'd be definitely be smears, and there weren't any smears. At all. Can't be him.

Not to mention he'd never do anything like this.

Don't know why he keeps coming to mind anyway. Just because we're…

Together

—for now.

Doesn't mean he'd ever say anything like that—

He already has

(He did. He said I deserved better and I believe him, but I don't, I can't.)

—only because he'd say differently if he knew.

If he really knew.

He'd say different and I'm not gonna fucking tell him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway, it doesn't. Shine's gonna wear off soon enough. Novelty, satisfied. Boredom, returning. And at least the conversation won't be awkward, just… blunt. To the point. A first for us both, in topic, if not style.

I've never been dumped before, at least not in a romantic sense.

Another breath. Another shuddery breath.

Wonder how it's gonna feel.

(It's gonna suck.)

No fucking shit.

If it can't last, why agree to it at all?

I rub hard at my eyes, grinding palms into sockets.

If it can't last, why not tell him anyway?

Because I already fucking know! Don't need to hear it from him, don't wanna hear it from—

If it can't last, why does it matter what he thinks?

“…Stupid fucking note.”

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Someone took the time, wrote it, left it in here. Someone cares.)

Someone's playing a sick fucking joke, more like.

What if it's genuine?

I scoff ragged, squeezing fingers around the back of my neck.

(Tina cares. So does Verda. The whole team, so many others, I know, and I believe them all but I don't. I can't.)

What if you didn't deserve it?

I did. I stayed and I did. My fault. Fucking stupid, like he always said.

(All Mason ever speaks is care. In a thousand different ways of touch, in silence, in lingering looks, he cares.)

What if you can be loved?

What if you can?

A brittle laugh wheezes past my lips and shoots toward something hysterical, boosted by acid burn and cloying petals and that churning, churning tightness. My shoulders hunch high around my ears while the sound pitches even higher, lungs immolated and screaming along, nails digging, cutting crescents as I shake and curl tighter, smaller, compacting into stiffness hard enough to rival diamonds, every muscle verging on a cramp and my throat is stinging and my eyes are on fire, hot, wet, and the door is closed, the blinds shut, and maybe I could just— this time— if I stayed quiet, I could—

I could—

But I don't.

I swallow once, twice, suck down, blink it away, then snap upright and get back to work. There's too much shit, not enough time.

Never enough time, not for that.

For you

(Remember to eat lunch.)

I don't.

I don't really remember talking to anyone either. Or finishing paperwork. Answering email. Clearing the inbox backlog, digital and otherwise, but the stack depletes, the numbers go down, Tina gives me shit from the doorway, and soon the peripheral lights tick off overhead in the foyer, a mop bucket rattles its rounds, darkness crept into my office at some point for a visit and now it's here to stay, just its quiet company along with the monitor blasting eye strain, clacking keys, tight shoulders, a headache, and then—

A familiar ass plops down on my desk and scares the shit out of me.

I jerk back in the chair, wheels rolling, hand over heart to keep it from pounding free and Mason looms above it all, bathed in harsh blues, deep shadows, a deeper frown, and eyes that refuse to obey the rules of any ambient illumination.

Right now? They're crinkled soft, even as they scrutinize.

He looks… worried.

When did he even open my door?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“…Yeah,” I mutter. A lie, an obvious one, but I fight the urge to glance away and dare him to call me out anyway. “You need something, sunshine?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You're late.”

“For what?”

We didn't make plans.

“Getting home.”

Fuck.

I sigh, slumping in the seat, and now I'm looking away, now I'm backing down, running a hand through my hair, mussing and tangling, just like he always does when he's uncertain.

And when the hell did I start doing that?

“Yeah, I'm still behind on shit from my vacation. I was gonna stay late tonight, try and catch up…” I explain, because Tina and I also didn't make plans this year.

(Because she's been marinating in smugness ever since I sighed and told her about the relationship. Because she dropped that shit-eating smirk earlier—that I remember, at least—dripping suggestion all over my office as she waggled her brows and winked and made obnoxious kissy faces until I shoved her out the door, but not before she told me to 'have lots of fun tonight, Alexandra.')

Sure.

“Sorry I didn't text. I… forgot.”

That tightness in my stomach does another loop, and I huff a quiet breath.

Stupid fucking note.

Mason folds his arms. “…The fuck is going on with you?”

Concern blunts the teeth of his words, not that there's any real bite. There never is, not with him, but I tense up anyway, expecting it, expecting to be ripped open.

Blood and pain.

I'd tense up no matter how he asked.

It's okay

(He's not Bobby.)

“Nothing,” I reply, folding my arms, eyes down, “just…”

It's okay

(He's not looking to hurt.)

Probably will anyway, but fuck it. I already know his answer.

Let's just get it over with.

“You didn't leave me a valentine earlier, did you?” My gaze snaps to his. “On my desk?”

Mason scoffs. “Why the hell would I do that?”

This time, it stabs instead of twists, higher up, somewhere in my chest. Something sharp instead of dull.

Disappointment? …Relief? I'm not sure.

Just that it stings.

And it's nighttime, so maybe he feels it too, and maybe that's why he unfolds his arms and shifts toward me, boot heel dangling by the bottom drawer while his voice drops to a softness that matches his accent. “What it say?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, even quieter than him. “Just someone fucking with me. It doesn't matter.”

It does

(Shouldn't lie, not to him. Don't need to. Don't want to, don't like it.)

Mason doesn't like it either, but he doesn't push it. Neither do I.

We look away from each other.

The office swelters around us, too stuffy, too small. Too silent and uncomfortable now to stay. I roll forward to save my work, then turn the computer off and Mason's already waiting for me by the door, a dark silhouette framed by distant fluorescent, my coat and bag hanging off his arms. He pulls me in while I put it all on, yanking me by lapels before abandoning them for the sweater on my lower back, the loose hair at my nape. His lips brush against mine in slow movements, soft nibbling, and he's whispering something to me with it all, with the strokes of his fingers and the circle of our chins, but I can't quite hear.

So ask

(He'll answer—and he won't lie.)

I swallow, then I do.

“…What kind of kiss was that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs beneath my hands, breath tickling my face. “I want you to feel better.”

“Oh.”

A shadow flits behind his eyes.

“…And if he's still bothering you, I'm gonna break his fucking jaw again.”

I chuckle softly. “Pretty sure it wasn't him this time.”

“Good.” Mason nibbles another kiss, then smirks. “Might still do it anyway.”

That gets a laugh from both of us, one that sprawls into a pause, grey eyes locked to mine while our grins fade out and our breath catches on everything unspoken and nameless rushing in to take the space.

Honesty. It's what I try to speak. Trailing up from the emotional ooze, raw and sticky.

I hope he can fucking see it, hear it cry, but I wipe it off and whisper the words into shape anyway, cheeks flaming, just to be sure—

“I'm sorry, I just… I don't wanna talk about it now.”

—and he answers me with a brush of his mouth, with his tongue parting my lips, with the way he teases into me before licking deeper, the way he jerks our hips together then shoves, a knee between my thighs, my back into a wall, a door frame, a sharp corner, a low groan rumbling up his chest directly into mine and I hear it all this time, in his breathy panting at the edge of our kiss, the firmness in his fingers angling my face to his, the solid heat of his cock pressed hard against me, grinding slow while I cling tight and moan, I hear it all, but he sucks my lip in with a sharp inhale, rolls me around his mouth before releasing with a drag of teeth, and he murmurs it aloud anyway, just to be sure—

“I know, sweetheart. It's fine.”

—then he nips down hard, and it's hard not to smile, hard not to laugh, harder still not to nip that asshole right back, so I don't.

Hold back, that is.

Our lips are swollen and sore by the time the station door swings shut behind us.

[synchlora]

oh my god PLEASE talk abt jet and ghoul. how did they meet? do they have any things they like to do as just the two of them? inside jokes? do they ever argue and if so how does it get resolved? do they give each other gifts?? where are they in a firefight?

YES!! okay fuck yeah!!!

how they met

so ghoul and jet meet uhh. in an. interesting way..... so jet and kobra r the first two of the fab four to meet so they basically start a mini-crew before poison and ghoul join. so one day, jet and kobra are out on a supply run to test out kobra's new vend-a-hack and things. happen.

to make a long story short, a newly-escaped (and. Extremely Dehydrated and desperate) ghoul decided it would be a good idea to. attempt to rob some killjoys?? man was desperate alright. so xe. climbed up onto the vending machine and jumped on top of kobra while he was distracted w the vend-a-hack.

a let me paint u a picture here bc im not sure if this is clear: imagine you're out on an early morning supply run before it gets too hot w ur one and only crewmate, someone uve known for quite a while now. ur out here to test a new device he's made!! something that'll make it easier to steal from BLi, so obviously u both decided to try it out asap. and while u have ur back turned tending to your half-broken motorbike, you hear the shriek of your crewmate, spin around, and see a teenager with greasy black hair (no, literally grease, like that's fucking motor oil in their hair) currently on top of your crewmates shoulders wrestling w him while holding a mildly pointy pen in their hand held (uselessly) like a knife to ur crewmates throat.

so that's how ghoul and jet met achsbscshsbs ghoul attempted to rob them and jet was like COOL!! let's take them home (much to kobra's displeasure having just been "violently attacked" by a "fucking sharp-toothed city kid." to be fair, ghoul did bite him).

things they do / inside jokes

literally nearly impossible to ever find them not physically touching in some way. whether they're leaning against one another in a fire fight, in a tangle of limbs lounging around at the diner, or bumping shoulders/hands while working on their own separate projects-- they're almost always within each other's space

ghoul likes to make bracelets and other jewelry and jet tends to sit still a lot just reading or writing. so there's a lot of lazy afternoons where ghoul is making jewelry literally onto jets wrist while jet just sits around chatting idly abt what they're reading

jet knows nothing abt mechanical shit but loves to sit around in the garage w ghoul if she's ever feeling lonely out there. which is a lot of the time

ghoul knows nothing abt the stars but loves to sit on the roof w jet and hear them infodump abt all their favorite constellations

ghoul is the only one that can use it/its pronouns w jet (it actually makes her rly happy!! only from them tho, it's abt trusting the connotation and person addressing them if that makes sense)

jet's the only one that uses a lot of ghouls other names. they are the only one allowed to use any of the bird-related ones (once again, abt trust and knowing jet's intentions using those names)

arguments

oh my god they get into arguments so much

they get along incredibly well but are so concerned for one another, mainly when it comes to firefights

jet is very bold but also values his crew mates above all else and wants to ensure that they all make it out of the fight alive. she's lost too many people in the past to be careless in a fight

ghoul on the other hand is reckless and will throw xemself out into danger at any chance. they want to go down swinging and they dont value her life as much. he doesn't want to die, but it's more abt trying to prove that she's a "real killjoy" because xe was previously a scarecrow apprentice

they fight a lot abt keeping one another safe in fights, arguing either of their points to no end

what tends to solve these is one of them finding the other and sitting down wordlessly for a little while. these situations usually end w a quiet hug and a lot of tears

the arguments are always out of concern and they both understand that. it's just hard to see the other's perspective and accept that sometimes

gifts

oh these bitches love gifts (both giving and receiving)!!!

as i mentioned above, ghoul loves making jewelry but also likes making little trinkets and metal figures. hes hardly ever keeps anything xe makes and instead will put it on the others or put up the figures as decorations in the diner

jet loves to write, but not poetry or stories. she likes creating rly beautiful calligraphy of random shit their crew has said. it's a lot of fun to see whatever new curse ghoul has invented written in fancy script

jet also believes strongly in beads and has made each of the fab four a strand

ghoul is the type of gift giver that will basically straight up ask you hey do u want this? so there's no surprise w his gifts (though they are still just as wonderful)

jet however will keep a secret to her grave in order to surprise their crew mates with a gift

firefights

despite their differences, their unique strategies rly do work well together in fights

ghoul tends to go to the edges of the fight and take out dracs before they're anywhere near the crew

jet stays closer to the center, keeping mindful of cover and taking out any dracs that ghoul missed in xir reckless attacks

but they can both take down a patrol very effectively, even without the venom siblings with them (which is why ghoul and jet tends to get paired off for supply runs so often)

[draven-imani]

Journal 9

These last few days have been hectic, preparing to march to Drezen. Mapping out the route, checking and double-checking supplies, meeting with various key members of the legion, getting with Sosiel and Commander Tirabade Irabeth about tactics, and discussing with Nurah what she knows about any dangers around Drezen we should be on guard for. We also each got a boon from the Queen. Paints that can enhance Melody’s family weapon, a more powerful magic weapon for Luna and Hiskaria, and for me a mark of station—a helm with only a single eye hole, that on command can cast a charge of searing ray once daily before it needs to recharge. The One-Eyed Helm for the One-Eyed Knight.

Actually, I like it. It means I don’t have to wear that blasted uncomfortable eyepatch I thought I was going to have to suck it up and deal with. I can’t stand the feeling of fabric rubbing on my face all day long, it’s maddening. And with this I almost look the part of a commander, between the breastplate and the helm. Did I mention I decided to wear that gorgeous breastplate we’d found in the hidden Grey Garrison armory? At the time I know I wrote that I was hesitant to wear it because of some…personal hang ups. But it does look the part more than the ratty old chainmail. And if I’m going to ‘act confident’ I suppose looking confident is part and parcel, right? I might manage to look half as impressive as Leto with all of this. Minus the horse. It’s hard to look as impressive as someone on a mighty steed. Although he loses points for naming him Charlie Horse.

I’m off subject. What was I writing about today? Right.

Despite everything else, I’ve managed to find some time to gather up a little something to start paying back at least Melody and Luna a little for their actions in the Grey Garrison before we head out. Hiskaria’s going to be a bit more difficult.

I’m pleased with how Luna’s turned out. Once the forge was reopened, I had it commissioned right away. I actually got it started before the big attack when Queen Galfrey and her men arrived. See, in the Grey Garrison we found a composite longbow. I had kind of coveted it, I currently use a longbow on occasion but a composite bow would make much better use of my skills than a regular one. However we ended up deciding it would be best served going to Luna as she is the strongest. Which I’m not complaining about, it was a well thought out choice, and seeing as I have magic and Luna doesn’t it makes the most tactical sense. But—I still kind of want that bow.

So, I’m going to propose a trade for the one I originally wanted. For this one that I’ve had commissioned for her. I have it here, and I’m going to walk it over to her living place in a bit. They really did do a beautiful job on the wood working, I almost regret that I didn’t just buy one for myself as well. But that would have gotten expensive. Better to just trade her for what we have and save on the coin. Fatepiercer belongs with Luna.

***

Luna accepted my trade, although she did not accept it without an explanation. Something something ‘You’re not actually stupid why are you offering such a bad trade for yourself’. I did eventually have to come out and admit it was thanks for her ‘not giving a shit’ back in the scrying room, because that choice likely saved Leto’s life. After that she accepted the gift, although she threw in a couple of “masterwork oranges” along with the composite bow to make the trade a little more fair. Hey, whatever makes her feel better.

Why does she still have those oranges? Oh well, they were still good. They’ll probably keep for another day or two.

Her lizardfolk buddy was hanging around too, until she kicked him out. Don’t think I mentioned him. Skix. A kind of shifty chameleon man. Last time I met him, he tried to scam me into buying a bunch of old figures of heroes from some Numerian comic series. I was going to just pass, but then it turned out he was a friend of Luna, so I gave him the money with the intention of just leaving it at that, but he pressed the toys into my hands and then I had them whether I wanted them or not. Turns out Leto’s a fan, so now they’re on his desk instead.

