#so she just talked about her childhood and youth for one and a half hours

[running-in-the-dark]

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[caapsiizzereads]

The greatest films of all time were never made

Chapter 1 of If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you

Warnings: none for this chapter i think

“This one looks interesting.”

“This one at least looks like something.”

“It’s like yin yung but with swans.”

Jamie’s not sure what he’s doing here – he has never been much of an art connoisseur. So how did he get here? Keeley, of course. She was gushing about this amazing art exhibition that she was going to go with a friend, she even managed to get invitations to the opening night. Unfortunately, at the last minute, something came up and she couldn’t go, so Jamie just had to go instead of her. She promised that he and Jenna, her “date”, would definitely get along. Jamie’s not stupid, he knows when he’s being set up. He doesn't think Keeley was even trying to hide it that much. And he trusts her enough to know that she wouldn’t do this unless she really thought that it was worth a shot, so he went with it. And so far, it has been going well. Nothing extraordinary, but better than he expected. Jenna is nice, she’s pretty, she’s chatty, easygoing, and she seems to be really enjoying the exhibition.

“Oh, I know this one!” Jamie finally sees a painting he can recognize. “Never understood what’s so special about it. It’s just lines and squares.”

“To be honest, me neither. But I guess there is something if people are willing to pay millions for it.” Jenna moves on to the next artwork. “What about this one?” Just some funky doodles, if you ask Jamie. “‘Youth’,” she reads the name.

“This is just a bunch of colorful shapes, I could do that.”

“And this is ‘Childhood’ and ‘Old Age’,” she gestures at the two paintings near them. “It says it’s a series of ten paintings, ‘The Ten Largest’, each one representing a stage in a human’s life.”

“It’s still a bunch of doodles.”

“I don’t know, I like these. Now I wanna see what the other seven look like.”

“I’m sure it’s on the internet.”

While Jenna is trying to look up the paintings online, Jamie looks around the gallery. The room is filled with men in fancy suits and women in expensive dresses, a bunch of waiters serving champagne, and security guards.

Many people seem to know each other, engaging in conversations or staring profoundly at the artworks. A bunch of posh twats is what Jamie would call them. Ain’t no way even half of them know what the fuck they are staring at. Not that he does either, but at least he can admit it.

Jamie’s about to conclude his observations when something catches his eye. Just for a brief moment, he thinks he saw a familiar face – one Jamie used to know so well. He doesn’t quite believe it at first, but then he looks again, and there it is. A bit different now, but Jamie would still recognize it anywhere. Wearing a silky black dress, with a glass of champagne in her hand and a charming smile on her face, she was standing right there, talking to a couple so called posh twats. Y/n.

She meets his eyes for a second as her head moves, and then she pauses, her eyes going back to him and surprise visible on her face.

Too soon, one of the rich-looking old men approaches her and snatches her attention, an easy smile appearing on her face again as she joins another conversation.

“Look.” Jamie hears Jenna talk. He looks back at her to see her showing her phone screen to him. There are the paintings from the series: different colors, same vibe.

“Yeah, cool,” is all Jamie can come up with.

Another half an hour goes by, and Jamie just continues following Jenna around the room. But while Jenna is looking at the art, Jamie’s a lot more interested in the crowd now. He keeps searching for Y/n’s face again and again as she makes her way through the gallery. She meets his eyes a couple of times, but other than that her attention stays on the people she’s talking to. Does she know all of them? Does she attend such events often? Is it the crowd she hangs out with now? Well, art has always been her thing. But rich twats and small talk? Not so much.

They stop in front of another painting: a red tree on a blue background.

“Why is the tree red?” Jamie says the first thing on his mind.

“Because it’s impressionism, and the painting is called ‘The Red Tree’.” Jamie’s heart skips a beat at the sound of an oh so familiar voice.

“This one stands out, you know, from all the squares,” Jenna smiles at Y/n.

“It does,” Y/n chuckles. “This is one of Mondrian’s earlier works, before he really dove into the whole abstractionism thing. He’s actually quite known for his paintings of trees, but this one is the most remarkable, in my opinion. It’s one of the first works where he used his famous red-blue-yellow color scheme.”

“That’s so interesting. You’re an art fan?”

“Kinda. I work here, so that helps.” Wait, what?

“Oh, that’s amazing! What’s your favorite piece here?”

“Well, I love this,” Y/n points at the painting in front of them. “But between us, af Klint is my favorite here. Have you seen ‘The Swan’?”

“Yes! I thought it was very interesting, but Jamie didn’t share my enthusiasm,” Jenna playfully puts her hand on Jamie’s arm, and he smiles awkwardly at Y/n.

“That checks out.” She smiles knowingly at him for a brief second. “The abstract one next to it is actually from the same series. There are a lot of them, but those two are the only ones I could get here. But No. 1 is my favorite anyway. I also love all of her botanical drawings.”

“We haven’t got to them yet.”

“You absolutely should. They are very simple, but I guess that’s exactly why I like them. ‘Violet Blossoms’ is my personal favorite.”

“We’ll definitely check them out. Must be so cool, always being surrounded by art?”

“Oh, you should ask the artists. I am mostly surrounded by paperwork,” Y/n huffs a laugh.

It’s very weird watching a woman that he’s just met today and a woman that he’s known for half of his life but hasn’t seen in years casually chatting right in front of him. And he’s not even part of the conversation.

“I really love this exhibition, though. You did a fantastic job with it.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it. Well, I’m gonna leave you to it. Hope you enjoy your evening.” Y/n smiles so casually at Jamie, as if he’ll be able to think about anything but her for the rest of the night. Maybe for the rest of his life.

“Thank you!” Jenna easily returns her smile.

And just like that, Y/n was gone. And Jamie’s still standing there like an idiot, watching her disappear in the crowd again. He had spent years wondering if he would ever get to talk to her again, and now that she was right there standing in front of him, all he could do was just stand there smiling awkwardly at her because he couldn’t come up with a single coherent thing to say.

They finish their walk-through. Jenna shares Y/n’s appreciation for the flower drawings, and knowing that Y/n loves them makes Jamie see something special in them too. They kinda remind him of the drawings Y/n used to sketch in her notebook when she couldn’t care enough to pay attention to the class.

Jamie drives Jenna back to her place and walks her to the front door, being a gentleman and all. She opens the door and stands facing him. Jamie can tell that he’s welcome to come in.

“The gallery curator, do you know her?” That was not what he expected her to say.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, just seemed like she was the only thing that really interested you tonight.” There’s no bitterness in her tone, just curiosity, maybe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“No, no. It’s fine, I didn’t mean it like that. I had a good time tonight. But I think we both can do better.” She smiles at him.

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Had a good time.”

“You can still come in, you know. No strings attached. Just a little bit more of a good time.”

“I think I’m good.” Jenna smiles knowingly.

Jamie spends the whole drive home and the rest of the night trying to process what the hell has happened. And the date that he was supposedly on didn’t even make the front page of the things on his mind. It’s all Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.

He didn’t even know that she lives in London now. Well, probably. She has to if she said that she works in the gallery. And it makes no sense for him to be surprised that he didn’t know – he hadn’t talked to her in half a decade. Six years, to be precise. Of course, that’s plenty of time to move. But it still feels weird to know that she has been so close, and he had no idea. How long has she been here? Has she thought about him over those years? Does she even want to talk to him after how things ended between them?

There is no way Jamie could ever just let this go now. He knows it will eat him alive if he doesn’t at least try to reach out to her. If she tells him to go fuck himself, well, he proabably deserves it. But if there’s even a small chance that Jamie could get her back in his life, he will take it.

Knowing where Y/n works is a pretty good start – he knows for a fact how to find her. Jamie checks the gallery’s work hours and settles to wait for her outside. Like a creep. But, hey, they know each other, so it doesn’t count.

Almost an hour passes after the closing before Y/n walks out of the gallery, waving goodbye to one of her coworkers. She starts walking to her car while reaching into her coat’s pocket for the keys.

“Y/n!” She stops, then slowly turns around to the source of the familiar voice. “Hi,” Jamie smiles sheepishly at her.

“Hi.”

“We didn’t really get a chance to talk yesterday, and I really hoped that we could… so…”

“So you were waiting for me outside of my work like a stalker?” she suggests.

“Maybe. So can we? Talk?”

“Now? Here?” she gestures at the surrounding parking lot.

“We can meet up? Like for dinner or something?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jamie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Give me your number? I, uh, tried to call you once a few years back, it said your number was no longer working.”

“Oh, yeah, got a new one. Hold on.” Y/n takes her phone and opens the keypad, turning the screen towards Jamie.

He starts typing out his number. “So you live in London now?”

“Mhm, moved a couple of years ago.” Jamie pressed the call button, and his phone lights up with a number.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“No, sorry. The day after?”

“Away match, gonna be gone till Saturday. Sunday?”

“Yes, Sunday works.”

“Mint.”

“See you soon, then,” Y/n smiles at him before taking the car keys back in her hand.

“See you.”

Jamie didn’t realize how anxious he was about this meeting until he was walking back to his car, feeling like his steps were a hundred times lighter and a smile was growing on his face.

Sunday couldn’t have come soon enough. Jamie and Y/n agreed on the time and place over texts, and Jamie offered to pick her up, but she declined. Jamie has never been this nervous before any date, and this is not even a date. Just two old friends catching up. Could he even still call them friends? He wants to believe that yes, but realistically, six years, almost seven, is a long fucking time. Jamie knows that a lot has happened in his life since the last time he saw Y/n, and knowing her, just as much has probably happened in hers. On the brighter side, she didn't seem to be mad at him. So maybe six years is also enough time for her to forget why they haven’t talked for that long in the first place. Either way, this is the chance that Jamie was hoping for, and he will not waste it.

Jamie gets dressed, nice enough but not too dressed up, and makes sure to arrive on time. Just a few minutes later, Y/n gets there too. Jamie stands up as she makes her way to the table, feeling his mouth go dry.

“You look good.” Jamie goes for casual.

“Thank you, you too,” she smiles at him.

“So…” How is it that Jamie has spent every waking hour thinking about what he’s going to say to Y/n, but every time she’s in front of him, no words can come out of his mouth?

Fortunately, Y/n spares him the awkwardness. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, yeah. Won the match yesterday.”

“That’s great! Who were you playing with?” Jamie can’t tell if she really cares or is just asking to be polite.

“Brentford.” Y/n is smiling and nodding, Jamie recognizes this one. “You don’t know who they are, do you?”

“No idea,” she chuckles. “But you won, so I guess they’re not as good, huh.”

“Maybe we’re just that good.”

“We, as in AFC Richmond?” She teases.

“That’s a long story…”

“And there’s a reality show involved somewhere in there.”

“Oh my God, you saw that?” Jamie wants the earth to swallow him whole.

“Some parts of it. Honestly, Jamie, I thought I raised you better than that.”

“Not my finest moment.”

“But, hey, look at you now. Heard you’re playing for the national team now. And Roy Kent’s your manager! This is, like, your childhood wet dream.”

“It was not!”

“Is his poster still on your wall? Do not lie to me.” Y/n squints at him.

“I don’t live in that room anymore!”

“So it is still there.”

“Oh, fuck off!” They both laugh. And it feels so fucking good. Just like the old times – Y/n teasing him, laughing together, just talking like two friends.

“Okay, that’s not fair. I don’t know anything about you,” Jamie starts again after their little laugh break. “How have you been? I mean, running a gallery? That’s awesome.”

“Well, I don’t run it. I’m just a curator. But yeah, it is pretty cool. I’ve been doing alright.”

“Never thought I’d see you living in England again, to be honest.”

A weird look flickers in Y/n’s eyes before she puts her perfect smile back in place. “Yeah, well, it was a long way. Loved Paris, and, God, Amsterdam was great, but in the end I decided to be closer to my family.”

Jamie beams. “How’s Natalie? How’s Amelia? She’s what, fourteen now?”

“Fifteen. God, she’s a handful.”

“It runs in the family,” Jamie says with a cheeky grin.

Y/n snorts. “Evidently.”

“Mom said you sold your house.”

“Oh, yeah, it was, like, five years ago. Nat finally decided to move to London. Oh my God, how’s Georgie? Her and Simon still together?”

“She’s good, yes. They got married!”

“Oh, that’s great! Told you he’s a good guy!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. She asks about you sometimes, you know.”

“Well, tell her that I’m doing well and sending her my best wishes.”

“Will do.” Jamie and Y/n smile warmly at each other across the table.

They end up talking for hours. Jamie tells Y/n about meeting Roy for the first time, about his Richmond teammates, and (by Y/n’s demand) about Keeley. Y/n tells him crazy stories from her university years, about all the places she’s lived in before moving to London, and about the struggles of raising a teenager.

When it gets late and they walk out of the restaurant, Jamie offers to give Y/n a ride again, which she accepts this time.

Jamie stops by her place, and they exchange goodbyes. “Tell Natalie and Meli I said hi. Would love to see them some time too.”

“I’ll tell them. It was nice seeing you, Jamie,” she smiles at him.

“Yeah, you too.” Y/n reaches for the door handle when Jamie speaks up again. “Wait.” She looks back at him. “Can I ask you something?” A nod. “You knew all this stuff, like who I play for and, uh, other. How?”

Y/n huffs a laugh. “You’re not exactly a low profile person. Sometimes Nat would say something, since she was more subjected to the Premier League news… and certain reality shows.” Jamie internally cringes at the thought that Y/n’s sister has seen it too. “And I have the Internet too, you know. Got curious a couple of times, wanted to see how you’re doing, so I googled you. Pretty convenient.”

“Right.” Knowing that Y/n has thought of him over those past years too, even enough to look him up, gives Jamie the courage to ask the question that he’s dreaded hearing the answer for. “You’re not mad at me?”

“For what?” Y/n asks genuinely.

“For the way I… for how I acted back then.” Y/n understands what he means.

She doesn’t seem to share Jamie’s inner turmoil regarding the past, though. “It was a long time ago, Jamie. People fall apart, it happens.”

“But not us,” Jamie says desperately. “It was my fault. And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Y/n regards him for a moment, as if trying to figure something out, then she nods. “Okay.”

“Do you think we can be friends again?” Jamie asks hopefully.

“If you want.”

“I do!”

“You have my number,” she smiles at him one last time.

—

You sigh as you drop the keys on the hall tree and take off your shoes. You hear the noise coming from the living room, and when you walk in there, you find Amelia stretched on the couch, surrounded by a bunch of empty takeout boxes, watching TV. “Glad you’re enjoying your night,” you greet her.

“I left you a piece of cake,” she nods towards the bitten slice of cake that she clearly just couldn't finish.

“That’s so kind of you,” you say with obvious irony.

“Did you enjoy yours?” she grins at you.

“It was alright.”

“Just alright?”

You sit on the arm of the couch. “Kinda weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like when you watch the first two seasons of a show and then go straight to season twelve. The faces are familiar, but you have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

“Out of the two of us, you’re the only one who does this, but I get what you mean. Did you do a recap? You know, like a ‘previously on…’?”

“Yeah, something like that. But, you know, it’s been a while.” She nods thoughtfully. You look at the TV screen, some action movie playing there. “What are you watching?”

“Uncharted.”

“Tom Holland game movie?”

“Mhm. I can finish later, you wanna watch something together?”

“Sure, just let me go change.”

You change into your home clothes and join Amelia on the couch.

“You never said why you stopped talking. I remember he was always around, and then he just wasn’t,” she says while you’re watching the Disney+ loading screen.

“Well, I moved to Paris, and he started playing full-time. And then he just kinda… ghosted me.”

“Asshole.”

You snort. “I know, right? He apologized, actually. Didn’t expect that.”

“You’re going to see him again?” She starts scrolling through the suggested shows.

“I don’t know. Maybe. He offered us to come to a match if you want.”

“Maybe,” Amelia replies noncommittally. “The Mandalorian?” She clicks on the show’s icon.

“Yes.” You pick up the uneaten piece of cake and lean back onto the couch cushions, resting your feet on the side table. Now, that’s a man that you’re always happy to see.

A/N: writing this fic while i’m dying inside and falling behind on my uni deadlines😗✌️

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hellooo again!! i loved what you did with the dun!reader x tyler fic, it was exactly what i had imagined thank you!!:3 i’ll definitely be a regular here, you’re writing is TEWWW good not to be one 😁 id also love to be 🦝 anon if that works??

anyways id love to see an angsty fic, where reader & tyler are at an party or some sort of event and reader is spending a lot of time talking to her old childhood friend. and while tyler knows the reader would never hurt him, and that there was nothing going between reader and this guy. blurryface gets the best of him. so when they leave the party early because tyler has a “headache” and when the car ride home is nothing but silent, reader speaks up about it. and blurryface tries to argue with reader, paint her out to be this villain. but reader knows how to help tyler, she knows exactly how to save him from himself. i even if blurryface’s words hurt at first.

i hope i explained that correctly ☝️ but yeah just a angsty argument moment & once reader realizes she just has to save tyler from blurryface, she just reassures him until he’s safe.

again thank you so much for writing my request!!:) i have sooo many random ideas that id love to share with you, i truly enjoy your work soo much <3

- 🦝

Jealous - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: Blurryface, strong language (I did use swears lol), and Tyler being jealous - angst

Word Count: 2734

A/N: Hello 🦝! I'm glad you enjoyed the Dun!reader fic and thanks for coming back and requesting :) This was super fun to write bc I have an event with my guy best friend this weekend and lots of people that are going to be there haven't met him so I was able to take inspiration – hopefully it doesn't end up like this! Hope you enjoy!

We’d been planning this festival for months, 17 youth bands from Columbus, Ohio were set to play in a medium sized local venue over Saturday and I couldn’t have been more excited. Tyler had promised to  come as a guest and watch the bands. I’d asked him to have a chat with a few of the kids who I knew were fans and genuinely interested in taking their music further and into a professional sphere. 

“How’s this?” Tyler stepped out of our closet wearing a black hoodie, black jeans, and a baseball cap, doing a little spin. 

“Perfect,” I smiled, finishing my makeup in the mirror with my favorite music blasting from the speaker Tyler had installed in the ensuite bathroom for us. He fell back onto our bed, spreading out into a starfish position and staring up at the ceiling. “You look tired,” I laughed, looking at him through the mirror. 

“I am,” he responded, pulling down one of his pillows from the top of the bed. I grabbed my bag and slipped in my phone, keys, lip balm, and a comb. 

“Well you’re gonna need to wake up if you’re going to be speaking to these kids,” I said. Tyler sat up, letting out a loud groan that echoed through the bedroom. He opened his arms out to me, welcoming my presence between his knees. Resting his head against my chest, he pulled me in close enough that he was practically breathing me in. “I’m excited,” I smiled, knowing my hard work was finally paying off and that all of the kids I’d gotten to know over the last few months were getting the opportunity to showcase their art in front of people who truly understood them. 

“I’m excited for you,” he mumbled, his voice muffled through my shirt. His body heat felt comforting and the last thing I wanted was to step away. It was going to be a stressful day and any minute away from him would just make me more stressed, he was my own personal stress reliever. “We should get going,” I pulled away from his embrace and helped him onto his feet. Normally Tyler drove us places because I took control of the aux to play our shared playlist. We got into the car and almost immediately music started to flow around the car, the two of us singing as loud as we could and shimmying back and forth with the bass. The venue was about half an hour from our house and I’d gotten a couple text messages from the crew to let me know they were loading things in including camera equipment and the shared drum kit each band was going to use. We turned the corner and drove in through the back entrance, parking just to the side of the loading bay. Everywhere I looked there were people running back and forth carrying equipment and talking to the bands. It felt like just yesterday that Tyler and I were setting up for twenty one pilots’ shows together while Mark filmed everything. I missed it, I missed having a camera shoved in my face by one of my best friends–it was fun. Tyler jumped out of the car and ran over to my side, offering a hand for me and not letting go once I was down. We walked into the venue, music playing over the radio to keep everyone entertained during the long waiting hours. That was when I saw him–Luke. I stopped right there in the middle of the walkway, my breath caught in my throat. 

“Y/N?” he paused, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since high school. My heart was beating in my ribcage, the feeling vibrating throughout my body and straight into my hand, which Tyler gripped tightly. His brows furrowed as he looked at me with concern. 

“Luke?” Tyler tilted his head slightly. I let go of his hand and ran straight into Luke’s arms. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?” I gasped. 

“I thought I’d fly in and surprise you! I’ve been helping a bit behind the scenes with promotional stuff,” he looked down at me with a grin. 

“How long has it been?” Tears of joy started to well in my eyes. Luke was my best friend in elementary school, middle school, and even high school–our friendship lasting longer than 10 years. 

“Eight years Tink,” he said, ruffling my hair. ‘Tinkerbell,’ the nickname I’d adopted in middle school. I remember it like it was yesterday, the summer when our families went to Disney World together. Luke and I grew up on Disney movies and when we finally saved enough money to go to the parks we were so excited. Like the amazing friend I was, I forced Luke to stand in an hour-long line with me to meet Tinkerbell only to get heat stroke and have to step out of line. I cried and cried about how bad I felt about wasting his time but the whole time he sat by my side waiting for me to feel better before dragging me off to Walt Disney’s Haunted Mansion and forever cementing my name as ‘Tinkerbell’. 

“Sorry, Tink?” Tyler interrupted. I stepped back from Luke who chuckled. 

“Short for Tinkerbell. It’s a long story. You must be Tyler, I’ve heard so much about you,” Luke beamed, reaching a hand out to Tyler who shook it firmly. 

“Interesting, because I haven’t heard anything about you,” he mimicked sarcastically. Luke’s face dropped looking at me with confusion. He’d never come up in conversation, Luke moved out of state after high school, going to New York for business school. 

“We were friends at school,” Luke explained before looking back at me. “The kids are already here if you want to come say hi, they’re all super excited to meet Tyler.” I nodded, following him as he walked ahead. Tyler reached down and grabbed my hand strongly. Something was off, he was standing taller and felt more serious than he normally was. 

“Are you okay?” I whispered into his ear–he had to lean down to properly hear me. 

“Yep. Fine. Absolutely fine.”

“Tyler if you feel sick or something you can go home, I can stay here with Luke,” I began, rubbing the pad of my thumb against the back of his hand. 

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted. As we entered the backstage area where all the kids were he turned on a smile and went to greet everyone. The room instantly filled with cheers and squeals as he was quickly swarmed and disappeared from sight, leaving Luke and I alone. 

“Do you need any help with setting stuff up?” I asked, turning away from Tyler and trying to make myself useful. 

