#and flight rising because everyone always told me i should play it but i also kinda suck at waiting

[nyupuun]

Started playing a bunch of dragon games and. Omg. I love dragons (said with autism)

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (23)

(Welp, y’all, this is it. This is the last, pre-written chapter that I have written. From here on out we’re gonna have to rely strictly on my writing consistency and... I’m so sorry for that lol Because CLEARLY, if we’re on the last pre-written chapter, after having posted, like, three over the last month, we know that this isn’t gonna be good. BUT! I do have THIS chapter to give you! So please enjoy! And don’t forget to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch.1 / Ch.22 / Ch.24 (ao3)

Chapter 23: How the Cards Fall

Marinette stared in horror at her former classmates, violently kicking herself for being so reckless. How could she forget that this was one of Alya and Nino’s favorite food carts too? She used to eat there with them all the time! She should have known better than to pick this place! Actually, she shouldn’t have picked anywhere to eat at all! Going to a place she used to enjoy meant going to a place where she used to hang out with her old friends, which meant eventually running into them, which meant- well - this! Oh, how could she be so stupid?

Maybe it won’t be so bad, she reasoned with herself before she could start hyperventilating. Maybe they’ll just roll their eyes and leave instead of making a scene.

But Alya was never one to back down from a (accidental) challenge. As soon as she realized her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, a scowl etched itself onto her lips, and she started stomping in Marinette’s direction.

“It is you!” The red-head scoffed. “Oh, when I get my hands on you-”

Marinette flinched back, officially throwing breathing out the window. She looked at her current classmates and wondered what they would do if she ran, what they would think. Would they follow her or would they stay and talk with Alya? What if they started asking questions that Marinette couldn’t answer? What if Alya answered the questions before she could? Would they believe her? Was she going to have to find a new school again? What if Lila’s lies followed her there too? What if she never escaped Lila’s claims?

Suddenly, not breathing turned into breathing too fast, but before she could spiral further than gasping, a shadow passed over her. 

It was Allan and Claude, coming to stand in front of her as a defense.

“Hey, woah!” Claude said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “Why don’t you back off a bit and tell us what’s got you so upset?”

A hand touched her shoulder lightly, and Marinette’s gaze snapped to Felix, who was now standing next to her. He met her eyes with a subtle raise of the eyebrows, and she knew what it meant. 

“Are you alright?”

Marinette drew in a deep breath to steady herself and nodded, even though her insides felt like they were turning outwards at this point. Felix must have seen through her fib because his hand stayed on her shoulder as he looked back at Alya. His eyebrows were furrowed, which could be from his concern, but Marinette also knew curiosity when she saw it. He wants to know who these people are, and why they’re angry with her. And after everything she’s told him about her old school, he might be able to figure it out.

Alya briefly paused at the boys’ blockade, before raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. 

“So is this who you’re hiding behind now?” She asked, unimpressed. “Are these the new people you’ve managed to dupe?”

 Marinette tensed, and Felix’s grip tightened on her shoulder. Whether that was a sign of support or his disgruntlement, she wasn’t sure.

“Are we supposed to know what that means?” Allegra, who had also come to stand next to Marinette, drawled.

“No.” Alya said. “Not yet, anyway. This one likes to wait until you’re in pretty deep before springing her trap.”

Marinette bit her lip, indignation rising in her chest. She didn’t deserve this. She hasn’t done anything wrong!

“Alya, that’s enough-” She tried to say, but Alya cut her off.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” The red-head snapped. “You don’t get to have a say anymore, not unless you’re willing to admit what you’ve done, what you really are.”

“Alya, come on.” Nino, who finally decided to join the conversation, coaxed. “L-Let’s just go. It’s not worth fighting over.”

Marinette might have been grateful had he not backed down right after when Alya shot him a glare. 

“I’m going to assume you guys are her new classmates and friends.” Alya continued. “So let me tell you, as a former classmate and best friend, that this girl,” she pointed her finger accusingly at Marinette, “is a fraud.”

“That’s not true!” Marinette couldn’t help shouting.

Alya ignored her. “She makes herself look sweet and innocent by making you croissants or cookies and bringing you handmade gifts, but it’s all an act. All she really wants is the attention that the gifts bring, and when she doesn’t get it, she goes ballistic. I used to think she was the best thing in the world until a foreign exchange student came along and became more popular. Then she started stealing that person’s homework and ripping it up, or throwing her textbooks in the trash, or even tripping her down flights of stairs. One time we even caught her stealing personal items!”

“I didn’t do any of that!” Marinette insisted, more so to her friends than to Alya. “I told you she framed me!”

Alya scoffed. “You can’t even deny it anymore! Lila has all of the rude texts you’ve sent her, there were multiple witnesses to the tattered homework that was on your desk- myself included -and we all saw her take her family heirloom out of your locker.”

“That wasn’t a family heirloom! She literally bought that in a store two months before and then put it in my locker to frame me!”

Alya rolled her eyes and turned back to Claude and Allan. “Obviously, she’s going to make up whatever excuse she can to keep you from listening to me, but I advise you to dump her now while you can. She’ll make your life a living nightmare if she thinks you’re better than her somehow, though at this point,” Alya shot Marinette another scalding glare, “we all are.”

Tears burned in the corner of Marinette’s eyes, but before she could further argue her innocence, Claude spoke up.

“Ok, so what proof do you have of this?”

It was something she’d expected Felix to ask, honestly, and it left her staring at the brunette in shock. He was.. asking questions. The right questions. He wasn’t taking Alya’s words as gospel the way everyone else at Dupont had done with Lila’s words.

Alya frowned. “I already told you-”

“No, I don’t care about what you’ve said.” Claude interrupted. “You’re a stranger I just met, and Marinette is a good friend that I’ve known for a wonderful month and a half. I’m going to need more than your word.”

Alya narrowed her eyes at him, debating.

“Alright, fine. I’ll bring Lila here as a first hand account. She has the texts saved on her phone. As for the homework and such, those have already been replaced and done away with, but I do have the class president binder where several important forms are missing from Marinette burning them instead of giving them to Lila after leaving.”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid laughing despite herself. Lila said that she burned some of the class papers? What would make her lie about something like that? Was it to get out of the work? Oh, boy, was that going to come back to bite her. She probably had to resign all of the ‘missing’ paperwork! Oh, this is the greatest thing Marinette’s ever heard. Hopefully, she said she lost a lot.

“Do you have the burnt papers?” Allan asked. 

“No, of course not-”

“So, let me see if I’ve got this right,” Allegra said, her voice edging on annoyance, “we’re supposed to believe the account of a foreign exchange student, who we also don’t know, and who, apparently, brought out the worst in Marinette by herself even though no one had ever done so before, and the only actual proof you have, other than that girl’s word, is a series of texts that can easily be altered and a binder with some missing pages that ‘Lila’ could have misplaced or even burned herself. Is that correct?”

Alya scoffed. “You’re making it sound ridiculous.”