Anyways, Luna kicked me out too, and I went to visit Melody next. I found her at Defender’s Heart, entertaining the troops with her dancing skills to keep up morale as she tends to do when the time presents itself. I admit, I’m a bit envious. I used to play the fiddle every few days at Defender’s Heart to keep spirits up, too, but I’ve been so busy with this blasted paperwork, on top of all the preparations for learning to lead a legion in three days.

Regardless, I found Melody as she finished a performance, and joined her an Sosiel’s table. The two Shelynites greeted me as cheerfully as ever. I complimented Melody’s performance, then slid her gift across the table. Two masterwork sets of artisan’s tools, a set of brushes for painting her spear with the special paints that enchant her familial weapon, and one for her calligraphy. She asked the occasion, to which I just said it was to show my gratitude. She didn’t press for once, to which I was grateful. So, to show a little more gratitude, I suggested if she felt up for it, we put on a little joint performance. Ballet is not my usual go to music, but I can play some slower styles when I really feel like it. And for a dance from Melody? Of course I could play a song.

After we finished that it was off to Hiskaria. The one I was most dreading.

The thing about Hiskaria? She only has one hobby I know of, and that’s graverobbing. What am I supposed to do with that? She already has a magic bow and quiver so I couldn’t exactly buy her a bow like I had for Luna. So I did the only thing I could.

I went to visit her while she was working with Aravashnial at the Blackwing. Aravashnial was in a great mood, by the way. Having his eyesight back really put a bounce in his step.

Anyways, I swallowed my pride and thanked her directly. And asked if she wanted anything of me.

What was it Anevia said? It hurt worse than a broken leg?

Hiskaria said she didn’t need anything from me, that in a way she was getting a second lot on life just being here with us. But that if I could heal her up in battle that would be nice. And maybe cut her some slack in the morning as her commander.

Yeah. I guess I am her commanding officer now, aren’t I? Weird to think, seeing as I’m probably about half her age. Which she was quick to point out too. Fair, I suppose, especially given the differences in how tieflings age from half-elves. I’ve seen that first hand growing up with Leto, and he’s much closer to my age than Hiskaria’s.

Anyways, I laughed it off. Because if she thinks there’s going to be any time to relax during a march she is going to be in for a nasty surprise in a couple of days. I’ll let her figure it out first hand though.

Now I’m back to paperwork, and a certain golden boy chattering my ear off, while I have made it my mission to not listen to a single word. I suppose I should actually be doing my paperwork instead of writing this. But I am dreadfully bored and—

here there are a number of scribbles, as if the pen was scratched across the paper quite a few times. The writing continues on the next page

Leto caught me writing and tried to take my quill for slacking. He looks as pleased as the cat that swallowed the canary now. He has ink on his nose from almost knocking over my well, and I’m not going to let him know. Let him walk around with green smudged on his face for a bit. Serves him right.

[faustrinus]

Non Magical AU, Poet!Remus and Musician!Sirius

Part two! :D

· Sirius spent five hours trying to write the perfect letter. His hand was getting tired, two pens had already stopped working, and tons of not achieved attempts were laying on the floor, making a mess. James had left Sirius alone after the first two hours, not before shouting, “You’re not marrying him yet, calm down!” which made Sirius blush madly at the simple thought of marriage. Definitely too much.

· When he finally had in his hands what he considered the perfect letter he sighed contentedly, admiring his hard work. He did everything he could to make it look good, but like I just happen to be able to write perfectly and express my thoughts without any problem good. He wanted Werewolf to know he cared enough to write a good and thoughtful letter, but he didn’t spend half a lifetime doing it. He couldn’t look that desperate, could he?

· Luckily, after having one of the fanciest educations you could have thanks to his mother (not that she cared, she didn’t, she just wanted Sirius to be good at everything, that was a bare minimum stablished in the house) Sirius was one of these people that had an extremely clear and pretty way of writing. At one time in his life he even wondered in he could charge people to write their letters for them (but decided it wasn’t a good idea after learning that some people exchange some… not so family-friendly letters between each other, specially lovers).

· Well, he found a pretty envelope (that smelled old, and he guessed the poet kind of enjoyed that vibe) and grabbed his keys to go and deliver the letter.

· The whole time he was nervous, and when he came home that night, he couldn’t stop touching his newest tattoo. The guy who wrote what he had in his skin was sending letters to know, he knew. And he liked The Marauders music. He couldn’t stop thinking about, and it took both James and Peter to get him out of his fantasies.

· Okay, Remus. If he was being honest- he was totally overwhelmed by the whole situation. Not only THE Sirius Black had a tattoo of one of his poems, but he also took time from his own performance to talk how much he liked what Remus did in general. And now Remus was waiting for a letter from a hot Rockstar, nothing to be scared of, right?

· He told himself he wouldn’t panic, but when the letter arrived the next day he was pacing around and twisting the envelope carefully, he didn’t want to ruin it. It smelled so nice, like the old books that were collecting dust under his bed.

· When he started reading the letter, his legs threatened to give up, but he took a deep breath and keep reading. Could someone blame him if he was obsessed with Sirius’s calligraphy? It was so beautiful and elegant, so different from Remus’s, that was always messy and with weird shapes. He couldn’t help it- his hands trembled a lot and his pulse wasn’t the best to keep things organized. But it was understandable, and he was okay with it.

· Returning to the letter, right. Remus touched the paper so many times to make sure it was real, searching for any sign hiding behind a dot that Sirius didn’t want to keep messaging him. There wasn’t one, in fact, Sirius ended the letter with a cordial, “I do find myself looking forward to maybe, in one near possibility, keep sending you these letters. I admire you a lot, and getting to know you would be one of the greatest to receive in this life time.” For a Rockstar, he wrote like he was the protagonist of book that ended up with him and his lover being together after defeating all odds. Quite… romantic. And dramatic, Sirius was dramatic.

· Remus ignored his thoughts and read again just to be certain of what he knew now. Sirius wanted to keep in touch, he absolutely loved Remus poems, he didn’t regret at all his tattoo (and he also begged Remus to forgive him in case he found it uncomfortable) and in general he was happy Remus attended the performance. Remus was happy too.

· The following days more letters were exchanged, every single one of them becoming more and more intimate. At first, they didn’t know what to write about- Remus would send poems and thoughts about them, explaining to Sirius his creating process (that he thought it was really boring even though Sirius told him he liked it) and some topics he liked to write about. Sirius sent back some lyrics he had wrote and particularly enjoyed, sometimes mentioning the anecdotes they had behind them. Remus would laugh every time he did this, because, God, Sirius did some stupid and amazing things. There was this one lyric that said (and Remus loved) “And I hope whoever is above forgives me for loving an angel that fell down” and Sirius explained that even when that lyric was quite “deep” he wrote it after seeing a cheap angel statue in a store nearby and then laughing at James who fell down at the entry of the store. Remus loved the lyric even more after the explanation.

· Finally, after three whole weeks of sending letters to each other every day, Remus took all the courage he could and ended his most recent letter with “You can call me Remus, Sirius. That’s my name, and I think is more comfortable than having to refer to me as Werewolf. Still wonder why I chose that nickname.”

· When Sirius read that he literally fell down the couch, eyes wide opened. “James, he told me his name! his real name! he practically revealed his identity to me!” “You two are quite close now, aren’t you? Why don’t you ask him to meet up with someday? You could suggest it. C’mon, I want to know if the guy you are in love with is as handsome as I am- “ “I’m not in love with him- “ “Okay. But you’ll be if he keeps sending you letters that make you smile as big as you’re doing right now. Stop, is scary.” “Shut up.”

· Sirius thought a lot about what James said (when he said a lot, he meant he meditated for like ten minutes and decided it wasn’t that crazy) and wrote down in the next letter, it was shorter than the others he had sent. He was writing the usual, grasping for air just to put in the end, “Remus, I know you feel more comfortable hiding your identity, and I’m happy you decided to tell me your real name. But I was thinking… is just a suggestion, but maybe one day we can get some coffee together? We don’t need to go out in public, but there are some pretty nice and calm places to hang out around here. No one would disturb us if you interested. Think about it.”

· Remus screamed. He was too new to this interest that the vocalist of The Marauders had in him, but he didn’t despise it, he… okay, maybe he was dying to get a date with Sirius, and maybe he had a possibility, but his reflection in the mirror told him otherwise. He was used to look half-dead (he was sure he had broken all the bones in his body at least once, and he got sick quite often), but it was still discouraging to see his lanky figure and think that maybe that wasn’t was Sirius was waiting for.

· Yet, he couldn’t reject the offer by saying “No, I’m sorry, I’m ugly,” (even though he was the only one that thought that), so he nodded to himself and wrote a new letter. A positive answer to what Sirius was asking, he was still unsure on how he could improve the way he looked in some days (or hours, if he had magic or something), but with some effort maybe Sirius would ignore his image.

· Days passed by and Friday came, the day when Sirius and Remus would finally meet in person, or well, Sirius would meet Remus in person. Sirius tried to dress casually, enough to look good but also in a way people wouldn’t think, yeah, that is a Rockstar. He didn’t want anything disturbing the day. He even sent James and Peter to a friend’s house (poor Mary) so in case everything went wrong he could come back to an empty house and he could cry about it and then eat the chocolate cake James brought the other day.

· Remus decided to totally ignore his mirror after fixing his hair a little bit. The more he looked at himself the more self-conscious he would get, and he wasn’t ready to get his day ruined by snarky comments coming out of his own brain. He looked good, he was ready and the day would be awesome.

· Sirius arrived first. He sat down and started tapping the table with his fingers, nervousness taking over him. He had sent the exact address and even the number of the table they would at (and that was important because Sirius chose one that was hiding behind some curtains, and it offered privacy), but he was worried Remus wouldn’t find him.

· A few minutes passed and when he was ready to order a glass of water to entertain himself, someone coughed softly to gain his attention. When he looked up, he was certain that he had forgotten how to talk, because who is this tall and handsome man and why is he sitting right in front of me. That was Remus? He was certainly a lot taller than Sirius expected him to be, and he had scar going across his face. Sirius noticed he also had tons of little ones in his hands, and maybe what he was thinking wasn’t the purest thing on earth, but Remus scars were hot. He was hot. You don’t arrive at a cafe to find that the Poet you have been reading non stop for some time was extremely attractive every day.

· Remus coughed again and Sirius tried to act normal, smiling at him. They were both sitting in front of each other, Remus cracking his knuckles and Sirius still staring at him. Remus was trying not to stare back because this was the first time, he was so close to the vocalist, and he knew he would blush if he did.

· But his mental plan failed when Sirius commented, without any trace of shame, “I like your eyes. They’re pretty,” and Remus melted right there. He laughed out of nervousness and Sirius followed with him, both giggling. “Thanks, I… I’m sorry. Is just that I wasn’t expecting that.” “Is fine. I blurted it out, sorry. I should have asked if you were Remus first, but now that think of it, that would have been stupid since you came directly to this table. And only you knew I was sitting here.”

· After a few more giggles, they ordered what was tempting at the moment (Sirius recommending the best pastries) and started talking a little more comfortably. Remus spoke the most (surprising to even him) and Sirius listened, nodding from time to time. After mumbling a lot of things at the beginning, Sirius showed he was as nervous as Remus was, maybe even more.

· They spoke about everything they could, laughing between stories and taking breaks to change the subject and then come back. They even had to remind themselves to eat because talking was so fun, they forgot the food was waiting for them. Maybe the coffee wasn’t hot, but it was fine. More than fine, the coffee was excellent when the company was making it better.

· Hours passed and they didn’t notice. By the end of the conversation about school and friends, a waitress came to tell them they were going to close. Sirius was startled, how much time had passed? They divided the bill in equal parts (even though Sirius insisted he wanted to pay) and got out of the cafe. Outside was cold and cloudy, and Sirius blushed when he noticed the first thing he thought about was Remus looks cute with his face all red thanks to the cold.

· They both stood outside for some minutes, until Remus spoke, his face hiding behind the scarf he was wearing, “Would you… like to do this again? Because I certainly would.”

· Sirius nodded so fast that Remus laughed loudly, his smile making his freckles shine a little bit and Sirius felt his heart beat a little faster. He didn’t have a type before? Well now he certainly did. And it was Remus.

· “Maybe… Are you free on Wednesday? You could come over to my house. Well, the one I share with James and Peter. You could help me write some lyrics. I’m… a little bit blocked. If you could say it like that, and having you writing lyrics for the group would be amazing.” “I would like that, yes. Would you send me the address?” “Sure! It will be in the next letter.” “Great.”

· They shared a weird but not uncomfortable silence until Remus whispered “Fuck it” and kissed Sirius on the cheek, quickly turning around and walking to his home, “Good night, Sirius.”

· Sirius face went red as it could go, and he only mumbled “Good night, Remus,” when Remus was already a few steps ahead. If the boy had enough courage, he did too, so he wiped his sweaty hands in his jeans and shouted, “Can the next one be on the lips?”

· Remus blushed and laughed loud enough for Siris to hear. He nodded to himself, and he swore he heard Sirius go “Yes! I won, fuckers!” behind him.

None of them could wait until Wednesday.

[talkfastromance4]

Ashton snippet

Found this while perusing through old docs, it’s titled ‘Don’t Call Me Angel” and it ends abruptly because I never finished or I don’t know what happened. But here’s a snippet of a TA!Ashton as an art teacher. 

Might have to add this to my list of WIPs to finish if it gets good reviews. Let me know what you think :)

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

• • • •

Ashton has always felt things so deeply. He loves deeply, he rages deeply, he sympathizes deeply and he plays his drums with everything he’s got. He tries to keep his emotions in check but they change like the tides, even he finds it hard to keep up with them.

Ashton lives, breathes and sweats creativity. His passion is seen in his brush strokes, his despair is shown through the negative space of his photographs. Long hours spent in the dark room and sometimes endless nights painting on large canvases in his studio apartment has given him the cliché brooding artist look; dark circles under his eyes complete the look.

When he’s not in the dark room or his apartment he frequents the coffee shop that is the perfect halfway point between his familiar places. It’s called Java Bean and serve the best iced coffee Ashton has ever tasted to tell you the God honest truth and the shop is a literal godsend for being open twenty-four hours.

Ashton’s insides are made of caffeine, paint and a constant ebb and flow of pulsating thoughts and phrases that won’t leave his mind unless he writes them down in his sketchbook. That’s another thing Ashton can never leave the house without, his sketchbook.

It’s large, black and hard covered even though the spine has long since lost the potency of its glue causing it to lie open like a cracked crab. It’s filled with his thoughts, lyrics he can’t get out of his head, small sketches of flowers or images he sees late at night when he dreams (when he gets a chance to sleep).

The book is his vice and he would rather die than ever part with it for Ashton is a closed book with every person (aside from his three best friends) but he opens up fully between those pages.

For his last year at University he’s the TA for his favorite art professor, Miss Dooley who is the perfect amount of scatter-brained and genius. She calls every student ‘pet’ and always has incense or essential oils burning in her classroom.

It has been Ashton’s wish and dream to be an art teacher for high school students, to help those like him who want to stay in their shell reveal who they truly are on the inside.

“Hello, my pet,” Miss Dooley trills in her usual sing song voice as Ashton enters the large art classroom.

He inhales the acrylic paint, the fresh wood waiting to be turned into canvases and the waxy aroma from the oil pastels stowed away in a cupboard. It’s one of his favorite smells in the world, the mediums just waiting to be used and Ashton’s fingers twitch in anticipation to create.