“Actually yeah, you could help me put together the gift baskets for the bands,” he nodded, leading me further down the hall into a dressing room full of brightly coloured baskets, bags of candy, drum sticks, guitar picks, and more gifty things. I jumped over the covered floor to a small square of carpet which was clear enough for me to stand. “So, what’s up with this Tyler guy? You told me he was chill but he was anything but that,” Luke spoke, kneeling down and grabbing a basket. He was right, Tyler was generally relaxed with the exception of a few work things with the band when he really locked in. 

“I don’t know Lou,” I ran a hand through my hair, “he normally is.” 

He shrugged and let out a sigh. “Maybe he’s jealous of my amazingness,” he bragged, fitting a pack of guitar strings next to the box of chocolates in his basket.  

“As if,” I scoffed, throwing the ring of ribbon to him. “I’m dating the frontman of one of the biggest bands on the planet and you’re… you,” I laughed as Luke placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. As Luke and I continued to fit each gift into the baskets we began to talk about the past. We reminisced on the make believe games we used to play, the popular girls in middle school who thought they were ‘all that’–who apparently these days were working at gas stations and malls–and that one time our math teacher talked about his couples therapy in class. I could barely breathe as Luke mimicked the teacher’s voice, clenching my stomach and gasping for air. 

“Oh my god, remember when he got on his knees in front of Kate and started praying for her to pass the exam?” I laughed as Luke gasped, continuing his perspective of the story. I could hear the thumping and humming of the bands playing as they started to roll out on stage–I couldn’t have been more proud. 

“What about Dylan, do you remember him?” Luke asked. We’d moved closer together as the empty baskets became perfectly full and were placed on the table I’d decided needed to be covered in pink paper.

“Shit that breakup was the worst. I was the a fucking mess,” I scoffed. Dylan was my high school boyfriend and for most of our relationship I was deeply in love with him–except for the day I caught him making out with Kathy from biology. It took me months to get over it, months of watching Disney movies and scoffing ice cream on Luke’s couch. It was so bad that our parents actually let us stay at each other’s houses. 

“I know, I was there,” Luke laughed, cutting the end of the ribbon he was tying. “I’m glad you’ve found your person though, he’s lucky to have you Tink.” Finishing another basket, I placed it on the table, finally able to move around the room as we’d finished about half of the job already. Just as I was about to go back to my spot I saw Tyler standing in the doorway. 

“Hey,” I smiled, opening my arms to him as he weaved his way around the baskets towards me. “How were the kids?” I looked up at him noticing he was picking at his hands–an anxious habit he’d formed. 

“Good,” he responded. 

“Are you okay man?” Luke asked, looking up from the bow he was tying. Tyler’s fists clenched. 

“I’ve got a headache, you know?” he gestured to his head. “I think we should head home Y/N.” I didn’t want to go home, I wanted to watch my hard work pay off and hear the music. 

“Oh I can give her a ride home after is she wan–”

“No. I–I–no,” Tyler interrupted. I stood up and interlocked my arm with his but he shrugged me off. I mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ at Luke who flashed me a sympathetic look. I hated having to leave him, I’d missed his company more than I thought I had–all of the memories flooding back in a manner of hours. 

“Okay,” I nodded, placing the basket I had just finished on the table and smiling sheepishly at Luke. Tyler walked stiffly to the door and out to the car without a word. 

“See ya Tink,” Luke waved, “I’ll text you.” 

I ran out after Tyler towards the car seeing him already sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine running. His posture was perfectly straight and expression blank. I climbed into my seat and turned to him, placing a hand on his thigh. 

“Are you okay to drive?” I asked, genuinely concerned about what was happening to him. Either he was telling the truth and had a headache or something much worse was about to happen. 

“It’s fine,” he snapped, driving out of the lot. I reached for the aux cable to plug my phone in, hoping some music would help him feel better–it usually did. “Don’t. Please,” he spoke, his hands gripping hard onto the wheel. I nodded and sat in silence the rest of the way home, staring out the window. As each building passed us I felt worse and worse, an ever expanding pit of anxiety forming in my throat. Tyler didn’t say a word but as we got closer and closer to home he would occasionally let out a groan or wince of pain. We wheeled into the driveway and came to a stop, Tyler jumping out of the car and running into the house. Immediately I chased after him, catching the front door as he attempted to slam it. 

“Tyler!” I shouted, causing him to stop and look at me. His eyes were red–bright red. Fuck. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he snapped, raising his arms to cover his head. He was trying to hide Blurryface from me. 

“Blurry come on. Talk to me,” I said. 

“I don’t need to hear you talk about him. I don’t want to hear you talk about him. You ditched me the whole day to hang out with him,” he started a path of no return, we were going to have that conversation.

“Tyl–We–He’s…We’re not…” I tried to explain it but couldn’t get my words out.

“Save it Y/N. I saw the way he looked at you, the way you hugged him. God you’re such a slut,” he seethed. My jaw dropped. The same words high school bullies spat at me were coming from the mouth of the person I love the most–the person who I’d decided to spend my life with. 

“You’re awful,” I sniffled. 

“And you’re not?” he continued to push, his eyes glowing brighter than before. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to unleash hell on him but it wasn’t Tyler speaking and I knew anything I did to Blurryface would just hurt Tyler more than he already was hurting. 

“He’s gay,” I blurted. “He’s gay, there is nothing going on between us and there never has.” I wiped the tears falling from my face. It wasn’t my thing to tell him, Luke was out and everyone who knew him knew he was gay–in fact even those who didn’t know him could seem to tell. Almost instantly Tyler’s eyes turned from the flaring fiery red to a bloodshot brown, his shoulders falling. 

“What?” I could tell he felt awful, the buildup of guilt obvious on his face. 

“I said, he’s gay, and there isn’t and never has been anything going on between us. He’s my friend Tyler.” He held his hand in front of his mouth, shaking violently. 

“Oh my god. I’m awful, I–I called you a–” he started to bawl and I pulled him in close. 

“It wasn’t you Ty. It’s okay, it’s okay,” I hummed, rubbing my hand up and down his back and tears streamed down his face. Tyler buried his face into my shoulder, his body trembling with every sob.

 “I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it,” he choked out, his voice cracking.

“I know, baby. I know,” I whispered softly, keeping my arms wrapped tightly around him. My heart ached seeing him like this, so consumed by Blurryface’s anger and his own self-hatred.

“I can’t believe I let him do that… I can’t believe I said that to you. I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating, guilt lacing every word. I pulled back just enough to see his face, placing my hands gently on either side of his cheeks. 

“Tyler, listen to me. That wasn’t you. I know you, and you would never say those things. I’m not angry at you. I just want to help you through this.” His eyes, still red and puffy, searched mine, like he was desperately trying to believe my words but couldn’t let go of his shame. 

“But I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. I shook my head gently. 

“I’m okay. I’m here, aren’t I? I love you, Tyler. Nothing he says, nothing Blurryface does, can change that.” He let out another shaky breath, his forehead resting against mine. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that. You deserve all the love in the world, and I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you believe it,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. For a moment, we stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of everything starting to lift, even if just a little. Tyler’s breathing slowly steadied, his tears drying as he leaned into my touch.

“We’ll get through this, Ty. Together.”

He nodded, his voice still raw. “Together.”

//

Requests open!

[danydragons21]

TSTS Chapter 29: The Day Court Pt. 1

Read on ao3 here.

Chapter 29: The Day Court Part 1

The moment they arrived at the Day Court, an attendant approached her. “Lady Archeron, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the first of our libraries so you may begin your…research project,” the attendant finished uncertainly.

“The first of your libraries?” Elain repeated, the barest hint of incredulity ringing in her voice. “How many are there?” 

“Hundreds,” a booming voice responded. Elain glanced up to see Helion striding down the sweeping staircase of the entrance hall, a broad smile on his face. He gave Feyre a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to the Day Court, all of you,” he beamed. “I was excited to hear you would be coming to visit.”

“Sorry - did you say you have hundreds of libraries?” Lucien asked. 

“Yes,” Helion replied. “Some larger than others, of course…but yes, hundreds. Most are organized by topic or the century in which they were written. Do you have any guidance on the information you are hoping to find? Perhaps then we can direct you to the most likely library that will contain that information.”

Elain blinked. “Um…to be honest, I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for,” she confessed. “I had a vision, you see, in one of your libraries. It had dark mahogany wood and huge, arching windows and intricate gold detailing and-”

“That sounds like the Hall of the Hallowed,” interrupted Helion. “One of our largest collections, located in one of our tallest towers. It primarily contains books about curses, spells and hexes throughout the last few millennia.” 

“All that fun stuff,” Lucien muttered under his breath. 

Helion clapped his hands together and gestured at the attendant. “Finneal here can take the three of you to the Hall at once.”

“Actually, Helion, I was hoping to speak to you in private,” Feyre said.

“Were you now?” Helion asked, a tone of surprise in his voice.

It mimicked Elain’s own. Hadn’t Feyre said that she had business to attend to with the Day Court? If so, why wouldn’t Helion have been aware of this business beforehand? Was it “secret” business, and if so, why would Feyre not fill Elain and Lucien in?

Before she could contemplate on it any further, the attendant beckoned to them. Elain looked questioningly at her sister.

“I will catch up with you later,” Feyre promised. Maybe she was imagining it, but the High Lady’s face looked rather pale. 

Feeling like she was missing something important, but not sure what else she could do, Elain simply nodded and let the attendant lead her and Lucien down a spacious hallway. 

***

A common misconception about Azriel was that he liked being alone.

He was the Spymaster, after all, a position that required him to spend hours and hours on end in solitude, and so others often assumed that this seclusion was something he enjoyed - or, at the very least, found pleasantly comfortable. Add in his quiet voice, rather shy nature and inability to express his emotions in a robust way, and everyone simply thought he’d prefer to be alone than in the company of his chosen family and friends. 

But none of that was accurate. In fact, it was the very opposite that held true: Azriel hated being alone. 

He despised it, the quiet. The silence. The suffocating weight of solitude. 

If his childhood had taught him anything, it was the damning power of isolation. Half his youth was spent in the cellar beneath his father’s home, ensconced in darkness, with no one to talk to but himself. So Azriel knew only too well how dangerous loneliness could be; knew how it could twist your sanity and warp reality and build your desperation to cataclysmic levels. 

He was about five years old when his shadows first appeared to him. He still cannot explain why one day they were just there, as much a part of him as his limbs, like they had been there all along. And maybe they had; Az would be the first to claim that he did not fully understand the ins and outs of shadowsinging. But he had long harbored a secret belief that his shadows came as a result of his intense loneliness, of his desperate desire for someone to speak to during the endless hours in that wretched basement. The shadows heard his call for companionship - and they answered.

Now, no matter where he goes, he is never alone. He is never faced with deafening silence, not when his shadows are there to whisper to him. 

But when things get too quiet, his uneasiness returns - such as now, as he roams the strangely hushed halls of the Mortal Manor alone, his shadows swirling around him but not uttering a sound. 

Shortly after Elain and Feyre had left for the Day Court (Vanserra clutching the elder sister’s hand as they winnowed away like he had any goddamn right to, Azriel thought angrily), Rhys, Nesta and Cassian had departed as well, returning to Velaris. 

Rhys and Nesta had both tried to insist that Cassian wait a few more days before participating in something as risky as winnowing, but Cassian would have none of it. Truthfully, they didn’t have much basis for an argument: Cassian was healthier than ever, Elain’s powers having cured him entirely and wholly. Not that the others knew that last part, of course.

If he and Elain were on good terms - if hadn’t fucked things up so badly - he would have sat her down and advised her to share the extent of her powers with the rest of their court. He would promise to respect whatever decision she made, of course, and he would never threaten or coerce her into it, but after Cassian’s “miraculous” recovery, he knew it was only a matter of time before Elain’s powers were revealed entirely. And he knew that it was incredibly important that the reveal be on her terms, not anyone else's. 

As it was, though, Azriel was still trying to sort through the last mess he’d made and was thus disinclined to dig his grave any deeper. 

A shadow swept over his collarbone in agitation. He frowned slightly, trying to listen, trying to hear what worried his wispy little friend, but all he heard was an incomprehensible buzzing. 

He froze in mid-step. Glanced at the window to his left, where the last tendrils of sunlight had just disappeared behind the sweeping hills. Night had arrived, and so Vassa’s curse must have ended - until the sun returned, at least. And she had none of her friends here to greet her. To comfort her. 

Another common misconception about Azriel was that he was cold and aloof and uncaring. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Months ago, Elain had referred to his stoic persona as a mask - and she was exactly right. He’d spent 500 years not knowing how to properly display emotions, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them. Didn’t feel them. He felt them so deeply, so profoundly, that sometimes he thought they might just drown him. 

So he shoved them away before they could. 

But today…today, he would not do that. Shadows in tow, Azriel spun around, heading for the Queen’s Quarters.

***

“I can’t read another word,” Lucien said. “I think I might be going blind.”

“That’s very dramatic,” Elain said, only half paying attention to him as she diligently scanned the book in her hands.

Lucien groaned even more dramatically. His head dropped to the table with a resounding thud. “How are we supposed to find something important when we don’t even know what we are looking for?” 

A small huff of frustration passed through her lips. This was not the first time he’d asked Elain that question - and, just like the past four times, she had no answer for him.

They’d been in the library for at least 6 hours now. Stacks of books lay haphazardly across the table; even taller stacks were piled around them, lingering evidence of the many fruitless searches they’d experienced. Feyre still had yet to join them, and if Elain had any spare room in her head, she would have wondered why it was taking her sister so long.

Elain rubbed her temples. “I don’t know,” she replied finally. “I don’t know what we’re looking for, I don’t know what we’re doing here, I just don’t know, okay?” The last word came out sharper than she meant for it to.

“I need to walk around for a moment,” she said after a few moments, intentionally keeping her voice level. “I’ll be back.”

Without looking at Lucien, she slid out of her chair. Her legs felt like lead after sitting for so long, and her movements were stiff at first. Thankfully, her surroundings were more than enough to distract her.

The Hall of the Hallowed was even more marvelous than her vision had led her to believe. The ceiling was so high she could not even make it out; sweeping staircases with banisters made of multi-colored marble circled the space, each leading to a different level; the setting sun streamed through crystal windows, brilliant in a way only Day Court sun could be. If Elain wasn’t mistaken - and since her Fae vision was virtually perfect, she must be correct - the tapestries artfully placed between the shelves were woven with actual gold, and the effect from the sun sparkling against the material was nothing short of glorious. 

As the sun set entirely, the iron-wrought candelabras became illuminated, guiding Elain as she made her way up a small staircase and onto a new level of the Hall. She began weaving aimlessly through a new maze of shelves, picking out books at random in the hope that one of them would provide her with the unknown information she sought - the information that, she was starting to dread, might never be found. At least not in time.

At least half-an-hour later, she came to the end of the section. It was significantly darker over here, the books older and dustier. A strange but not altogether unpleasant feeling gathered at the base of her belly. 

It was then that she heard the voice.

It was the same voice that had spoken to her that night in Pentalos - the night she’d slaughtered all those soldiers; the night her powers had transcended beyond understanding, beyond reason. She still didn’t know how she’d done it. But she knew that she trusted that voice. Knew that listening to it then was one of the best decisions she’d ever made - and so why would she ignore it now?

See, the voice said, only to her. It was clear as a bell and yet rang with echoing cacophony at the same time, like a thousand ancestors were speaking to her at once, their voices lapping over each other like waves upon the shore.

Anticipation sparked through her veins. She began picking books off the shelf at random, flipping through them feverishly. 

See, the voice instructed again. Elain snapped the book she held shut and continued down the aisle. Clearly what she was supposed to find - what she was supposed to see - was further down the aisle. 

Her head swiveled back and forth as her gaze oscillated between shelves, looking for that something, waiting for that feeling of rightness to swim through her. But she felt nothing.

What am I supposed to see? She thought back desperately. 

You are looking, but you are not seeing. 

Her steps quickened as she strode down the aisle.

See, the voice said, louder than before. 

Instinctively, Elain’s eyes latched onto a volume at the end of the row. It was sticking out just a touch further than the rest of its bookmates. Silvery script danced down the dark indigo spine, spelling out a title in a language Elain didn’t recognize. 

The voice in her head had gone quiet, but it didn’t matter. This book was the one she was supposed to find, she knew it, knew it like she knew flowers and soil and growth. 

She reached out to grab the book. 

However, as she began to slide it off the shelf, the strangest thing happened. The book - and it felt strangely light, oddly hollow - wouldn’t come off the shelf. Not fully. She was only able to tip the upper part of it backward. 

And then, to her utter amazement, the shelf itself opened ever so slightly, revealing a thin gap. A chilly draft blew out of it.

A hidden passageway.

She let out a loud gasp. Mere seconds later, footsteps sounded behind her; she spun around to find Lucien staring at the newly-revealed doorway, his eyes wide as saucers. He must have heard her sound of surprise from the floor below and raced up to see what had shocked her so much.

“Holy gods,” Lucien said faintly. Elain nodded in agreement. 

“We have to see where this goes,” she said.

Lucien made a noise under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. 

“Come on,” she said, not bothering to wait for a response before slipping through the thin entryway the bookshelf had revealed. 

Quite unlike the rest of the Day Court, the passageway was formed entirely of roughly hewn stone. A drafty chill permeating the air. 

“We shouldn’t be in here,” Lucien said, appearing behind her, just like Elain knew he would. 

He was right. A secret passageway was, in its very nature, not meant to be found. But she found that she did not care all too much.

“Are you coming or not?” she asked Lucien, sending a pointed glance over her shoulder. The determined glow in her eyes was both an invitation and a challenge. 

He sighed in defeat.

“Lead the way,” he said.

***

The Queen’s Quarters was not nearly as opulent as Azriel would have expected. Instead of ornate grandeur, the wing was full of soft, muted colors and plush carpets and interconnected, dimly-lit rooms. It was like a den. Like a home.

The attendant had been weary to let him in, but somehow he’d managed to sweet talk his way through the door. Or perhaps his shadows had simply frightened the mortal into submission. 

Well done, he told his shadows silently. They started swirling around him excitedly, pleased with the praise. The corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly.

He rounded the corner, coming to yet another room. The only light here came from a low burning fire. On a couch facing the fireplace lay the Mortal Queen, curled up on her side, red hair splayed around her. She was not sleeping though; Azriel could see her wide-open eyes reflecting against the firelight. 

Azriel made sure she could hear his footsteps as he approached. Without looking up, she said, “For the last time, Cartsen, I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” 

The queen sounded anything but fine. She sounded dull and lifeless and monotone, so unlike the vibrant voice of the Vassa he knew. 

He cleared his throat. “Hello.”

Vassa sat up and eyed him. “Oh. Hello,” she said with a hint of dignity, sounding slightly more like her regal self. She brought a hand up to pat down her tousled hair.  “I wasn’t expecting visitors tonight.”

“I’m sorry for dropping by unexpectedly.”

“That’s alright.”

They stared at each other. 

“Is there something you wanted?” Vassa asked after a moment. 

Azriel hesitated. This was unknown territory for him, comforting a female he’d never spent time with alone, and he didn’t want to navigate it incorrectly. Didn’t want to take a wrong turn and make things worse. 

What would Elain do? he thought. Well, she would probably know just the right thing to say, and she would make Vassa feel perfectly at ease, and they would cry and laugh and the queen would feel just absolutely wonderful by the end. But he wasn’t Elain, and he never would be.

Maybe the better question to ask was what would Elain tell me to do? Well, that was easy. He could almost hear her now, the sweet and steady cadence of her voice a melody in his ear. Just be yourself, she would say. Just be Azriel.

He shrugged. “Nothing in particular.” 

Vassa cocked her head to the side ever-so-slightly. “Oh?”

He shook his head. “Nah.” With an exaggerated sigh, he plopped down on the sofa across from her. “I was just wandering the halls, bored out of my mind and I thought, well, hanging out with you would be slightly more pleasant than hanging out with just my shadows. No offense, guys,” he said hastily as his shadows buzzed angrily around him. Just go with it, he told them silently.

Vassa’s mouth was agape. “Excuse me?” she choked out. A hint of anger blazed in her blue eyes. 

Hiding his satisfaction, he just nodded. “Yep.  I saw the sun setting and I realized that you would have shed your feathers by now, and since no one else was around, I thought you might want to hang out.”

“Shed my feathers?!” she repeated with a hiss, teeth bared. 

This time, he grinned at her. 

She sat back, her angry expression fading, although her eyes were still narrowed. “You’re winding me up,” she accused.

“You’re too smart to be wound up,” he replied. 

She snorted.

“And you have too many responsibilities to let a slight obstacle like this keep you down,” he added, a bit more quietly.

She blinked. 

He blinked back. 

Then she chuckled, rising and shaking back her long tresses. She crossed to the other side of the room and poured them both a glass of whiskey. 

She held out the tumbler. If Azriel wasn't mistaken, there was a new light in her eyes, brilliant and bold and something like hope. “You know, Shadowsinger,” she said, “You’re a bit of a softy.”

He took the drink. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold, after all.” 

The red-haired queen inclined her head. “As do I.” 

Azriel tipped his glass toward hers. “To reputations,” he said. 

She clinked her glass with his. “To reputations.” 

They both downed their glasses in one heavy gulp.

*** 

Elain and Lucien walked for at least 30 minutes before either of them spoke. 

“I don’t like this,” the red-haired male said through his teeth, eyes darting around. 

Truth be told, neither did Elain. The passageway had hit a sharp southward decline about halfway through their trek. At this point, they must be below the ground floor of the castle, level with the dungeons; perhaps even lower for all she knew.

It was pitch black, and though she could see fine with her Fae eyes, the mere knowledge that they were walking in all-encompassing darkness - that anything could be lurking around the corner in wait - made her rather anxious. But her curiosity outweighed her nerves, and her unshakeable confidence in the journey’s inevitable answers gave her courage, so she continued down the path.

A sudden cracking sound had her jumping nearly a foot in the air. Elain blinked as light filled the corridor. 

“Sorry,” Lucien murmured. His left hand was raised slightly; floating above the center of his palm was a twisting, curling flame. 

“That’s okay,” she said, heart thundering in her chest. She nodded at the flame. “Thanks.”

The pair walked for another ten minutes or so, not encountering anything noteworthy except for a few rats - Lucien let out a terrified and ironically rat-like squeak when one skittered over his foot, which she found rather funny - before they came across an old wooden door. There was the faintest light pulsing through the cracks beneath and above it; an unnaturally golden light, brilliant and magnetic. 