“No, I’m repeating what you’ve said to us, which is ridiculous.”

“She’s done other things too!” Alya insisted. “Just the other day she met up with one of my other friends and tried to persuade them into her clutches again, even though she had already transferred schools. Look-”

Alya pulled out her phone, and for once, Marinette looked on with interest as well. Lila making up a lie like that meant someone had to be going against her now, right? So who was it? Did someone mention Marinette’s name in an argument, and now Lila’s latching onto that as an advantage?

After a minute of searching, Alya flipped her phone around for them to see her screen, and the picture displayed on it made Marinette’s stomach drop.

“Woah, is that Adrien Agreste?”

The group, aside from Felix, leaned forward to see the picture better, but Marinette found herself leaning back, the blood draining from her features. That was a picture of her and Adrien at the café last Friday, but- but how did- when could they have possibly-

“Where did you get that?” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

Alya fixed her with a smug grin. “Look familiar? Lila took this while you and Adrien were having lunch last week. I’d been wondering why he was asking her so many questions about her stories, but now it all makes sense. You’ve been secretly coaxing him to your side again, and poor Adrien couldn’t resist.  Even when I called him about the picture, he said he just wanted to be your friend again. I guess he always did see the best in everyone, though.”

Marinette felt sick to her stomach. How long was Lila with them in that café and Marinette didn’t even know it? How much did she overhear as Marinette blabbered on and on to Adrien about her current life? Did she know about Marinette attending Rosemary? Did she tell Alya about her attending Rosemary? How many people did she send that picture to?

She clutched for Felix’s hand on her shoulder, suddenly not trusting herself to stand, and he quickly put his other hand on top of hers. The comfort of his touch was appreciated, but not enough.

A burst of laughter cut into Marinette’s panic, and she turned to Claude who was all but rolling on the grass. He clutched his sides as he howled and even went as far as to wipe tears from his eyes. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute..” the brunette wheezed. “So you’re telling me, that Adrien Agreste, the fashion icon and heart throb of Paris, was in your class, but Marinette only started acting out after the foreign exchange student showed up? No offense to you, Mari, but I’m pretty sure a rich, young model would have been way more popular. How come she didn’t sabotage him?”

Alya faltered for a moment, not quite expecting the question and certainly not the laughter. “W-Well- I mean- she did have a major crush on him. Maybe she didn’t care that he was more popular than her because she liked him so much.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, but thankfully, no one touched on that subject. Instead, Allegra hummed and said, “Okay, fine. Assuming that’s true, what made Lila so popular?”

“Plenty of things.” Alya stated matter-of-factly. “She’s helped Prince Ali organize several charities, made petitions to save endangered animal preserves, is best friends with Ladybug-”

Marinette didn’t resist her eye roll.

“-and even saved Jagged stone’s kitten!”

Marinette glanced at Claude, who immediately deadpanned a “what”. She knew that if anyone was going to pick up the last line, it would be him.

“Jagged Stone never owned a kitten.” Claude said. “He’s allergic.”

“It was before he knew he was allergic.”

“He’s still never owned a kitten!” Claude exclaimed with a flail of his arms. “He’s only ever owned a crocodile! That’s been said in multiple interviews!”

“But-”

“And if we want to bring up charities, Prince Ali doesn’t organize any charities. He only donates to them.” Allegra pointed out.

“I-”

“And petitions to protect endangered animal preserves?” Allan echoed. “Those don’t need protection. They are set in stone by law.”

“I’m sure-”

“Look, you’ve clearly been given false information.” Claude said, crossing his arms, “and because you were dumb enough to believe the real attention-seeker, you’ve lost an amazing friend. Now I suggest you leave us alone before I report you to the authorities for harassment.”

Alya’s face twisted with rage. “Harrass- you know what? Whatever. I’ve done my part. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when she starts ruining your life out of jealousy.”

Marinette caught a glimpse of Claude clenching his fists, and Allan put a hand on the brunette’s shoulder to steady him.

“We won’t. Have a nice day.”

Alya huffed and stormed off, dragging Nino with her. He glanced over his shoulder to give Marinette an apologetic look, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and blew out a sigh. That.. could have gone worse.. she supposed.

“Marinette.”

Marinette’s fingers dug into her skin, and she hesitantly looked up at Felix. His hand had loosened on her shoulder, and he was staring at her with an unreadable expression. What was he thinking right now? Was he angry? Disappointed? Confused about why she didn’t tell him about her lunch date with Adrien? She wished he would give her a clue of some kind.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly. “You’re shaking.”

Marinette blinked, pulling her hands away from her body. She was shaking? How did she not notice?

“Oh, and you look so pale!” Allegra cried, wrapping her arms around Marinette’s shoulders. “Should we take you home?”

Marinette grabbed Allegra’s arm and forced a small smile as she shook her head. “No, no, I’m.. I..”

She wanted to say that she was fine, that they could continue having lunch as usual, but a lump in her throat made it hard to get the words out. Next thing she knew, tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she was putting her hand over her mouth to choke down a sob. 

All this time.. All this time she’d been keeping her past a secret from them, scared that they might take Lila’s side like everyone else, yet here they were, holding her close and offering her hushed condolences. They were giving her the very support she’d been afraid of losing, and now she was ashamed that she’d ever been afraid at all. 

“I’m so sorry!” She nearly sobbed.

Allegra pulled her closer. “No, don’t say that! There’s nothing you need to be apologizing for!”

Claude and Allan rushed to wrap their arms around her as well, and Felix slid his hand down to rub her back. This, of course, only made her cry harder, because they were being so gentle with her, so kind. How could she have ever doubted them?

“Why don’t we go back to the house?” Claude suggested gently. “Mom and Dad won’t be back yet so we can give you a minute to recover.”

“And Felix makes the best honeysuckle tea.” Allegra adds. “It’ll cure any pain those idiots caused.”

Marinette sniffed and gave a little nod. People were starting to stare at them anyway, and at this point, she’d lost her appetite.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, whatever you need.” Allegra said as she led Marinette back to the car. 

Marinette took the handkerchief Felix offered her and dried some of her tears, then gave him a small, grateful smile. He hadn’t spoken much during the altercation, but the way he quietly hovered around her and held her hand when she needed it said enough, especially since she knew he didn’t appreciate being touched. 