“Hey, Miss D,” he grins making a beeline to her desk at the front of the room. Behind her on the charcoal colored chalkboard is her name in calligraphy with broad strokes of curves and flowers.

‘Advanced Art Multi-Medium’ is written in block letters below her name as well.

“Excited for this year?” she asks rolling around a small was of blue putty in her hands. She claims it keeps her fingers and joints from failing so she’ll always be able to make art.

“Yeah, does it look like we’ll have a good class this year?” he taps the pads of his fingers on the black resin tabletop, a habit he’s always had when he’s anxious.

“Oh, I think so,” she beams her robin’s egg eyes twinkle. “It’s a full class this year, which I have you to thank for my little chickadee.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been the best student for the past six years you’ve been here, my prized pupil and a very handsome fella if you don’t mind me saying.”

Ashton feels the back of his neck heat up from her sentence full of compliments. Surely he’s not the reason for a full class this year? That’s ridiculous.

“I don’t think—“

Before he could finish the double wooden doors swung open and a flood of college students entered and Ashton couldn’t help but judge the first few that came in. He recognized three of the girls in front who were in Delta Zeta which he knew the only amount of creativity in their body was decorating photo backdrops.

Apart from them the rest of the class he’s seen hanging around the art wing of the school and at some of the showings he was at. At the rear was one of his best friends, Michael Clifford who decided a month ago to dye his hair a deep purple again. Michael smirks at his friend as he takes a seat next to a petite girl opening up a small black notebook.

Ashton let out an exasperated breath through his nostrils at his friend who did not tell him he’d be taking this class.

“ . . . Twenty- three . . . and twenty-four. Excellent! We’re all here!” Miss Dooley claps her hands together and moves to the front of her desk to smile sweetly at her pupils. “I recognize some of your faces but welcome to Advanced Art! I am Miss Dooley and this young man next to me is Ashton Irwin who will be my aide for this year. Would you like to inform them what this year will consist of?”

Ashton clears his throat then steps forward to stand next to Miss Dooley but ends up leaning his back against the counter behind him. He wanted them to see he was relaxed.

“Hey everybody. This year will be about using different mediums and creating something great out of them and also finding your niche in your art. Every class you’ll have five sketches of a landscape or a self-portrait or anything else that catches your eye. If you don’t have a sketchbook I recommend getting on.”

Every eye is on him and he is making a point not to look anywhere near Michael in the back. He clears his throat again before continuing.

“Your final exam for the first semester will be the beginning of your portfolio which will show the progression of your ‘voice.’ When—“

“Our voice?” a platinum blond of the Delta Zeta trio asks with her hand in the air, a confused pout on her glossed lips.

Ashton folds his arms across his chest, the leather of his jacket squeaks from the motion.

“Each artist has a voice in their work, a certain style that is all their own. That’s why when you see the blurred colors of a lily pond you know it’s Monet or the small pointed brush strokes and vivid colors of Van Gogh. Art is a voice for when you don’t know what to say, you can convey so much emotion into it. By the end of the year I want to be able to tell who’s piece is who’s, that’s how prominent it needs to be.

“If you don’t think you have it in you or won’t rise up to the challenge of being vulnerable, then I suggest you drop the class. Some people really want to be here and create art, I don’t want you to be deprived of that.”

He stands there eyeing each and every person almost daring one of them to stand up and walk out. A motion of a hand raise catches his eye in the back, he thinks it’s Michael and is ready to kick his friend out if he makes a rude comment. But it’s not Michael, it’s the girl sitting next to him.

“Yes, pet?” Miss Dooley calls on her.

“How many pieces should be in our portfolio?” she asks in a gentle voice but with sureness behind it.

“However many it takes to find your voice,” Ashton answers her. She nods then bends over her notebook to write furiously on the page.

“Well, since no one has jumped ship, let’s start off with a little exercise. Turn to the person you share a table with, introduce yourself and sketch them while you get to know each other. You will be each other’s buddies for the semester. Begin, my pets,” Miss Dooley claps her hands together again and all the students shuffle around for pencils and paper.

» » » » »

It’s a Friday night and Ashton is sitting in his favorite booth at Java Bean with his sketchbook out and earphones in to block out the small chatter of other college students. His first week of class as a TA went really well, a lot of the students showed promise. To his amusement Michael’s first sketches were of the little succulents he has scattered about his apartment.

Ashton was pleased that they took him seriously and Miss Dooley always offered her help and guidance to those who had questions. None of the students had approached Ashton but he was fine with that, he’s still learning by watching Miss Dooley interact with them.

Ashton’s hazel eyes landed on Michael and Calum approaching his table as he sipped at his black coffee. He licks his lips watching them approach with shit eating grins on their faces and he reluctantly removes his earphones. He closes his sketchbook with a soft thump, slightly glaring at his friends. They know better than to interrupt him while he’s drinking coffee and immersed in his sketchbook.

“Hey teacher,” Michael snickers pulling up a chair from the next table over. He slumps down in it with his fingers twiddling in his lap while Calum spins the chair opposite Ashton around and straddles it.

Calum pulls his dark gray beanie down lower over his ears then rests his chin on his elbows.

“Can I help you with something?” Ashton sighs leaning back in his own chair.

“Luke’s throwing a party tonight,” Calum begins, “a back to school rager, if you will.”

“Good for him.”

“C’mon Ash,” Michael whines leaning forward on his knees. “Come party with us like old times.”

“You mean like when we were freshman and your head caught fire?” Ashton quirked his eyebrows up.

“We were young and dumb then,” Michael waves it off. “Come on, it’ll be great. The girl I sit next to in your class will be there.”

“And?”

“What girl?” Calum pipes up.

“And she’s cute,” Michael shrugs, “and it will be fun for you to get out of your little hermit hole you’ve set up here.”

“I dunno guys. I want to get up early tomorrow to take some photos of the waterfall. In my photography class I’m doing a series of different locations throughout the seasons, and I think the—“

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Calum interrupts holding his hand up. “Just . . . come hang out with us before you get neck deep in your work, yeah? Just for a few hours.”

Ashton rolls his eyes then sighs before giving in.

“All right, fine. I’ll come.”

“YES! The Ash Man is back!” Michael hollers clapping his friend on the back and the other customers turn to look over in irritation.

“You’ve never called me that,” Ashton says gathering his stuff in his shoulder bag, “and don’t start now.”

 The party was like any other party Ashton has been to in his college career, granted it is a bit tamer than when they were all freshman and sophomores. For the most part everyone had their clothes on which relieved Ashton. He hated having to try and wrangle whoever it was to get their clothes back on.

The townhouse was stuffy with vape smoke making the air foggy, beer and liquor filled his nose and he felt the music course through his body.

“Hey, you brought him!” Luke exclaims with a large smile. His arms are raised bringing Ashton in for a tight hug. “Glad you’re here, buddy.”

“Thanks man,” Ashton says tousling the younger guy’s golden curls.

“Drinks are in the kitchen, but I think I hear a shot of fireball calling your name,” Luke wiggles his eyebrows dragging the guys into the kitchen.

“I haven’t had fireball since New Year’s two years ago,” Ashton chuckles.

“Ashton! Hey!”

His head snaps when he hears his name then wishes that he hadn’t. The voice belonged to Breanne Thomas, a girl he used to hook up with on and off a few years back. She was even the model for some of his photography assignments.

“Oh, hey, Breanne,” he nods politely then shuffles past her into the kitchen. He did not want to relive old times with her at the moment.

“Yikes, sorry, mate,” Calum says handing him a shot glass filled with the golden liquid.

“Whatever, let’s cheers to a new year,” he shakes it off holding his glass up in the air. They all clink and down the shots heartily. Ashton remembers the burn as it travels down his throat and into his stomach.

As the night progresses he becomes pleasantly buzzed and that’s when he knows to stop. He just stumbles out of the bathroom when he hears his name being called and looks up to see Michael waving him over near the back of the house to the backyard.

Ashton pushes through the bodies, waves of weed swirl around his head and it’s so strong he’s sure he’ll get a contact high from it. When Michael becomes more in view he notices the girl from his class standing next to him.

“This is Lennox Hastings,” Michael introduces with a loopy smile. “Lennox Hastings this is Ashton Irwin. Our teacher. My best friend.” A small hiccup escapes him.

“Hi,” she smiles shyly at Ashton, “And it’s just Lennox. You don’t have to use my last name Michael.”

“It’s a badass name, Lennox Hastings! I have to say it all. You should show him your notebook, he’s got one too. Oops, I’ve got to go. Bye!”

He skirts away into the crowd and Ashton shakes his head at his drunken friend then turns to Lennox who now looks oddly familiar now that he knows her name. Apart from seeing her in his class he swears he’s seen her somewhere else before, but where? Or did she have a twin?

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with him as a table partner,” Ashton apologizes and she laughs lightly.

“He’s not so bad. He’s fun to talk to when I’m not working.”

“How’re you liking the class so far?”

“It’s good, I’ve been looking forward to it since I got here, actually. I was in all advanced classes in my high school and I’ve heard how amazing Miss Dooley is.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” he smiles then glances around at their surroundings. There’s a couple making out against the fridge and Ashton realizes it’s Calum and some short blond haired girl. “You wanna step outside? Get some fresh air?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she smiles opening the door.

Ashton picks up two water bottles from the bucket on the counter then follows her into the warm August night. The screen door swings shut behind him, he inhales deeply and sits on the gliding bench besides Lennox.

“Thanks,” she says taking the water bottle from him and takes a sip. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

“What isn’t weird?”

“Us being out here? You’re basically my teacher,” she laughs nervously.

“Nah, I’m just an aide. I’m not a teacher yet,” he grins at her.

Now that he’s not inside the house with loads of distractions all around, he can finally get a good look at her. She looks familiar for some reason now as he stares at her in the yellow porchlight. Her auburn hair is pulled up in a half ponytail with some fly aways clinging to her round cheeks. Her eyelashes are long atop her doe eyes and Ashton finds himself wishing to see what type of blue they are and if he could paint them.

“You’ll make a good one,” she says pulling him from his wandering mind.

“Ya think?” he leans back and rocks the glider back and forth slowly, it creaks and groans as he does.

“Yeah, you control the room well and I can tell how passionate you are about art.”

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly. He’s never been able to take compliments well, whether it’s about his art or himself. “How’re the rest of your classes going?”

“Okay so far, lots of work already in my poetry class and advanced art,” she gives him a sly smirk and nudges his ribs playfully with her elbow.

“You write?”

“Mhm. Wrote a lot this summer, great inspiration,” she says grimly.

“That’s good, right? I’ve heard writers block is shit.”

“It is.”

“So what inspired you?” he turns his body so he’s angled towards her more.

Lennox shakes her head, a piece of hair clings to her lip and Ashton desperately wants to pull it away.

“I don’t want to bore you with my heartbreak, Mr. Irwin,” she says.

“Please, call me Ashton,” he grimaces at the title. “I’m an artist, too, remember? Heartbreak makes the artist.”

“You already know it, though, the cliché story of girl meets boy. Girl falls for boy and they date and commit but then the boy gets a record deal and leaves girl behind.”

“Wait,” Ashton sits up straighter when he heard record deal. “You aren’t talking about Harry Styles, are you?”

“You know him, huh?” she says airily.

“Yeah, we don’t get along very well. At all, actually,” he chuckles.

“How come?”

“That’s not important right now. I’m sorry he hurt you.”

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart  @calumhoodaf @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @cassie-sos @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor

**if your url has a strike through it’s because your blog didn’t show up as a tag! :(

[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 48: The Cave of Doom Part 3: A Deal with Paranoia

Here comes the third part of this multipart story. Before I leave you with it, a little announcement about this story. The fourth and final part of The Cave of Doom will be released not in 14 days as usual, but right next week, when you’ll be able to read the ending of this multipart-story. And also, the following entry after that will be a special episode on December 24, a Christmas Eve special episode which, unlike last year, will be part of the main storyline. It will be special too because it will be the introduction of Nico Flores in the plot.

As you know if you’ve read previous episodes, when a new canon character has been introduced in the story, I always did it with an alternate storyline. It happened with Remus and it will happen again with Nico, who will have an alternate introduction, different from canon. So, stay tuned for that on December 24. Until then, you’ll have the resolution of this multipart story, right below and next week. I hope you enjoy and, until next week.

SYNOPSIS: Virgil has to deal with the fact that Paranoia is a ghoul, which also means that paranoia has always been in him, to some extent. Then, they will have to go straight to face Paranoia, although they’ll have to face some dangers on the way.

WARNINGS: Romantic prinxiety. Huge loads of angst in this episode.

EPISODE INDEX

[Roman is writing in his diary, his voice narrates his thoughts while he’s writing]

ROMAN: Dear diary… I had to stop writing for a moment, because I felt tears in my eyes, and I didn’t want to blurry my calligraphy with them. Ugh… Roman, come on, put yourself together. You have to keep on writing, even when what you’re saying is breaking your heart… again. It’s the only way to release the pain, at least a little bit, if possible. Okay, I need to put my ideas in order, so I’ll just rewrite a summary of the previous portion of the story. Once we knew that Chris was in the cave, kidnapped by the ghouls, we decided to follow them, but Dillon said he was afraid, so we let him stay behind with Ian taking care of him. As Chris later told us, the ghouls took him to the throne room in the cave, in a sack, and there they told him their story, that they intended to take Virgil himself so that he could help them. As they told him, the ghouls were in danger because one of them, after Virgil’s departure, had called himself ruler, and he subjugated all of the ghouls, controlling them mentally and forcing them to obey his command. Only these two ghouls, Height and Rejection had managed to escape and were the only ones resisting. When we got there, Virgil was mad at the ghouls, thinking they had stolen the keys to kidnap our son, but the ghouls explained, and it was a really sound explanation, that they found the door open and just grabbed Chris by mistake. Anyway, Virgil decided to take Chris back to the Mind Palace, but when we got to the door, we found it locked, and what’s worse, Ian was there, with a wound on the head, unconscious. Patton managed to heal him, but he didn’t remember the last minutes before the attack, and Dillon was gone. Remus deduced that it had been Dillon who’d done that, probably under the control of the Dark Master again. The ghouls offered to help us find the keys and Dillon if we helped them defeat their menace, and so we did. But when the ghouls mentioned the name of the leader of the subjugated ghouls, he went livid… Okay, let’s just keep going, and I hope that my hand doesn’t shake now that I’m getting ready to write down what happened next...

[intro sequence]

[Virgil still looks at the ghoul with the same face of shock]

VIRGIL: Paranoia? His name is… Paranoia?

HEIGHT: Yes, it is.

VIRGIL: I can’t believe it. Are you positive that his name is Paranoia?

REJECTION: Yes, your majesty, at least he introduced himself as such. Is anything wrong?

ROMAN: Virgil, are you okay?

VIRGIL: No, I’m not… I need to sit down for a second…

[Roman summons a folding chair and Virgil sits down]

VIRGIL: Thanks, Roman…

ROMAN: Don’t mention. What’s the matter, Virge?

VIRGIL: Don’t you understand, Roman? If there’s a ghoul that represents paranoia… then that means that paranoia has always been inside of me… My biggest fear… has come true. All these years wanting to avoid being called like that, all those years afraid of that mention… the way I got so mad at you when you accidentally used that word on me… and y’all were right all along. [a black tear falls down his cheek] I’m a paranoid after all.