They shared a wary glance. But when Elain looked back at the door, taking in the strangely pleasant golden light, a sense of calm washed over her like a summer rainshower. The light called to her the same way the voice did, enticing her forward, roping her in.

She managed to take a step forward before Lucien gripped her forearm. 

“Hold on a minute,” he said seriously. “You don’t know what you’re walking into, Elain. We need to discuss this before we go barging into some hidden lair beneath the foundation of the godsdamn Day Court -”

“I am meant to go through that door, and I am meant to meet whoever exists beyond it,” she said earnestly. Urgently. There was no time to waste, no time to argue; how did he not understand? 

“Whoever exists?” Lucien repeated incredulously. His mechanical eye whirred in its metal socket. 

“There is a presence inside that room,” Elain confirmed. “There is someone beyond that door that I am supposed to meet. And I know in my gut - in my soul - that it will do us no harm.” She believed what she was saying entirely. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that presence was of no threat to them. 

She lifted her chin. “Are you coming or not?” Without waiting for an answer, she approached the door and twisted the knob. The door opened on silent hinges.

Elain was right - there was someone behind the door. 

It was a female. She was sitting at a desk, facing away from them and poring over a large volume, muttering to herself while furiously scribbling notes on a sheaf of paper. There was no other furniture in the room beside the desk and chair, but the walls did have nooks carved out in the stone. Each nook was filled with books and a few dimly-burning candles. There were even more books on the floor, stacked neatly in towering piles throughout the cavern-like space. 

In the time it took Elain to take in her surroundings, the female had stopped writing. Slowly, she stood up and turned.

It was a priestess - or something like it. A Day Court priestess, Elain presumed, not only because of where they were but because of the signature glow that seemed to emanate from the depths of her rich and dark skin, the inherent golden ambiance that all Day Court residents seemed to carry. There were other significant differences between this female and the other priestesses she had met, as well. Instead of a soft blue gemstone, the shining circlet on her brow held a brilliantly-bright garnet; her robes were pure white instead of blue-gray; she wore no shoes on her narrow, delicate feet. 

Most telling was that she was not - could not - be Fae. At least not entirely. Elain could tell that the second she laid eyes on the priestess’ face. There was something otherworldly about her, and Elain was reminded of another non-Fae immortal who she knew; like Amren, this female was made of something different than the rest of them. 

The priestess-like figure spread her arms.

“Lady Archeron,” she said in a soft, melodious voice, inclining her head slightly. 

“Hello,” Elain breathed back. “How do you know my name?”

“I know many things, child.” The female’s eyes swept over Elain before flicking to Lucien. “Lord Lucien,” she said, her eyes shining with sudden emotion. “You are very welcome here.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Thank you,” Lucien said finally, a hint of discomfort in his tone. 

After smiling brilliantly at Lucien for an extended moment, the priestess turned her attention back to Elain.

“Seer. Kingslayer. Life-Maker. You have many names, Lady Archeron. I wonder, which do you prefer?”

“Elain,” she replied. “Just Elain.”

The female made a humming noise. “So humble. So powerful.” She cocked her head to the side. “So small,” she observed.

“I’m not that small,” Elain said defensively.

“You’re certainly not tall, though,” Lucien added in an undertone. She shot him a scowl.

“I knew you would come to see me,” the priestess told Elain, continuing as if neither of them had said a word. “I have been waiting for you.”

“How could you know that?” Elain asked. “I didn’t even know this passageway existed until an hour ago.”

“I did not know how you would find me,” the female clarified. “I just knew you would.”

“We’re going to need more of an explanation than that,” Lucien said. 

“Because to know is my gift.” She straightened up, onyx ringlets falling to her waist. “I am Isira, a Flame-Keeper of the Day Court.”

“Flame-Keeper,” Lucien repeated suspiciously. “How is that possible? Fire is a gift of the Autumn Court.”

“Calm yourself, Lord Lucien,” she said kindly. “These hands hold no fire power. The Flame that I protect is much more important than that.”

“What is this Flame you speak of?” Elain asked.

Isira crossed the room and picked up a book off the floor. She handed it to her. 

“Open it.”

She did. And then she blinked. 

“But there’s nothing here,” she said, nonplussed. 

“Yes, there is,” Isira replied.

Elain frowned. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”

“This is no joke, Lady Elain. You may not see anything when you look at these pages,” said Isira, “but I do. Only I and the other Keepers are entrusted with the knowledge in these books, and so only we can see them.” 

“Is that how you knew I was coming?” Elain asked. “From one of these invisible-worded books?”

“No, child. I knew because the Voices told me.”

“The Voices,” Elain echoed, exchanging a wary glance with Lucien.

“Yes. The Voices of Before.”

“Like…ghosts?” Lucien asked. Maybe it was the way the candlelight bounced against him, but he looked paler than usual.

“Yes. And no,” Isira responded. “My gift - and the gift of all Flame Keepers - is to know the Past.”

“How much of the Past do you know?” Lucien questioned. 

“Why, as much as we want,” the priestess said. “You see, the past, unlike the future, is solid. Stagnant. Permanent. It has already been carved into stone. 

“But so much of our past is told only in partiality - those in power, those who win wars, those who conquer - those are the ones who are allowed to write history as they wish, and often, they write it to present themselves in the best light. Often, they do not tell history as it truly happened, and so the integrity of the past is threatened.

“That is why we exist. That is why us Keepers are so important to the balance of the universe. We alone possess the truth of the past. We alone hold the knowledge of yore. We alone remember.”

“But how is that possible?” Elain asked, her eyes wide. “How can a single person know everything that has ever happened?”

Isira burst out laughing, the sound light and tinkling. “Dear child, I must not be explaining correctly. Keepers do not hold all the world’s knowledge within ourselves - but we can access it whenever we wish.”

“The Voices of Before,” Lucien murmured.

The Keeper nodded. “Exactly. Whenever we wish to learn something new - which is always, since us Keepers have an innate and unquenchable thirst for knowledge - we merely ask the Voices of Before to share with us. Sometimes they speak to us directly; sometimes they provide it to us in a book that only we can read.” She gestured vaguely to the hundreds of tomes stacked behind her, presumably with pages as blank as what she’d shown Elain. 

“Oftentimes they share with us knowledge that we did not request. That we were not even aware existed.” Isira looked steadily at Elain. “It was approximately two and a half years ago that one of the Voices of Before spoke to me about you, Lady Elain.”

Approximately two and a half years ago, Elain had recently been thrown into the cauldron. Had lost her humanity. Her heart twisted of its own accord. 

��The Voice told me of a mortal female who was recently turned Fae. It told me how the transformation occurred. It told me that when the Cauldron took her into its liquidy grasp, it  found her so lovely and purehearted and honorable that it gifted her powers beyond measure.”

Elain felt her composure begin to slip as memories of that evening clouded her head. But then Isira spoke again, and the clear, quiet voice steadied her.

“And most importantly, the Voice told me that this had happened before.”

It felt like the world stopped moving for a moment. “What?” Elain finally breathed out. “What do you mean this has happened before?”

But Isira was shaking her head. “I cannot say,” she said, “I do not know. The Voices did not share that with me. But they did tell me this: That which you seek is closer than you think.”

Lucien groaned under his breath. “Another godsdamn riddle.” 

“That which I seek…,” Elain murmured to herself. “That which I seek…” Her head shot up. There was only one thing she was seeking, truly, only one thing that would put this entire mess to an end.

“Koschei’s soul,” she said, eyes wide. “Please. You must tell me where it is.”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Then ask the Voices to tell you!” Elain begged. “If this has happened before, if this is a repeat of the past, then they will know what we should do now. They might even know exactly where Koschei’s soul is. Please, please ask them.”

But Isira was shaking her head. “The Voices would not tell me more. It is not their place to say, nor is it mine to ask again. Just remember, Lady Elain, to watch closely. Watch those around you. The answers you seek are right in front of you. You are nearly there.” 

Elain had never felt more frustrated in her entire life, and that included her complicated feelings toward both the crimson-haired male beside her and the hazel-eyed Illyrian warrior back at the Mortal Manor. She was about to start begging again when Isira suddenly shifted her attention to Lucien.

“Lord Lucien, there is something you must know as well,” she said seriously. “About the truth of your origins.”

The youngest Vanserra brother took a surprised step back. “What do you mean?” he asked, a fearful gleam in his wide eyes.

Isira owned her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, the floor started to rumble, dust filling the cavern as the rocky interior trembled viciously. Instinctively, Elain clutched Lucien’s wrist; he wrapped an arm around her waist. 

“What’s happening?” she yelled in terror. 

But her question was deemed unnecessary as the shaking immediately ceased. The dust in the room was replaced with a nearly-blinding luminescent glow. Then, after a few seconds, Lord Helion strode out of that glow.

The priestess fell to her knees and bowed her head. “High Lord, please forgive me,” she said, rocking back and forth. “The Voices asked me to share. Please understand.” 

The High Lord merely said, “I’ll speak with you later, Isira,” in a low, dangerous voice, refusing to take his gaze off of Elain and Lucien. His usual friendly and convivial face was twisted in fury.

“How dare you take advantage of my hospitality? How dare you trespass in the Caverns of the Keepers?” he snarled.

Elain’s grip on Lucien’s wrist tightened. They were in deep, deep shit.

Tagging: @sakurakittypeach @shedoessoshedoes @courtofjurdan @lesolehabitantdelalune @suntoksabuwan @sweet-pea1 @ireneherondale24 @supernaturallynerdy @dreaming-of-azriel @bookstaninthesoul @cuppamelia @fawnandshadows @offtorivendell @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nikethestatue @reverie-tales @nyaxxe @casuallivi @protectorofvel @briar-reads @creatureofnightmares @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @gracie-rosee @cntrol @magnolia-blossom87 @ela-ivp @potassium-boron @freepandahugs @karomdr-blog @athena-85 @justreallybored

LMK if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

[independcnt]

another sae-byeok winner au thing i wrote, sort of pride month inspired bc there’s some lesbian introspection, but its mostly just Sad and Depressing(tm).  word count: 928

“nuna?”

sae-byeok, hands rising from murky water to dry another ceramic plate, hums lightly in response from her place at the kitchen sink.

“who’s ... ji-yeong?” her brother asks, with uncharacteristic hesitation.

it is only by virtue of her quick hands that sae-byeok knocks a glass off the counter and clumsily catches it before it can shatter on the floor. her hands shake, even after she sets it down. “how do you know that name?” she questions, harsh. harsher than she’s ever been with cheol. guilt needles uncomfortably in sae-byeok’s chest as she turns away from the sink to look at him, even if she’d rather not see the hurt in his eyes right now.

“you were talking in your sleep last night,” he says, looking down at his plate, not trying to avoid sae-byeok’s gaze but doing a pretty good job of it anyway. “again.”

it’s pathetic. makes sae-byeok feel sopping wet with humiliation to be caught muttering someone’s name in her sleep, some girl’s name like a lovesick teenager. “she’s—” no one. not anymore. but sae-byeok could never say that out loud, those words too heavy to ever rise up her throat. was half an hour of trading secrets enough to make them friends? it felt like they were ... something more. something sae-byeok doesn’t have a word for. but if there is a word for it, then surely ji-yeong would know. 

but because ji-yeong is dead, gone, sae-byeok will have to go through the rest of her life trying to find that word without ever speaking of it.

“you ever kiss anyone? or didn’t they do that up north?” it’s easy to imagine the smirk ji-yeong’s wearing, roguish and teasing, like one of them wasn’t about to have their brains blown out by the end of the hour.

“i never felt that way about the boys my age,” sae-byeok dismisses, quickly, massaging the knuckles of her fingers to give her hands something to do.

she hears ji-yeong snort behind her. “i wasn’t talking about boys,” she says, like it should’ve been obvious.

sae-byeok looks up, confused. even more confused than she was before ji-yeong explained mojitos and tequila sunrises.

ji-yeong’s smile begins to fall before returning, that mischief coming back with a vengeance. as impish as it is, it’s a good smile. a great smile, even. “you’ve never thought about girls that way?”

sae-byeok looks away when she feels the tips of her ears start to burn, face getting hot like they really are sitting under the scorching evening sun. like it was nothing at all, with just a single question, ji-yeong managed to chip away at walls and rubble to reveal this long-ignored truth, one sae-byeok always refused to uncover. 

she has thought. fleeting thoughts sae-byeok turned from, avoiding them in favor of focusing on the things that really mattered: her family, and getting them back together. it would be too selfish to entertain those thoughts, the ones that arose when deok-su’s girls came around wearing too little clothing and showing too much skin, or when the young woman ringing up her takeout order smiled at her too brightly, or even when memories from her youth resurfaced, ones of her closest childhood friend teaching her how to cartwheel, holding hands and smoothing hair as they ran inside from recess. there was too much guilt surrounding those thoughts, unable to pay any mind to them when her love life should be the absolute least of her concerns.

could she admit it now, though? speak aloud these things she refused to acknowledge for so long because it feels like this is the only time she ever can? ji-yeong was right, after all. it doesn’t matter what we tell each other. no one can really be embarrassed anymore. if there ever was a time to talk about it, it would be now.  

her silence is hard, immovable. like it’s an answer of its own.

ji-yeong gives a low whistle from behind her, shuffling in such a way that sae-byeok imagines her leaning forward, chin on palm and wearing that vaguely amused expression she sometimes wears. “you walk around looking like that and really expect people not to know?” she mumbles under her breath, more to herself than anything.

and sae-byeok ... she wanted to know what ji-yeong meant by that, and why she asked in the first place, but time was running out and there were too many other things to talk about, to find out about the other girl, all while the certainty of death hung overhead, trying and failing to drive a wedge between them. it’s a moment sae-byeok returns to more often than she should, thinking about a dead girl and what she wanted from her, why ji-yeong ended up  ... doing what she did.

how had ji-yeong known about—? 

the plate clatters loudly onto the drying rack.

had ji-yeong wanted to—?

a glass this time, colliding with another so roughly sae-byeok should probably check for damage.

if she didn’t, then why would she—?

“finish your dinner. we can talk about this later.” her tone is clipped, and not convincing. cheol will remember she said the same thing about this new, fully-furnished apartment. we can talk about this later. said it about the suitcases of money in the closet, and the whereabouts of their mother and father too. and if cheol has noticed the pattern, then he doesn’t make it known, returning to his meal and only casting the occasional worried glance at his sister’s back, desperate for some way to reach her.

[soviet-siscon]

Looking at that ask I sent again I'm not sure if "how my romantic and sexual feelings developed through childhood" might've been a bit misleading, like if you thought I was talking more specifically about how the feeligs for my sister/cousins developed, when I actually did mean literally how I've experienced All Romance since I was a kid— that said if that's true then you can just delete this ask ig, I just worry bc it's easy for me to ramble a lot when I get going and it takes effort to be concise, so I'm always wary of tmi-ing people. Come to think of it that might be like. I might be slightly excessively nervous about that. Trauma response? Who knows.

I also like, before I saw the post that made me send that I had been thinking about writing an essay that I would never put anywhere all about my feelings and opinions about incest and the way it's treated in society and the experience of growing up the way I did, and so when I was typing that I kinda on autopilot started putting a bunch of that in there and then was like "wait, I don't really wanna put my personal as-of-yet unwritten essay anonymously in someone's inbox on tumblr.com, even if it's soviet-siscon." This is a second long paragraph that isn't just telling you what you wanted to hear (and what I would very much like to tell someone bc I can't talk about this shit hardly anywhere). I just woke up like a half an hour to an hour ago from not sleeping very well and I'm in a weird mood. By the time I finish this it will have been at least another half hour bc I will take excuses to talk extensively about my life and if you don't wanna see it you can delete it.

So like one of my earliest memories is telling a cousin my age that when I grew up I wanted to marry her. (It was at night, all our siblings were in the room and I asked them to cover their ears so I could tell her a secret. They did not do that and I decided I didn't care anyway.) I was young enough that no one really took it seriously, I can't imagine parents didn't know, but I don't remember them saying anything. I don't remember everything bc it was a very long time ago but I think I frequently made her feel uncomfortable when we played. During that same period of time, my family switched churches, and a girl there showed me around and introduced me to people and told me what a "crush" was, and I promptly got one of those on her and told her about it. This time I'd developed a sense I should keep it a secret, but she didn't. The one time I wasn't fast enough to shush her before she spilled it was the time my cousins were visiting my church and my cousin apparently, despite not reciprocating at all previously, started crying bc I'd told her she was the one I would marry when I grew up, and she ran off and I chased her for a bit trying to help before realizing it was no use and letting her be alone... In hindsight I imagine to adults it would've looked like very childish drama but also it was like. Really bad, and I think the same situation would be really bad for an adult too. I felt awful and deeply internalized for many years that when you like two girls at once, that's trouble.

This was unfortunate because the way my brain works I get very attached to people very quickly once I trust them, and the part of my brain that picks crushes simply has never cared even a little bit how many people it's already picked. It also has never cared even a little bit whether I am related to the person. So I spent a long time as a kid being in various states of denial over the crush-like(?) feelings I had for Every Girl. And I was homeschooled, (like, with a group that meant I took classes taught by parents out of young earth creationist textbooks and attended by other homeschooled kids once a week,) so while I wasn't completely socially isolated, (there were the once a week classes, church, smth best described here as a youth group, the library had a teen program once a week, etc.,) I spent a lot of time with family as a kid. So, Mom and my sister, cousins, (although mostly That cousin, after the Incident I told her to forget I had ever told her that thing about the marriage, which as a child seemed a perfectly reasonable solution and we never talked about it again,) aunts, my mom's cousin and her kids had some presence in my young life and I remember her commenting on how cuddly I was...

So like growing up there was never a time when I didn't feel embarrassment and shame in association with any acknowledgement that I even could experience romance, and that kinda fucked me up! I also remember hearing for the first time that some gay people aren't doing it on purpose to spite god and are actually accidentally gay, and started worrying about whether I was gay before consoling myself by concentrating on how much I really liked looking at boobs. I then got a crush on a guy and was in denial about it. I remember specifically thinking "The way I feel about this guy... Is really similar to how I feel about this girl I have a crush on... Do I actually not have a crush on her???"

To this day I feel like if almost anyone asks me directly if I have a crush on them, (assuming I wanted to be honest with them,) the answer is mostly gonna be me trying desperately to say "I dunno" in a way that won't make them assume the answer is "yes but I don't want to admit it". It's relatively simple to decide if I wanna have sex with someone, but a crush... I mean, really I'd have sex with a lot of people given the opportunity, I feel like if I say "yes I have a crush on you bc I am sexually attracted to you" that's not actually giving them much information. But also like if someone asked that and I just said no without mentioning I had beat my meat thinking about them that would feel dishonest I think. I mean that's what I'd probably do realistically but that's not the point.

This is where I sometimes get confused looking at your blog actually- you're ace, and I just can't even fathom what the feelings are you're describing if it's not fundamentally based on "like looking at this person, want to fuck"? Especially since you're posting specifically about fucking them? I don't think I'm aro at all, but I am very confused about what people are describing as "romance" and what feelings in me are supposed to correspond to saying I feel romance for someone. This is despite my whole life being unable to escape what's definitely romance at least sometimes, bc I've definitely gotten obsessed with some people. Maybe I think romance is a social construct and no one feels a discrete emotion corresponding one to one with that particular form of attachment. Idk.

It's kinda calmed down over the years, fortunately. I don't feel this way about most men (I might actually not be attracted to men anymore? Maybe??? Lots of trans women come out as bi or gay first and then realize they're girls and that they aren't attracted to men anymore, right? I think? Except that my youngest brother is really hot???) and I also hardly ever these days seem to get it for people of previous generations. (Partly bc it's more difficult for me to want to fuck someone who I'm becoming more and more aware has Done Some Shit to me and people I care about — family abolition today!) My feelings about my sister have been persistent though. I haven't really seen the side of the family that That cousin was on in years, but the other side... Has some attractive people... One of whom is actually, I have determined, the Most Likely Incest Candidate, on account of how they're the one person in my family who has both left the church (with prejudice) and who isn't Very Monogamously Engaged (with apparently little interest in sex to boot). They are dating someone though and I don't know how open they are (at least a little? To some people?) and I'm sure as hell not betting on them being ok with incest. Most likely candidate doesn't mean I'll do anything it just means my eyes are open ig. Just in case. (It won't happen). Also when I saw my mom's cousin's family again for the first time in many years for like one day my reaction was "oh no, they're all really hot." And my younger brother who isn't the youngest is someone I think about feminizing. He'd make a pretty girl I think...

Writing time an hour and 45 minutes as of now. (15 additional minutes making largely useless edits.) I'm trying not to apologize for writing so much self indulgent rambling about my feelings and past by reminding myself that you did literally ask for this and if you don't like receiving it you can delete it. I hope you have a good day

Thank you so much for sending this! don't feel bad about it, it was really fascinating to read. it must have taken a lot of introspection to get to this point and that's really cool of you! I actually really relate to a lot of what you're saying, especially about shame and embarrassment and crushes and stuff. being ace for me is really interesting because a lot of my incestuous attraction takes the form of like...a desperate craving for validation and acknowledgement and closeness with them. like i'd probably have sex if i was asked but for the most part it's way more a desperate "please don't leave me" plea i guess. my personal feelings are this massive horrible swamp that's like impossible to navigate so it's probably more confusing for me than it is for you tbh. again i really appreciate this! i'm glad you get to share your feelings about stuff and it's really interesting for me to hear peoples lives and opinions on things. I'm sorry you went through so much of what you did. i'm giving u a hug and also wishing you the best in however your life turns out. I'll keep reblogs on this 'cus it seems really personal and i get annoyed when people treat people pouring their heart out as something hot to reblog.

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

What Fresh Hell?

Season One Masterlist

Blood Hungry

Poison

Summary: The team learn an eleven-year-old girl was abducted twenty hours ago and statistics say that virtually all children her age die within twenty-four hours in these situations. Meanwhile this case reminds Zoe drastically of her past and childhood, more than she wants it to.

Warning: Statistics of missing preteen children, Zoe is traumatized by what happened to her 1998, Mention of a heart attack, Statistics on Metastatic cancer in the Lymph Nodes, PTSD, Pedophile UnSub, Mention/Implication of child pornography, Mention/Reference/Hint/Implication of child sexual abuse; Talk of Transposition of Great Arteries; Mention of youthful heart failure; Mention of Heart condition; Mention of surgery; Flashbacks; Description of faded scars, Zoe being violent and somehow not getting in trouble.