It’s funny. Whenever she used to think about them finding out about Lila- because, surely, it would have to happen eventually -she always assumed she would feel anxious or paranoid afterwards. “What if they didn’t believe her? What if they constantly doubted her actions now? What if she constantly doubted their actions? Would they ever be able to trust each other fully again?” But as she got into the limo and sat down, and everyone crowded around her to show their love and support over the awful things Lila had said, all Marinette felt was safe.

~~~~~~

Felix leaned his back against the peppered countertop and crossed his arms, his finger tapping against his bicep with impatience. The iron tea kettle sat on the stove next to him, slowly heating and steeping the honeysuckle tea that he’d been requested to make. Usually, it took no time at all for the kettle to whistle, but today, it felt like he’d been standing there for an eternity. 

He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave to see how long he’d been waiting, and the numbers 12:45 blinked across it. 

12:45pm.. That meant he’d been in the kitchen for about.. 

Two minutes. 

Felix sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze sliding to the kitchen doorway. Marinette was sitting in the living room with the others just outside of it, with her and Allegra on one three-cushioned-couch, and Claude and Allan on the other one across from them. She seemed to be having a decent time, chatting and laughing with everyone, but that didn’t ease Felix’s mind any, not after what he saw in the park.

He’ll admit to being curious when the fight first started. Rosemary is known for its hair-pulling, arm-biting brawls, but they’re also known to remain dignified despite them. For example, the brawls are almost always private, which is why, when someone called out to Marinette in such a harsh and open manner, Felix couldn’t help being intrigued.

When he saw how Marinette reacted, however, his stance on the situation dramatically changed.

In the month and a half that he’s known her, Marinette has faced down high-class celebrities, an overwhelming amount of clothing requests from Claude, and an actual akuma, and not once has Felix seen her so much as flinch. Not until today, that is, when that red-head somehow shook her to her core. Just the sight of her sent Marinette into hysterics, crying, shaking, her face becoming white as a sheet- he’s quite certain she almost hyperventilated at some point too. This strong girl that he’d grown to admire, that he was starting to believe could face anything unscathed, had crumbled to pieces in mere seconds, and it honestly frightened him. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to help. So he simply grabbed her shoulder, hoping she would understand what he was trying to say- that he was there for her, and was she alright? 

She understood him, thankfully, and her shoulders started to loosen a bit under his gaze.

But then that red-head started talking.

She spat out the most ridiculous accusations Felix had ever heard, accusations stating that Marinette was a liar and a fake, that she only ever did things for attention. Even if the part about wanting attention was true- which it wasn’t -why would it matter? She does incredible things simply because people ask her to. Why shouldn’t she get any attention for it? 

As annoying as the last claim was, though, it wasn’t nearly as infuriating as the rest of the things that girl said. She told them she was Marinette’s former best friend, yet she cast the ravenette aside at the drop of a hat simply because an exchange student with a rusted silver tongue told her to do so. Honestly, who would be dumb enough to believe that some foreign student was best friends with one of the Parisian superheroes? Or that a highschooler actually got to organize charity events? The most she would be able to do at her age was greet people as they walked inside. 

Felix wasn’t even going to think about the Jagged Stone claim, since Claude already made it quite clear that that was another lie, but really, who goes into a new school spreading the most impossibly grand lies they can? More importantly, how did those lies manage to stick? Was everyone at Dupont a complete moron?

No.. No, that wasn’t it. No one was that stupid, surely. They all probably wanted to believe Lila. That’s why they pounced on Marinette the way they did. They were looking for an excuse to go after her the entire time. 

Felix clenched his fist and turned to the kettle again, watching the steam rise from the spout. It’s no wonder she became so worried when saw Adrien Agreste at Rosemary. After her crush on him and the lies, Felix wouldn’t want to see his former classmates either.

...Speaking of Agreste, what was that picture about? Felix doubted Marinette was trying to ‘persuade him to her side’ as that red-head had said, but her reaction to it was extremely strong nonetheless. Why were they in a café together? It sounded like she met up with him only last week, but she’d told Felix a couple weeks ago that she didn’t want to see him. Why would she put herself through that? And why did she grip his hand so hard when she saw the picture?

The shrill whistle of the tea kettle broke into his thoughts, and Felix jumped to move it off of the burner. Once it was set aside properly, he turned the stove off and began setting out the mugs to fill them. They weren’t as delicate or pristine as the tea sets his father owned, but they would do nicely for the time being. Besides, if Marinette had a one-of-a-kind glass teacup, she might fret about breaking it instead of enjoying the tea.

Felix filled the mugs and put them on a tray, along with some sugars, milk, and honey, then picked up the tray to bring it into the living room. A round of delighted cheers filled the room as he entered, and Claude eagerly bounced up from the couch to grab his mug. Felix moved the tray out of his reach, though, not wanting to offset the balance and spill everything.

“Sorry it took so long.” Felix said as he set the tray on the table. “The tea is fresh so I brought in ice cubes to cool it off if you want them. If not, make sure to blow on it before drinking or you’ll burn your tongue.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know the drill.” Claude remarked as he reached for his mug again.

Felix rolled his eyes. “That was for Marinette’s benefit, not yours.”

“I’m sure Mari knows how to drink hot tea.” Claude retorted.

“But I appreciate the advice anyway.” Marinette spoke up with a smile.

Felix glanced at her as he handed her a pink mug, trying not to look at the puffed up red spots under her eyes. Her tears had long since disappeared, but the remnants of them still remained, including the trails on her cheeks that the tears had run down.

“You’re going to love this, Marinette.” Allegra chirped, thankfully taking the girl’s focus. “This tea literally tastes like honey. I doubt you’ll even need any sugar!”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna.” Claude smirked, already shoveling a spoonful of sugar into his tea. “Unsweet tea was never my style.”

“I swear you are gonna die from diabetes one day.” Allan muttered while taking a sip of his tea. 

“And it will totally be worth it.” Claude replied.

Marinette and the others laughed, which helped Felix relax a tad as he sat next to Allan. If Marinette was laughing again, maybe that meant she was feeling better.

The ravenette’s lips hovered over the mug for a solid minute as she blew on the pale, celadon liquid, and when she finally decided to take a drink, Felix found himself staring. Did she like it? Was it too strong? Should he go make something else for her?

“Oh, this is amazing!” Marinette gasped, her eyes lighting up.

Felix smiled, relieved. “I’m glad you think so. I like to add a few drops of honey and a sprinkle of sugar every now and then because it brings out the flavor, but that’s just a personal preference.”

“The tea is incredible already, but I’ll try your style anyway.” She said, reaching for the sugar. Claude pushed it towards her, while Allegra gave her the honey, and once Marinette dumped the extra ingredients into her mug, she took a spoon from a tray to stir them.

She took another sip of the tea, and this time, she sank into the couch with a contented sigh.

“Wow. That is so good, especially with how warm it is! I feel like I’ve just been wrapped up in the most comfortable blanket ever.”

The trio shared a laugh, and Marinette sat up with another giggle herself, but to Felix’s disappointment, the smiles didn’t last. 

Marinette set her mug on her lap and let out a sigh, a bashful smile replacing her giddy one. She kept her gaze on her cup as she said, “So, I guess… I should explain myself?”