ROMAN: Virgil, that’s not…

VIRGIL: Yes, it is. Thank you for trying to reassure me, but this has no possible reassurance, because facts are facts. I’m a paranoid and the existence of that ghoul is proof of that. Not only that, he’s so powerful that he managed to subvert a whole legion of ghouls. So what does that say about me? I’m so sorry, Thomas. I… I’m not good enough for you.

THOMAS: Wha…? Yes, you are, Virge! Even if one of your fears is Paranoia, that doesn’t mean that me or you are paranoids. I know you’re under a huge shock, but don’t talk about yourself in these terms, please. It hurts me, because I love you. We all love you and it hurts us all to see you like this.

VIRGIL: You love me? Even after knowing the harm that I’m doing to you, you still love me? You shouldn’t, Thomas.

[Thomas hugs Virgil]

THOMAS: Yes, I should, and I do, with all my heart, Virgil. And this discovery doesn’t change my earlier statement. I’m still proud of you, of everything you are, Virge, and if that everything includes paranoia, then so be it. It’s probably for a reason, anyway, and we’ll find out in time.

[Virgil hugs Thomas back, then starts crying on his shoulder]

VIRGIL: [sobbing] I’m not worthy of so much love, Thomas…

THOMAS: Yes, you are. And I don’t care if the others are listening now, because I’m sure they won’t mind me saying this. You are my dearest friend among all the Sides, and I love you, very, very much. The list of reasons is so long we could be years reading it. Do you think a little “spot” on you is gonna prevent me from seeing all the rest of the wonderful traits in you? Sometimes, spots only contribute to enhance the beauty of the something they’re on. Besides, do I have a right to ask you to be perfect when I myself am really far away from it? So vent all you want now, I’m here for you. And when you’re ready, we’ll have time to find an explanation to all of this. But rest assure. It won’t change my… our opinion about you, so calm down, okay? We still love you. Right, guys?

LOGAN: Thomas speaks for all of us, Virgil.

ROMAN: And I don’t need to tell you my feelings for you, because you know them very well, my love.

VIRGIL: [still sobbing on Thomas’ shoulder] Thank you, guys, I love you too.

[Virgil keeps on crying for a few minutes, until he finally calms down and Thomas releases him. Roman hands him a handkerchief]

THOMAS: Feeling better?

VIRGIL: [cleaning the makeup mess on his cheeks with the handkerchief] Yes and no at the same time… it’s too much to handle… but at least it calms me down a little bit that you still want to support me after knowing this.

PATTON: Of course we want to support you, son. We are family and if one of us is in pain, we all share that pain with him and we all have the duty of making the pain go away. We’ll figure this out somehow, kiddo, you’ll see.

VIRGIL: Thank you, dad.

CHRIS: Now, it’s time we start moving on, if you’re okay with it, dad.

VIRGIL: [takes a deep breath and with a gesture of hands he fixes his makeup, then he stands up, determined] Yes, I am. And if I’m not, at least not completely, I’ll make myself be, because Dillon needs us, wherever he is. We need to find him, and if it was him who did that to Ian and locked us all here, we’ll find a way of setting him free from the Dark Master, if it’s him who’s controlling him.

PATTON: Who else would be, though?

VIRGIL: [clears his throat] So, where is that Paranoia? He wasn’t certainly in the throne room, where I found you.

REJECTION: Yeah, he said he didn’t want or need that throne of stone to rule us all. He’s established himself and his followers in the deepest corridors of the Cave in a huge building he calls a castle.

ROMAN: A castle? Interesting…

VIRGIL: That zone of the cave is where the strongest ghouls lie. It certainly would be a suicidal mission, if you weren’t with me. I’m the King and Father of Ghouls and, even though I can’t destroy ghouls, as that’s something I can’t do unless Thomas gives me the strength to do so, I can do something that could help us, I can wipe their memories so that they start anew as brand-new ghouls, freeing them from Paranoia’s control.

HEIGHT: But your majesty… that would be akin to kill them. Isn’t there any other way of going through them without doing that? Some of these ghouls used to be our friends and we love them, and it kills me that they could simply disappear as they are.

REJECTION: You’re thinking on Vertigo, aren’t you?

HEIGHT: Well, yes, of course I’m thinking on him. I don’t wanna lose him.

PATTON: Let me guess, that Vertigo… is your partner of some kind?

HEIGHT: Yes. We’ve been together almost since we were born. We’ve always loved each other and had swore to spend all of our life in these Caves together. I can’t imagine a life without him, or even worse, I can’t imagine a life with someone who looks exactly like him but doesn’t have the feelings I feel for him anymore. The heartbreak would be unbearable. Please, tell me there’s a way to save him as he is.

THOMAS: I didn’t expect ghouls to be able to love.

VIRGIL: They are ghouls inside of you and if there’s plenty of something in every corner of the Mind Palace and its dominions, it’s love, in all shapes and sizes. Of course they’re capable of love.

THOMAS: I see… I would have preferred that my fear of heights and my vertigo wouldn’t happen to me always at the same time when I’m in a high place. Now I guess I know the reason why… It’s a pity that something so cute and wholesome has to have such an unpleasant secondary effect on me. But, let’s get back on track. Is there any other way to get to Paranoia without erasing the other ghouls’ memories, Virgil?

VIRGIL: Well, the mission will be far more complicated, but I guess we could try. We can always save that as the last resource, should everything go wrong or should any of us be in danger. The alternative is to use stealth and try to get there as unnoticed as possible.

ROMAN: That doesn’t sound as an easy task.

VIRGIL: It won’t be. There are hundreds of ghouls down there, and the illusion on the caves still stands. They could be watching us at any moment before we notice they’re there. To be honest, I don’t think we have a lot of chances to succeed before we get caught, but we have to try.

IAN: Before we go, one more question. You mentioned that it could be a suicidal mission earlier. Are our lives in danger for some reason? Not that I would not join the mission anyway, but I think we need to know, in all honesty, what risks are we taking.

VIRGIL: As I said, I’m protecting you all. They can’t do anything to me, because my relation between the ghouls and me is the same as between Sandersians and Roman. If something happened to me, all the ghouls and the cave itself would disappear. They won’t touch me, if they know what’s best for them.

HEIGHT: To think they would be willing to do something as sacrilegious as rising their hand against your majesty…

THOMAS: And I should be of any help too, shouldn’t I? I’m the Light Master after all, that has to be of some help.

VIRGIL: I’m afraid not even the Light Master’s power reached this far into the deepness of the Mind Palace. [suddenly has an idea] However… [shakes his head] no, it’s too dangerous.

THOMAS: What?

VIRGIL: No, it’s nothing. Forget I said anything and let’s go.

THOMAS: No, Virgil, if I can do something to help I want you to tell me, now.

VIRGIL: [sighs] Okay, you are the boss… The Light Master’s power is not useful here… but maybe the Dark Master’s power you also hold inside yourself could be of help. But forget it, it’s too dangerous, you barely can control that power inside and now that you reached a balance between forces, invoking the Dark Master’s power could be dangerous. Remember he’s trying to take control of you all the time, and he almost succeeded not too long ago.

ROMAN: Besides, maybe that’s what the Dark Master would want. To force you to use his powers so that he can get control of you. Virgil is right, the Dark Master’s powers are too dangerous. Don’t use them, Thomas.

THOMAS: Okay, if you say so… but should the situation become desperate, perhaps it could be our only chance.

VIRGIL: If the situation becomes desperate, we’ll think of something, but not that, Thomas, please. Now, let’s go. There’s a long way until we reach the corridors of the Cave where Paranoia hides. I can’t wait to put my hands on that son of a…

[The gang gets going through the caves. They keep walking and walking in what seems an eternity. At some point, they sense that the lights are getting dimmer the deeper they get into the caves]

ROMAN: I don’t like this. It’s getting too dark, Virgil.

VIRGIL: This is a place of shadows, what did you expect?

ROMAN: You said earlier that there are no shadows without light. Why should it be different here?

VIRGIL: Because the deeper we go, the higher the number of shadows there are.

ROMAN: I don’t like the way you said that, I…

VIRGIL: Quiet!

ROMAN: What?

VIRGIL: Ssshhh… [whispering] I think we’re not alone…

ROMAN: [also whispering] What!?

VIRGIL: [whispering] Everyone stand close to me. Someone’s coming, I can feel him.

[everybody stands close and behind Virgil. There’s a tense silence, until a voice is heard]

VOICE: Height…? Height, is that you?

HEIGHT: Is that… Is that you, Vertigo?

VERTIGO: Height, my love, I’m so happy to see you’re okay!

[Vertigo appears from the shadows. He shows a heartwarming smile and looks at Height with loving eyes. Height’s face lightens up]

HEIGHT: Vertigo, my love! I’m so happy to see you’re okay! Oh, how I’ve cried over you!

[Vertigo opens his arms with a bright smile. Height makes a gesture of walking to him, but both Virgil and Rejection grab him]

VIRGIL: What are you doing? Stay with us!

HEIGHT: It’s my love, Vertigo! Do you have any idea of how much I’ve longed to be with him? Let me go!

REJECTION: Have you forgotten? He’s now one of them! This is a trap!

[Chris is watching Vertigo while they’re speaking. When Rejection mentions the word “trap”, Chris notices a brief glance of dangerous ferocity on Vertigo, like a lion waiting to jump on its prey. It only lasts for a fraction of second and he immediately returns to his loving pose. No one else seems to notice that brief expression.]

HEIGHT: I said let me go! I want to be with him! Perhaps the spell they had on him is gone. Perhaps he’s managed to run away and, when he’s far from their presence, they can no longer control him. Or maybe it’s just that his love for me is stronger than any spell! He would never do anything to harm me, I know! I said let me go!

VERTIGO: [dangerously sweet begging voice] Height, please. I’m so scared… I need your help. I’ve been running away from the others for so long. I’m so happy to see you again. Please, don’t push me aside, not you too. Please, come to me… Please… I feel so alone…

HEIGHT: [struggling with Virgil and Rejection who hold him] Let me go, I want to be with him! Let me go!

JANUS: He’s…

CHRIS: [interrupting him] He’s lying, Height. [Janus looks at Chris with a face of surprise] You can’t trust him. He wants to capture you and give you to Paranoia so that he can subjugate you too.

HEIGHT: No, I don’t believe you. He would never…

JANUS: Chris is right. I don’t know how he caught him faster than I did, but you can’t trust Vertigo. Believe me. He’s still under Paranoia’s control. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but for now, you can’t trust him. Believe me. I know a liar when I see one, and he’s lying.

CHRIS: If you go to him, you’ll turn into another of Paranoia’s slaves, and we’ll have less possibilities of saving him and you. Please. You have to believe me. Even when your desire of being with the love of your life is blurring your reason, in the bottom of your heart, you know I’m saying the truth. I know it’s hard and painful, but you must ignore your boyfriend and stay with us. If you do, we’ll find a way to save him and reunite you two for real, but until then… Stay. With. Us.

[Height looks at Chris and his eyes fill with tears. He nods]

HEIGHT: You’re right… He could never have escaped on his own and make it here alive. He’s still one of them.

VERTIGO: What are you talking about? Come to me! I love you! Don’t you love me anymore?

HEIGHT: Shut up! You are not Vertigo! At least not you, speaking! You’re just the mind inside of him, controlling him, forcing him to do your will, keeping him under this hell! I swear to you, Paranoia, wherever you are, we’re gonna find you and you’re gonna pay for this! Mark my words!

[Vertigo switches to a cold, serious face, his eyes starts glowing in red]

PARANOIA: [speaking through Vertigo] So bold of you to throw threats like that… There’s only two of you left. You can’t stop me anymore. I’ve got a whole army to protect me. What have you got? Nothing! You’d never get to me, not alive at least!

VIRGIL: Do you wanna know what they’ve got? They’ve got me! I’m King Virgil the 1st, Father of Ghouls and I’m strong enough to put an end to your reign of horror in this place! Stay in that fake throne of yours while you can. We’re coming for you, and you won’t be sitting there for long. Your time is almost over. Count the seconds you’ve got left, Paranoia!

PARANOIA: [mocking voice] Do you think so? Maybe you’ll get a surprise when you get here… By the way, and I’m just mentioning this randomly, is any of your sons missing?

[Virgil shows a face of shock, then a mixture of horror and wrath]

VIRGIL: You… You f*ck*ng b*st*rd! You’ve got Dillon, right? Listen good, Paranoia, at the end of the day, you’re just a ghoul like any other, and as the King, with Thomas’ assistance, I’ve got control over your very own existence. If you dare to touch just a hair of him, it will be the last thing you do! Even if I’ve got to destroy this whole place to do so, you’ll never escape from me!

PARANOIA: [smiles mockingly] If you do that, it will be your son who suffers the consequences. I’ve got a better idea that would suit us both better.  Perhaps we can find a… friendlier solution? I’ve got your precious key chain that prevents you from returning to your own world outside. I’ll be waiting for you here. You won’t be disturbed by my ghouls until you reach my palace. We’ll have the chance to… make a deal. Don’t take too long boys. I don’t know when I’ll change my mind about keeping your son… safe and sound. See ya!

[Vertigo then runs away, laughing evilly. Height watches Vertigo running away until he disappears in the shadows, then he starts crying. Rejection hugs him until he calms down]

PATTON: I’m so sorry you’re going through this, kiddo… Calm now, everything will turn out right…

VIRGIL: [tranquil fury] Gosh… He’s gonna pay for bringing so much suffering to all of us… If he touches my son…

[Roman puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil looks at Roman. Virgil’s eyes are bright as if on the verge of crying, but this time he doesn’t shed a tear. On the contrary, a single tear goes down Roman’s cheek. Virgil cleans the tear by sweetly petting Roman’s cheek]

VIRGIL: We’ll rescue him, Roman. We’ll rescue our son.

ROMAN: I know. Don’t get me wrong, Chris. I love you just as much as I love Dillon, and it hurt me just as much when the Dark Master kidnapped you. But it hits differently that someone you’ve carried inside of you, that you have felt growing inside of you, is in danger. Now I understand better what you went through when Chris was taken from us, Virgil.

CHRIS: It’s okay, father, I understand. I love Dillon too and it hurts me as much to see him endangered. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this together.

VIRGIL: Together as a family.

THOMAS: Don’t leave us out of your family, guys. We’ll also do everything in our hand to help you.

ROMAN: We know, Thomas, that’s why you are our family too. That goes to all of you too, guys.

VIRGIL: Well, enough sappiness. It’s time to face Paranoia once and for all.

ROMAN: Do you trust him though? He said he wouldn’t hinder our path to his place, but I’m not sure if we can trust him.

VIRGIL: We definitely can’t trust him, Roman. We’ll walk with the same precautions, although, of course, now that they know where we are, we can’t count on the stealth factor. Now we know for certain we’re being watched all the way. So, stay alert, guys, just in case they would try to set an ambush on us. Let’s go.

[the gang keeps walking. No one seems to bother them, until after some time, they reach a huge cavern, with what looks like a castle in the middle]

ROMAN: Wow… That style of decoration is so demode for a castle! Did that guy live under a rock or something…? [noticing everyone frowning at him, Roman realizes he accidentally made a pun with the “living under a rock” thing] Sorry…

VIRGIL: Ahem… Demode or not, we gotta go in there. As I said, keep your guard up, guys.

[the gang approaches the castle. When they reach the front door, it opens before they have the chance to knock. Virgil just sighs and enters, followed by the others. They find themselves in a huge hall, with Paranoia sitting in a throne room]

PATTON: Why does this place look so familiar?

ROMAN: Because it is a copy of my own castle in Sandersia, Patton. Only the color-scheme changes. Everything here is black and crimson, instead of white and red like in my place. But the distribution is exactly the same. How did he know…?