"The most dangerous strangers are the ones we thought we knew well."

January 7, 2006

"Missing child in Wilmington, Delaware. Eleven-year-old Billie Copeland was last seen on the playground at 4:30 yesterday afternoon." JJ told the team.

"That's twenty hours ago. Child Abduction Response Plan says we get notified immediately. What happened?" Hotch asked as Zoe stared down at the file in front of her with a distant look in her eyes.

"Well, there was reason to believe that she was with her father. Her cell phone shows a call to him at around the time of the disappearance." JJ explained.

"So, they've since ruled him out?" Gideon asked.

"He called the mother about an hour ago."

"That doesn't mean he isn't involved." Gideon said.

"He's on his way to the family home so you can talk to him there. But, the local police are now considering this a stranger abduction."

"Twenty hours late?" Morgan asked.

"Long-term stranger abductions of children Billie's age are rare. They represent only half of one percent of all missing cases per year. But they are usually more likely to be fatal. Of the children that are abducted and murdered, 44% die within the first hour. From that point forth, their odds of survival greatly decrease. 75% are gone after three hours. Virtually all of them are dead after twenty-four."  Spencer said.

Zoe's thirteen stab wounds all along her torso throbbed.

"Which means we have just under four hours to find her." Alexander said.

"Shall we go?" Gideon said.

They started to gather their stuff when Gideon came up to her.

"Zoe, you can stay behind if you want?"

"Why would I do that?" She asked, sharply as everyone else filed out of the room.

"Well, this case may be a bit sensitive for you." Gideon said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She lied, sharply and speed-walked out of the room.

———————————————————————————

The poet W. H. Auden wrote, "Evil is always unspectacular and always human. And shares our bed and eats at our table."

JJ, Alexander, Gideon, Elle, Spencer, and Zoe got out of the car once they were at Billie's house.

"She's been missing twenty-one hours." Spencer updated.

"We're going to go meet with the lead detective at the park where the girl was last seen." Hotch said

"We need to know everything that's being done." Gideon said.

"I'll find out what the press is running. See if I know any of them. We may need to manage what they put out." JJ said.

"Good. See what the uniforms know from the canvasses. Alexander, Elle, I need you two to be liaisons with the family."

"Liaisons?" Elle asked as Spencer parted to talk to the uniformed officers.

"In a child abduction, the parents are likely to break down, if we aren't careful. Alexander, you went through the same thing as Billie's mother is."

"Several times." He deadpanned.

"You'll be the best to get through to her. Zoe, you were a missing child..." Zoe glared at him with a clenched jaw and Alexander did the same. They had an unspoken agreement to never acknowledge that incident until they had to, only Zoe was never very obedient. "You see if you can find any signs in Billie's room."

"Remember, I was only abducted by strangers who came in contact with me on cases or becpause they became obsessed with me." Zoe said. "I was never able to be lured, they had to actively incapacitate me to kidnap me. No one saw Billie be taken so it could be possible that Billie was lured away."

Billie’s room was your standard eleven-year-old’s bedroom. Pink walls, pink curtains, unicorn stuffed animals, dolls. Aside from the abundance of pinkness, it reminded Zoe of Zarah. Zarah had been much girlier than Zoe was but she still had that Valdez fire and disliked the stereotypes associated with pink, preferring for more vibrant colors or other colors with the pink. She was more outdoorsy than Zoe and liked flowers and vines with her decorations. Her bedspread had been a fluffy blue and purple duvet cover. Her walls had actually been a pastel seafoam blue-green with fake vines along it like a garden with twinkle lights and light green sheer blackout curtains with vines and lights attached to it.

Zoe picked up a stuffed animal of a dog. She can perfectly recall the Alebrije wolf that Zarah had given her. Zarah had had it with her when they went missing. It was never found either. Zoe had an otter one in her go-bag.

"Zoe..." Gideon's voice sounded distant through no fault of his own. Zoe looked up, looking distant.

"I'm fine." She said, her voice sounded hollow.

———————————————————————————

Downstairs, Marilyn Copeland turned off the TV that had the lead detective, Detective Charlotte Russet announcing the information they had about the person who took Billie and the description of Billie.

"They've been running that over and over again for the past two hours. The press wants to talk to me, but I just... I don't think I can face it."

"Why don't you just tell me what happened?" Alexander asked.

"Umm... I was focused on practice. And Billie was... being a pain, as usual. She was giving me attitude. So, I told her to run it off. I sent her away."

A side of Alexander disapproved of her words towards her daughter. Zoe hadn't been an easy child, granted she had been deeply traumatized but he never told her to run off an attitude. He knew there was a reason for that attitude and wanted to talk it out. But the one she's had for nearly five years now wasn't the kind you could talk through, but he didn't voice it. But he understood blaming yourself for this.

"How long have you been divorced?" Elle asked.

"It's been final for six months, but we haven't lived together for over a year."

"You seeing anyone?" Elle asked as Zoe and Gideon came back

"Between work and Billie, when would I have the time?" Marilyn asked with a tearful chuckle at the thought.

"Not one date?" Elle asked, "Any men coming over to the house?"

"I-I had a few casual dates after work, but, they never came to the house." Marilyn said, "Billie still hopes that her father and I will get back together."

"How did Billie's dog die, Mrs. Copeland?" Gideon asked.

"He was hit by a car two weeks ago. How did you know that?"" Marilyn asked.

"The shrine in the room." Zoe said, "Helps her grieve?"

"Her father did that for her.

"They get along well?" Alexander said.

"Best of friends. She calls him every night. Tells him about her day, asks about his. He's a cancer survivor. So he takes time off from work, pulls her out of school for father/daughter field trips." Marilyn said.

Zoe smiled, sadly and Alexander ruffled her hair. He used to do that for Zoe and Zarah. When Zoe went back to school after her kidnapping as she and Zarah didn't want to skip grades and instead while doing their age-appropriate school and college classes and law enforcement training, she had requested they stop because she didn't want to do them without Zarah and she finished high school shortly after her sixteenth birthday, not wanting to go through it the slow way without Zarah."

"Says we all need to stop and enjoy life. But he forgets that he has responsibilities. That they both do. Which makes me the bad guy. And she blames me for the divorce. Blames me for everything. I should have just let her go with her father. I'm sorry." Marilyn got up and excused herself.

"She's pretty fragile." Gideon said.

"The last thing she did was fight with her daughter. Can you imagine what that feels like?"

"Some of us don't have to imagine." Alexander said, darkly.

Zoe looked out the window to see a truck approaching and the man Zoe recognized as Billie's father, William getting out and approaching the house. "Mister Copeland's here."

Marilyn started yelling at William the second he got through the door.

"I have been calling you all night."

"I'm sorry, Marilyn. I turned my phone off." He apologized.

"How could you turn your phone off? What if Billie got sick or..." She cut herself off and then hissed, "We needed you."

"I said I was sorry." William said.

Marilyn just gave up a look of disgust and went to storm away, slapping his hand away when he tried to grab her.

He looked at the four agents, "What's being done to find my daughter?

"We're assessing that right now."

"She's been missing since yesterday!" He shouted at them, "What the hell have you people been doing since then?"

"Where have you been, Mister Copeland?" Gideon asked.

"Me?"

"Where were you all day and all night?" Gideon pushed.

"I have a cabin in Brandywine Valley." William said, incredulously.

"Police tried you there." Gideon told him.

"Well, maybe I was out at the time."

"Billie tried your cell phone yesterday afternoon, around the time she was kidnapped." Zoe said. Usual child abductions of divorced or separated families are done by parents. Approximately two hundred thousand out of two-hundred-and-sixty thousand per year."

"Well, I shut it off sometimes. I like the solitude." William defended.

"You didn't fight your wife for custody of your daughter, but you, you like being in her life." Alexander observed.

"I want her to grow up in her home. With her friends around. This is the only place she's ever lived." He said.

"So, you love her very much." Alexander said.

"Yes."

"Why are you wasting the precious time we have left? You weren't at your cabin. You weren't at work or with friends. The police didn't call us until a little while ago because they thought your daughter might have been with you. That you might have taken your daughter. Until you can give us a satisfactory accounting of your whereabouts from the time your daughter went missing." Alexander paused and gestured to Zoe, "You see Doctor Zoe over, there, she's my daughter, my youngest. Five years ago, she and her sister went missing—kidnapped, and I literally had a heart attack over it. Eight months later, Zoe was found but my oldest, Zarah is still missing. I understand what you're going through, so why don't you help me understand why a devoted father who talks to his daughter every night suddenly turns his phone off and disappears for almost twenty-four hours"

"I was busy."

"Too busy for your only daughter. On the rare occasions, I let my daughters out of my sight voluntarily, I never spent more than twenty-four hours, rarely more than twelve hours without speaking to them." Alexander said, "It's 1:30. You called your wife at 11:30 and found out Billie was missing."

"So?

"Well, Brandywine Valley's fifteen minutes away. Where were you, Mister Copeland?

"I..." William said but trailed off.

"How long have you been sick?" Zoe asked suddenly.

William looked at her, taken aback. "How did you know?"

"Your hands are slightly discolored blue and swollen which most likely is due to slow blood flow. On your neck is a rash caused by incessant scratching. Your collar is hiding a lump on your neck and your neck is slightly swollen. And you have several bruises. Cancer again? I'm guessing in your Lymph Nodes?"

He nodded, "I was at Sloane Kettering Hospital in New York City. Doctor Baylan Mahal. He's the Head of Oncology. You can call him if you want."

"I will." Alexander said

William sat down, he hadn't told his family yet. Zoe sat down next to him.

"You had a relapse?" She asked, gently.

"Yeah... There's nothing more they can..."

"I'm sorry."  Zoe said.

Most cancer deaths are caused by metastatic cancer and the survival rate often falls once the cancer reaches the lymph nodes.

"Please find my daughter. Find my daughter." He pleaded and he started to sob into his hands.

——————————————————————————

Zoe and Gideon joined Russet, Hotch and Morgan.

"What do we know?" Gideon asked.

"We talked to a kid who had contact with the UnSub." Hotch said.

"He came back to the same street more than once." Morgan said.

"That tells us he's at ease in the neighborhood and comfortable talking to kids in plain view." Hotch said as JJ and Spencer joined them

"He lured Billie with a story about a lost dog." Morgan said.

"Yeah, she recently lost one of her own." Zoe said. "Just two weeks ago."

"That indicates previous knowledge of the victim." Spencer said.

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean she necessarily knew him personally, only that he's aware."  Hotch said.

"It's not uncommon for predators like these to know kids that live around his area." Spencer said.

"He's from the neighborhood."

"Then we go door-to-door and ask for voluntary searches." Russett said.

"The neighborhood's already crawling with uniforms. They're everywhere." Spencer said.

"Look, so far, you've followed the Child Abduction Response Plan to the letter?" Gideon asked Russet.

"For the past few hours. Yes."

"So now we need to move past the guidelines. Change tactics. If we don't, Billie isn't going to make it past the next twenty-four hours."

"Throwing off the UnSub's game could help but if you put too much pressure, he may be tempted to get rid of the only thing tying him to his crime—Billie." Zoe said.

Gideon then gestured over Zoe's head to the press. "I want you to corral these clowns. We're going to need them. All of them."

———————————————————————————

They were at the police station to give the profile.

"Billie Copeland has been missing twenty-two hours. It is vital that we locate her in the first twenty-four." Gideon said.

"The unknown subject in this case is most likely a resident of one of the subdivisions around the park. We have canceled the AMBER Alert. We need to coordinate with all your officers to pull everyone off the street immediately." Hotch instructed.

"That's crazy." An officer exclaimed.

"Just hear me out."

"But it goes against CARP procedures. You guys wrote the damn thing."

"CARP is just a guideline for immediate response to child abduction." Spencer explained, "Believe it or not, we're already late in the game and we do know enough about this UnSub to know that if he feels like we are closing in on him at all, he will kill Billie to avoid detection. If anything, we need to lessen the pressure on him."

"Billie is the only thing tying him to his crime and he may not care about her at all. She may just be an object in his mind." Zoe said.

"The man fits in 'cause nobody knows what he is. Can we really know our neighbors?"

"Ted Bundy was regarded to be a rather charming guy and he ended up killing thirty confirmed kills but possibly even more than one hundred. Dennis Rader was married to his wife for thirty-four years with two kids before she discovered that he turned out to be one of the world's most sadistic serial killers. She didn't have a clue. H.H. Holmes, America's first known serial killer was a pharmacist by day, and he even had a medical degree. He once admitted to killing twenty-seven people but it has been estimated his body count is up to two hundred. Albert Fish had six kids, and he ended up raping, killing, and eating hundreds of kids. Despite what movies say, these people can be charming, they can be anyone." Zoe explained

"He walks his dog. Does yard work. Solitary activities appeal to him. But if you watch closely, you'll see that he pays a little too much attention to the neighborhood kids. This largely goes unnoticed because he isn't perceived as a threat." Gideon said.

"He's a white male, in his late twenties to thirties. He has a menial or temporary job. Socially marginalized and frustrated, he relates better to kids than he does to adults." Hotch said.

"This is not his first offense against children, but it is his first abduction." Elle said.

"How do you know that?"

"Well, first timers hunt close to home. Experienced predators don't."

"And he's had a recent stressor, a job loss or other setback. Unable to maintain a normal relationship, he'll have extensive pornographic materials in his home and on his computer. And while they won't all involve children, some of them definitely will." Hotch said.

"Since he used a missing dog ruse and we believe him to be a regular fixture of the neighborhood, it's quite possible that he truly does own or did at one point own a dog named Candy." Spencer explained. "We'd recommend crosschecking any veterinary records with residents in the neighborhood."

"He will not inject himself into this investigation." Hotch stated.

"Don't these guys like to know what the cops know?" Russet asked.

"No, not this type of UnSub. He's hiding. He doesn't know what anyone saw. He doesn't know if there's any information about him out there. He's not likely to walk in and ask us, 'Can I help you?' But I can guarantee you he will be watching the news. So how we handle them is very important."

"Essentially, he's a coward." Zoe said, bluntly.

"Check your canvass records. One of you may have had contact with him in the early stages." Hotch advised.

"What about registered sex offenders?" Russet asked.

"We've got somebody working on that right now." Hotch replied.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Everyone clear on that?”

———————————————————————————

Zoe, Alexander, and Elle went back to the Copeland house.

Zoe brought William a water to help down his medication as he asked, frustratedly, "You took all the police off the street?"

"We believe your daughter was abducted by someone in the area and that she's probably still nearby." Zoe explained.

"Then shouldn't you be flooding the area with cops?" He questioned as Marilyn's face fell when she saw the pills, realizing what he hadn't told them. "Knocking on doors?"

"It's not that simple." Zoe said.

"Yes, it is." He grumbled, childishly.

"Just take your medication." Zoe said and he put the pill in his mouth and washed it down with some water.

"You're taking the meds again." Marilyn said.

William looked at Zoe and Elle, "Look, what exactly are you people doing to help get my daughter back?"

"You're sick again, aren't you?"

"I know this is difficult for you two, but we want you to meet with the press. Both of you." Zoe said.

"A press conference? That's what you have?" William asked, doubtful, "You just said you're already taking the press that's running off the air."

"I know but this will be different. Trust us, Mister Copeland." Zoe reassured him.

The doorbell rang and William got up to get it and turned to Zoe, "Just tell Marilyn what you need us to do." And he walked to the door.

"That was his second remission." Marilyn said.

"I'm sorry." Zoe said.

"Billie won't even talk to me anymore. How am I going to tell her that her father's sick again?" Marilyn said

"One thing at a time, Mrs. Copeland." Elle advised. "Once we find your daughter, you'll figure it out."

Zoe walked towards the front door when she heard William speaking.

"Can I help you?"

Mister Copeland. I'm Helen Godfrey from a few blocks away. I have printouts on all sex offenders in the area." Zoe saw a woman handing William a piece of paper, "I mean, I think it would be... Look at any of these..." William suddenly took off with the paper in hand.

"What the hell?" She muttered and ran out the door. "Mister Copeland? Mister Copeland!" William had reached his truck, started the engine and drove off as Elle and Alexander emerged from the house.

"There are sex offenders in the area. I thought he should know." The woman said.

"Stupid." Zoe scoffed, giving the woman a 'are you stupid' look, she called Hotch to warn him.

———————————————————————————

While Hotch and Morgan chased William down, Zoe joined Spencer, Gideon, and Russet in the car.

Zoe opened the door and entered, sitting next to Spencer, sighing.

"I can't deal with the parents anymore. The dad ran off to beat up some sex offender, he doesn't realize there's multiple crimes that can get you registered as one. Morgan and Hotch got him."

“No more uniforms in the neighborhood. Are you sure this is the way to go?" Russet asked.

"I hope it is." Gideon said.

"You're taking a hell of a chance, aren't you?" Russet asked.

"All we can do is respond to what's in front of us." Gideon said.

"What if you're wrong?"

Do you know what program did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like this? Child abduction?" Gideon asked

"No."

"Stranger Danger." Zoe and Spencer said.

"Flooded the schools with it."

"I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with 'Stranger Danger' coloring books." Spencer said.

"I remember when Rossi picked me and Zarah up from school and Zarah cheerfully told him about it. He looked more horrified than when I finished my first crossword puzzle before him in pen when I was three." Zoe said.

"Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there. Most are people you see every day. Your family, your neighbors, your schoolteachers. You know the rest." Gideon said. "Prepared our children for one percent of the danger and made them more vulnerable to ninety-nine percent. So, we've been wrong before. All we can do is learn from it and hopefully be better next time."

"Unit five-three-nine." A voice said over the radio.

Russet picked up the microphone, "Nine."

"Nine, we have a marked unit calling for your presence at the river off Route Six."

"What's this in reference to?" Russet asked.

"They've located a body. Female."

———————————————————————————

The police officer who called for backup led the four to the body, they trekked through thin trees, a sort of swampy area.

"The call was anonymous. Said there was a body in the water."

"Brown hair, brown eyes. About 4'10, 4'11?" Russet asked.

"Yeah."

"I should have started this search earlier." Russet sighed, regretfully.

"I'm sure you just did what you thought was right, Detective." Spencer reassured her.

They ducked under some police tape and when Russet caught a glimpse of the coroners fetching the body, she stopped and looked away.

"I can't, I can't. If it's her I..." She breathed.

"It's all right." Gideon told her.

The three agents went ahead, most of the body was obscured by the grown men fetching it. Zoe watched as they pulled the body out and on land, unable to stop imagining that any day it could be Zarah.

She felt Spencer take her hand, her fingers intertwining.

Spencer's touch seemed to ground her because she looked at him, her eyes meeting his and she shook her head. She moved in, fetching her badge to show the cops.

"Hey, uh, Doctor Zoe Noble-Valdez, FBI."

———————————————————————————

Zoe helped the coroners examine the body. She quickly discovered that this body couldn't possibly be Billie based off the color of skin and the fact it was starting to bloat, which meant this person had died before Billie was even taken. There were signs of track marks, and the body wasn't in the shape that Billie's would be.

Zoe, Gideon, and Spencer walked back to the main room in the station.

"Did you find Billie? Is my daughter dead?" Marylin cried.

"A body was discovered."

"It's not Billie." Zoe said.

"Are you sure?" William asked.

"Yes, I examined the body myself. The body has been dead for several days, not less than a day. They were much older and had track marks. It seemed to have been from an overdose." Zoe said.

"It's not your daughter." Gideon reassured her.

"My God, I can't, I can't..." Marilyn started to break down.

"Please, just come with me right now." Elle said and she took the parents away.

"What the hell was that about?" Gideon asked.

"A reporter asked them about the body." Morgan asked.

"Probably heard it on a scanner." Hotch said.

"I should have prepared them for that." JJ said.

"We didn't have anything to tell them yet." Gideon said.

"What kind of asshole asks that?" Zoe asked.

"Billie's running out of time, guys." Spencer said.

"So are the parents." Hotch said.

"Oh, come on. A little hope, huh?" Gideon waved off.

———————————————————————————

Zoe's phone kept buzzing with texts from a friend concerned for her, knowing what happened seven years ago but Zoe decided to text her back later. Yet with each beep and vibrate of her phone, her scars throbbed. The

"How's it going?" Hotch asked, when he approached Morgan, Spencer, and Zoe going through papers of the canvass.

"The UnSub's in here somewhere. I got to bet that the police talked to him in their initial canvass." Morgan said.

"Maybe not." Spencer mused, "Remember what Zoe said earlier, this guy's a coward. Our UnSub is a solitary individual. He isn't the type of guy to insert himself into an investigation. I mean, wouldn't it make more sense that he wouldn't have answered the door during the initial canvass?"

"The neighborhood was crawling with cops, canine units, Search and Rescues." Hotch recalled. "Make him nervous and jumpy. He'd want to avoid them at all costs."

"So, then he couldn't allow anyone into his home to ask routine questions even if the girl was bound or gagged because it'd be too risky." Morgan said.

"It is next to impossible to control breathing, speech patterns, body language when the body's under extreme duress. Especially without training, of course." Zoe said.

"Maybe if we compare hotline tips with anyone who wasn't at home during the initial canvass." Spencer said.

"Or didn't answer the door." Morgan added.

"We'll find our UnSub." Zoe said.

"Let's go to it." Hotch said.

———————————————————————————

In the other room, Elle and Alexander sat with the near grieving parents.

"Oh, my God, Billie." The mother cried.

"I know it seems impossible, but you have to be strong now." Alexander said.

Gideon entered the room, "How we doing?"

Alexander looked at him, both knowing he had been a wreck when it was him. He had literally had a heart attack at thirty-three.

"All her life, when my little girl needed help, she came to me. And now when she needs me most, there's nothing." William said. Alexander related to that sentiment so much that it hurt.

William got up and left and Alexander went after him. William took his pills and he turned to Alexander, "I just... I can't just sit around here helpless."

"Well, when you were first diagnosed with cancer, you could have given up but you didn't." Alexander said.

"But there was an enemy. Something to fight.

"Yeah, but it was a ghost enemy. It sneaks in, ravages you before you even know it's there. And by the time you do know, you're already losing. And you took on that one. Whatever will you summoned to fight that battle, find it again. For Billie. Don't give up, sir."

"But it didn't matter. I fought and it came back. The cancer won."