The group exchanged glances, and Allegra frowned.

“What’s there to explain?” Allan was the first to ask.

Marinette looked up. “Well- Y-You know.. The reasons why Alya was so angry with me. How everything happened at my old school.”

“Again, what’s there to explain?” Claude said. “It’s obvious what happened. This ‘Lila’ person spread rumors about you around the school, and for some reason, your classmates were dumb enough to believe it. End of story.”

For once, Felix agreed with him.

“.. Not quite.” Marinette admitted, causing Felix to furrow his eyebrows. How much more to the story could there possibly be? Don’t tell him it got worse.

“I’d like to tell my side of the story, if you guys don’t mind.”

Allegra offered her a reassuring smile. “Of course not, but you don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah.” Allan agreed. “Your word is all we need.”

A grateful smile caught the corners of Marinette’s lips. “Thank you, but I want to do this. I’ll feel a lot better once you guys know the full truth.”

“Then we’re all ears.” Felix said, sincerely.

Marinette’s smile widened slightly as she glanced at him, but her expression fell serious again when she began her story.

“It started almost two years ago. The September before last, a girl named Lila joined our school- er -my old school, Dupont. She came in telling all of these different stories about meeting celebrities and arranging charity events or music concerts and being ‘best friends’ with Ladybug.” 

The sheer disgust in her voice when she mentioned being best friends with Ladybug made Felix smirk, but he let her continue.

“With stories as crazy as that, I couldn’t believe that my fr- uh.. That my classmates were actually believing her. In one day, she had them following her around like dogs and carrying her stuff because she claimed to have hurt her wrist in an accident. I forget which excuse she used, but it ticked me off to no end. So I tried to tell everyone that she was lying.”

“It.. didn’t end well, unfortunately. She turned into an akuma and went on a rampage, and after Ladybug and Chat Noir fixed everything, she only gained more sympathy from everybody. That’s when the stories about me started.”

“Every time I tried to expose her, she would make up some elaborate lie that made me the bad guy, and everyone swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. I tried to tell the teachers about what was happening, and some of them helped keep us separated during class time. But other than that, I was kind of just.. left to handle it by myself.”

Felix held back a scoff. Typical. Teachers never bothered entering student squabbles if they thought it wasn’t law-suit worthy.

“Of course, since the teachers weren’t doing anything, the lies only got worse, and soon, Lila started lying about me unprovoked. She would say I stole her things or ripped up her homework or tripped her down the stairs. I almost got expelled over it twice.”

“Wait, seriously?” Claude said before Felix could actually scoff. “So you told the teacher that this ‘Lila’ was spreading lies around the school, but they still tried to expel you over the things she said?”

Marinette nodded. “They would have to if she hadn’t come back and made up some lies about having been mistaken. I’m still not sure why she did that.”

Felix shook his head, absolutely incredulous to what he was hearing. It appeared the students weren’t the only morons in that school. How has it stayed funded for this long?

“Maybe it was a power play.” Allan muttered with a frown. “She sounds like the type of person who would do that.”

Marinette shrugged. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“Didn’t anyone believe you?” Allegra asked.

A wince overcame the ravenette’s features, and Felix reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say about that question.

“Yes, someone did,” Marinette admitted, “but he wasn’t very helpful, to be honest. Actually, he tried to get me to stop going against Lila in case she got akumatized again. His reasoning was that her lies would eventually be found out on their own, but.. as you know.. They never were.”

Claude scoffed and put a hand to his chest, seeming to be offended by the very notion. “Are you for real? He just wanted you to let it go?”

“Did he even say anything while you were in the process of being expelled?” Allan asked.

Marinette’s face said plenty, but she answered aloud anyway. “No, not that I know of. He never liked getting in the middle of confrontations.”

Now it was Felix’s turn to scoff. He tipped his drink up to his lips, downing half the mug to avoid interrupting her story further. Felix scoffed, taking a sip of his tea to avoid interrupting her story further. Did no one want to stand up for Marinette? Did no one in that forsaken school have any sense of loyalty or gratitude? That dumb redhead at the park even admitted that Marinette had done numerous things for them as favors. How can they look at themselves in the mirror each morning when they treat people so horribly?

“So what happened after you almost got expelled?” Allegra prompted.

“Well, if you’re asking me what changed, then nothing, really.” Marinette replied. “Lila continued to lie, and I continued to take the fall for it, except now people were actually doing things to me. Before, they only talked about me behind my back or glared at me from the front, but after another one of Lila’s crying fits, they started ripping up my homework, stealing my things. I guess they thought they were playing the act of karma when they did it.”

“And I assume that guy who believed you stayed quiet the whole time?” Claude asked bitterly.

Marinette shrugged. “Basically. He tried to speak up on my behalf a few times, but he was always shut down too fast for it to matter.”

“Eventually, it got so bad that everyone started tripping me too, or running into me on purpose in the hallway. The last straw was when someone tripped down the front steps of the school, and I almost stumbled into a passing car. I was lucky I didn’t get hit.”

Felix’s grip tightened on his cup, and he thanked whatever was watching over her that day while simultaneously cursing the idiots she’d been forced to interact with. Did they even realize what they were doing? Or did they simply not care about almost murdering another classmate?

“Oh my gosh.” Allegra gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

“That’s insane.” Allan said.

“Were they even sorry?!” Claude demanded, outraged. “Did they even look ashamed when you almost got hit?”

Marinette took another drink of her tea and shook her head. “No. My Maman tried to talk to the school about it, but since nothing actually happened besides me getting pushed, they could only offer her detention slips or suspension.”

She paused to look up at Felix, surprising him.

“That’s why I decided to transfer to Rosemary.” She said, and in that moment, it felt as though everything she had ever told him clicked into place. The reason the akuma attacks all seemed minor to her, why she never mentioned her old school, her becoming pale when Agreste first came around to Rosemary- it all made sense now, like he’d taken a million separate puzzle pieces and connected them to form a single picture. 

Felix thought he would be pleased, that he would feel triumphant upon solving this brain teaser known as Marinette, but he didn’t feel pleased at all. Instead he felt.. Sympathy. And fury. This girl was not some puzzle for him to mess around with. She was a person, a friend, his friend, and to hear her be treated in such a way made his blood boil.

“We’re glad you did.” Allegra commented.

“Yeah, you’re clearly much better off here.” Claude agreed. “Those jerks don’t know what they lost.”

“So you guys aren’t.. Ya know.. mad at me or anything?”

“Mad at you?” Allan frowned. “Why would we be mad at you?” 

“Well,” Marinette thumbed her mug for a moment, “I did kind of keep this a secret from all of you on purpose. I just didn’t want to drag my old problems to my new school. That and.. I didn’t want to risk you not believing me.. I’m sorry I didn’t have more faith in you guys.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Allegra said. “You went through something terrible. We don’t blame you for not wanting to bring it up again.”

“Besides, you transferred schools to escape from the rumors, right?” It only makes sense that you wouldn’t tell us about them when you got here.” Allan pointed out.

Felix nodded in agreement, and Marinette let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s good to hear. Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Of course.” Claude smiled. “You’re our friend, Marinette. A few dumb rumors would never drive us away. If it did, we wouldn’t even be friends with each other by now.”