PARANOIA: Welcome to my humble home… your majesty. Glad to see you at last with my very own eyes.

VIRGIL: Stop with your games, Paranoia. You know we’re not here on a courtesy visit.

PARANOIA: Yes, but that is not a reason to throw manners away, is it?

VIRGIL: Manners? You have my son under your filthy hands and you talk to me about manners? Just shut up and cut to the chase! You spoke about a deal. What do you have in that twisted mind of yours?

PARANOIA: Oh, it’s very easy. I want you to surrender to me these two ghouls, the only two that are still resisting me. In exchange, I’ll give you back your precious son and your key chain, and the chance of leaving this place unharmed.

HEIGHT: You have to be kidding!

VIRGIL: Where is my son? I won’t keep on talking until you show me proof that he’s still intact. If you have hurt him somehow, I swear…

PARANOIA: Calm down, my hooded dark friend. You want a proof of life? Fine, there’s your proof.

[Paranoia pulls from a rope and a curtain rises. Behind it, there’s Dillon, with his hands chained to the walls]

DILLON: Dad! I’m so happy to see you! Dad, help me! I’m so scared!

VIRGIL: Dillon, are you all right? Did he hurt you?

DILLON: No, he didn’t… but I fear what he’ll do to me! Please, dad, help me! Do as he says and help me! I don’t want him to hurt me, dad! Please!

HEIGHT: Your majesty, I hope you’re not considering…

VIRGIL: [to Paranoia] If I do as you say… you swear you’ll set my son free?

REJECTION: [scared] Your majesty, no!

PARANOIA: I solemnly swear, Virgil. You’ll have your son and your keys, and of course you’ll also solemnly renounce to your throne, both for you and for your heirs, and I’ll become the new legitimate governor of this cave for as long as Thomas shall live.

VIRGIL: But I can’t just sacrifice my friends for this! I can’t just betray them!

PARANOIA: [frowns] I’m afraid you have no choice. Your ghouls or your son. You can’t have both. If you reject my offer, your son will never see the light of the outer world again. And you’ll see him perish with your own eyes, right in this room.

[Dillon starts crying]

DILLON: Dad, please! I’m your son! Is my life less worthy for you than any other? Please, help me!

VIRGIL: [his eyes fill with tears] You b*st*rd! He’s only a baby begging for help from his father! You f*ck*ng monster!

PARANOIA: I don’t have time for your stupid expletives, no matter how funny they are to me. Hurry up and make a choice! I’ll only give you one minute to think! After that, your son will be history!

DILLON: Dad, please, help me! Say yes, please! Don’ let him take me!

[Virgil looks at his friends with a face of despair. The others look at him. Height and Rejection show a face of horror and despair]

VIRGIL: [anxious] I can’t… I can’t make this choice! This is too hard!

PARANOIA: 30 seconds, Virgil. Your time, and my patience, are running out!

DILLON: Dad! Don’t let him kill me! Dad!!

HEIGHT: Please, don’t surrender us! There has to be another way!

[Virgil looks at the ghouls, then at his son, again and again, each time with a higher amount of angst]

PARANOIA: Ten seconds… I’m afraid you’ll have to say goodbye to your son, Virgil… Five, four, three…

DILLON: [screeching in fear] DAD!!!

PARANOIA: Two… one…

[Virgil makes a gesture to speak, but Janus suddenly interrupts him]

JANUS: Oh, what are you waiting for? Just kill him already!

VIRGIL: [in shock] Janus! What are you saying!?

JANUS: What needs to be said, Virgil. Don’t you see he’s gonna kill him anyway, no matter what we do? Do you think he’d let us live, when we could be a permanent threat to his power sooner or later? He would only spare Thomas’ life, Patton’s and your own to keep this place standing, but the rest of us are doomed. So, go ahead, Paranoia, kill him. You don’t have the guts to do so, do you?

PARANOIA: [nervous] I… I swear I’ll do it, snake! I swear that…

JANUS: [yelling] Then what are you waiting for!? He’s all chained at your disposal, just like an innocent little lamb! He won’t resist you at all, so it will be easy for you! Go ahead! Do it! DO IT!!

VIRGIL: [scared, in tempest tongue out of the angst] Janus!

[Paranoia looks at Janus with a face of wrath. Then suddenly there’s an evil giggle. But it’s not coming from Paranoia. They all look at the source of the sound. It’s Dillon who’s laughing evilly. He moves his hands and his chains open and fall around him]

DILLON: [staring evilly at Janus] I should have known… It takes a liar to know a liar, or so you said, right… uncle Janus?

JANUS: Exactly, nephew Dillon. Although maybe I shouldn’t even call you like this. Perhaps you would like better to be called… the Paladin. Am I right?

[everyone is so shocked they can’t even say a word for some time]

[to be concluded, guys, gals and non binary pals]

ROMAN: What!? What do you mean “the Paladin”, Janus!? What is going on?

JANUS: The distribution of this castle mimicking Roman’s, the color code, the keys disappearing, Ian being attacked from behind… just in the same fashion I was attacked. Remus was right all along, it was all Dillon’s doing. Except that it wasn’t the Dark Master controlling him. It was you all the time, right Paladin? When Dillon was born, you left Roman’s body and occupied Dillon’s body like the parasite you are, right? That’s why the smoke was all crimson. You try to be subtle but you’re actually very obvious for someone who pays attention enough to details.

DILLON: You’re a very clever snake, Janus. I should have hit you harder with my sword that day, so that you wouldn’t have ruined this perfect plan.

JANUS: Yes I did, twice in the same day like earlier with Vertigo. Am I good or am I good?

VIRGIL: But how did he know about the key chain? He wasn’t present when…

DILLON: Oh, dad, I’ve been watching you for so long since I came out of Roman. All the time I’ve been watching your every movement, day and night. I had already summoned a full copy of your key chain when I searched your pockets while you were sleeping, remember that night you woke up and you found me in your room and I told you… [over the top expression of fear and childish voice] “Dad, I’m scared, I had a nightmare! Can I sleep with you and father tonight?” [smirks] It was so easy to manipulate you like that…

VIRGIL: How could you do that to me? I loved you…

DILLON: I know, that’s what made it so easy to manipulate you. Then, with the keys in my hands, I tried every lock in your room every night, until I managed to open the front door and discovered what was on the other side. I explored the caves and learned about the ghouls… I’m your son and one of the things I’ve inherited from you is the capacity to create new ghouls. That’s how I created Paranoia, to serve me as my pawn in this plan, giving him the ability of putting all of the ghouls under my command by confusing their minds with constant paranoid thoughts until the only voice they would be willing to trust was mine.

ROMAN: So much cruelty…

DILLON: The fact that, not long after that, you offered Chris to stay in your room was a happy coincidence that helped speed things up. I set these two ghouls free, to give realism to their behavior, but not before giving them the order of going to the door I left open to get their “King” back, while they didn’t even remember why they were doing it. I knew they wouldn’t distinguish between you and Chris and he became the perfect decoy. Ian babysitting me was a minor inconvenience I got rid of easily with a single bump on the head from behind when, on my suggestion, he was turning the console on to play some video games. Dragging him to the cave wasn’t exactly easy, though, you should lose some weight, Ian. [Ian just looks at Dillon with a face of anger] My plan was going on perfectly all the time, and I got to this castle through an alternate route that allowed me to avoid you in the caves. Too bad that Janus had to ruin it all in the end, but you’re still here, surrounded by my army of ghouls. You have nowhere to go and I have already won. [sing-song voice] Come, my little children, get these intruders and give them the warm welcome they deserve.

[ghouls appear from all directions surrounding the gang, and they walk slowly to them, while the gang looks at them with faces of fear]

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Whole Truth - 2

(Full story available on AO3! If you want to be tagged as new chapters are posted, leave a comment “tag me” on this post!)

(Please note: Tumblr continues to make my Italics disappear. It’s very frustrating, so I apologize if the formatting makes anything confusing.)

Monday

1999

--

Aziraphale stared at the book on his desk. “What kind of curse?”

“Don’t know, not my department.” Gabriel smiled, excited, just a little distracted. It tugged at something in Aziraphale, made him want to prove he was worth the Archangel’s attention, too. “Michael’s soldiers seized it in a raid. Very dramatic stuff. Pity you weren’t able to make it.”

“Ah, yes, well…”

“Could have used another sword.” A nudge of the elbow, so hard Aziraphale staggered a little. “Those demons fought back hard.”

“Yes, terribly sorry. As I’d said there was this urgent business to attend to. Demonic possession. Entire family cursed. The house itself had become sentient. And. Carnivorous. I really had to deal with it all immediately.”

“Sounds frightening.”

“Oh, it was. Very frightening. And gory. And certainly not rated for general audiences.”

“What?”

“Nothing!” Aziraphale tugged on his waistcoat. The last thing he needed was for Gabriel to learn about movie night. Well. It was mid-ranked on the very long list of things Gabriel shouldn’t know. He hated lying to the Archangel, but no – things were better this way. “Regardless. You say these – these demons had this book in their possession?”

“Oh, yes. Not sure what they were planning to do with it, but it’s cursed. Very cursed.”

“Fascinating.” Aziraphale picked up a pen and used it to lift the cover, peering at the first page. He could just make out the writing. “It’s printed, not handwritten. Not Roman or Cyrillic alphabet.” He let the cover fall and started searching for a pair of gloves. “In fact, I don’t recognize the script at all. I’ll need a larger sample—”

Gabriel clapped his hands. “Good! Excellent, that’s just what I like to hear. Your obsession with material objects and human record keeping finally has a use. So glad we have an expert to consult on this.” Aziraphale hid a little smile at that. Expert. “See what you can find out by the end of the week.”

“End of the – you can’t be serious.” Aziraphale pulled his glasses off, waving them as politely as he could. “I mean, I’m sure you have your reasons, O holy Archangel, but deciphering an unknown text takes time. Not to mention identifying a curse—”

“We already have a team on that,” Gabriel interrupted, before Aziraphale could confess to knowing very little about demonic curses, apart from the sort Crowley shouted at other drivers.

“Oh. Jolly good.”

“Yes, they’ve told me the curse is so potent, any angel attempting to remove it would be immediately destroyed. Incinerated was the term they used.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale took a step away from the desk. “Well, I suppose that does change things.”

Gabriel shrugged. “As long as you don’t try to remove the curse yourself, you’re fine. Anyway, by Friday night, they’ll have worked out a proper disposal method. I proposed launching the book into the sun but apparently that would cause a, what did they call it, Superb Nova.”

“Oh dear.” Another step away. “You know, Gabriel, as…happy as I am that you wish to entrust this task to me, er, we are currently located in a major population center, and I don’t think—”

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel gave him that warm look, the one he saw so rarely, the one that made him feel included. “This raid was a big deal. I don’t want to start any rumors, but…it’s possible the demons were planning something. I would consider it a huge favor if you could just, I don’t know, poke around a bit? Find out what they wanted?”

“Well…as…as a favor…” There was a shiver of happiness running up his spine at that. Gabriel never asked for favors. “Yes, I think I can…learn a few things that might help you out. As long as it’s safe?”

“It’s fine!” Gabriel picked up the book and waved it around. “Perfectly harmless to angels; obviously, don’t let any humans near it. They might set something off. Probably blow up half the city!” He laughed, tossing the book. It hit the table with a crack, falling open to a random page.

“Oh, dear.” That hardly sounded safe. “What…if a demon tried? Er, someone come looking for his lost property, perhaps?”

“It would be very bad. No one touches this but you. Understand?”

Aziraphale nodded, feeling rather ill. He should say no, there were too many things that could go wrong.

His eyes drifted to the open book, the strange writing, a drawing of some horrifying creature. One word was a little larger than the rest and for a second, it looked familiar. He bent closer, almost instinctively. “This text…I almost think I’ve seen it before. No, it’s gone now, but perhaps…” He looked up in time to catch an eager gleam in Gabriel’s eyes. “Yes, I think…I can take a look. As…as a favor.”

“Excellent! That’s exactly the attitude I like to see. Now if you’ll excuse me, lots to do, places to be. I’ll follow up with you on Friday. Say, four o’clock?”

In a twinkling of light and a pop of air pressure, Aziraphale was alone with the book.

--

“He just – just left you with a cursed book?” Crowley paid the ice cream vendor and handed Aziraphale his cone.

“Yes. Is that so strange? I am an expert on Earth tomes, and languages, and treatises on magic.” He puffed his chest a little. “Why shouldn’t Heaven give me such a fascinating project?”

“Because they don’t care about any of that,” Crowley snapped flatly. “Besides, languages? I’ve heard you speak French.”

“I was having a bit of an off day,” Aziraphale pouted. “I shouldn’t be judged based on a single incident – what was it, two hundred and six years ago now? For all you know, I’ve been brushing up on my French ever since.” He licked the ice cream, smiling at the thick, creamy texture of it.

“Have you though?” Crowley sauntered alongside him, hands in his pockets, red hair slicked and gelled tight against his head.

“Well, no, but only because I’ve already read everything of interest in French.”

“Is that so?” Crowley smirked as if he was so clever. “Does this mean you finally got around to reading Proust?”

“Well. No. But neither have you.” Aziraphale took a quick bite of his ice cream before it could melt down his hand.

“Yeah, but I don’t live in a bookshop,” Crowley took a few steps ahead and started walking backwards, smirk evolving into a rather large grin. “So that makes me wonder who else you haven’t read. Dickens? Twain? Dostoyevsky? Is the Principality Aziraphale, in fact, a giant sham?”

The angel pursed his lips. “Any luck getting your car to play other music?”

Crowley’s face fell. “No,” he muttered, circling back to walk beside Aziraphale again. “At this point I’m really starting to get sick of Queen. Hope it doesn’t go on too much longer.”

--

Aziraphale stood before his desk, book lying innocuously on the blotter. He wore the thickest gloves he could find and – just to be safe – had rolled his sleeves up past the elbow. He still approached it with extreme caution.

One finger carefully tapped the spine, pulling away instantly.

No sparks. No chills. No cloud of demonic energy.

Just a perfectly ordinary book, really.

With feather-light touch, he brushed his fingers down the cover. Leather-bound, deep red-brown. Hopefully normal leather, but you never knew with demonic books, or for that matter certain obscure human texts. Sturdy and thick, the binding worn through in a few places just enough to indicate irregular use. No title, but gold pressed into the leather formed some sort of broad-leafed plant. Nothing he recognized.

Lifting the cover, he inspected the pages inside. Thick, rough paper – the edges a bit uneven and ragged in places. When he leaned close to inspect them, he detected the distinct dusty scent of old book, with just a hint of spice.

It seemed that Gabriel was correct. Nothing suggested the book was dangerous to touch.

Aziraphale set his armchair beside the desk and settled in for some proper investigation.

The first step of his process: Aziraphale turned to a page at random. He liked to think providence was guiding him to the first clues.

It looked much as that page he’d glimpsed during Gabriel’s visit, yet also entirely different. Small, curving letters – a bit like calligraphy, half unical, he thought, perhaps English or Irish – arrayed around complex illustrations of green plants on one side, and something that might have been an insect on the other. The artwork was immensely detailed, with subtle color variations, but resembled nothing he had ever seen.

The text was also strange, the longer he looked at it. He skimmed the page looking for patterns, groups of letters that appeared together more than once. Nothing. There were distinct words, all between four and seven characters, but each was unique. And the characters each looked sharp and clear and perfectly uniform in size, but there was variation, each uniquely formed, as if handwritten.