"Zoe's mom had died before she was born, murdered. So Zoe's birth was a complicated situation and I'll never forget that moment when I realized she wasn't breathing when they pulled her out. She was a technical stillborn but they resuscitated her and she was soon diagnosed with a congenital heart disease. Her skin was blue, and she was having trouble breathing. The tubes to her heart were reversed. If she never got surgery, she would have died within the year. So, I saw my baby girl, seven days old being cut open to save her life, in the hands of strangers. When you're in this line of work, you're reluctant to trust your kids with strangers. She's only had a few incidents since then, her heart failed when she was four... my father's fault. Every year or so, she goes to the hospital to drain the fluid that could cause it, it's not supposed to cause major problems until she's thirty but... it's terrifying. But she fought it like a champ every time."

"I'm sorry. Must be tough... but why are you telling me?" William sympathized.

"Because even though something could go wrong, I got more time with her. She was missing for five days, then eight months, then six months but she always came back to me, and I got my time with her. She told me about the pictures of you and Billie in her room. Pictures of you fishing. Being there for her when her dog died. Building a shrine to her pet. Do you think that extra time didn't matter?"

"Are you going to find her?" William asked.

"The men and women I work with are the best in the world. They won't rest until they do. You have my word on that."

"They didn't find your daughter."

"Zoe was the main target. Zarah was just collateral, but I believe my daughter is still alive because Zoe does."

———————————————————————————

"Yeah, it was worth a try. That's right. You have a nice day." Zoe smiled and hung up the phone. "I hate talking to people."

"Yeah, we know. You hate people." Morgan drawled.

"I don't hate people. I just hate talking to, socializing, or being near them." Zoe insisted.

A smile tugged at Spencer's lips at Zoe's words.

Zoe's phone beeped and buzzed again.

"Who keeps texting you?"

"A friend." Zoe said, "She's worried about me."

"You have friends?" Morgan asked, sarcastically as Zoe narrowed her eyes at him as she texted her friend back.

An officer popped their head in, "Agent Morgan?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this the kind of thing you're looking for?" He asked, beckoning him over.

"Reid. Zoe." Morgan said and they got up and followed the officer, “A Mister Lomax has a neighbor with a green SUV, but he hasn't seen him all day. Says that's unusual. Thought he might've just been out of town, but now he sees some lights on over there." The officer handed them a piece of paper.

"1106 Springfield. Where's our canvass sheets?" Morgan asked and Spencer fetched them from nearby. 1106."

Spencer read over the addresses. "1100 block. 1106... No answer."

"Let's go to talk with Mister Lomax." Zoe said.

———————————————————————————

Zoe, Spencer, and Morgan walked up to Lomax's yard.

"Mister Lomax? Agent Morgan.

Agent Reid. Agent Noble-Valdez. FBI.

"Doctor Reid and Doctor Noble-Valdez." Zoe corrected as she showed her badge, and Morgan gave her a look.

"Holy smokes, that was fast." Lomax commented.

"Well, we're trying to do all we can, sir." Zoe said.

"Did you call in a tip about your neighbor, Don Curtis?" Spencer asked as he moved the gun at his hip awkwardly and he brought his foot up on Lomax's low fence.

"Lives down the street. I saw the news thing, you know? I was thinkin... Don drives a dark green Explorer and he's at the park all the time. I figured, like they said on the television, maybe he knows something, but doesn't know that he knows it. Know what I mean?"

"Where's his Explorer now?" Morgan asked.

"It's usually in the driveway, but I haven't seen it today. Haven't seen Don either, which is kind of weird. We're always out front talking about the lawns. He never has any crabgrass. I don't know how he does it."

"Um, do you know if he has a dog?" Zoe asked.

"Used to. A big golden retriever. Her name was Candy. I think she died like six months ago."

Thank you, Mister Lomax." Morgan said, turning to take out his phone.

"Have a nice day." Zoe smiled to avoid suspicion as Spencer awkwardly waved.

"Yeah, Hotch? It's Morgan. You better get over here right now."

———————————————————————————

Russet met the three agents first before Gideon, Alexander, and Hotch made it down to them.

"Third house down on the right. We knocked on the door, but nobody's answering." Morgan gestured.

"His neighbor said he's definitely in there." Spencer said.

"He's got a green Ford Explorer in the garage.

“Break down the door.” Gideon said.

"No. We don't have probable cause." Russet reasoned.

“He's got a green SUV. He had a dog that died recently. He spends time in the park.” Morgan pointed out.

“He's pretending he's not home.” Hotch added.

“None of which are illegal. No judge is going to sign a warrant based on that information.” Russet pointed out.

Zoe glared at the house as she was filled with a rage that never ended well, her vision started to gain a red tint as she started to have flashbacks to her traumas from her childhood that only fueled her rage, overwhelming voices from her past came back to her as her temple started to throb with an anger-triggered migraine but she didn’t show any sign that anything was wrong.

“You're weighing the life of a child against the price of a door?” Alexander argued, his patience wearing thin but not as thin as Zoe's.

“I'm weighing the law against the price of a door.” Russet corrected.

“The girl's in the house right now. The longer we stand here and wait, the longer he has to finish her off.” Gideon argued, his just about out, he paced back and forth anxiously while Zoe, stayed completely still, memories still flashing behind her eyes.

“I’ll call a judge.” Russet said and started to dial, “if we go in there without a warrant all that evidence will get thrown…”

“We’re aware of the rules of evidence. What do you propose we do?”

“We tow his car, we impound it, and we search it.” Russet said.

"Great. While you be useless, I'm doing something to save that eleven-year-old girl." Zoe spat and she broke into a sprint at full speed towards the house, her vision was tinted red as voices echoed in her ears. His voice. As he taunted her. Taunted her dad.

"Zoe! Zoe!" Morgan shouted, running after her.

"Angel!" Alexander yelled.

She never slowed down, even as she approached the door and she kicked the door, and the memory of an ear-splitting rageful scream sounded in her ears, but it didn't break off its hinges but she had kicked the doorknob through the door and she pushed it open, yanking it so hard that the damaged top hinges broke.

"Curtis! I've come for Billie!" She shouted and stormed inside, taking her gun out, ignoring the distant sound of screams in her head.

There was a real scream that was most likely Curtis at the intrusion of his home and then there was Zoe screaming expletives in another language even Spencer didn’t know.

It sounded like things were falling as Zoe continued to scream the only words they could understand were when she referred to “Billie”.

Then a loud thud as Zoe knocked Curtis on the floor.

"WHERE IS SHE!?"

"HELP, SHE'S CRAZY!" Curtis screamed for help.

They found Zoe with her foot on Curtis' chest and her gun pointed at his head with a vicious look on her face and psychotic killing rage in her eyes that almost made her look like someone else. Someone with no empathy, someone with no mercy.

"Get her off me!" Curtis pleaded, his nose broken and oozing blood. “Please!”

“Zoe, stand down.” Hotch ordered but she didn’t move.

Morgan and Alexander had to pull her off of him.

"Where is she?" Gideon demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Curtis said.

"Where's Billie Copeland?"

"I'm hurt!"

Gideon grabbed Curtis and threw him closer to Morgan, "Get him out of here. Tear the place apart!"

———————————————————————————

Zoe entered the living room later, still seething but controlled, "Just as we expected, he has an extensive collection of deviant photos and cartoon downloads." Spencer said, standing at Curtis' computer.

"Neatly partitioned? All in separate folders?" Gideon asked.

"Mmm-hmm." Spencer hummed.

"Access the Internet history. Identify any pornographic sites, shut them down." Gideon advised.

"I'm uploading to Garcia as we speak.

Zoe had gone to the shelf and pulled some books off the shelf, "What is this? Is it all porn?"

"It's a lot of home movies with a bunch of kids in it. But this one, you guys need to see it."

Morgan put in one and a horrifying image came on the screen. A young boy...

"Shh. Remember what I'll do if you tell." Curtis said on the tape.

Zoe's memory flashed back long before she was twelve and lost her first memory... a memory she wished she could forget... when she was four and her heart stopped because her ribs were broken... far from accidentally... Cain had said those same words to her when she was in the hospital. She was brought back to the present when she felt her nails digging into her palms.

"Gideon, we searched the entire house. Upstairs, downstairs, everywhere. There's no sign of the girl or that she's even been here. It is possible that he moved her. Polly Klaas was found twenty-five miles from home. Danielle Van Dam, thirty, Samantha Runnion, fifty-two, but, keep in mind, we were twenty hours late getting involved." Spencer said.

"The man doesn't take chances. He wouldn't drive around with the girl in the car. He took her and got her off of the street as quickly as possible." Zoe told him in rapid succession, her eyes were wild yet glazed and Spencer got the feeling she wasn't really seeing him when she looked at him.

"Just keep looking." Gideon said.

———————————————————————————

Zoe sat on a couch, bent slightly, her nails digging into her skin as flashbacks came back to her. Those golden eyes through the mask. She couldn't remember what happened when he stabbed her but she knew he looked into her eyes the whole time. She had a vague memory of being placed down as she bled out, but other than the memory of it happening it was blank. Then the vague memory of being found, the cop who had found her, still smelling of cigarette smoke as she shouted her name which had sounded faint and distant.

"Curtis lawyered up." Hotch said, bringing Zoe back to the present.

"Of course, he did." Gideon said in the chair next to the couch as Alexander sat next to Zoe, rubbing her back, comfortingly. "That's the first smart thing he's done."

“We broke into his house and Zoe assaulted him.”

“I did not!” Zoe exclaimed, “He tried to run away and then he fell. He resisted!” Then she got up and walked off, her jaw clenched.

"Without Billie, we don't have the exigent circumstances we need to make this stick. We may have to let him go." Hotch said.

"I told you we should have waited." Russet sighed.

"Yes, I know. We made a call." Hotch said. "And if there are any recriminations, we will take full responsibility."

"Hotch, he's the man." Gideon said.

"Jason, I agree, but we may have been overly hasty."

"Hasty? You know as well as I do, unless we actually find Billie in this house, any evidence we find, is fruit of the poison tree." Russet said.

Zoe was pacing when she suddenly stopped. She had seen something. A broom with white fuzz.

Her memory flashed back when she was younger, and Maze was teaching her tricks on finding hidden things.

"This is called insulation. It's the material used in a building to reduce the flow of thermal energy. It can also help to soundproof a room. The typical materials involve fiberglass, cellulose, mineral wool, foam, and aerogel. They can be charged with static electricity just makes it cling to things, including the scumbag. If you see this in the house, there just may be a secret room. That's where the evidence you need are."

"INSULATION!" Zoe just about screamed.

"What?"

Zoe came barreling in the room with a manic look in her eyes, holding the broomstick. "Look, insulation. When I came in, he had insulation on him! There's somewhere in this house, we haven't checked yet!" She threw the broomstick to Alexander who caught it, and she spun around and marched into the hall and then she spotted it—a vent with the same white fuzz clinging to it.

"There it is." She muttered and spoke up, "I can fit up there. Chair, I need a chair."

Alexander handed her a chair and Zoe dragged it under the vent and she stepped up. She unscrewed the screws which were loose, having been recently used. The vent fell open. She took off her leather jacket and let it fall, hitting the floor with a heavy clunk, most likely from the secrets she had infused into it.

"Help her up." Gideon said.

Zoe felt her dad pushing on her legs, but she kicked her legs and easily pulled herself up She spotted her at once.

An eleven-year-old girl with brown hair in her soccer uniform, bound and gagged, crying and whimpering.

Zoe pulled herself through completely, her manic nature instantly gone, replaced with a kind one.

"Billie. Hey, hi. We're with the FBI. We're here to take you home. My name's Doctor Zoe." She undid Billie's gag. "Your mommy and daddy have been very worried about you."

"I wanna go home." Billie cried. "I wanna go home."

"Let's go see mommy and daddy." She said and picked up Billie, carrying her to vent. "Incoming."

She eased Billie out of the air vent and into the arms of the agents and when she let go, she leaned back, sighing. She may not have found Zarah yet but she stopped this girl from experiencing any of the pain she did, or at least most of it.

———————————————————————————

"Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done." — Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Morgan, JJ, Hotch, and Spencer were playing poker

"I got absolutely nothing." Morgan said.

"Aw, nothing." JJ groaned.

"Two pair of aces." Spencer said, placing his cards down.

"Oh. Shut up." JJ teased.

"Oh, get out of town. See, why you always winning?" Morgan complained

"Because he cheats." JJ accused, gesturing to Spencer like there could be someone else she was talking about.

"Poker, it's mathematics, it's statistics." Spencer reasoned

Morgan made a talking gesture with his hand as JJ groaned.

"He's from Vegas. Blame it on that." Zoe said from a little ways away while on her phone.

"House rules!" Morgan joked.

"There's that too." Spencer admitted and he turned to Zoe and asked, "Who are you talking to?"

"Billie. I gave her my number to help cope. She needs someone who's been through what she's been through." She walked on the other side of the plane and Spencer turned to Alexander, "Hey, did she ever tell you what happened to her during those eight months."

"No. But I think I know." Alexander said. "She thinks I don’t, but I do. She's strong but she doesn't like that she has to be weak sometimes."

"Hey, Hotch." Gideon said, suddenly as Spencer looked past Gideon to Zoe near the coffee machine.

"Yeah?"

"Did you send flowers to that tech room girl, Garcia, and say they were from me?" Gideon asked.

"Yeah." Hotch admitted.

"Why?"

"Jason, people need to know that they're important, and sometimes you forget that." Hotch explained.

"Well, I already sent her a gift. An MP3 player. They last longer unless you drop them or the battery dies, whichever comes first.

"So, she got two gifts."

"What if she thinks I'm sweet on her?" Gideon asked, sarcastically. Elle made a face and Morgan laughed. Elle then sat across from Gideon. "Maybe not, huh?"

"I think the Copelands are going to stay together." Elle said.

"Well, good." Gideon said.

"He's dying."

"He's having a difficult time." Gideon said as Alexander turned to them, glancing at his daughter.

"You know, Billie's kind of used to him not being there. So, maybe it would be better if they stayed apart." Elle said.

"No, it wouldn't." Alexander said.

"How do you know?" Elle asked.

"I know. Just know.

Spencer was looking over his cards at Zoe as he thought of Alexander's words. "She's strong but she doesn't like that she has to be weak sometimes."

Weak wasn't a word he'd think to describe Zoe but maybe that was the problem.

She's spent so long convincing herself that she had to be strong.

——————————————————————————-

When Zoe got home, she sighed, heavily. She walked to her bedroom, passing the series of Alebrije otter stuffed animals. She dropped her case, laptop bag, and satchel on the couch and walked towards the closet. There was a full-length mirror in there that was currently covered in a black cloth to hide her reflection—the reminder of Zarah. She pulled it down and recoiled when she made eye contact with her reflection. She pulled her leather jacket off, followed by her shirt. She had a lot of scars. The most recent being from the gunshot from Dowd. Some from the torture in 2001, some from the torture of those terrorists. There was a thin pale line just below the in-between of her collar bones that ran down before disappearing between her breasts. From the heart surgery she had when she was a week old. But the ones that stood out were just as surgical but hadn't been to help her. The largest was down the middle of her torso, picking up below her surgery scar, stopping just an inch above her belly button. One scar ran over her collarbone and intersected with near the top of the surgery scar. Some scars peppered along her breasts and her shoulders, along her arms. Another ran along her ribcage.

———————————————————————————

*Note: I looked up spirit animals, in Mexican culture—according to a Google search—people beleive that everyone has a spirit animal or a oná, that is assigned to them based on their birthday. The toná is a guiding spirit that can appear in dreams or describe a person's character traits and abilities.

I think Zoe is very wolf-like. She is very noble, loyal, compassionate, and powerful. She is strong, determined, courageous, adaptive, resilent, wise, intelligent, and observant. She values freedom, loyalty, independence, togetherness. She is a protector. She has a heightened sense and can capable of detecting this the others cannot. She is very intuitive and can sense things that are not obvious to others.

Zarah was actually a bit harder because her personality isn't as fleshed out at the moment, despite I've planned this up to season fifteen even though I've only watch a few episodes of it... I am not watching the finale until Reid comes back to Criminal Minds in Evolution. But I've decided on an otter. The otter spirit animal is cheerful, kind, sensible, dynamic, and happy.*

*Edited October 22, 2024*

———————————————————————————

[lizzygrantarchives]

The Guardian, September 4, 2011

After posting one song online, this 24-year-old American singer sold out a London gig in half an hour

We crave a popstar who is authentic, who thrives because of their talent, not PR. So when you stumble across someone like Lana Del Rey – her popularity apparently born online and growing per YouTube click – it's hard not to be sceptical as to whether she's actually too good to be true. Surely it can't be that after posting just one song online, this brand new artist sold out a London gig in half an hour?

"I just put that song online a few months ago because it was my favourite," the 24-year-old American explains. "To be honest, it wasn't going to be the single but people have really responded to it."

"Video Games" – languorous, sinister and cathartic – nails that awful feeling of being ignored by the person you love. "I get very sad when I play that song," says Del Rey, explaining that the inspiration came from more than one past relationship. "I still cry sometimes when I sing it."

"Video Games" also crystallises Del Rey's overall appeal: a doll-like creature, all dark lashes, huge pout and bouffant hair, staring into the camera and singing about undressing for a man who treats her like crap. But somewhere under the vulnerability there is a look in Del Rey's eye that suggests whatever happens to her from now on isn't half as bad as what's happened to her before. Both the song and the hit YouTube video are chilling.

Lana Del Rey – also known as Lizzy Grant –was raised in Lake Placid, a town in New York state close to the Canadian border, which she describes enigmatically as "the coldest place on earth" and which sounds like somewhere David Lynch, who she cites as an influence, would set a TV series.

She is politely reticent about her childhood, mentioning two younger siblings and parents who are "fine" with her being a professional musician. A self-taught guitarist, Del Rey says that hip-hop was her first musical love, specifically Biggie Smalls and Eminem. Later, when she moved to New York to study metaphysics at college – she specialised in "working out whether we could mathematically prove God's existence" – she discovered Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen. After striking up a friendship with the Spanish Harlem-based rapper Princess Superstar and moving to a trailer in New Jersey, Del Rey developed a love of Nirvana, an enthusiasm she still has today.

But her loner status seems to have been shaped at 15, when she went to boarding school. "As a teenager, to be in a place you can't leave is dangerous because if people don't like you, you can't get away from them. Then you might start to think that's the way the world is [always] going to be."

Del Rey reveals herself to be articulate, smart and insightful. But "likes" pepper her sentences; she describes melodies as "super pretty" and her eyes flit girlishly downwards when she talks. She seems to be playing up her youth and describes herself as "Lolita got lost in the hood". Her music does have an innate childlike melancholy to it. But in person the popstar she is most reminiscent of is Lily Allen.

She has been in the music business for a while and previously made an entire album with mega-producer David Kahne, shelved for reasons unclear. Del Rey found success when she started writing her own pop songs, though when asked if she writes alone her voice goes hard and she says: "If there's a man in the room when you write he gets 50%." It's a nearly true indictment of the frosty world of music royalties, but also an indication of her steeliness.

Lana Del Rey isn't exactly garrulous, but always says just enough; though our interview is long and uninterrupted, she raises far more questions than she actually answers. She leaves the impression of someone both shrewd and vulnerable, which combined with the quality of her songs, is not only an intriguing concoction, but feels like the embodiment of genuine star quality.

Originally published on theguardian.com with the headline One to watch: Lana Del Rey.

[glitterytidalwavedragon]

Uninvited (Sesshomaru x Modern Reader Part 3)

It officially has a title! :D I am very excited this tumblr exclusive, at least for now, has a title and I even started to brain storm how to make this more complex for AO3 if it ever ends up there. This might just be a different story all together. I am going to go back to my other parts and put the links for the following section in each. So part 1 will take you to part 2, part 2 to 1 and 3 and so on and so forth.

I am very excited for this. I am having so much fun just writing this short story it’s been a blast!

Here we go!

Part 1

Part 2

Sesshomaru returned to the stars twinkling above him. He was indeed back where he belonged. No sooner had he jumped from the well did his half-brother dash to greet him. There were a lot of questions shooting off from his mouth annoyingly quickly. Landing on the soft grass with effortless grace, Sesshomaru flipped his hair over his right shoulder and began to walk in he direction of the village. Inuyasha spouted insults towards him which the demon lord ignored. Sesshomaru wanted to know if any time had passed while he was on the other side. Was it a few days, months, years? Whatever the case, he would find out by checking on one creature.

Entering the hut, he was relieved to be greeted by a youthful smile. She was still small, still innocent and still beamed to see him. She was around twelve now, and in a few years, she would wed and carry on a life most mortals did. The slayer boy had been visiting more and more, and he knew the time they would share was growing short. Quietly, he took his usual place in the corner of the room, sitting with on arm resting on his knee with eyes closed as she talked about what she had been doing for the pass three days.

Sesshomaru never expected to be taken into the role of fatherhood. The demon lord had an empire to build and one which would surpass his own father at that. He had little time to spend, and whatever free time he deemed, he used visiting Rin. Even if he did leave her in the care of the old priestess to train her in matters which were human, he showed her a world humans could only dream of or imagine. That was how he raised her, to be strong and to go beyond the limits of her human expectations. However, it was her sudden change in topic to the slayer boy which stopped his breathing and had him open his eyes.

Rin did not look at him as she talked about their trip to the lake. Her cheeks turned red at how she described how they playfully pushed each other in the water and laid upon the grass. Perhaps she would be leaving her childhood behind faster than he expected. The large and warm smile on his face told him that maybe sometime soon, once young slayer boy would be approaching him as a man and ask for Rin. Closing his eyes again, he listened, enjoying the moments he would have now. Tomorrow, he would work on deciding if the faith of demons really were doomed to never walk on the Earth again.

~*~

You did not sleep the first night he left. You honestly expected him to jump scare you out of nowhere. You don’t really know why, but you had come to figure that maybe he had a twisted sense of humor. Then again these were half tired thoughts as you also imagined what on Earth he had to do to keep his hair so beautiful while being in a time where shampoo and conditioner were not a thing. The first day he was gone, you were unsure if it all really happened. Until you were recruited to put in the new door for the well’s shrine. On the second day, you were reminded why you came to Japan in the first place.

Excitedly you opened your letter, a hopeful smile on your face as you read the first line. As your eyes travelled down the page, your smile fell. Another rejection letter. Pressing your lips tightly together you sighed through your nose. You would have to make another one and try again. That lead to hours of staying up late, pens, papers, textures, cutting, and everything else. You would make another thirty-page pilot for a new manga idea you had brewing in the back burner. You had a binder of ideas, and you would make comics for each of them until one was a hit. As you worked long and hard, you only called it a night when you began to see double on the paper.