Marinette gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, we’ve all been lied about at some point.” The brunette stated nonchalantly. “I mean, we go to Rosemary, a school filled to the brim with rich, talented, and extremely spoiled kids who have nothing better to do than gossip about each other. I get accused of cheating at least once a semester. Allegra had rumors about her bribing the dance teacher when she was chosen for a leading role one year, and Felix has been rumored to actually not be rich at all.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but an incredulous laugh left Marinette’s lips. 

“What?”

Allan snorted. “Oh, that one was pretty funny. Some people still think he actually lives in the school.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“Cause he wouldn’t invite people over to his house.” Allegra said with a wry smile. “And he practically wears the same outfit everyday.

Marinette hummed, looking Felix up and down. “They make a good point.. Felix, is there something you’d like to confess to?”

Felix gave a playful scoff, and the group laughed at his reaction.

“See?” Claude asked. “Your rumors were definitely worse than ours, but we’re not inexperienced. People will always try to bring you down in the lamest way possible.”

Marinette chuckled. “Yeah.. I guess they will. Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime.” Allegra smiled, pulling Marinette into a small hug.

“We’re always here for you.” Allan added sincerely.

Marinette smiled as well. “I know.”

“And if any of those jerks come around you again, you just let us know,” Claude said, punching his fist into his palm, “especially if it’s that guy who tried to tell you to ‘ignore’ Lila.”

A nervous laugh came from Marinette, and she reached up to mess with her pigtails as she said, “I appreciate that.”

Felix, satisfied with how the conversation ended, tilted his cup up to his lips, only to realize it was empty. He pulled his cup down and scanned the table, noting that Allegra and Claude’s cups were empty as well.

“Why don’t I get us some more tea?” He offered, moving to grab the tray.

“Oh!” Marinette perked up, quickly downing the rest of her tea in one gulp. “I’ll come too.”

Felix blinked. “Uh.. that’s not necessary. I can carry it all in one sitting. If you’d rather sit-”

“No, it’s alright.” She said, standing up to take Claude’s cup from him. “I want to stretch my legs anyway.”

The trio exchanged glances again, but Felix was too busy eyeing Marinette to notice. ‘Stretch her legs’? She’s only been sitting for- what? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? How restless could her legs be?

“We’ll wait in here.” Allegra remarked, referring to herself and the other boys.

Felix nodded and picked up the tray, not bothering to argue with Marinette. If she wanted to walk with him into the kitchen, she certainly had the right to do so. And who knows? Maybe she wanted a moment to herself and didn’t know how to tell them.

They strode into the kitchen together, and Felix set the tray on the counter while Marinette handed him her mugs. 

“Thank you for helping me. You know you didn’t need to.” He said as he refilled the mugs. 

“I know,” Marinette said, leaning against the counter while she waited, “but I actually wanted to speak with you privately, so this works for me.”

Felix raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She wanted to speak with him privately? 

“What did you need?”

Marinette glanced up at him, then seemed to think better of it as her gaze flicked back down to the ground. “I wanted to apologize to you too.. You remember last week when you asked me if something was wrong and I told you I didn’t want to talk about it? Well, the reason I was upset was because Adrien came to the bakery that day and begged me to speak with him. I didn’t really feel comfortable with it, but I felt guilty not giving him a second chance when he seemed so sorry about how he’d acted with Lila. So I agreed to have lunch with him after the Valentine’s Day party, which was where I ran off to while you guys were cleaning up. I guess Lila took a picture of us there, and I didn’t realize it..”

Felix frowned. Her reasons for visiting Agreste again were troubling to hear, but..

“Why do you need to apologize to me?”

Marinette’s gaze snapped to his again, her eyes wide with surprise. “Because I didn’t tell you. I knew after everything you’d heard about him that you wouldn’t want me going to see him, but instead of hearing your opinion, I just didn’t say anything. I should have talked to you about it. Maybe then Lila wouldn’t have found me and taken the picture..”

Felix stared at her for a moment, astounded by her logic. She thought she had to ask him before going to see Adrien? Sure, Felix would have advised against it immediately, but that didn’t mean she had to ask his permission.

“Marinette, you don’t owe me anything.” He told her. “Your life is your life. If you want to go have lunch with Adrien Agreste, that’s your decision. And while I would have advised against it, I still would have supported your decision nonetheless. I am your friend, not your boss or guardian. Do you understand?”

Marinette nodded, a grateful smile crossing her lips. He was happy to see it.

“More importantly, you don’t owe Agreste anything either. Just because he finally wisened up to his mistakes doesn’t mean you have to give him a second chance, especially if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.” 

Felix paused, thinking over what he’d just said.

“Although, I am curious.. What did he apologize for? He wasn’t one of the people who assaulted you, was he?”

“Oh, no, no.” Marinette hastily answered. “He, uhm.. He was actually the one who didn’t believe Lila.”

Felix tensed, using all of his self-discipline to avoid screaming ‘Are you kidding me?!’. Because really, out of all the people that had to convince Marinette to let Lila go, why did it have to be him? Actually, now that he thought about it, of course it was him! Who else would Marinette have been willing to listen to? Who else would have had the gall, the audacity, to act as though enabling a spoiled brat was some noble sacrifice? Wow, that guy just managed to keep climbing up the ranks on Felix’s ‘most hated’ list, didn’t he?

“I see.” Felix managed to mumble. “Are you going to tell the others?”

Marinette bit her lip, which was most likely a ‘no’.

“Not yet-” bingo “-I don’t want him getting a bad reputation. He did apologize, after all.”

Felix drew in a deep breath, letting the frustration towards that answer melt out of him. This was Marinette’s decision. She has trusted him with it, and he is going to respect it, no matter how much he hates it. That’s why he simply heaved a heavy sigh and put a hand on her shoulder as he said, “Marinette, you are truly too kind for this world.”

A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she let out a small laugh. “O-Oh.. thanks.”

Felix turned back to the tray and picked it up, offering her a polite smile as he did. He didn’t agree with her method of handling things, but he did trust her to know what she was doing. Marinette was Marinette, after all, and she was much more capable than he was in most areas. If she thought this was the best way to go, he wouldn’t dispute it.

“So,” he began as he gestured for her to start moving towards the living room, “if I just put sugar in Claude’s mug instead of tea, do you think he would know the difference?”

Marinette snorted. “Oh~, that’s a tough one. Maybe we should test it to find out.”

“Alright, but you have to give him the cup. If I do, he’ll assume I’ve poisoned it.”

Marinette giggled and walked into the living room, and Felix followed behind her with a smile. He knew he couldn’t march up to the Agreste mansion and rip Adrien apart like he preferred- he probably couldn’t get any revenge on him whatsoever -but Felix would be darned if he just let this go the way Marinette wanted him to. Actions such as this needed to be punished, not forgiven and forgotten because of some half-hearted apology. If she wanted to toss the whole ordeal over her shoulder, that was fine, but Felix was going to hold a grudge against Dupont that was strong enough for the both of them.