He turned the pages, sheet after sheet, looking for anything he recognized, leaning closer as he read. Sometimes a word would look almost familiar and then – no, it was gone.--

--

(The horror movie Aziraphale mentions is supposed to be “The Haunting” but I got it a bit confused with other movies from the late 90s. The mysterious writing and diagrams are loosely based on several mysterious texts, most notably the Voynich Manuscript.)

[give-seconds]

Back to You

Summary: You and Mark are all each other have, he’s easily the most important person to you. But something happens and you both are slowly separated, so you work your hardest to be accepted into a college in Korea so you can find your way back to a home with him again.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Here is part two! I hope you all enjoy! 

--Part 2

She leads the crowd across the street, answering a few questions from the kids at the front of the crowd.

“Your buddies will be inside,” She explains, stopping in front of the library and turning around to face the group. “They’ll be holding a sign with your name on it, have fun!”

She pulls the door open, motioning for the first people to walk in. Thanking her as you pass through the door, you scan the room. All the buddies are spaced out with one person per bookshelf aisle, each holding their own decorated sign.

As you walk down the main walkway, you glance at all the signs. You smile at a few of the cutely decorated ones, laughing quietly at one that looks like they spelled their buddy’s name wrong and just crossed out the wrong letter.

You see your buddy standing at the fifth asile, holding a sign with y/n in red letters and Qinn in beautiful black calligraphy letters. “Hi,” you greet once you’re standing in front of the boy “I’m y/n.”

Smiling, he holds out his hand “Hi, I’m Donghyuck.”

“That’s a really pretty sign Donghyuck,” you compliment, shaking his hand.

He chuckles, turning to grab a folder that was taped to the bookshelf behind him “Thanks, but I can’t take any of the credit. It was my friend RenJun’s design, I have zero artistic sense.”

“Oh,” you say, nodding your head “Well I guess tell him I said it was pretty.”

“Will do. And before we do anything else, here is your folder,” he says handing you the folder he pulled off the wall. “Shall we start the tour?”

“Oh, okay,” you agree, laughing at the fast-paced introduction.

“Sorry for ending this so quickly, I’m excited for the next part,” he explains as you two walk to the front doors.

You smile softly, “So is that why we’re the first ones leaving?”

He pulls the door open for you, shrugging “What can I say? I’m just ahead of everyone else.”

You laugh, stopping so he can show you where to go next “Fair enough, fair enough.”

“And there it is,” he turns to the left and points to a golf cart.

“This is what you were excited for?” you ask, stopping next to the passenger side.

He nods his head enthusiastically, pointing to your bag “May I?”

“Oh, sure.” you press in the handle of the suitcase so he can put it in the back.

You climb into the passenger seat, putting your backpack at your feet. He gets into the driver's seat, turning the keys that are already in the ignition.

“They let us use these for the first day of the buddy program, my friend told me about it when he was a buddy. It’s the reason I signed up in the first place,” he explains as he backs out of the ‘parking space’ and onto the main walkway.

“Well that’s definitely a good reason to sign up for something,” you comment, looking to your right as you drive down the path.

He hums in response “Now it’s time to get through the boring stuff, so forgive me.” he dramatically clears his throat “If you open your folder and find the campus map, we’re going to number 17. Which, as you can see, is international housing. We started at number 27, which I’m sure you noticed is a library.”

You slide the map out of the folder, finding each of the buildings he mentioned. The dorms are on the opposite side of the campus, so each building you passed he told you it’s use.

“We’re only going to pass some of the teaching halls on the way to the dorm, so I’ll take us there to drop off your bag and then take you to see the rest of the halls, okay?”

“Okey.”

“So, what brings you to Korea?”

“My best friend lives here, we lost contact when we were younger. I came to find him.”

There was something about having to call Mark your friend that makes you feel like you’ve lost, no matter how many times you’ve had to say it. You have been told countless times by your therapist, his parents, even kids at school that he is not your brother. And so one day, just before he was taken to Korea, you both agreed to just call each other friends.

“Well, if you need someone to take you can just call your good pal: Lee Donghyuck.”

“Thanks, if I don’t make Jaemin take me, I’ll make you.”

“Oh how kind of you.”

“I know, I’m the best.”

“And we’re here!” he exclaims, parking the cart next to one just like it. He turns off the engine and hops out of the driver's seat.

“You’re going to need your student ID card to get into the building,” he says, pulling your suitcase out of the back. He starts walking towards the building, sending you a glare as you try and take your suitcase from him. “Be sure not to lose it, it’s a lot of work to get another one.”

“Okay, so I just put it like this?” you ask, pulling out your ID card and placing it on the scanner.

“Other way,” he says as it beeps at you, indicating that you had placed it facing the wrong way.

“Okay,”he claps his hands together once you successfully use your ID to open the doors.

He brings you two to a halt, pointing his finger to the left “down there you have the gym and the laundry room. The women’s half of the laundry room is on the right, so when you walk in you’ll go to the very right. Also, pro-tip, they only use bills.”

“And down here,” he says, still pulling your suitcase behind you as he starts walking to the right “is the mailroom. If you get any mail, it’ll go here. The information about that is in your folder.”

“And if I don’t get mail?” you ask jokingly.

“Then you don’t have to come down here now do ya? Onward!” he exclaims dramatically, turning and walking out of the room.

You roll your eyes, “You know, I’d like to put you in a room with my friend I was talking about. You’re both very different.”

“Well, let me know when you find him, I’ll be sure to trap us in a room together. This is the lobby, this is where I’ll be when you get back,” he says, gesturing to a few couches. “But first, I’ll show you the elevators.”

“Elevators? I think I know how they work, Donghyuck.”

He rolls his eyes “Shut up, I’m just doing what they told me. I spent all day learning about this building, which I will never live in, mind you, so you better accept my knowledge.”

You hold your hands up in mock surrender “Okay, okay, tell me about these elevators.”

“Well,” he says, stopping in front of the middle elevator “This is the women's elevator, the only one you will have to worry about. The one to our right is the males, and the one on the left is the teachers.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to look at him “You mean teachers live here too? How does that work?”

“I have no idea, but don’t worry about it. Now, moving on from teachers,” he points to the sign, which indeed said ‘females only.’ “As you can see, the only floors you are allowed on are 5-8. Which floor do you live on?”

“Um,” you hum, quickly opening the folder and leafing through the pages until you find the one that has ‘housing’ in bold letters at the top. “I live on floor 8.”

He nods his head and moves forward to press the up button “Then you have everything on that sheet there, go up to your room and put your things away. Then you can meet me back down here and we’ll finish our tour, sound good?”

You nod your head, and he finally rolls you your suitcase back as the doors ding open.

“I’ll be in the lobby, remember your ID card okay?”

You nod your head pressing the 8 button. You look down at the sheet, room 301 use code 53567 or your student ID card to open the door. You skimmed over some of the rules while you waited to reach your floor, your favourite being that if you bought any food you are required to write your name and the expiration date on it.

When you get to your dorm room, you knock twice in case your roommate is inside before using your card to open the door.

“Okay then,” you mumble, as you see that you are the first one here.

You walk to the right side of the room and put your suitcase at the foot of the bed. You sit on the bed, dropping your backpack next to you. You look around the room, trying to feel the slightest bit displaced in the new, very different then you were used to room. Homesickness was something every study abroad guide warned you about, yet you find yourself struggling to feel anything close to that.

Shaking your head, you grab your ID card and the campus map before exiting the room. As you walk to the elevators, you send Jaemin a text telling him you made it to the dorms and have a nice buddy.

Well I’m glad things worked out on your end my roommate isn’t here 😢 he just left his stuff here and took off

You're fine, you big baby, maybe he’s a buddy. Ever think of that?

No….

That’s what I thought. I have to go, we’re finishing the tour now. Have fun my dude

Fine you leave me too. Nobody here loves me (｡ ́︿ ̀｡)

“Aww, how sad” you chuckle, pouting back at the emoji.

When you walk back into the lobby, you see Donghyuck talking to another boy. You walk up to the pair, hoping Donghyuck will notice you so you don’t have to stand there awkwardly until they notice you.

Thankfully, Donghyuck hears you coming before you have to say anything “You have your ID?”

You pull it out of your back pocket “Yep! Right here.”

He stands up “Great,” he turns to look at his friend “Y/n this is Jeno, we’re in the same dance team. Jeno this is y/n, my buddy.”

Jeno stands up to greet you, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, are you a buddy too?”

He nods his head “Yeah, he’s a senior exchange student from Argentina. It’s a little hard because all the English I know is from school and what little our friend has taught us, but so far not too many issues.”

“Ah, yeah that can be hard. Well I believe in you, fighting” you say, doing the ‘fighting’ motion.

He smiles, holding up his arm to copy you “Fighting!”

“Okay, well I’ll see you later tonight Jeno.

“Ready to see the rest of the halls?” he asks, holding the door open for you.

“Yeah, do you know when we get schedules?” you ask. You can feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket, and you suppress a sigh. I should have just texted.

“Well all the students who are buddies or have to come here by plane are here a week ahead of everyone else. So paper ones won’t be available until everyone else gets here, but you can look at your portal for an online one.”

“Oh, okay thanks. And then I’m sorry, but my foster mom is calling. It’ll be fast,” you explain, stopping and holding up your phone to show the Skype notification.

“It’s okay, I’ll just wait in the cart” he says, gesturing to the cart.

“Thanks,” you say as you turn your back to him and press the answer button.

“Hey Ivy.”

“Y/n! I’m glad you got the phone set up, and this Skype thing works pretty well.”

“Um yeah, took forever to set up though.” you force a light laugh “Thanks again for helping me get here and buying me the phone. It means a lot.”

“Of course, I want you to be able to do anything you want.”

“Well thank you again, but I have to go. We’re touring the campus right now, so I have to go.”

“Oh, okay. Well I’ll talk to you later, be sure to tell me how you like the campus. I’m going to bed now, but you have a good rest of your day.”

You turn around and start walking to the cart “Okay, good night Ivy.”

“Bye y/n,” she says softly before the line goes dead.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, feeling guilty that you don’t act nicer to the woman who literally flew you to the other side of the world.

“Okay,” you say, pulling yourself into the passenger seat “ready to go.”

“That was short, you can call her back if you want. I won’t be able to understand a majority of it anyways,” he offers, pulling out into the road.

“Oh no, it’s okay. She just wanted to make sure I got here safe before she went to sleep.”

“Oh that’s nice of her. But of course, any parent would call, I know my mom had me text her as soon as I got here. You know moms, they just worry a lot” he rambles, trailing off at the end.

You smile at his attempts to be considerate towards you. Everyone always worries about what’s ‘appropriate’ to say to you in these cases, it’s always fun to see people unnecessarily beat around the bush with you.

“Yeah, she’s the most, mhm how should I put this? She’s the most willing to help me. My other foster parents were nice, but Ivy and her husband were the ones to buy my plane ticket and this phone.” She’s also the one who feels the need to say things like ’you’re nothing like your father’ and ‘you can turn your life around if you try hard enough.’

“Wow, that’s nice of her. I’m glad you’re here,” he answers awkwardly.

You laugh “I’m glad I’m here too, now which building is this?”

He turns to look at where you’re pointing “Oh, that’s the dining hall.”

---

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you thought! Thank you to @mozartwasajungkookstan for helping me! 

Previous  |  Next

[slasherscream]

A/N: i got…  just the absolute sweetest messages from a reader who’s chinese so that’s what this is the result of. we poc deserve hella specific imagines just like anyone else!! smooches @calling-out-maeday. hope you like it!!

     sidney prescott x chinese fem!reader x tatum riley                ft. that’s it …. that’s the whole concept          (and a whole lot of learning to love yourself)

                                                     ——————– 

The girls stop dead in their tracks the first time they notice you. Or        Tatum stops dead in her tracks. She’s the one who actually sees you first. She throws out her arm to psychically stop Sidney (because the moment requires some drama god dammit). Sidney is about to start glaring when Tatum, in the most love-struck voice Sidney has ever heard from her, goes “who is that?" 

Sidney finds you easily in the crowd. Mostly because Tatum is pointing at you in a way that is both not subtle and also … rude. She has to let it go because … well         Tatum has always had good taste, "No idea. I’ve never … seen them around before.” It took her a second to properly get the words out because you were so pretty. 

You must be new since the town is small enough to have a vague idea of everyone who attends even if you don’t know everyone’s name. Just being frank Tatum knows she’s not stupid enough to have missed going to school with a Chinese girl all these years since you’d have been, quite literally, the only one. Despite this being California, Woodsboro is a little lacking in diversity. 

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Sidney thinks she just saw Tatum adjust her shirt (aka boobs) a little before she started trying to walk your way. She grabs her best friend by the arm and yanks her back. Tatum starts to pout, “What?”

“Look at her … she seems kinda ….quiet, y'know?” Sidney notices that you’re outside alone during lunch period. They’re only outside cause they were going to go get lunch off campus. Your energy says you’re outside for a very different reason        discomfort. “Shy, maybe." 

"Just means she could use some friends.” Just like that Tatum yanks her arm away from Sidney and hauls ass over to you. Sidney tries to run after her to stop her from being probably far too aggressive with you but doesn’t make it in time (Tatum runs track instead of doing the bare minimum in gym class like some people).

“Hey.” Tatum skids to a stop in front of you and you jerk back at the sight of shoes suddenly in your line of vision. When you look up there she is, grinning down at you. “Newbie? Never seen you around before.”

“Oh uhm ….yup! The new kid. Having a lot of fun.” Tatum laughs at your barely joke (a little too loudly. the way girls that are flirting always do-). 

“Can we join the party?” She’s already sitting down and dragging Sidney (who has the decency to look embarrassed) with her. 

Just like that Tatum is there to stay. And Sidney          despite her initial protests, is too. You’re fun to be around and oh so pretty. They’ve both caught each other zoning out in the middle of you talking (they can practically fucking hear this playing every … single….time) just …focusing on something like how you throw your head back when you laugh or just the way your laugh shapes your mouth. They’re too gay to be trying to function. 

You become a third part of a duo they’d never known was missing a piece. Having you around feels natural. Not having you around ruins their day (Tatum stop being dramatic-). They’re always hovering nearby and you’re always doing the same. You know you spend a lot of time together because they’re no longer Sidney and Tatum         always Tatum, Sidney, and Y/N. It makes them smile. It makes you smile too.

Tatum loves your smile. But you don’t seem to. You’re always covering it when you do it in a way that looks automatic. Like you’ve been doing it your whole life. 

It’s never really bought up until you’re all having a night on the town and Tatum sees a photo-booth that she instantly crams all three of you into. You take the first set of pictures and all hop out to see the results. The girls are wacky and wild in the photos      meanwhile you’re …restrained, to put it lightly. They crawl back in and demand you make the same poses and faces so you can be a matching set. Quietly you say, “That will show too much teeth.” The girls pause in their pushiness sensing that you’re actually quite serious. 

“What do you mean?” Sidney asks. 

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Echoes Tatum.

“My teeth are kinda….big, y'know?” You gesture at your face and purse your lips together as if you want to hide them forever. “They stick out and that will make them….stick out more. That…that pose. And…that face." 

"Your smile is pretty, Y/N! What are you talking about?” The genuine, earnest, confusion on Tatum’s face and in her voice makes you pause. “It’s one of the prettiest smiles I’ve ever seen.”

“Are you serious?” You ask, bewildered. 

“As a fucking heart attack!” and then Sidney smacks her arms. “What? Tell her, her smile is pretty, Sid.”