When the third day arrived, you had forgotten about the promise the demon had made to return the following day. Shivering slightly at the chill breeze that went passed, you swore as the pile of leaves you swept were blow away. You were really too tired to deal with nature working against you. Grumbling to yourself, you walked over to the scattered leaves and began piling them again only for them to again escape you. Letting your arm go slack, you looked to the sky and whimpered. Today was not your day.

“Miss, could you direct me to the ancient tree?”

Now I have tourist to deal with. Putting on your best smile you turned to the person. “Su-re”. You blinked in surprise at the person. You could not completely tell if they were male or female, but they were beautiful in their traditional clothing.

“Thank you.” They smiled happily.

You lead the way and tried not to think of the person behind you. They had other plans.

“I came for an errand for my dad. My sisters are somewhere around here with my grandmother. Probably at the gift shot.”

“Ahuh, are you locals?” You looked over your shoulder.

He gave a toothy grin. “Kind of. We own some land outside the city.” Charisma oozed off the young man.

“I see.” You faced forward and stopped in front of the tree. “Here’s the sacred tree-what are you doing?”

The young man whistled as he kicked up some dirt. You began to panic as you looked around in fear that the old man would come storming out the gift shop, yelling at you and the guest.

“Ah, there it is.” You looked back over to see him pull out an old box before filling the hole and patting it down. “This should do it.” He dropped some kind of powder on the ground before walking towards you. “Thanks for your help.”

“W-w-wait! That could belong to the old man!” You panicked.

“Nah. The only old man this belongs to is one who can be a real pain to live with.” He chuckled as he pocketed the box. “See you around.”

As he began walking he stopped and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “By the way, don’t let anyone bully you. You’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

“HEY!”

You called but he just waved at you to join a group of three waiting by the shrine steps. As you watched them walk off, your brain did some mental math… none of those people with him looked old enough to be a grandmother.

~*~

“You were meant to avoid her.” A stern famine voice directed at the young man.

“Eh, I got curious. Wouldn’t you be.”

“You were told…”

“Ah! You worry too much.” The other young woman stated to the other.

“He should know better! We shouldn’t go easy on him since hes the baby.”

“I guess…”

“Children, children.” The older appearing woman called, a smirk on her painted lips. “He can’t help himself. Afterall, his namesake should be enough to explain his actions.” She watched as he pulled the hairpin from the box. “Isn’t that right, Toga?”

The young man smiled as he held up the pin. “You would know, grandmother.”

I made an image of what his son might look like based on how Sesshomaru's other children look. And I am very happy with how it came out!!!! I really enjoyed writing this and I super enjoyed making this autumn artwork!!!!!

This was meant to be a modern Sesshomaru but went against it cause the hair. Already working on how he might look, just fyi!

Thank you everyone for the support! It means loads!

[egcdeath]

first impressions

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader 

summary: [request] “hmm prompts... Ransom introducing you (a total opposite of him) to his family for the first time, or a Thrombey wedding! if you feel like it” i like where your brain is at anon! but why not a little bit of both? ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: pretty fluffy, some angst, toxic family dynamics

author’s note: this has been super lightly edited so pls forgive any mistakes <3 click here if you’d like to be added to my taglist & all reblogs are super appreciated!

You felt slightly out of place driving through the neighborhood of your youth in the passenger seat of Ransom’s beloved Beamer. Thinking of how your parents would react to your boyfriend, let alone his lifestyle of excess, made your heart rate increase, and you shuffled a bit in your seat unconsciously as a result of your nerves. As if he were reading your thoughts, Ransom set a steady hand on your knee and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze before parking in front of the curb ahead of your home. 

Nervously exiting the vehicle, you watched wordlessly as Ransom grabbed your overnight bags from the trunk, and hauled them over his shoulders. Still saying nothing, you reached out and grabbed Ransom’s hand, constricting his circulation as you strolled up to your door, and rang your own doorbell.

When your mother whipped open the door and offered you an excited grin, you finally were able to let out the breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“Goose!” your mother cheered, squeezing the life out of you while you snuck a glance at Ransom who seemed rather amused by the childhood pet name. “And who’s this?” she asked, pulling away from you and looking him up and down.

“I’m Ransom, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he announced with confidence, offering your mom friendly smile, before glancing back over at you and raising his brows the slightest bit. 

“Finally putting a face to the name, then. I’ve heard all about you from this one. Come on in,” she gestured for the two of you to enter. “Y/N can show you to her room, and dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” with that, your mother was off, and you were once again alone with Ransom.

You showed him up to your room, where he set down the bags and flopped down onto your bright pink duvet.

“Goose, huh?” he questioned, rolling on the hyperfeminine twin mattress. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before sitting down next to the headboard of the bed.

“Do you think she liked me?” Ransom asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you tell her good things about me?”

“Since when do you care about what other people think of you?” you giggled a bit, and planted your fingers in Ransom’s hair. 

“I care because…” he thought for a moment, calculating just how honest he wanted to be. “I care because this is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and I want my future parents-in-law to like me.”

“We’ve been together for like, a year, Ran. But I applaud your commitment to me,” you massaged his scalp as you spoke, and ignored the butterflies floating throughout your torso at his mention of marriage. 

“Well? Do you think she likes me?” he asked once again. 

“Mmm, I like when you care about things,” you pressed a little peck to his forehead, and hovered a bit over his face. “She said like, 20 words to you, max. But after dinner I’m sure they’ll like you. At least I hope they will.”

Ransom playfully swatted at you. “How comforting. Wait, stay right there,” he reached up and held the hand that was massaging his scalp in place. 

——

By the time dinner came around, you seemed to have switched emotions with your partner, as you were feeling much more relaxed, and Ransom on the other hand, was not.

He kept a hand on your knee under the table in what seemed like a grounding technique, squeezing every now and then while your father plated your meals.

“So, how did you two meet?” your father questioned, sitting down beside your mom.

“We met while we were volunteering at the Humane Society together,” you gushed, glancing over at your partner who was nervously sipping his water, then back at your parents. “He always seemed so pissed in the beginning. I mean, the amount of times I saw him growling obscenities while tugging on harnesses, or playing the most unenthusiastic games of fetch I’d ever seen in my life is astounding,” you laughed softly, and looked over at Ransom once again as if you were cueing him to speak.

“Yeah, I really didn’t like it there at first. Not really a dog guy, but my grandad said it was community service or no allowance, and I was not interested in the latter,” he chuckled awkwardly and received confused expressions from your parents, which granted you an SOS squeeze on the knee. 

“Um, anyway, one day we were closing, and I went into the last cat suite, and there grumpy old Ransom was, cuddling with Garfield, you know, the old cat with the three legs, and it was literally the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Especially ‘cause Garfield is so hard to please,'' you paused to take a bite of the food in front of you. “We started talking more after that, then he asked me out, and of course I said yes. I guess the rest is history.”

“Aw, Goose, that’s so cute!” your mom cooed, but the moment didn’t last too long. 

“What do you do for work, Ransom?” Your dad asked, tilting his beer at the man. 

“I’m currently in between jobs. But, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work.” 

Your father nodded wordlessly and paused for a second. “Volunteering get you a Beamer?”

“Dad!” You interrupted in a yelp, “please.” You frowned as you looked between the men. 

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s a good question, but I got it as a gift a few years back. And, you know, my family’s comfortable.”

Before your father could respond, your mom popped in to save the conversation. “No money talk at the table, please. Tell me more about your relationship,” she gave both of you a sympathetic look. 

——

After that, dinner went on without much of a hitch, and you agreed upon doing the dishes with your mother while your father and boyfriend prepared a little fire outside.

“He seems sweet,” she commented after a long period of silence. 

“I’m glad you think so. He was really worried about you not liking him, and honestly, I was too,” you rinsed the last glass before setting it in your dishwasher.

“I just want you to be careful, okay? When you have that much money, people do strange things, or say things they don’t mean and expect you to just take it. He seems like a good boy, but just don’t let your guard completely down. The last breakup you went through-“

“Stop, I get it,” you sighed softly. 

“This doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just don’t want to see you that hurt again,” she gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Let’s go stop your dad from catching a murder charge,” she beckoned you to follow her out to the backyard, where your boyfriend and dad were… laughing together? If you weren’t so relieved, it’d almost be off-putting. 

The rest of the night went alarmingly well, Ransom finding a way to bond with both of your parents after an awkward first half of the evening. As the two of you crawled into your tiny bed and spooned while drifting off to sleep, Ransom slurred a tired ‘I think they liked me,’ into your ear. 

From that point on, Ransom’s position within your family only became better. For the first time, he was welcomed into a familial environment that wasn’t more toxic than a Chernobyl cooling tower, and Ransom was loving it. After suggesting to spend that year’s Thanksgiving at your parents’ home, spending the holidays with the L/N family became a frequent occurrence for the two of you. 

Though you occasionally wondered why you were four years into a relationship with the man, and still hadn’t met his family, which to your understanding, was rather large, you had better things to concern yourself with. You understood and respected that Ransom’s relationship with his own family wasn't the best, from the little that he shared with you, but occasionally curiosity often got the best of you.

Yet, things seemed to shift after your engagement. In the midst of dress fittings and cake tastings, Ransom had decided that it was finally time for you to meet the rest of the Thrombey clan, and that there was no better time than Harlan’s book release party, which was being celebrated out in California, at the Thrombey Vineyard.

In your years of relationship, you’d become no stranger to luxury, and the finer things in life, but arriving at the Vineyard put you in awe at just how affluent these people were. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re one of the great writers of your time, and your offspring go off to become equally “self-made” successes.

You were a bit tired from the three hour difference between Boston and Sonoma Valley, and as soon as you hopped out of the car at the vineyard, you could only think of getting to your room, out of your baggy travel clothes, and to sleep as soon as possible. 

Trailing behind Ransom, you looked around at the vast expanse of crop-filled land around you in astonishment while you walked up the cement path to the mansion, not really noticing the petite woman with curled blonde hair, and an oversized straw hat approaching you. 

“Oh gosh, you must be Y/N!” she said gleefully. “I’m Joni. I’ve seen you all over Ranny’s Insta,” she paused and looked you up and down. “Well, you do look a little different there,” she chuckled.

“That’s great, Joni. Maybe you can Tweet about how exhilarating and life changing this experience has been for you to all your little pyramid scheme friends.”

“You’re always so rude, Hugh,” she sneered.

“I forgot about your chronic victimhood. Goodbye, Joan,” he rolled his eyes, and practically tugged you inside the massive building in front of you, before dragging you up the stairs. You were honestly in a little bit of shock at seeing how nasty Ransom got from just a small interaction.

You set your Louis Vuitton Keepal, and aluminum suitcase down on the granite floor of the bedroom, before flopping down, and spreading your limbs out on the massive memory foam bed that sat in the center of the room, “What was that, Ran?” you questioned as he sprawled out next to you.

“The reason why I didn’t want you to meet them. They’re like sharks, looking for anything that even resembles blood in the water,” he threw an arm around you and yawned. “We can talk about this in the morning, though. Right now, I think that both of us need a shower.”

“Speak for yourself, you stink bug.”

“But what if I get lonely in there?” 

“Fine,” you huffed, moving his arm off of you, and heading off to the en-suite. 

That night, as you stared at the blank wall in a vain attempt to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep, you questioned if coming to meet Ransom’s family was more of a mistake than you initially anticipated.

The next morning felt a bit frantic. You and Ransom woke up a few hours before everyone else, as they’d been in California for a few days now and had adjusted to the time difference, while you two had not. An in-house chef made you two a gourmet buffet of a meal while housekeepers laid out your clothes back in your room, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the sudden interferences in your life. Though it was nice to not have to do all of the work, you weren’t sure how you felt about other people doing it for you. 

The majority of your day felt similar to that morning. You quickly realized that Ransom’s fortune was just a small portion of the Thrombey estate, and that his family were essentially a bunch of monsters with money. Throughout the day of horse riding, wine tasting, and wine painting workshops, you couldn’t help but notice how they turned their noses up at you, treating you, and the staff working at the vineyard, like some sort of outsider. 

Your alienation only became more apparent during Harlan’s celebratory dinner, when insults and sneers were tossed at both you and Ransom for being together. 

“Are you trying to get revenge on us, or something?” Richard asked at one point, gesturing to you, and catching you completely off guard, 

“Why would you say something like that?” Ransom asked, trying not to let his offence show as his jaw clenched.

“It’s just not like you to want to settle down, especially with someone like… her,” he spoke about you like you weren’t sitting right there.

“No, I agree,” Walt added. “For once in our lives I agree with you,” he laughed aloud, and a few other folks at the table laughed with him. “Can you believe that after all these years, we’re bonding over Ransom’s little girlfriend?” 

You weren’t even sure how to react, so you laughed awkwardly along with them, and stared blankly at the vast expanse of grape trees behind the row of Thrombey and their friends. What you would give to sprint out into that, and never come back. 

Ransom looked to you in your obvious discomfort, and grabbed your knee, offering it a little reassuring squeeze before he interrupted them. 

“You know what? All of you dickheads can eat shit. Y/N is really the only person who matters to me at this point, and you pricks need to respect that. Hell, you need to respect her.” 

“Look at little Ranny, getting all soft,” Walt chided. 

He ignored the comment and continued on, “And If I don’t start hearing apologies soon, every single one of your wedding invites have a one way ticket to the shredder.”

A silence fell over the table. You were a bit surprised too, since your invites had already gone out, and Harlan was the only Thrombey to receive one.

“...You’re getting married?” Meg asked, breaking the silence. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?” 

“Why do you think?” you muttered, pushing around a few things on your plate before standing up, and pushing your chair away. “Excuse me.”

You knew that by leaving, you were only opening yourself up for more criticism, but you genuinely weren’t sure that you’d be able to take one more second of hostility. You pushed your chair back in, before heading off the patio, into the gigantic home, and up to the room that you’d claimed.

You rolled on top of the bed, and screamed into a feather filled pillow. It wasn’t too long after when tears stung your eyes as you came to the conclusion that these monsters were just a few months away from becoming your in-laws.

You thought you’d heard the most of it after the table, yet a prompt knocking at your door proved otherwise. Letting herself in, you turned to face Ransom’s mother herself, and you just knew that you were in for it.

“Listen, you whore,” Linda began in a sharp, yet quiet tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with my son. Isolate him from us. Try to ‘change him’ like I know you think you’re doing. But just know that at the end of the day, he’ll always pick us. You’ll always be the second choice, especially when Ransom realizes that you barely have a dime to your name, and his bank account starts to runs dry,” she approached you, and pointed an accusatory finger towards you. “You’ll never be anything but a disgusting, sloppy little gold digger. You may be his toy of the week, but at the end of the day, you’re just an afterthought. I suggest that you get out of his life sooner than later. I’m sure Ransom wouldn’t mind, considering we already have your replacement with one foot in the door,” she gestured over to the window facing the back patio, where Ransom was chatting with a brunette woman that appeared to be quite a few years younger than himself.

“You’re cute, Y/N. Really! It’s cute that you’re thinking right now that he would never leave you, cheat on you with some new, younger, hotter piece of ass. Just know that you don’t know Ransom as well as you really think you do. I can promise you, it’ll be much easier to break off an engagement than it’ll be to get a divorce. Especially with that prenup he’s considering dropping on your desk any day.” she tutted as if she cared. “Well, sweetheart, it was great meeting you. I’m glad that these were our first and last words together,” she gave your back a pat before leaving the room, and you looked out the window in shock. 

Shaking as you dig into the pocket of your sundress, you sent Ransom a simple ‘help’ message, before setting your phone aside and trying to pack your belongings in as quick of a manner as possible.

When Ransom opened the door, a steady stream of tears and mascara was staining your face, while you urgently threw things into your suitcase.

“Goose, what happened?” he gasped, hurrying over to your kneeling form, and setting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Why,” you sniffled. “Why would you let her come up here and say all that shit to me!” you croaked, swatting his hand away from you. 

“What?” he watched as you pressed down on the overfilled suitcase and frantically attempted to zip it, to no avail. “Linda said she was gonna come apologize?”

“Telling me that I’ll never be enough for you is just a perfect apology,” you muttered, “I need to go home.”

“God,” he grumbled to himself, “This is exactly why I waited so long for them to meet you. Okay, we can go home then. I’ll buy us tickets right now.”

“This is on you too, Ransom. You didn’t tell them about us, like, at all. You had so much time! You couldn’t give Linda a call and say ‘hey I’ve been seeing this girl’ or even tell Harlan to deliver the message for you?” you hiccuped, but continued. “All of this could’ve been avoided if they had four years to adjust to our relationship. Maybe then they wouldn’t call me a whore and a gold digger every other sentence.”

“I was just trying to protect you from them,” he frowned.

You finally managed to zip up the suitcase, and stood up along with it, “well, you clearly did a great job of that.” 

You dusted off the skirt of your dress, and grabbed your phone. “I’ll let you know when our car gets here,” you huffed before walking into the en-suite and closing the door behind you, just to have a moment for yourself (and make yourself look a bit more put together before you leave.)

A tense car ride, and awkward flight later, you marched straight into the guest bedroom, and cocooned yourself under a copious amount of blankets. You felt like you stayed there for years, only getting out of bed to shower and use the restroom, and living off of the crustless sandwiches and jarred spaghetti your fiancé brought to your door. 

You slept most of the time, and in the moments you weren’t sleeping, you were dwelling on every vicious word thrown at you at the vineyard. Every day, you listened to Ransom apologize through the door, yet every day, you questioned if going through with the wedding was truly the wisest idea. 

A few days into your stay in the guest bedroom, you finally allowed Ransom to stay in the room for more than just dropping off food. He sat down next to you in bed, and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth against the skin. 

“I don’t know how I can make things right for you,” he said softly. “I really did set you up, and I didn’t even mean to. I should’ve made better decisions, but I can’t change four years ago. But I can keep those heinous people away from you. They’ll never have the chance to do, or say anything like that to you again, okay?” his thumb caught on a tear, which he promptly wiped away. “Just… please don’t leave me. The bed feels too empty without you, and it’s just been a few days. I can’t imagine feeling that emptiness for the rest of my life.”

You whimpered and sat up, abruptly embracing the broad man. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let your idiot family make me question the validity of our relationship,” you muttered into his shirt. 

“I promise you you’ll never have to worry about them again. They had their opportunity to make things right, and they missed it.”

-----

Things were more or less smooth sailing after that fiasco. You found your perfect venue, decided on your ideal Honeymoon spot, and finished your seating arrangements with time to spare, and the next thing you knew your wedding day was around the corner. 

It all seemed to happen so fast, one second you were being walked down the aisle, the next, exchanging vows and rings as aisles of your friends and family members cheered for you, Y/N Drysdale.

Your reception also seemed to slip right through your fingers, your first dance, toasts and cake cutting finding itself over almost as soon as it started. You were grateful that you hired a wedding videographer, as the day was so overwhelming, you weren’t quite sure how much of it you’d remember. 

As you drove off to the airport, Ransom set his hand upon your knee one more time. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in your chest at the all too familiar gesture. You turned your head from the window to your husband, who was grinning back at you, and couldn’t help but to think of how perfect your wedding ended up, though it felt like it sped by quickly. More than anything, you were grateful that you didn’t give up on Ransom despite his interesting family. 

[issaxcharlie]

We say we're friends, we play pretend (1/2)

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem reader

Summary: Charlie and Y/N were best friends and a couple as teens, after their breakup they meet again 4 years later on the bootcamp of JATP and have to work together. Will something else happen or they are just friends?

Charlie must have imagined something like this could happen. Since Kenny discovered her 5 years ago, she has been a really close friend to the director, participating in some way or another in almost all his projects.

In front of him after years, Y/N Y/L, his childhood best friend and ex-girlfriend. The young actor is not going to admit that he saw every single one of her projects or how moved he was by her in each one of them, many times even thinking of maybe sending her a little message saying the incredible job she did.

But he never found the courage.

It’s weird to remember how he spent most of his life next to the woman, now one of the top youth artists with multiple musicals and movies on her hits list. They always had a strong bond, every single day together. Sleepovers, music classes, dancing classes, homework, parties, movie nights, hockey, illness days, pretty much everything. At the age of 15 they began a very sweet and innocent relationship that ended at 18 when Y/N moved to New York to work in her first leading role.

The break up was on good terms but painful, so painful that both preferred to lose contact completely than to have the other from time to time opening the wound again and again.

And there she was. As beautifil as ever, speaking happily with Kenny while Madison and Owen jump up and down, Jeremy smiles and Charlie looks like he wants to throw up.

“Y/N Y/L, my golden star. She is the official composer of the soundtrack, and she will be supporting you throughout the album process as well as helping Paul and me in other creative aspects, I know she is the same age as some of you but she has a lot of experience in this and all the necessary preparation so don't hesitate to get all the knowledge you can out of her."

Everyone introduces themselves until the guitarist is the only one left, luckily for him, he’s in voice rest these two weeks so he literally cannot speak.

They both look nervous but the moment their eyes meet their complicity comes out and both smile slightly.

“He’s Charlie, he is in voice rest but we are fans of yours. We cried yesterday watching your last musical, it was just brilliant." Owen lets out hardly breathing, Y/N turns with a smile to see the Canadian boy who wants to kill his friend and then commit suicide.

“Thank you! This is going to be such an interesting experience.” The singer murmurs as she winks at Charlie.

2 hours later they had both been avoiding each other, Y/N writing in a corner while the band and Kenny discuss costumes with Soyon, in which at least half an hour has been wasted trying to understand what Charlie is trying to say with the few words he writes with an apple pencil on his ipad in his horrible handwritting.

Y/N gets frustrated and goes to where they are, approaching behind Charlie's shoulder to see the iPad. She quickly identifies the two words, one so crossed out that it looks like a doodle, but years copying each other's homework pays off.

"He's trying to say that if Luke isn't going to wear bandanas, at least consider wearing beanies." The young woman says as she leans on the shoulder of who was her first love.

Charlie freezes at their proximity, blushing a little at the feeling of being close after so long. Luckily his castmates don't realize it because all their attention is on her.

“You are just good for everything huh? Even deciphering hieroglyphs." Owen comments, smiling at her and winking exaggeratedly to make her laugh.