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(Devotion: Alright guys! We’ve talked about the message of God’s wonderful salvation- which you should totally go back and read if you haven’t accepted Christ as your savior. It’s extremely important. -we’ve talked about how the Bible says people will react to the word of God, which has been proven to be true time and again; We have talked about Hell and why it exists; and in the last message, we talked about God’s compassion and faithfulness to His people. The last devotion wasn’t exactly in line with the others as far as the salvation theme, but today’s devotion will be! We’re going to talk about Jesus Christ and what exactly He went through on the cross to become the perfect sacrifice for our sins. This one’s probably going to be a bit long, and it is going to be gruesome. So what I’m going to do is bolden the main points of what He went through, then I’m going to describe them in detail. That way, people who can’t stomach gore or painful descriptions can still see a semblance of what He did, and people who can stomach it will get to understand the full extent of which Jesus loves us. Alright? Everyone got it? Great! Let’s get going then!

We start in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus comes here only a few hours or less before He is arrested to be tried for crucifixion. He knows He is about to be arrested; He knows that this is the only way to save us from our sins, but that doesn’t stop Him from crying out to God and begging Him for a last way out. He says, “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt”, and the Bible says that He was under so much stress during this prayer, He actually began sweating drops of blood. Blood! More so, the Bible also tells us that Jesus had to have an actual angel fly down and keep His heart from rupturing, lest He die prematurely. That means that Jesus was so stressed He almost died before He could even be crucified! Jesus was scared! He was terrified of going through with what God was asking of Him, and wouldn’t we all be! Nobody likes pain, and Jesus was about to go through one of the greatest pains we could ever face. Not only that, there were going to be a few other add-ons to the physical pain He was about to receive. 

See, Jesus is supposed to be the perfect lamb, the perfect sacrifice to atone for all of our sins, but to do that, Jesus not only needs to be punished for the sins we have committed, He also has to become the thing He’s being punished for. You cannot punish something that is innocent. It would be unjust. Jesus is aware of this, and that’s another reason He’s as stressed as He is in this moment of prayer. Although Jesus is manifested in human form at the moment, He is still very much God and part of the Holy Trinity, and as such, He still hates sin with a burning passion. He is disgusted by the very thought of it, the very idea. So imagine His dismay when He figures out that He has to become sin! That it has to be woven and meshed into His entire being! That would be like, for me, looking at all of the disgusting food water that’s in the sink before doing dishes and having to bathe myself in it without soap. (even bathing in it with soap would be bad, but you know) And for you guys! Think of the most disgusting thing on earth and then imagine being drench in it! Having it smeared on your skin and shoved in your mouth and caked all over your body- That’s what becoming our sin was going to be like for Jesus, and He hated every bit of it!...

But He loved us. So He went on with it anyway, the pain of crucifixion and the atrocity of becoming all of the sins of the world at once.

As soon as He was done with prayer, Judas- one of the former twelve disciples -betrayed Jesus and handed Him over to the chief priests as well as a crowd of people and soldiers. Jesus went willingly with them and did not fight. In fact, when Peter- another one of the twelve -leapt forward to protect Him by cutting off one of the High Priest’s ears, Jesus actually rebuked him and proceeded to put the High Priest’s ear back on his head. He was healing one of the very people who were about to kill Him! And the disciples were so confused and so panicked by this mob and Jesus’ “strange” behavior, that they all fled. Every single one of them. (This was done to fulfill scripture, so we shouldn’t judge them too harshly, but it is extremely sad for Jesus’ case.)

So the High Priests take Jesus away to Caiaphas, another High priest, and they put Him on trial. The High Priests and Elders tried to put false witnesses up on the stand, but none of their stories were adding up. They couldn’t share the same details that the other was, and almost no two stories were the same. Therefore, the High Priests got frustrated and started taunting Jesus directly, saying, “Answerest thou nothing? What is it which these witness against thee?” But Jesus refused to say anything. He just sat there, silent. This angered the High Priest, so he finally just yelled at Him- or at least, I imagine he yelled -and said, “I adjure thee by the name of the living God, that thou tell us whether thou be the Christ, the Son of God.” And here, we have one of the instances that Jesus openly admits, plain and blunt, that He is the Christ. He tells the High Priest that He is the Son of God, and that after this, He will be sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of Heaven.

The High Priest rents his clothes (which means to tear them. It used to be a sign of grieving) and says that Jesus has committed blasphemy, and unfortunately, the rest of the council agree and sentence Him to death. This is where the beginning of the crucifixion process begins. They still had to get a governor’s approval for the death sentence, but that didn’t stop them from taking Jesus and blindfolding Him and beating him while He was blindfolded. They would laugh and spit in His face during this and taunt Him, saying “Prophesy unto us, though Christ, who is he that smote thee?” It was an incredibly humiliating experience for our Lord to go through, but it was about to get much much worse.

The next morning, they take Jesus to Pontius Pilate, a governor, and demand that Jesus be crucified. Pilate, I would assume, reviews the case, because we see him ask Jesus if He is the King of the Jews a few verses later. Jesus simply answers with a “thou sayest” then refuses to speak again for the rest of the time. Despite that, though, Pilate knew the people were only delivering Jesus there because they were jealous of Him. So he gave the angry mob a choice: “Whom will ye that I release unto you? Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ?”

so understand this choice, it is important to know that there was a certain feast going on at that time, and at the feast, Pontius likes to release a prisoner of the people’s choice. Barabbas was a current prisoner, known for being a murderer and a thief, and I’m sure Pilate was hoping that by presenting a very unjust man compared to Jesus for release, the people would concede and choose Jesus to release. That’s not what happened, though. The people were so angry and so swayed by the High Priest’s influence that they decided to let the thief and murderer loose, as opposed to a completely innocent man. Pontius Pilate is flabbergasted and asks them, “What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ?”

The response was.. unanimous.

“Let him be crucified.”

“Why? What evil hath he done?” Pilate persisted, but the people only cried out louder for Jesus to be crucified. So Pilate, seeing that he couldn’t change their minds, washed his hands in a bowl of water and said, “I am innocent of the blood of this just person: see ye to it.”

Thus, Jesus was sent off to be Scourged, the first part of the crucifixion process. Scourging is a devious, calculated type of torture that uses a cat of nine tails to rip the flesh off of its victims. A cat of nine tails is basically a leather handle that has nine different whips attached to the same end, and on the end of those whips were hooks created from shattered glass or twisted metal or any other kind of sharp thing you can think of. The romans would throw the whip across their victim’s skin, and the jagged pieces laced into the whip would latch onto the skin. Then, the Romans would yank across the whip, causing the jagged pieces to tear through the flesh. The pain that would come from that is excruciating, and during this scourging, Jesus was stripped of his garments and whipped with a cat of nine tails thirty nine times. To put that in perspective, it takes 40 times of being whipped with that thing to be killed. This means that Jesus was whipped to the point of near death. His skin is in tatters. There is blood all over his skin. His teeth have probably cracked from having to grit them so much, and Jesus is in pain. He’s in so much pain already.

But it’s not over yet.