“It … is a really pretty smile, Y/N. It was one of the first things I noticed about you." 

"Me too." 

"Yeah because my teeth as so-”

“No         because it’s so cute.” And Tatum grabs your face and pulls you so close that you can feel her breath on your lips, “So make the face with me and Sidney. Or don’t - but don’t do it because you don’t think you look pretty doing it. You look pretty doing anything.”

Her gaze could make a nun blush but Sidney clears her throat and breaks the mood of the booth. She’s been on the other side of a look … similar. She knows how it feels. “Let’s take this picture.” You do take the picture and you don’t do the exact same face as them but one … similar. And Tatum keeps the picture in her wallet. You, Sidney, and her. Her favorite people in the world and her. 

Sidney got sick one week straight and you and Tatum did nothing but pout the whole week. “Where’s your better third?” Shouted Randy as the two of you walked by. Tatum flipped him off and you felt yourself get hot with embarrassment. “She’s at home sick, asshole." 

You two bring her notes and homework. Which means       you are bringing her notes and homework and Tatum tags along. She’s not stupid but she doesn’t do her work in-depth enough to be bringing Sidney friendly "catch-up’s” from History class. 

As Sidney’s flipping through one of your notebooks (you’d given her a whole stack) she notices this particular one’s pages are full of Chinese calligraphy. Tatum, who is sitting too close to her on the bed if she doesn’t want to get sick, sees and starts to ooh and ahhh. 

“You didn’t tell us you could write in Chinese!" 

"What?” You yelp and immediately go to snatch back the book. Sidney, who cannot read them but loves the way the ink looks on the page, dodges you annoyingly easy for a woman on her deathbed, “Wrong notebook! Give it!”

“In a minute! It’s beautiful. You can write like this?” The transfixed quality in her hoarse voice makes some of the tension leave your body. Not all….but some. 

“Just a little.” Trying to sound modest. Or maybe you sound small….like it’s not something you’re particularity proud of. You should be though. It looks like pure art. Tatum gasps when Sidney turns the page and she finds new characters. She’s now well and truly snuggled up to the other girl (definitely going to get sick). 

“How can you know just a little when these pages are full with like … a lot?” Tatum laughs, putting a finger out to brush along one of the ink strokes. Her tone is soft. “What are you writing in them?" 

"Random things.” You shrug, “ I just…I do it so I don’t forget it. Y'know?" 

"Can you teach us what some of these mean?” You blink at Sidney’s question. She’s looking up at you with wide, eager eyes. Tatum follows her lead.

“Yeah get over here!” You don’t have time to move before Tatum is yanking you in-between the two of them and settling the book in your lap. She points to one of them. You’re trying not to notice how they feel pressed and curled against you. They both snuggle closer. Tatum points with more insistence, “C'mon! What’s it say. It’s pretty!” She’s so pleading you can’t not tell her. They spend the rest of the afternoon curled up listening to you read the characters off the page. 

“You don’t seem to like any of the food they serve?” Sidney asks one day when she notices you pushing the food around your plate. The cafeteria food isn’t great but it’s not bad either. “Why don’t you ever bring anything like Tatum does?”

You look like a deer caught in headlights which makes Sidney and Tatum exchange a knowing glance. You only ever make #That Face when they’ve stumbled on one of your very specific insecurities. Now they’re determined to know what it is.

Sidney places a hand on Tatum’s thigh under the table and squeezes, a silent plea to let her try and find out what the insecurity is. 

Sidney can be subtle. Tatum is loving but  … not subtle. When she can tell something is wrong with someone she cares about she’ll raise absolute hell until the problem is resolved. It’s one of her more endearing traits but it can go  … not in her favor, at times. Sidney senses this is one of those times it could go poorly. 

Tatum, knowing this, deflates a little but gives a small nod that she knows you won’t notice. You’ve already gone back to looking at you cafeteria tray a little miserably. 

“I don’t know…” You say after a long moment of silence. The girls are never quiet for long so you know that they’re actually waiting for an answer. The fact that they’re so focused on you makes you want to crawl out of your own skin with nerves. “Just don’t like it much." 

They analyze the ever loving shit out of your response and the next time they have a sleepover at your house while Tatum distracts you upstairs with an impromptu pillow fight attack Sidney goes downstairs to talk to your Mother. 

"Hey uhm        Mrs. Y/L/N?” she plays nervously with the end of her sleeve, “Can I ask you something about Y/N?" 

Your Mother pats the seat on the couch next to her and Sidney comes to sit. She can see the worry on your Mother’s face and quickly starts to reassure her, "Nothing is wrong! Or at least …. nothing is seriously wrong? I just…. Y/N is kinda…. She can be kinda…A little-” Sidney struggles with the words for a long time before she just settles on the first one that’s most honest, “Insecure? It seems         about a lot of little things.”

Your Mother sighs deeply at the words and closes her eyes. By insecure she knows Sidney is referring to how you feel about your Chinese heritage. You’ve always been that way. The world around you telling you that you and your culture aren’t beautiful and wonderful and you        unfortunately, believing the world. “Ah. Yes, she can be… is this about something specific?”

“She hates the food at lunch. Barely eats it. And I can tell she’s super hungry by the end of the day. And I was just wondering … what her favorite food is?”

“Pork baozi. She’s loved it ever since she was a little girl but she … doesn’t like to eat them much in public.” Sidney starts to frown. Your Mother frowns back. Not at each other but at what they both know is going on.

Sidney clears her throat and adjusts herself to sit up straight, “Can you teach me how to make it? Me and Tatum? Please.”

Your Mother stares at her for a long moment and then she smiles, even reaches out to pat Sidney’s cheek, “You’re sweet girls. Come back tomorrow afternoon. She’s always at the library for hours at that time. I’ll teach you then. Now shoo         back to your sleepover.” Sidney grins all the way upstairs. 

Tatum and Sidney arrive promptly and your Mother puts them to work immediately. While they’re learning they all talk about you. Listening to your Mother talk about you is eye-opening. They realize just how deeply some of your insecurities go and just how much they care about you that afternoon. When they leave it’s to your Mother hugging them goodbye. She can tell how much they care about you. Furthermore she can tell they’re good influences on you. You’ve been smiling more since you’ve met them. 

On the ride back to Tatum’s, where Sidney is going to spend the night, they finally start talking seriously to each other about what’s clearly been going on, “I think I really like Y/N. As in … like-like her.” Tatum goes first, deep breath once and then just dives right in. She’s always been like that. Sidney has always loved that about her, “Maybe even … a little more than that?”

“I uh ….. like-like her too. And maybe …also feel a little more than that?” Sidney admits before she covers her face with a groan, “What are we twelve?”

“Maybe.” Tatum laughs and pokes Sidney in the side. Only putting her hand back on the wheel when Sidney’s commands her to do so. “I’ve always kinda…. like-liked you too, though.”

“Yeah?” Sidney asks a little breathlessly, taking her hands off her face to look at Tatum’s. 

“Yeah.” Tatum nods firmly, “But it was never the right time. But now       ” She trails off with a smile and Sidney knows what she means. 

“Now’s perfect.” Sidney will not hold Tatum’s hand but she does give her a kiss on the cheek (how was that supposed to be less distracting? Tatum wants to know as she tries desperately not to fucking swerve-).

So now they’re a thing. And as they wait for you excitedly outside at lunch where they’ve told you to meet them? They’re hoping you’ll all be a thing soon. 

You know they’re up to something as soon as you see them but they refuse to say anything until you sit down. Once you do Tatum starts to nervously reach into the over-sized bag that she bought to school today for “some” reason. Sidney starts talking, “Y/N        you are amazing. You’re sweet. And funny, and beautiful, and our best friend. And we love you. But-”

“We also might wanna be a little bit more than best friends. Maybe. If you’re up to it.” Tatum finishes, and with that she puts an open container of pork baozi on the table. They wait for your reaction. Or they try. The stunned look on your face makes Tatum start babbling, “Either way we made you lunch. Your Mom taught us. It’s your favorite right? She told us it was but we know how parents are. Who really listens to their kid these day       Ow!” Sidney pinched her thigh to shut her up. The look she gives her is gratitude despite the exclamation of pain. She’d wanted desperately to shut up. 

“You guys didn’t have to do this      ” Your voice is so quiet and small it makes them nervous. 

“We wanted to.” Sidney says firmly. At first she was thinking you hated it but your expression shifted to something a little softer and now she thinks that your reaction is coming form a place of insecurity once again. She wishes she could slap anyone who’d ever made you feel like this. Instead she reaches for your hand. When you let her take it she sighs in relief. Tatum takes your other one. 

“We really wanted to. Just like how we really like you.” Tatum is catching on too now. She goes a step further and leans over the table top to kiss your forehead. You release a shuddering breath that makes her do it again. 

So        together. You’re all together and the girls couldn’t be happier. Insecurities don’t disappear in a day but they try to help as best as they can. You’re worried that one day it will finally be too much but so far every-time you reveal a new insecurity they reveal just how deep their compassion and love for you goes. 

And yes          love. Tatum said it barely a month into the official start of the relationship. She knows herself inside out and knew the moment she loved you for sure. She’d wanted you to know just as quickly.

Sidney is always more reserved and careful. But she follows Tatum’s lead a month later and says it when you’re both alone and you’re allowing her to put eyeliner on you. You’re squirming at how much she’s staring at a part of you that has always made you so insecure in particular. She kisses the corner of your eye when she’s done, then she kisses your lips for good measure, “I love every beautiful part of you. I love you." 

Maybe you cry a little. Maybe she cries with you. Maybe it brings you closer.

Tatum even opens up to you about her own insecurities hoping to make you feel more normal. "I know it’s not the same thing and the reasons are different but        everyone has things they don’t like about themselves. I think my hips are too big, and …that my nose is too pointy … and I’m not a natural blonde. If you couldn’t guess that from my totally brunette family." 

You’re quick to comfort her and tell her how beautiful she is and that’s when she snatches you by the face and forces you to look at her, her expression resembles the cat that caught the canary, "Aha! That’s the exact point. I am beautiful. Just because I found some things not to like about myself doesn’t mean I’m not. The same goes for you, babe. You’re a fucking knockout and everyone can see it but you." 

Maybe that makes you cry too. Maybe. Tatum has got thicker skin than Sidney so maybe it doesn’t make her cry seeing you cry but maybe it makes her hold you a little tighter, determined to make sure no one ever makes you feel this way again. Not even you. 

A random dance is coming up. For what no one knows and no one cares. It’s a chance to buy a new dress and party! What more does a teenager need to know?

You’re all trying to go dress shopping but you can’t find anything you like. You go back to your house feeling put out but are determined to go shopping again tomorrow. You all won’t stop till you find the perfect set of dresses that compliment each other nicely (no clashing, demands Tatum, deadly serious). 

While you’re all hanging out in the living room trying to brainstorm Sidney notices something new about the place. "Hey what’s that?” she points at a picture in a frame hanging on a wall surrounded by other pictures. This one is the most eye-catching though. The biggest and prettiest. 

“That? A picture of my grandma my Mom just found. She finally got around to unpacking some things a relative sent us while we were moving. In a box of junk was this. There’s not many pictures of her so she was super excited.” You’re trying to make yourself sound casual but they can hear that you were just as excited as your Mom at the find. They smile at each other. 

“What’s she wearing?” Tatum asks.

“Oh that’s a Hanfu. She really loved it apparently. Was her favorite thing to wear. It's        kinda pretty, huh? I could never wear something like it though.” Sidney and Tatum share another look. You could absolutely wear something like that. And furthermore you will. 

Once again they talk to your mother, “Oh she’d never go for it.” She says right off the bat, “you girls know that.”

“She’s a lot more confident!” Tatum disagrees politely which your Mother can agree on but you’re not that confident. “Maybe this is one of those … one of those one last push things? Like when you push a baby bird out the nest and it’s the one you maybe didn’t think was gonna fly but it surprises everyone cause it does.”

The optimism in Tatum’s voice makes your Mother smile at her fondly, even reach for the girl’s hand to give it a comforting squeeze, “You have done a lot for her these past few months. But this is just something she won’t do. I’m sure of it. She would feel too out of place. Too embarrassed." 

"What if we did it with her?” Sidney asks suddenly, interrupting, which she never does to an adult. It makes your Mother pause and look at the two critically. “I know it’s kind of weird for us to wear them because …you know…but if it got her to do it would it be      okay?”

“I think…. I think that might work.” Your Mother finally says after a long moment of thinking. Then she nods to herself once, “Okay girls. Into the car. It’s time we go shopping." 

The day of the dance comes around and the girls had told you to not worry about your dress because they’ve got one for you but it’s a surprise. You’re already nervous. To that Tatum puts a hand on her hip and scoffs, "No offense but I have more fashion sense in one finger than either of you has in your whole bodies. I’d never let my girlfriends walk into a dance not looking amazing.” She was interrupted by a brief, offended “hey!” from Sidney which she steamrolled over easily. You’d conceded the point and allowed them to keep their little surprise for you. They’d also insisted you not lift a finger to get ready. That they were going to do all that for you. 

“You’re our princess and we’re gonna make you feel that way!” Tatum had rubbed her nose against yours gently all while holding Sidney’s hand and giving it a squeeze (she knows the other girl is getting nervous). 

When they arrive all their makeup is done and so is their hair but they’re in simple jeans and t-shirts. They get to work quickly on you. You feel absolutely pampered. They paint your nails. Give you a facial. The whole tender loving care package. Tatum even surprises you with some make-up foundation included that matches your darker skin-tone perfectly. And a blush that compliments you perfectly, just to sweeten the deal. When you ask her about it she scoffs, “I spend all day looking at you, babe. I remember everything about you." 

When it looks like you might cry she orders you to close your eyes quickly and hold your breath. Cold spray hits your face, "If you want to cry you can do it in five minutes when that setting spray dries.” It makes you laugh so hard you couldn’t possibly cry. 

Once Sidney does your hair they step back and look at you, grinning from ear to ear, “You look beautiful.” Sidney says softly. 

“But she always looks beautiful so what’s new.” Tatum playfully knocks you on your chin. “Okay we gotta go get your dress. Don’t peak at yourself in the mirror though. Okay? You gotta wait to see the whole finished product.” For good measure she covers the mirror on their way out and gives you the “watching you” gesture that you know she means. 

It takes them so long to come back you both get tempted to peak and tempted to go find them. You start to do the first one, pulling at the towel on the mirror. Tatum of course comes back at that very moment, “Hey! What did I tell you?!” You whip around ready to apologize sheepishly but stop dead in your tracks.

There stands Sidney and Tatum. Behind them stands your Mother, a hand on each girl’s shoulder. They’re both wearing Hanfu dresses and in their hands they’re carrying a matching one for you. Silence in the room, “They knew you wouldn’t wear it on your own. So instead you’ll all go as a matching set.” She sounds as nervous as the girl’s look.

You start crying and Tatum mutters that she’s glad she put that setting spray on you. Sidney elbows her before she rushes over to hug you. Twenty minutes of reassurances and cooing and then you’re in the dress. Then the towel comes off the mirror. You look….. well, you look, “It’s beautiful.” You gasp and touch the sleeves looking mesmerized. Your Mother shakes her head and comes up behind you to adjust something, “No honey      that’s all you. You look beautiful.