Charlie can't help but feel insecure with the situation. It could be a friendly thing but If Owen really tries to flirt with her, he doesn't know how he would react. Is sad enough not having her in his life anymore, having her as his best friend's girlfriend would just be too painful.

Now, he knows he’s exaggerating, and a lot. But he has to do something about it. Better safe than sorry.

He stretches his neck to meet the eyes of his ex-girlfriend, who is now only inches away. She quickly gets flustered, but hides it pretty well. The problem is that he knows every gesture perfectly and sees through her mask.

“Wh- What, Gillespie?” She manages to say, Charlie can’t help a smile seeing the way she still reacts towards him.

When you know a person completely, every facet, every gesture, every peculiarity, speaking without words is as natural as breathing. And they had both forgotten how amazing it feels to have someone in your life who is this compatible and magnetic.

They start a conversation, she answers to who secretly still believes as her person while he continues making gestures and mimics that no one else understands, writing a word from time to time to make the talk flow better.

"I know. Hey, it's not my fault! So you excuse yourself with the ‘can't talk’ thing huh? how convenient. Yeah, Ok, I will. I said I will!" Her words are the only thing that they manage to get out of the conversation that the secret ex-couple is having, since no matter how much attention they pay to him, they have no idea how Y/N manages to decipher it.

"I have no idea what's going on but I'll take it as a miracle, I was just going to suggest ignoring Charlie these 2 weeks." Jeremy jokes, everyone nods their heads.

“I mean, it’s still a good option.” Madison replies.

The 14 days go by quickly, and with the former couple spending time together daily, rehearsing Charlie's guitar solos together, with Y/N translating his horrible scribbles, or sometimes simply being close to each other enjoying the company, absentmindedly placing their hand on the other's leg or their forehead on their shoulder for a few seconds during the breaks.

Basically the whole team has noticed the flirtatious smiles and the looks, but Charlie was the weakest rival of both and the one who could release some information about it, and without being able to speak they basically ran out of an informant, since the young singer didn’t let go a word about her unexpected chemistry with the guitarist except the typical ‘we are just good friends’.

But without a doubt the energies began to multiply on Monday when Charlie arrived with the green light to be able to speak and start singing in rehearsals. Madison couldn't attend the first few hours because she was at school, so Y/N was going to cover her so the boys could practice.

“The first on the list is Finally Free, the place where we are going to record it only gave us two weeks from now so it will have to be one of the priorities. For the first rehearsal just vibe with the song and we’ll discover where to go from there. Oh, and good luck keeping up with my golden star, you’ll need it."

Y/N starts the first verse on the keyboard, and gets up to sing the chorus in the center, trying to ignore Charlie and looking up at Jeremy. She hadn’t heard him sing for a couple of years, but the same butterflies appear in her stomach and she knows that she will melt if she looks into his eyes.

Unfortunately for her, Kenny doesn't have the same plan, and just before the second verse ends he tells her to walk over to Charlie, who immediately smiles and sings the pre-chorus with much more enthusiasm. The energy they radiate floods the place, both getting closer and closer. By the time the bridge arrives, their foreheads are practically against each other, their lips only an inch apart, and with a confidence and comfort while singing to each other that makes all those who suspected that there was something between them now practically sure.

Luckily there are only Jeremy, Kenny, Owen and Paul in the room, who decide to play a game of divide and conquer now that the snitch part of the equation can speak.

“Y/N, can you come with me for a moment? I have a new idea for ‘Wow’ and a fresh pair of eyes is just what I need.” Paul says, sacrificing himself for the greater good.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right back.” The singer takes the opportunity to leave this staring game with Charlie and quickly walks away from the guitarist, who winks at her in a flirting way in response.

The moment they walk out the door, everyone turns to see Charlie, who has no idea what they're up to.

“What?”

"After what just happened you just can't keep pretending nothing's happening. Man, that was more intense than the whole Troyella moments during all three movies." Kenny pretends to be offended for a second and then nods.

"I have never seen anything like this in all my years of career."

“Yeah dude it was electric.” Owen replies, smirking.

“She’s my person.” Charlie mumbles.

If he’s being honest with himself, deep down he always knew she was the only one for him. But that realization was freaking scary. What's next if the only person for you has already turned the page? gave up without a fight? what's left?

"What?" The three ask in unison, and Charles begins to sing like a bird.

“We grew up together and then we lost the way. Like in those romantic movies where just everyone knows they belong together except the childhood best friends and then they end up ruining their lives by being in denial.”

“From what I saw getting back on track shouldn't be too difficult, Charlie. I assure you that whatever you feel she feels it too. Her eyes don’t lie." Jeremy tries to reason with him.

“Leave your teen problems behind. You are old enough to decide what you want and find a way to make it work. But you have to stop pretending that nothing is happening first." Owen scolds his friend.

“Do you love her?” Jer asks.

“That answer is always going to be yes, I just could never stop loving her even If I tried. And I did.” He really did. The surprise he got when the second he had her close to him his heart began to beat like crazy and all he wanted was to hug her and fix everything. It was as if when seeing her eyes time hadn’t passed, as if only the day before they’d been goofing around together. That bond is so big that he doesn’t believe it’s possible to break.

“Then do something about it, bro! Go get your girl back!” Jeremy advises while Kenny smiles.

“Yeah man, it’s ‘Now or never’ like her song, and I guess ours too now? Since she wrote it for Sunset Curve? Well, anyway, it’s like our song says.” Owen exclaims excitedly.

“Ohhh, musical inspiration, let me try. ‘Get up, get out, relight that spark’.” Jeremy sings to Charlie.

“Jer, you are a genius. If you think about it wake up is actually a pretty good soundtrack song for this situation. ‘It's not what you lost, It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain’.”

They both keep singing the song until they reach the bridge, Charlie tries to look frustrated but a slight smile escapes his face.

They are right, he still hasn't lost this fight.

👻PART 2 RIGHT HERE

[waitimcomingtoo]

My Youth is Yours 2

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

synopsis: in a world where you don’t begin to age until you meet your soulmate, Tom notices you started aging when he hasn’t 

part one

Masterlist

“Are you almost ready to go babe?” You called up the stairs as you put your earrings in.

“Ready.” Tom smiled at you as he came down the stairs. He cupped your chin between his fingers and kissed your before handing you his tie.

“I’m excited to meet all your coworkers.” Tom grinned as you tied his tie around his neck.

“Me too.” You smiled as you tightened the tie. “I’m kinda glad I didn’t quit. It’s gotten a lot better since Chris joined.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tom rolled his eyes playfully and you laughed. “I don’t want to hear about your work husband. We’re already going to be late.”

“Just teasing.” You fixed his collar and kissed his cheek. “Let’s go.”

As soon as you and Tom walked into the office, Chris caught your eye. He stared you and Tom down as you made your way through the crowd and greeted your coworkers.

After about an hour, you were alone at a table when Chris finally approached you.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you put your drink down. “Are you enjoying your first office party?”

“Can we talk?” Chris ignored your question, looking rather stressed.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded and followed him to a quiet corner.

“What’s up?” You asked once you were alone.

“Your boyfriend is not 24.” Chris said, causing your face to go pale.

“What?” You laughed nervously. “Yes he is. What are you talking about?”

“That man is 18 years old. Look at him!” Chris harshly pointed to Tom. “Does he look 24 to you?”

“What are you trying to say?” You narrowed your eyes at him. Chris looked around for who might be listening and leaned in closer.

“I don’t want to upset you, but I don’t think Tom is your soulmate.” He whispered, making your heart stop.

“I have to go.” You said quickly and tried to leave. Chris gently grabbed your arm to keep you there.

“Wait.” He pleaded. “Here me out.”

“I have no interest in hearing you out. Let me go, please.” You pulled your arm out of his grasp and turned to leave again.

“I can’t. You’re not supposed to be with him.” He said a little louder, making you freeze in place.

“Why do you care?” You asked as you whipped around.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but I think you’re supposed to be with me.” Chris said, and you felt the air get knocked out of your body. This was something you had suspected, but you ignored for your relationships sake. Now Chris had figured it out and your cover was blown.

“What?” You played dumb and walked back to him.

“I didn’t start aging until I met you.” He whispered. “And you looked 18 when we met.”

You didn’t want to lie to him, so you didn’t say anything. He was right, after all, so you hung your head in shame.

“Oh my God.” He realized. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew it was me.”

“Keep your voice down.” You whispered harshly as you looked for Tom. You sighed in relief when you saw he was still busy at the bar.

“We both started aging once we met.” He repeated. “This isn’t a coincidence.”

“Maybe not.” You shrugged. “But I love Tom. I’m supposed to be with Tom.”

“You want to be with Tom.” He corrected. “But you and I both know he is not your soulmate. And I bet he knows it too.”

“He does.” You sheepishly confirmed.

“This is not how this works.” Chris grew emotional. “You can’t play at and loose with the rules. You start aging once you meet your soulmate so the two of you can grow old together. Tom isn’t aging. Whats gonna happen when you’re 90 and he’s still 18? He is wasting his time by not looking for his soulmate. Meanwhile, you met your soulmate and you’re turning him down.”

“I don’t care if he’s not my soulmate.” You stated. “I still love him. And I don’t love you.”

Chris was taken aback by your bluntness and you felt a pang of guilt. You cleared your throat and fixed your hair to distract from the awkward tension you created.

“This isn’t fair.” He shook his head. “You’re my soulmate. Why does he get you? He has his own soulmate.”

“Tom doesn’t get me.” You said sharply. “I’m not a freaking trophy. I love him and I am choosing to be with him. I don’t care if it’s not fates design.”

“But I do.” Chris shot back. “Am I supposed to end up alone now?”

“Frankly, I don’t care what you do.” You said simply. “I already met the love of my life. Your love life doesn’t concern me.”

“You are my love life. This isn’t fair.” He repeated.

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “Well I don’t think it’s fair that my best friend from childhood is supposed to end up with someone else. And if we asked Tom right now, he wouldn’t think it’s fair that I’m supposed to end up with you.”

“He’s coming over here now.” Chris stared at something behind you. “Let’s ask him, shall we?”

“Don’t you dare.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Hi darling.” Tom came behind you and put his hand on the small of your back. “Hi, Chris, right?”

“Yeah.” Chris said blankly. “It’s great to meet you. Y/n talks about you all the time.”

You didn’t take your eyes off Chris, silently begging him not to say anything.

“Are you okay, love?” Tom asked once he noticed the ghastly look on your face.

“You want to tell him or should I?” Chris half smirked.

“Tell me what?” Tom looked between the two of you in growing confusion.

“You have no right.” Your voice wavered as tears came to your eyes.

“What’s going on?” Tom demanded. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Chris-“

“Y/n and I are soulmates.” Chris cut you off as his eyes shot daggers at Tom. Toms face shifted in surprise as he looked at you.

“What?” He asked softly. You took his face between your hands so all he could see was you.

“This doesn’t change how I feel about you Tom.” You assured him. “I told you, you’re the one that I want. This doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Did you know it was him?” Tom asked quietly, feeling slightly awkward since Chris was just a few feet away.

“I suspected it.” You admitted, and Tom pulled away from you.

“And you didn’t tell me?” He asked bitterly.

“I didn’t know for certain.” You said apologetically. “And it didn’t matter to me anyway. I still wanted to be with you.”

“How do you feel about all of this?” Tom turned to Chris suddenly.

“I feel betrayed by the woman who’s soul was cut from the same fabric as mine.” Chris said as he kept his eyes on you. “And I feel like I’m not getting whats rightfully mine.”

“Watch your mouth.” Tom snapped and stepped up to Chris. “Y/n is not rightfully yours. She is not a trophy that you won.”

You gave Chris a knowing look over Toms shoulder, since you gave the same argument. Chris stared at you as his jaw tightened before returning his attention to Tom.

“Shes my soulmate.” Chris growled as he pushed Tom. “Not yours.”

“But she loves me.” Tom half smirked as he pushed him back. “Not you.”

Chris raised a fist as if he was about to hit Tom, so you quickly pulled Tom away.

“Don’t.” You held up a hand. “Fighting isn’t going to solve this.”

“Do you care about what you’re doing?” Chris pointed an angry finger at Tom. “You’re leaving me and your soulmate to die alone.”

“But I wouldn’t love her. I already love Y/n.” Tom answered. “Isn’t it better to be alone than unloved?”

“That’s how I’m living right now, and it’s not better.” Chris seethed.

“I’m sorry about that.” Tom apologized as he calmed down. “But Y/n and I love each other. We always have.”

“I love her too.” Chris pointed to himself.

“We can still be friends.” You suggested. “We’ll still age together and-“

“I can’t be your friend knowing what we know.” Chris cut you off. “You and I are meant to be. How do you think this makes me feel? I was handmade for you, and you still don’t want me.”

You sighed as the guilt fully set in. In the excitement of finally getting together with Tom, you never considered your soulmates feelings.

“I’m sorry, Chris. I really am.” You told him. “But this is not about you. No matter who my soulmate was, I would’ve picked Tom.”

“Well I hope you’re happy.” He nodded in defeat. “I hope the two of you are just thrilled.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He interrupted. “I’m not gonna stand by and watch you with another man. I quit. Effective immediately.”

Chris walked away from you and Tom and went straight out the door. You watched him as he left with a sick feeling in your tummy. Even if you didn’t love him, you were meant to have some sort of relationship with him. You never wanted it hurt him, you just never wanted to be his soulmate.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” You sighed and turned to Tom. “I didn’t know he was going to react like that.”

“It’s all right.” Tom rubbed your arm soothingly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded and pulled him into a hug. “I just feel guilty. He deserves to be loved.”

“He will be.” Tom pulled away and kissed your forehead. “Just not by you.”

You stayed in his arms for a moment, letting his embrace comfort you.

“This might be a bad time” ,Tom cleared his throat and pulled away to look at you, “but I met my soulmate too.”

“What?” You blinked in confusion. “Who?”

“Her name is Este. She was just hired at the gym I go to. Look.” Tom put his head down and showed you a silver hair that had grown near his part. “She grew one too. She showed me.”

“Oh.” You said quietly. “Do you…do you like her?”

“She’s really nice and hates playing by the rules just as much as I do.” Tom smiled cheekily. “In fact, she invited us to dinner at her girlfriends place next week.”

“Girlfriend?” A smiled tugged at your lips.

“Yeah. I don’t think fate accounted for falling in love on your own free will.” Tom chuckled. “She really must be my soulmate, since we have so much in common. We both fell in love with our best friends and have no interest in dating the other.”

You let out a laugh at how funny fate could be and cupped Toms face.

“I can’t wait to meet her.” You smiled happily before kissing him. Your smiled faded once you pulled away when you remembered the problem wasn’t solved on all sides.

“What are we going to do about Chris?” You asked quietly as you chewed your lip.

“I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “Este is my soulmate, but in a platonic way. Maybe you and Chris are just meant to be friends.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way.” You sighed. “He just quit to stay away from me.”

“If he’s anything like me, he won’t be able to stay away too long.” Tom cupped your chin. “He’ll come around.”

“I hope.” You nodded. “I feel so guilty.”

Tom got quiet for a moment and shifted his weight between his feet.

“If you wanted to explore things with Chris, I won’t stop you.” He said slowly. “I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life wondering if you were really supposed to be with him. I love you enough to let you walk away.”

You gave Tom a soft smile and pulled him into another kiss to thank him for what he was offering.

“I don’t need to explore.” You said against his lips. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Tag List 🏷

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[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

.

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

.

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

.

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

.

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

.

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

.

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

.

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 20

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader      Content: Language, possible errors  A/N: Some ppl asked for a playlist... so ofc I made one! 

Series Playlist or Chap 20 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 20: Little Lion Man

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When Regulus was younger, his aunt Andromeda and Sirius were obsessed with Muggle stories. Andromeda would send them loads of books every month to the local Muggle post office to prevent their parents from confiscating them. He remembers the ten minute walks there and back, Sirius holding his hand tight, even stopping to buy ice cream during the warmer seasons. They would greet the delivery men and women, picking up a heavy stack of wrapped books before waddling out, each boy mirroring a large grin.

Every night at twilight, when their parents were asleep, Sirius would crawl into his bed and read to Regulus in a hushed voice. He would read a different story every night, lulling him to sleep. Sirius spent hours gushing about the fantastical tales Muggles wrote; how magical and mystical their minds were despite not having an ounce of magical blood. From Superman to Batman, the Joker to Daleks, Prince Caspian to King Miraz; Regulus quickly learned that they all had one common theme: the good guys and the bad guys.

Regulus often spent his time grappling with the notion; what made someone good? Because the definition changes depending on the person.

Were the good guys good because they were selfless — passionate? Those deemed good never let themselves be seen as selfish. The heroes would sacrifice themselves for the greater good, even going as far as giving up their loved ones. Or maybe it was because they went against the odds. But villains did that too.

So he re-worded the question; what made someone bad? Was it their selfishness or greed? Was it putting themselves above others? Did they know they were on the wrong side of history? Make a mistake, once, twice — but surely, that didn’t make someone bad. Did it?

If virtue is understood by both sides, then the bad guys would immediately cross that line time and time again. They lacked wisdom and truthfulness, filled with too much pride and vanity.

But now as he began to grow up far too quickly for a fourteen-year-old boy, he realized that there was more to people than just being good or evil, a saviour or tormentor, light versus darkness.

The definition of good and bad depended on who told the story and Regulus didn’t know who controlled his; him or his parents. The line was so blurred that he couldn’t objectively make the decision himself anymore. Was he more bad than good?

Laughter — rich and inviting beckoned throughout the library, snapping him out of his thoughts again; but it did nothing but chip away at his heart. Regulus got up, shoving his books and parchment into his bag, making sure to hide his face before they saw him. Today, the Marauders had come earlier than expected and he was caught off guard. He’d been doing everything to avoid them out of pure shame.

Before he went to turn, he eyed Sirius from the shadows. He smiled, carefree and happy, clinging onto Pettigrew, ruffling his hair like he once did to him.

What made them so special, so loved and cherished by Sirius? How were they able to make him laugh so effortlessly, able to brighten his day with a mere glance? What made them more of a family than he ever was to him?

But he knew, it was their family’s values and it had been taunting him every waking moment.

It’s not like he didn’t want to escape that night, but he wasn’t Sirius. He was never as bright or strong or as good as him. Sirius was bold and courageous and certainly had more bravery than he would ever have. Regulus was far too weak, a puppet for his parents to control. Sirius was everything Regulus was too afraid to be — a reminder of what he could have turned into.

Besides, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that his parents would have killed Kreacher had he left. And this way with Sirius gone, it left Regulus to be the sole heir. Sirius was free, not being hunted down by his parents now that he bore the title. That was his gift to him, freeing Sirius of all the responsibilities, pain and grief. He owed him that much. Besides, Regulus had already mourned the childhood he never had; that made everything easier.

The day Sirius left was the day before they were set to leave for Hogwarts again and the impact of his absence was massive. He no longer heard the thumping of loud Muggle music nor the clanking of piano keys or doors slamming shut. There wasn’t any screaming aside from his parents shrieking at him for taking his father's wand. The stairs creaked; he could even hear Kreacher padding his way to his room.

It was eerily quiet and lifeless in that damned house, and he was only gone for a day.

Regulus hadn’t been taking it well. Nearly every night, his face was pressed into a pillow muffling his sobs. Sirius had kept his promise, he hadn’t talked to him since.

If only he had a scarlet tie…

Ha! He could laugh; he’d been trying to get his attention in little ways. He’d even gone as far as growing out his hair to match his — coping by writing letters every night with words he wished he could’ve said before storing them in a box under his bed. Forever unsent. Hell, Regulus was a coward, every bit as pathetic as Sirius deemed.

Ever the winter break, his parents were relentless, dumping everything that was meant for Sirius onto him. Letters were sent daily; there were talks about an arranged marriage, lumps of money now being transferred under his name, getting the dark mark… and he was being watched. Every interaction he had, his parents always knew. Especially with Muggleborns; he had to limit his interactions with them to almost nothing, or it wouldn’t end well for either.

His mind reeled back to that night, where his parents and extended family toyed with that blonde Muggle, leaving her half-dead on the dining table, the image branded in his head. It made him sick just thinking about it, he never knew what happened to her, he was too busy trying to muffle out her screams.

Regulus had been questioning everything he was taught. Sirius’ words echoed in his head; was he willing to kill Muggleborns solely because of their blood status? He's a believer in old values and traditions: yes, blood should be kept pure, but to kill Muggles… that was completely different. He’d seen how his dearly beloved aunt was burned off the tapestry, threatened and almost killed for marrying a Muggleborn — a Muggleborn who he’s met and liked and respected. His family tortured them for the sake of it and more. That wasn’t the move of someone good, those were the actions of someone evil; filled with greed, spite and selfishness. But how was he going to stop a whole bloodline from their mania?

Some may call it obedience, the way he’s listened to his parents all these years blindly, but to him, it’s respect. But did he believe that? Did they deserve to be respected? He was miserable and this wasn’t a healthy way to show filial piety.

What did he believe in?

Perhaps there wasn’t such a thing, good or evil, maybe there was only power.

Regulus was lost and confused and most of all, lonely. He remembered Sirius promised him once, before the day he was set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time, that he would never be alone. What a funny thing, promises.

Tears were forming fast and if he didn’t leave then, they would fall any second now. He needed to get out of the library.

Regulus asked himself again; what made someone good or bad — or rather, was he good or bad? He’s veering towards bad.

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After catching word from Mary that Remus’ birthday was approaching, Y/N had been knitting him a sweater in her spare time (or trying to). It was sweet, simple and showed that she’d put effort into it, especially since he taught her. Although, the sweater was lopsided and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a certain stitch or how to close sections. Perhaps she should use magic.

Her fingers fiddled with the needle, looping the yarn over the other side. Without looking up, she made a sharp turn into the library before crashing into a hunched-over figure; sniffling and a complete mess.

An apology dangled from her lips before recognizing the figure as Regulus. It had been two months since she’d last seen him and in short, he looked like shit. His skin was grey and lost all sense of a youthful dewy glow. If Sirius had dark eye circles or Remus looked tired, Regulus beat them by miles.

Y/N stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before gently patting his shoulder. “Regulus?” She asked softly, nothing more than a whisper.

There was a flash of pure terror as he looked up, his eyes nervous as his head spun around to look around the place like he always did. He looked mad, almost unhinged as his hands gently pushed her away, signalling for her to leave. “I — I can’t be seen around you.”

“Can’t? What are you going on abo —” She cut herself off, ignoring the matter entirely. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset.

His voice was strained, quiet as he kept on murmuring, he almost sounded angry. “You can’t — we’ll both get in trouble. Y/N, go — please… ”

At this, Y/N felt her skin rise in small goosebumps. She looked back to the library, just making out her friend’s figures before looking down at Regulus again. She wasn’t going to leave him like this: crying and delusional.

She took a deep inhale before bending down, picking up her needles and yarn off the ground and slipped them into her bag. She placed a cautious arm around Regulus to keep him upright. “Come with me.” But Regulus wouldn’t budge, not until she flicked down her hood, obscuring her face.

She led him up to the astronomy tower, walking and twisting around before setting him down on a nearby bench, making sure to lock any entrances. They sat in silence, aside from Regulus attempting to regulate his breathing. The cold whipping wind tossed his hair and sank into her bones. With a few charms, they were both warm again, but still able to breathe in the crisp air.

He remained quiet. Y/N didn’t push. Instead, she began babbling softly about random things to distract him. When she heard a sharp exhale of air, mimicking a half-hearted chuckle was when she knew he had calmed down.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Regulus’ cheeks were pink, colour finally returning to him from either embarrassment or the cold.

“Any time,” she smiled warmly. Her hand reaches into her bag, fishing out the snacks that were meant for the study group: blackberries that were for Remus, a muffin for Marlene, were now shared between them. She tried to encourage him to eat, to regain any sort of energy.

He listened without complaint, a tense yet thankful air engulfed them. It was only until he finished the food, about an hour gone by, was when he spoke again. “Why are you being so nice to me.” It’s not even a question, just an odd accusation.

She thinks for a while, searching for the best answer. “I wished someone was there for me when I was going through a hard time.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Well, let’s get to know each other then. I’ll tell you something about myself and then you can go?”

Regulus looked up at her with a calculated expression, cautious and looked uncomfortable but he nodded.

“Let’s start simple. I have an owl named Celeste.”

He gulped, looking back to the entrance. His answer came delayed, strained and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. “I play the violin.”

Y/N smiled largely. “The violin is beautiful! Hmm… I can’t ride a broomstick to save my life, unlike you.”

At this, he smiles — a real genuine smile that causes his eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “Really?” His eyes burned with curiosity before he looked down, “I can’t swim.”

“Swim?” She repeats, chuckling to herself, “Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“You’re making me feel grand. Terribly uncalled for.”

Her eyes rolled, “You should learn. It can save your life one day. Who wants to drown?”

“Maybe I’ll ask McGonagall — I heard for tougher punishments she’ll throw you into the black lake.”

“You’re the perfect candidate then.”

After a while, way past curfew, Regulus seemed cheerier; his tear-stained cheeks now replaced with a smile and relaxation. That day, Y/N unaware, was a day Regulus would never forget.

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March 8th, 1976

“Sirius, shut up.”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“... Right.”

Excused from their afternoon classes because their Puffskein was about to hatch, the Marauder’s dorm was bustling with panic and bickering. When Y/N partnered with Sirius for their project, she expected fighting (which happened every day) but not for Sirius to be like this. He’d been running around the dorm, grabbing warm towels, bowls of water and taking out his panic on her. He gripped his textbook, flicking through notes to see if they had everything. It was as if he was preparing for the birth of an actual baby.

She silently watched him, her mind thinking about Regulus rather than their project. This was the only time she and Sirius were alone and wondered if she should mention his freakout the other day but stopped — it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t on friendly terms.

Since that night, she’d seen Regulus almost daily, but only at night before their study group. She would spend an hour or so with him before the Marauder or girls came barraging in; Regulus left before they appeared. The entire situation left her deeply confused, worried and most of all, suspicious.

“We need Kettleburn —”

Annoyance began nipping at her. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down!”

Sirius paced, both firing snide jabs. Too preoccupied in his panicked state, he didn’t hear the quiet cracking of the white shell, forming the shape of a lightning bolt before cascading over.

“Um, Black?”

“Let’s not start. How are you so —”

“Get your ass over here now!”

Sirius pressed his lips together immediately and rushed over, both huddled side by side near the roaring fireplace. The shell twitched, cracking more and they both gasped in amazement. The process was faster than either expected as they saw the small tuft of cream fur peek out along with a pair of black eyes. Its long pink tongue slipped out, already looking for its first meal. Y/N scrambled to grab a nearby dish of dried spiders to feed it while Sirius cradled it in his hand. His smile was wide, buzzing with excitement as he observed it. His hands gently glided over the soft fur as it emitted a low humming sound.

A deep chuckle erupts from Sirius and she could feel the vibrations from how close they were. His laugh, which once made her cringe, now made her skin feel fuzzy and heart flutter. But, it wasn’t like that, she thinks. Of course not! She still wants to jinx him, maybe even throw him into the fireplace. Yes, that’s it.

She snaps out of her violent thoughts when she finds Sirius already looking at her, a pretty flush to his skin as he observes her softly. Her brows crinkled; instead of a frown or on the cusp on an insult, he smiles.

“Do you want to hold it?” Y/N nods eagerly. Sirius shifts his body, placing the Puffskein in the palms of her hands. It’s incredibly soft, adorable and when it leans into her, falling asleep, she swore she fell in love.

“What do you want to name it?” She mumbled, afraid that if she were any louder it might wake it up. Sirius takes a long time to ponder and Y/N braces herself for an insult, already thinking of a plethora of her own.

“It looks like porridge… Oatmeal!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Y/N tries to suppress her smile but fails. The Puffskein did look like a grain of oatmeal. Plain and simple, she liked it.

“Hello, Oats! You’re so cute — I could just eat you up!”

“Morbid much.”

Hours went by before they ultimately decided to head down to Kettleburn’s office for an examination of Oats’ health. Sirius cradled it in a small blanket, shielding it from the rest of the world. Marlene and Dorcas were standing by the sidelines, joining them as they walked past.

“Yours hatched already? Aw, it looks so cute!” Dorcas squealed. Her hands reached out, giddy as Sirius gently placed it into her arms but not without fretting. Marlene only looked down at her with a soft gaze, her face becoming pink as she wrapped an arm around her.

“Give it a rest. She’s not going to drop it.”  

“Now you, McKinnon?! I’m a father now! Our kid deserves the best care! Right, L/N?”

It catches her off guard. Sirius trying to include her in a conversation? That’s a new milestone. “Of course; the proudest parents.”

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Once done with Kettleburn, Sirius went to bring Oats back to his dorm, parting as Y/N went to find Lily who took her notes for her afternoon classes.

Out in the courtyard, walking around in the snow, both Lily and Snape wandered around before she picked up a snowball, throwing it at him. Snape sent her a deadpanned look as Lily kept hurling snowballs. Most missed him, others hit him before he retaliated and threw some back.

Y/N halted, watching the scene play out and debated whether or not to approach them. But decided to, shouting while striding up to them.

“Petals!”

Lily’s smile grew before her head whipped to her. She stopped her snowball fight, getting up to bounce her way over to her. Snape followed in suit, but as Lily began to babble on and on about what she missed, Snape’s eyes bore into her, vice versa.

“I’ll see you later, Sevy! We need to go,” said Lily, already turning to walk away. Y/N lingered back a pause, just enough to see Snape draw his wand and shoot a spell at her. She had just enough time to block it. Whatever spell it was, it sparkled like a firecracker. If Snape could easily send a hex or jinx her way inboard daylight with Lily just a little ahead, what was he willing to do had they been alone.

His angel persona around her was dropping quickly.

“Whiskers!” Shouted Lily. Her arms raised in question. “Get over here!”

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her before she could process them. She was about to cause a scene, yell and scream until that nasty sneer fell off his face until she felt a tug on her arm. Lily hooked her arm around Y/N, pulling her away. But she still had her wand drawn, ready to block another spell. She tossed one last look at him; he smiled wickedly.

“Are you okay?”

She had enough tip-toeing around Snape. She remained tranquil, gave him the benefit of the doubt and respected their friendship but that was enough.

“No, I’m not actually,” keeping her tone as soft as possible, trying not to sound defensive, “Why do you waste your time around him?”

Lily paused, her eyes going wide. An offended expression crossed her face as she took a moment to digest the remark. “Sev? What are you getting at?” Her tone was guarded which had Y/N debating whether or not to drop the conversation entirely. A fight with Lily was not on her to-do list.

“I just think you should be careful around him.”

“I can look out for myself,” she grumbled, “Severus has been there for me for years. I know how to separate myself from the wrong sorts.”

“I’m only saying this to look out for —”

“I know, but he isn’t like what you’re thinking.” Lily didn’t look mad, just tired as she nodded sharply. Taking a stack of parchment from her bag, Lily handed it to her and walked faster. “You’re around Potter too much. He isn’t like what he says he is.”

Y/N felt annoyance blossom in her chest at the accusation of James but bit her tongue to avoid more conflict. Right now, they trod on dangerous waters.

Neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.

[capitainelevi]

Drabble Challenge!! 5 and 19, can you combine them too???

Thank you for your ask!! ❤️❤️ Drabble challenge: Followers send a number to your ask and you write a drabble using that sentence/prompt in your piece.

“You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” and “And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.”

Growing up Petra has to take an emergency trip back home, leaving Levi to care for the two daughters they have together. Just how wrong could things get?

Canon universe. Word count: 1784

Petra could feel the judgmental eyes of her driver on her as she picked up the “disgusting” habit of chewing her nails again, as her husband would put it. She could feel anxiousness pouring out of her, half expecting to find her house in ruin on her arrival. Had it not been for her emergency trip to see her father in Paradise, leaving Levi alone with their two daughters would have been the last choice Petra would have made. It wasn`t that she didn`t trust her husband, no, but she knew he could be… hard to deal with.

Neither of them made it out of the war unscathed, and while Petra managed to keep her sunny side alive, Levi`s gruffness and pessimism only deepened. But Petra could always glimpse behind the cold exterior, being able to sense just how much her husband adored his little girls, even as they were in the process of putting his hair up in pigtails.

But no matter how much her husband loved his family, he was still a grumpy old man, which often put him at odds with their daughter going through her teen years. No matter how much Petra tried to prepare Levi for the inevitable change, her husband was not ready to accept “his little girl” was not little anymore. His overprotectiveness often suffocated Eve, leading to Petra taking her daughter`s side in most of the arguments between daughter and father.

Left on the sidewalk with her bags by her side, Petra took a glimpse at her house, relieved to see it had not gone up in flames in the few days that she was away from it. She took a deep breath as she gathered her courage to make her way inside to evaluate the damage done. The house was quiet when she stepped inside. Too quiet for her liking. While her daughters took up after their father when it came to their appearance, their personality was all Petra. “Much to their luck”, as their former squad insisted on reminding Levi every time they got to visit.

When she spotted her husband reading by the fireplace, Petra did not hesitate to throw herself on his lap, ignoring the groan it elicited. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

“I`m not 30 anymore, Petra.”

Petra chose to answer by capturing his lips in a kiss which Levi deepened, the book long forgotten as it hit the floor. She could feel her husband's excitement through the fabric of his pants, and she broke the kiss, worried their time together might get interrupted. Petra laid her head on his chest to listen to his heart beat as Levi ran his hands up and down on her back.

“Did you miss me?”

Levi kissed her again before whispering against her lips- “I think you can feel how hard.”

Petra threw him a dirty look as she got off his lap, much to his displeasure. Despite having been together for 21 years, the flame of their passion never went out. And while her husband had been awkward with showing his love, the time spent by her side changed him.

“You dirty old man.”

Levi just smirked at her playful banter, determined to show his wife just how much he missed her smart mouth once the house went to sleep.

“How`s your father?”

Petra sighed as she threw herself on the couch, still worried about leaving her father on his own until she made the arrangements. She cursed at getting her stubbornness from him when the man refused to acknowledge his old age and the health problems that it brought. After days of yelling and tears, her father agreed to set his worries of being a bother aside and accept Petra`s proposal to be an active part of their lives.

“Stubborn as ever.” Petra rolled her eyes at the smile growing on her husband`s lips, shaking her head in denial at the implication that she is worse than him. “But he did agree to come live with us. I`m just worried about him being on his own for now.”

Levi took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb on her soft skin- “He`ll be fine, Pet. It will be good for him to be close to his granddaughters.”

“Speaking about them, how was your week?”

Levi cleared his throat, quite proud of his achievements while his wife was away. Despite his limited movement, he managed to keep the house up to his cleaning standards, and more than that, he thought he acted fair when it came to the little arguments he had with his daughters throughout the week.

“It all went smoothly.”

Petra was wary of her husband`s confidence, but she chose to leave it alone for the moment. She could see herself once her daughters got back from their classes.

“And I managed to keep all the brats and their shitty germs away from our house.”

Petra groaned as she covered her face with one of the cushion pillows. She often wondered how her husband could be so good with children while also acting like a jerk.

“Levi, our daughters need friends!”

“But Petra, those brats barely know how to use a soap.”

Levi was in the middle of explaining to Petra just how many germs the children brought in his house when their daughters burst through the door, excited to see their mother. Lizzie jumped in Petra`s arms while Eve wrapped her arms around her. Petra squeezed them harder, letting her emotions get ahold of her. She tried to be strong and not show Levi just how soft she was, but her first time away from her family had been hard on her too.

“How is grandpa?”

“He`s fine, sweeties. He will come to live with us in a few weeks.”

Lizzie jumped from Petra`s arms, excited at the prospect of gaining a new partner for playtime, one other than her father- “Another guest to my tea parties!”

Petra just laughed at her daughter`s priorities while Levi announced he had lunch prepared for them. She noticed the half-hearted kiss they gave their father before making their way to the kitchen, and if that was not proof enough of Levi not handling the situation as well as he had claimed, the room being as silent as the grave during their meal was. Levi had managed to turn the most cheerful children Petra had ever seen into… well, him. And in only a matter of days.

“So, did you get along with dad?”

Petra did not miss the grimace on Eve`s face as both girls decided to stay quiet at her question. She turned her eyes to Levi, who just shrugged and carried on with lunch. She turned her attention to Lizzie next- “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

Her daughter stayed quiet again, and Petra nodded at her to answer as she ran her hand through her hair locks.

“Daddy takes the fun out of tea parties.”

Petra groaned, not believing the extends his husband would go to for his love for tea. She threw him a dirty look while Levi ruffled Lizzie`s hair.

“Princess, tea time is not for fun.”

“Levi, she`s six! She just wants to serve tea to her dolls.”

Levi was hurt at his wife`s words, as he expected her to understand how important it was for their daughter to understand the art of tea making from a young age. He had even gifted Lizzie a tea set for Christmas for that reason alone.

“But, Petra, she`s not too young to learn how to make a proper tea!”

“Lev…”- Petra was interrupted by Eve- “Dad moved my curfew to 8 PM. And he came over to my friend`s house to scold me for being out at that hour. It wasn`t even dark outside! Mom, he embarrassed me.”

Petra did not even have time to react, as Levi turned to her- “She`s too young to date!”

She rolled her eyes, tired of having the same argument with her husband every time their daughter was out with her friends. Petra was sure everyone in their town knew how scary Levi was, despite being confined to using a cane or wheelchair for movement. Everyone knew who Captain Levi Ackerman had been in his youth. She was sure anyone would think twice about hurting the daughter of Humanity`s Strongest Soldier.

“Mom was in the military at my age, dad!”

Petra did not miss the hurt in Levi`s eyes at hearing those words, knowing he was still haunted by the faces of all the children he had helped lead to certain death. He had once admitted to Petra he wished she could have had a different life, one where a child did not have to embrace the idea of death just for the dream of not living in a cage anymore.

Levi did not raise his eyes from his plate as he talked- “That`s different.”

“The hell it is!”- Eve spit in his face, angry at his father`s stubbornness.

Levi tried to contain his anger as he put his fork down and rolled away from the table- “You can say goodbye to the party on the weekend, young lady.”

Eve got up from her seat as she announced to the table- “And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.’’

Petra hugged her daughters and assured them their father was not mad before she followed her husband to their bedroom. She could see the misery on his face, and she threw her arms around him. Her husband barely whispered- “Do you think I`m a shitty dad?”

Petra squeezed him harder, trying to show him the confidence she had in his parenting- “No, Levi. Of course not.” She kissed his cheek before running her thumb on it- “You`re an amazing dad.” She hated that Levi questioned himself, but she would have never blamed him for it, as she knew all about his childhood and the terrors he went through. Petra knew his biggest nightmare was turning into a parent similar to Kenny.

Petra kissed him again before whispering against his lips- “You just need to understand your daughter is grown up.”

Levi sighed before giving her a chaste kiss- “It`s hard, Petra.”

She kissed his nose, knowing it would get a smile out of him, no matter what, and she was not wrong. Levi wrapped his arms around her again as Petra whispered in his ear- “They love you so much.”

“I adore them.”

Levi felt his heart stop when Petra took his hand and rested it on her tummy as she whispered in his ear- “And you will adore this one as well.”

[angeloroki]

saturday night — i. midoriya

pro-hero!izuku midoriya x gn!reader (might have some indications for a fem reader)

warning ; alcohol consumption, suggestive content

it was late. and the fatigue mixed with the drinks you had accumulated with izuku made the evening all the more dangerous.

it had started out as a reunion dinner with former high school students. a simple evening to catch up on old times, and to escape for a few hours from the exhausting work and worries of life.

10:12 pm.

you were happy to see them again. or even to go out for the first time in many weeks. your new job at that big company was sucking up all your personal time and energy. so this outing with your childhood friends was just what you needed. a mixture of euphoria, laughter, and broken glass.

and then you could tell that you were not indifferent to the sidelong glances of the host of the party. you did not miss seeing his cheeks blush every time your hands brushed against each other to grab the bottle.

it was a game of cat and mouse that you had been playing since the beginning of the evening, and your friends had not failed to point it out.

“oi deku, are you going to make out with y/n in front of us or are you going to serve us this dessert?" yells bakugo.

“ i don't think it's necessary for you." said denki in a mocking voice.

"what do you mean you shithead ?! "

1:02 a.m.

there were about ten of you at the beginning, the excitement keeping you awake, while tenya's bedtime stories provoked laughter that you all missed.

but as the hours passed, the number of people leaving increased. only the most drunk stayed, namely you and midoriya.

2:32 a.m.

“i think i have to go izuku... otherwise i'll do things i might regret.” you say, staggering slightly.

two big, strong hands came to stop you from falling over head first. a goofy smile stretched your cheeks as you met your savior's gaze. two sparkling, starry eyes stared back at you. he was as drunk as you were, yet he managed to get you to sit on his couch. his hand rested gently on your arm for a little longer than necessary. a bitter taste filled your mouth as he finally pulled it away. what you wished was that he'd lowered it a little more.

"i-i don't think you should drive home, y/n.

"mmh, i was thinking of taking a taxi deku, im drunk not stupid.”

he raised his eyebrows before draping his muscular arm over the back of your seat on the couch. you still remember how he was in high school, so small and vulnerable. he had that innocent look that managed to charm all the girls and you first. but now? puberty had hit him hard. izuku had certainly grown to 6'2", and gained more than 50 kilos of muscle due to his job as a pro-hero, but there was also a much more serious expression stretching his features. his look was neat, classy.

"what makes you smile like that?" he said in a half-amused, half-serious voice.

you shook your head. you couldn't admit that you were drooling over his well-built body.

"i remember our nights in the dorms watching those conspiracies videos on YouTube. and you'd laugh at me if i told you i missed those days.”

"and you'd laugh at me too if i told you that i missed that time too.” he said gently.

it was at that very moment that you finally noticed that you were close. too close for two people who had been drinking all night. too close for two exes. too close for two people who seemed to still have feelings for each other.

you'd have to be blind to ignore the two eyes you were giving each other all night. those glances sometimes accompanied by smiles. but you knew it was wrong. you knew it was impossible for the two of you, impossible to go back to the good old days when you were just a couple in love and teenagers, still unaware of life's problems.

his hand, now caressing your cheek, jolted you out of your dreamy thoughts.

"stay here tonight.”

you didn't know if that was an order or more of an advice. but what you did know was that you wanted to listen to him terribly. it would have been easy to kick off your shoes and fall asleep in his arms. but even though you'd had many drinks, you were still sober enough to know what was right and wrong.

"you know i can't, izuku.”

the flu on your face intensified slightly. as if you were in danger of escaping at the slightest false move.

"you would laugh at me if i told you that i miss the time we were together. he said weakly, his voice pleading.

a dry laugh from you echoed through the room. he was an asshole to get your hopes up.

"that's the alcohol talking izuku, go to bed and let me call a cab." you huffed.

but he had only one gesture that required very little effort to make you stay. all he had to do was to put his lips to yours, and you would be his all night.

and that's what he did. he kissed you as if it was the end of the world, his arms wrapped around your waist. the young man wanted to feel your body against his, to feel your warmth, to taste you in your entirety. his desires for you, which he had been struggling with all evening, were satisfied thanks to this single kiss.

that quarter of a second seemed to last for ages. but every idyllic dream is always brutally torn apart by reality.

that reality in the story of the two of you was the engine of the car that had just parked in front of izuku's house. it was that reality that kept you from jumping on your ex's neck. that reality was ochako uraraka.

the young brunette entered the house with an exhausted smile on her lips. her eyes shone when she noticed you. you were a good meter away from her boyfriend, looking ashamed. but ochako was too tired to understand the situation.

"i'm glad to see you, i'm sorry i didn't make it to dinner. but work obliges haha.

you avoided his gaze, while picking up your things in a hurry.

"it's okay, we can always do this again some other time.

"i can give you a lift if you want, you look pretty drunk." she said worried.

"it's okay baby, she'll call a cab, right? "

izuku looked at you indifferently. his eyes, which were filled with desire for you a few minutes ago, were replaced by disinterested eyes. a new cold character was standing in front of you.

" thank you ochako. but he is right, i will call a cab... “

uraraka nodded and went to her boyfriend's arms. you saw from the corner of your eye that he only needed a glance to warn you to do something. the shadow of a smirk disfigured your expression.

you were naive to get your hopes up like that. izuku since your youth was known to be a heartbreaker. although you were his childhood friend, you were no different from his exes. even though izuku was a good person as a hero and friend, he was still a man who liked to feed on the love people had for him. he didn't have to hesitate to torment you all evening.

so i guess you didn't have to feel bad about leaving traces of your lipstick on his shirt collar.

"good night guys.” you say a smirk on your face.

tagging ; @escapenightmare @candy-hime