You take pictures on the staircase as if this is prom. As important as prom. In some ways it is. It’s super important. More important than anything you’ve ever done before. Your Mother hugs you crying before you go, kisses your cheek and says she’s proud of you. Then she’s hugging your girlfriends tightly whispering something to them that makes them look like they’ll start crying too. Then you all say goodbye (Tatum teasingly telling your Mother not to wait up and receiving a swat along with a string of Chinese she can’t understand but she figures she can’t be too mad since the older woman is laughing and smiling-).

You’re nervous all the way to the school even though the girls are trying to distract you. "It will be fine.” Says Tatum, reaching to hold your hand from the backseat. “You look incredible.” Says Sidney, who is a safe driver and refuses to take her hands off the wheel but the fond look she shoots you might as well be a kiss.

When you get to school there’s no more time to hesitate. Tatum doesn’t let you. She steps out the car and opens your door for you, taking your hand to help you out. You feel dizzy with nerves. Sidney takes your other hand and if you’re leaning on them both as you walk into the school they don’t say anything. Just squeeze your hand tightly.

Entering the gym feels like entering another world. It’s not that incredibly well decorated but the music is loud and the lightning is nice. But mostly the change in the world is coming from inside. You’re nervous but … suddenly? A good nervous. When you look down you can see the end of the dress. The trailing sleeves. And you think to yourself        it’s beautiful. I’m beautiful.

The girls are just proud they’ve gotten you in the gym. They’re more than ready to find a table as far from the center of the room as possible and sit there the whole damn night. Or even just ten minutes. They’re proud of you. Really proud of you. You shock them by shaking your head and smiling. No, not smiling      you’re grinning! It’s a grin that shows off your front teeth you never used to like (memory of a photo booth that Tatum had first told you, you were pretty in). A grin that lights up your eyes, tear-dropped curved and pretty (memory of Sidney putting eyeliner to them and then leaving soft kisses behind). 

“I love you guys. Let's       let’s dance!” You shout over the music and they blink in surprise for a moment and you laugh. They don’t hesitate for long before dragging you to the middle of the floor. You can feel people staring but Tatum and Sidney are so close that soon a teacher is going to have to come and separate you guys.

But for now they’ve each got a hand on your hips and you can hear that, yes some people are talking. And yes they’re noticing you. But what they’re saying is       “They all look so pretty!” and “Yeah but check out that one girl in the middle.” “That’s Y/N, right?” “She looks so good! Beautiful! She’d always seemed so shy!” “Guess not anymore. Dating Tatum will do that to any girl      Look at that smile-" 

And you keep smiling. And you keep dancing. And your girlfriends think you look beautiful. But more importantly? You think you look beautiful. 

                                                     ——————–

[oldloveatz]

dance with me | san

— TYPE: prince!au, somewhat requested, princess!reader, fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2.8k

— SYNOPSIS: the annual grand ball takes place in your father’s palace, and on that night you meet a particular someone you become very interested in.

— MESSAGE: hi, i see that you’re getting so many requests so idk if you’re still accepting them but if yes, then i would like to request anything san related. it’s completely up to you to choose the plot, i just need more san scenarios in my life 😩 also, you’re such an amazing writer and my fav blog on tumblr so yeah, ty for taking your time to write for us!

— AUTHOR’S MESSAGE: so thank you for requesting a san scenario and thank you so much for reading all of my stuff im devastated ): but since you didn’t request anything specific, i took one idea from a few ideas i came up with and wrote it for san! please enjoy this omg im so sorry if it’s bad

you dreaded the grand ball your father throws annually. you had to get in a very tight corset (tight enough to constrict your lungs) and dance with strangers in some painful heels. on top of that, you had to wear a very tiring dress which you know your parents had picked for you to wear. it wasn’t that you hated the grand ball, you liked them, in fact. they were a bit socially tiring, however. you were constantly pulled left and right by your mother and father to introduce you to some family that you care less about. they weren’t even the same family you meet each year!

“a-are you sure you don’t want to wear your hair up for the ball?” your helper, elena, asked. she was verifying the clothes, shoes, makeup and accessories, hairstyle and even perfume that you’d be wearing for the ball. she offered to wear your hair up, but you insisted to not even touch your hair. “oh, your father-“

“i don’t care!” you exclaimed, which frightened her a little. “i’m sorry. but just sprinkle glitter in it, it’s fine.”

“i understand your frustrations,” elena said, pulling your velvet stool to sit down. and she was right, you were frustrated. frustrated that you had to wear whatever she was ordered to dress you in. “but, listen to me, dear. the ball will be a fun experience for you to meet other people.”

“oh, i meet so many people,” you cut in. “way too many people for my liking.”

all elena could do was sigh, thinking of another response to your remark. “alright, i’m not going to touch your hair. but you will wear your cor-“

“please, lose the corset,” you insisted. “if i breathe in that fucking-“

“language,” she warned. no wonder they soft-banned you from going outside. you were learning foul words from the people outside the castle you lived in, which was also alright because you liked them.

“well, if i breathe in a corset, either it will break or my ribs will,” you explained, hopefully it was enough to convince her to not put you in a tightly tied corset. god, you didn’t want to spend 45 minutes just putting on a corset. “and puncture my lungs, which you all do not want to happen.”

“alright, fine,” elena said, getting up from the raspberry-colored velvet stool to cross off the hairstyle and the corset from her list. “anything else you want to lose?”

“uh, yes,” you started, getting up from your king sized bed and beginning to pace across your shiny, marble floor. the reflection perfectly mimicked the ceiling, a clean tiled dark ceiling with gold intricates. the walls were white and the familiar intricates like the ceiling. you loved your room, in fact you spend a lot of time in your room. “i’d like to lose the heels.”

“but, darling they’re designer heels,” elena said, completely unfazed with the things you wished to not wear.

“so? my feet are murdered by the end of the day if i wore those heels,” you reasoned. the sound of scratches on her clipboard definitely fueled your victory, a smile playing on your lips. “and i think that’s it. yeah, that’s it.”

“rather plain, but simple,” she commented, clipboard in hand before heading for the door to leave. “lunch is ready, by the way.”

“oh, sweet.”

your darling parents discussed the ball for tonight, giggling to each other as if it was the first ball they had ever organized. your parents were the king and queen of the land, holding power but they take advantage of the said power by being kind to those who lived outside the castle. they were loved by many, which is why it was perfectly fine for you to step outside and spend the day out for hours. and you have done it.

after lunch, you bid your goodbye to go hang out with your friends (or non-royal as those who worked for your family would say). the village was a sight to behold, and you adored seeing paintings of talented artists that live within the village. you bought about fifty paintings, maybe more.

“y/n! i thought you said you weren’t coming by today?” your friend, jaehyun, asked, getting up from his spot and giving you a side hug.

you trusted jaehyun, he was the boy who helped you become comfortable with the world outside the walls of your castle. he introduced you to his friends, befriending the girls and the boys easily and connecting with them in an instant. jaehyun whistled at his friends, stealing their attention from the marbles they were playing with and running up to you and him.

“i wasn’t, but they let me go out today,” you told him with a smile. “i came to give you an invitation actually! i stole one from my parents, and you are invited to the ball tonight.”

you earned groans from the invitation, as for sure the others wanted to go too. you placed a finger on your lips, hoping to shush them and they did.

the enveloped was gorgeous. it was parchment-colored, beige and blotched. the sound that it makes when it gets touched was the most satisfying thing ever, and hearing jaehyun fumble with a fancy royal-like envelope was making you nervous. you didn’t want him to drop the letter. it was sealed by a custom-made wax and stamp for your family, and the wax was sparkling under the bright sunlight as it was mixed with gold particles. you did the honors of writing his name at the front, though calligraphy was difficult to do so you printed his name in your normal handwriting.

jaehyun lifted the flap carefully, hoping he wouldn’t ruin the wax at all and whispered a ‘yes!’ when he didn’t tear it apart. you snickered at his action, covering your mouth and the others mirrored your action. “what does the letter say?”

“it just says i’m invited to the castle,” jaehyun said, stuffing the letter back into the envelope in a delicate manner. he then slipped the letter into his pants’ pockets, patting it from the outside to make sure it wasn’t folded in any way. “i’ll see if i can go. i.. i don’t have anything nice to wear.”

“it’ll be lovely if you can,” you told him with a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that it was okay if he couldn’t attend. “i won’t hate you if you couldn’t. plus i have all the time to come out here and hang out with you guys! a ball means nothing.”

you went back a couple of hours later to get ready for the ball, silently cursing in your head each step on the track on your way back. the guards opened the tall, dark oak doors for you and you stepped in, the sound of dry track silenced as soon as your shoes met the smooth, marble floor. the environment of the castle was much different than the village. the castle was huge, but echo-y and quiet - obnoxiously quiet. on the other hand, the village was small, but a lot of children run around and kiosks that contained things to catch attention from anyone. you liked both on some days.

“it is about time you returned from your trip,” elena said, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase with her iconic clipboard wrapped in her arm. she had been waiting for you to get home, rather patiently but as soon as she watched you enter through the tall doors, all of her contained patience went down the drain. “shall we get started then, dear?”

“do we have food? i’m quite famished,” you told her, hoping to get through with this excuse and stall. but, elena saw through your excuse and shook your head. you weren’t too hungry anyway, you hoped for the dress to be loose enough for you to eat later on. you and elena headed up the grand staircase, hand resting on the gold-engraved wooden railing for support as you made your way up in your room.

elena had sent you to the bathroom to take a long, refreshing bubble bath. so, you sat in the bathtub filled with bubbles that spilled over the tub. your eyes stared blankly at the white-tiled wall, ignoring the anxiety building up in your chest but also the excitement slowly mixing with the feeling. of course, you were excited. maybe there will be a cute boy you’d want to dance with, or other people you’d eventually want to meet. it wasn’t like you had a choice though, your parents will pull you left and right meeting families you didn’t even know existed.

your thoughts were disrupted by elena pounding her fist on the door, “hurry up, darling! we still have to get you in our dress!”

you stepped out of the tub, grabbing the beige towel sitting on a golden rack next to the tub and began patting it throughout your body and rubbing it around your hair to soak up any water in your mop of hair. you wrapped your body in your soft plush robe, tiptoeing back into your room where everything was set up around your vanity.

elyssio was standing by your vanity with a hairbrush with a smile on his face, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you wanted to do something simple for the night. you hoped elena told him, maybe that’s what the hairbrush is for. “hey, elyssio! it’s nice to see you again.”

“very nice to see you too, princess!” elyssio said, placing the big hairbrush down on the surface of the vanity that had been littered with various boxes filled with shiny and elegant jewelry. you looked over at the headless mannequin standing still a few feet away from the vanity, and you fell in love with your dress. it was everything you had dreamed of wearing. “your parents did a very good job picking your dress for the night.”

“they took note of how you reacted to each dress they picked for every ball occasion,” elena said, sitting on the velvet stool located at the foot of your grand bed. you smiled, taking the skirt-part of the dress in your hand, and god you were thankful the dress was just right for you. “so, do you want to get the hair and makeup out of the way or get in the dress first?”

the process of the get-up ran faster than you thought, as you were in the empty hallways wandering with your dress on complete with the slightly elevated flats, waiting for the ball to start. it was 7:15 in the night, and guests were expected to pile in the grandeur room for the ball. you wanted to kill time, so you went into the kitchen to see what kinds of hors d’oeuvre and appetizers they had for the guests.

“kingston, what are you cooking for tonight?”

“hey! you’re not supposed to be here!” kingston pushed you out of the kitchen. “we don’t want you smelling like the food. you’ll see them when it’s out.”

you wandered the walls again, deciding to head to the library to kill time by reading the big books you had been putting off to the side. you’ve read the the smaller ones, at least. you grabbed the nearest big binded book in sight and sat yourself down on the velvet chair, opening up the hard cover and reading the very first page. you thought that you’d just fall asleep, assuming it’d be a boring book mostly about the geography of the earth, but that really wasn’t the case.

you had been in the castle’s library burning through time by reading the book you had grabbed, clearly and deeply into the topic of geography. what was it about the book that made the concept of geography so interesting? you were so into the book that you hadn’t realize the ball started. you wouldn’t have known if elena hadn’t gone in the library to tell you.

the room was filled with many people, a few minutes in when it started. more and more citizens and visitors made their way through the door, hearing a lot of ‘woah’s and such. as the usual, you were introduced to royal families. handshakes and smiles and nods had already gotten you worn out, but you carried on.

you pranced to the food section, grabbing a ceramic plate decorated with faint pink flowers and gold specks all around it and began walking down the table to see what the chefs had to offer. you ended up not bothering to ask what food is what, whatever looked good to you - you took it.

“that’s a lot of food you’re getting there,” a voice said from behind you. upon turning around, the owner of the voice must be an angel. he was a bit tall, he had the eyes of the fox and cheekbones made from the greek gods and goddesses. he had think yet so pink lips, if he told you he was an alien you’d believe him. how could someone be so gorgeous? “are you the king and queen’s daughter?”

“u-uhm, yes- yes i am,” you stuttered, moving on along down the table. you glanced at what he was wearing, and gosh was he a gem. the only difference between his suit and the other young boys in the room was he was adorned in gold chains, from head to toe. even his ears were littered with gold. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he replied. you took note of how nice his voice sounded in your ears, you wanted to hear more of him. “i don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“yeah, i don’t think so either,” you responded, reaching the end of the table and standing off to the side. you wondered if you should wait for him and talk more. “i’ll see you around..?”

san turned his head from the bread and butter presented in of him, flashing a small smile in his face that made your heart thump like a rabbit’s foot. he nodded, “you will.”

you sat down to eat, fending off your parents’ random arm grabs to leave you alone because you were eating. you sure got a lot of food, some of it you didn’t even get to finish at all. maybe you were rushing to find him, maybe that was it.

“you’re done eating, princess?” elena asked, dabbing on a handkerchief to her lips to get rid off of the sauce from the spaghetti. you nodded, dusting off any food on your dress and yourself to make sure you don’t make a fool out of yourself when you see san again. you checked your hair too. “you look great, sweetheart. go out there and dance.”

“thank you, i will!” you hopped off the platform which your table had been on top of and began to walk around, simply disguising it as meeting other families and attendees, but you only wanted to look for san.

you found him in a group of girls, gushing and poking his gold-adorned suit as they giggled so loudly. you didn’t think much of it and approached san, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. he swiveled around, a smile creeping on his face as if he knew you’d come to him.

“oh my gosh, it’s the princess..”

“winnie, shut up..!”

“hey,” he greeted with his cute smile. you noticed his dimples, smiling even more at this. “i knew you’d come see me.”

you blushed, knowing that he had known you’d come for him. “uhm.. yeah.. so-”

“does the princess want to dance with the prince?” he asked, the girls behind him muttering to each other and gasping. your eyes peeked at them, before training them on san. his hand reached out to you, offering it for you to take and dance with him.

you took his hand, and in an instant he led you to the dance floor among other pairs dancing with each other. he grabbed your other hand, placing it on his shoulder and attaching his hand onto your waist. your hands still intertwined together when he offered you his hand. you got the idea that he must be a romantic person.

“where have you been all my life?” you whispered, eyes so lost in the void of his eyes. a smirk appeared on his lips, that later transformed into the sweetest smile you have ever seen. you just thought out loud, and felt so embarrassed that you said that to him. but.. san didn’t mind. “i’m sorry i said that.”

“i was just going to ask the same thing,” he said, his eyes were soon beginning to fill the dark void with adoration, like falling in love at first sight. “i’m glad you came to me tonight.”

jaehyun witnessed them dance together to the slow and perfect classical melody, his heart slowly falling off of its place. he left the venue, knowing that she was never interested in him in that way in the first place.