The next thing the Romans decide to do is place a purple garment around him, and weave a crowd of thorns together. These aren’t just regular thorns, either. These thorns are about two inches long and pointed, and by the time the Romans got a thick circle of thorns together, I’d imagine you could hardly hold it in your hands without getting hurt. They took those thorns and pushed all 70 or so of them into Jesus’ skull. THEN they grabbed a rod and beat the thorns into His head!! The thorns punctured Jesus’ head so deeply, that the thorns actually touched his skull, curved from hitting it, then poked back out of His skin somewhere else. The way the Romans put this crown on His head, Jesus physically couldn’t take it off. And after all of that, the Romans bowed down in front of Jesus and mocked Him again, saying, “Hail! King of the Jews!” and beat Him with their bare hands, even though they had already whipped Him to the point of near death.

Pilate took Jesus to the Jews and again begged them to reconsider and let Jesus go, but the Jews refused to do so. They screamed for Jesus’ death all the more, so Pilate reluctantly gave it to them. This leads us to the beginning of the end, when they make Jesus carry His own cross. Part of the crucifixion was having the crucified carry their own cross to Golgotha, or Skull. It was kind of like an extra burden and humiliation attempt, and it worked well. Think of it like a murderer being forced to make his own death shot and give it to the nurses who were going to insert it in him. Jesus had to walk through the city, or at least on some sort of road, where crowds of people were lined up on both sides, all of them cheering for His death, and He had to do this while He could barely stand up straight. The Bible tells us that, because of His injuries, Jesus actually didn’t get to carry His cross all the way to Golgotha. He collapsed somewhere along the way, and a man named Simon had to help Him carry it the rest of the way, but sadly, they did get it there. 

Once Jesus and the cross were on the mount, the Romans laid the cross down, laid Jesus on the cross, and used these huge nails to nail Jesus’ hands and feet to the cross. This was done through careful puncture wounds between the wrist bones and foot bones. It kept Jesus in place, while aggravating his nerves to make his feet and hands go crazy with pain. The Romans then raised the cross up for all to see, and for the next six hours Jesus hung on that cross. Something to note about this is that Jesus’ cross was not smooth. It had splinters and jagged edges all over the place, and the way the nails were pierced into His feet and hands caused Him caused His lungs to push heavily on His diaphragm. Because of this, breathing became a bit of a problem. His lungs could take in air, but He couldn’t breathe out. To do that, He would have to pull up on the nails in His wrists and push up on the nails in His feet and exhale. Pushing up, though, would cause Him to push His scraped, slashed, and bruised back against the splinters or possibly even into them. And let me remind you: He hung on that cross for six hours. Six. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you would do a lot of breathing in six hours.

And yet, despite all of that pain and suffering, the worst was still yet to come.

Jesus said seven different phrases while on the cross. Seven times He pulled Himself up on the cross, enduring extreme forms of agony, to speak with us. Would you like to know the first thing He said?

“Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

Jesus asked God to have mercy on us and forgive us. We’ve rejected Him and cursed His name time and time again, we’ve insisted on turning to Him with malice and hatred, and now we’ve put Him through some of the worst, most excruciating pain imaginable.. But He asked God to forgive us anyway. This, Jesus’ incredible love and mercy and grace towards us, is the baseline of Christianity. His love is what keeps this world turning on its very axis, and it’s why we have no qualms shouting His name to the rooftops. His name deserves to be shouted and praised after all of the things He went through just to allow us to be with Him and talk with Him.

The second phrase He said was to a thief who was hanging on the cross with Him. In the Bible, we are told that Jesus wasn’t the only one being crucified that night. Two thieves were also being crucified along with Him, and they were placed on the mount to His left and to His right. The thief on the right was spitting on Him and mocking Him as well, but the thief on the left rebuked the first thief, saying, “Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss.” And the second thief turned to Jesus and added, “Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.”

This is when Jesus speaks the second time, as He, I imagine, turns to the thief as best He can to reply, “Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise.” This conversation right here is a wonderful example of salvation and how simple it truly is. This thief was dying. He’d lived a bad life full of mischief and wickedness, and he had no way of making that right. But because he believed that Jesus was the Son of God, he was still able to go to Heaven. Salvation isn’t about works or what we can try to give back to Christ (although, we should try to give back to Christ as much as we can after being saved), it’s about the free gift that Jesus gave us. Heaven and Salvation is a gift. All we have to do is accept it.

The third phrase Jesus says is to John, one of the disciples, and Mary, Jesus’ mother. The Bible says that Jesus sees them before He speaks, so I imagine they are near the cross and weeping. Again, He drags Himself up on the splintered cross, draws in a pain-staking breath, and utters, “Women, behold thy son!” to Mary, and to John He says, “Behold thy mother!”. So He was making sure that His mother was going to be taken care of before He passed away.

Around this time, as Jesus was hanging on the cross, the earth fell into total darkness. I’m talking the sky was black. And as soon as this happened, Jesus cried out into the sky, saying his fourth comment on the cross.

“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” or “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

This.. is where we see the second add-on that made Jesus so terribly stressed during His prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. He is taking on the sins of the world. One can only imagine how many sins that would be, and in this moment, Jesus is taking every single one of them and forcing them into a single person, a single place to look upon. There was so much sin in Jesus at the very hour, that God had to do what He’s never done before in history and turn His back on a human being. 

There are times when God’s grace leaves us, when His mercy runs out and we are instead faced with His judgement, but despite that judgement, God is still present in our lives and in the world around us. No matter how alone we’ve felt in the world, God has always been there next to us without us knowing. But not here. Here, God is actively turning His back on Jesus. He is completely forsaking Jesus because of the amount of sin that has poured into Jesus’ heart and soul as part of the sacrifice. That absence of God is something we are never going to know (unless you don’t get saved and go to hell, I suppose) but I can only imagine how empty it must be. How crushingly lonely it must feel, to know that now, Jesus truly is all alone in this world. The very God, the other part of Himself, that He’s been with since the beginning is now just.. Gone. That, I believe, was the worst part of this entire crucifixion for Jesus. He can face the physical pain; He can face the disgustingness of sin; He can face the humiliation of being God but also being mocked and treated like a life form lower than dirt because He knew He wasn’t facing any of that alone. He knew God was right by His side.

But now He wasn’t. 

And Jesus was still there on the cross.

We see in the Bible that the darkness lasted for a full three hours, meaning Jesus has to go at least three more hours without God’s presence and comfort and light. In these last few hours, though, Jesus says three more phrases. His fifth phrase is, “I thirst.”

Another part of the Roman crucifixion costume was to get a sponge and soak it in vinegar mixed with gall. The combination created an extremely bitter taste that would supposedly distract the crucified from their pain every now and then, if only for a moment. So when Jesus said, “I thirst”, the Romans quickly got a sponge or even a cup ready and gave Him a sip of it. After He drank the cup, Jesus cried with a loud voice and said His final two phrases. Now in Luke and John, the last phrase that Jesus says is different when compared to each other, but the phrases are both so unique that I believe Jesus said both of them, one right after the other, and John and Luke simply wrote down different halves. So I’m going to write the last two phrases together.

“Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. It is finished.”

After this phrase, Jesus gives up the ghost, or in other words, allowed Himself to die. This is another crucial point of Christianity because it shows Jesus’ power over life and death itself. He isn’t killed by blood loss or exhaustion or by a heart attack or anything like that. He simply dies because He wanted to at that moment. I think that’s kind of comforting actually. A God as powerful and loving as Jesus, who can control His own life and death as well as everyone else’s and was willing to give up His own life for us when we didn’t deserve it or even ask, is a God I most definitely want to serve.

Unfortunately, though, death was not quite the end of Jesus’ sacrifice. Not many people know this (or, at least, I didn’t know it for a long while), but after Jesus’ death, He went to hell for three straight days. Yes, you read that correctly. Actual Hell. If He’s going to take our punishment, He needs to take all of it, right? So don’t think God is just dishing out the punishments, but not taking any for Himself. He doesn’t need any, because He is a holy and perfect God, but He took some anyway so we didn’t have to, because He is also loving and merciful. 

Hell was, thankfully, the last step of the sacrifice. After that, Jesus completed the ritual of becoming our free ticket to salvation by raising Himself from the dead! Have you ever heard of anyone who could raise themselves? I haven’t! And on top of that, the Bible says that Jesus’ resurrection was so powerful, that several other people around him were raised from the dead too! Just because He raised himself! Isn’t that crazy?

This is why rejecting Christ is such a big deal to God, and why people who claim there are other ways to Heaven are extremely blasphemous, because if there were any other possible way to Heaven, do you honestly think that God would have sent His only, begotten Son to die on the cross for us? Do you think God wanted to come down to suffer through all of this pain just to say “yeah, actually, you can also get in this other way”? No, of course not. Rejecting Christ’s sacrifice and salvation is basically telling Him that all of that pain and suffering didn’t matter, the same as spitting on Him like the other Jews as He hung on the cross. 

He’s made the pathway to Heaven unbelievably simple. All we have to do is admit that we’re sinners, admit that we need saving from our sins, and accept Jesus Christ to be our savior by believing that He was the Son of God and that He died on the cross for us. If I was sure about anything in life, it is this. God is real. Heaven is real. Hell is real. Jesus is real, and He, along with God the Father and the Holy Spirit, is calling to you now. He is giving you another chance to accept Him as your savior before it’s too late. This could possibly even be your last chance. So please don’t put it off.

I love you guys very much and really really appreciate the people who have continued reading this. I’ll be praying for all of you to receive what I’ve told you, and for those who already have, I’ll be praying for you to keep growing in the Lord. Stay strong in the faith my friends! Keep telling the world about Jesus! He’s always right beside us! <3

Also, Here’s a link for a youtube video about Jesus’ death from a medical point of view. It’s a bit more detailed than I was, so please go watch it as well! https://youtu.be/0B3kgiLxybYOn that note, here’s a link I found recently that gives a bunch of videos and written materials from the author of “Cold Case Christianity”. He was someone who used to be an atheist until he started studying the four gospels with his skill of eye-witness-account-scrutiny. After studying the Bible for a few months, He realized that the Bible is, in fact, telling the truth, and ever since then he’s been racing to let the rest of the world know. Please check him out! www.coldcasechristianity.com/resources)

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[outerbankspreferences]

Is It Just Me? - Chase Stokes

Is It Just Me – Chase Stokes

 Word Count: 2893

 MASTERLIST

It's been way too long for me to find it this hard Sitting alone, my fingers picking the sofa apart An attempt to distract from the fact that I miss you I wonder if your friends have had to carry you home And stay for the night because they don't want to leave you alone Way before it was fun, it's becoming an issue

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

 It had been exactly 3 months and 13 days since you and Chase had broken up. You wished it would have been a shock to you, but you had seen this coming. Things with Chase were great in the beginning. He was caring and sweet towards you. You could remember a time someone had cared for you as he had. You always supported Chase with everything he wanted to do with his life. You met him when he had just started out acting, and you were proud to watch his career blossom to the extent it had.

 But had someone told you 6 months ago that you guys wouldn’t be together anymore you would have denied the accusations. 6 months ago, you thought Chase was in love with you.

 Chase had been going back and forth to North Carolina for auditions and eventually got the leading role in the television series. You spent the first month with him and his new cast mate Rudy, having the time of your lives with the other people on the show. The whole cast would go out to different clubs every weekend enjoying spending time together.

 Just a little over 6 months later you were still going to clubs but this time on separate sides of the country. You couldn’t process what had happened in a healthy manner and instead turned to going out with your friends every weekend to keep your mind off things. It always ended the same, one of your friends dragging you up the stairs of your once shared apartment because you were too drunk to do it yourself. They had grown accustomed to the weekend ritual of getting you sleep wear and a bucket for the morning.

 Then you would wake in the morning, puking the nights content in the bucket popping Advil for the headache and dragging yourself to couch, throwing on some stupid movie that you wouldn’t be able to watch anyways. Instead, you would pick at the loose strings of the sofa thinking of all the times you spent in the apartment with Chase.

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 As you sit picking away at the sofa, you mind wanders to Chase. You still follow everyone on Instagram, and you were still good friends with Rudy, so you could see everyone’s stories. Rudy had been the only one to keep in touch with you, which surprised you because he and Chase seemed to be such good friends.

 You wondered if Rudy ever asked about you to Chase, and then you wondered what Chase’s reaction would be. Would his heart be in his stomach at every mention of your name, or would he simply shrug like you guys had never been more then distant friends?

 You sat wondering if Chase ever thought back to the day at the airport. The way he let you walk through security with no more then just a side a hug you would give a sibling. Wishing you a good flight and see you later before leaving. He hadn’t even waited for you to board the plane.

 There were so many things you had wanted to say to him. You want to tell him you loved him, that you would fight for him. More so you wanted him to fight for you, for the years you had spent together. To fight for the promises he made to you, the ones you made together and the ones to come. You wanted to apologize for not being enough, but you couldn’t find the right words, so you watched him walk out of your life.

 I heard a rumor you've been spending some time With that blonde girl that you work with and I know she's exactly your type And my miserable mind's running wild with the picture Or are you there by yourself, dialing, redialing my number? And I'm calling your mother, spilling tears on my jumper again The way I am

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

 1 month later, Chase’s mother, Jennifer, had called you because she had seen the announcement on Instagram. The two of you had been close while dating Chase considering how close he was with her. Your mother lived down south, and you didn’t get to see her that often, so Jennifer was a close second.

 You had heard rumors from Drew and Rudy about Chase and Maddie hanging out together more, and it didn’t come as a shock to you. In the last bit of your relationship, you played second fiddle to her on multiple occasions. “It’s probably nothing, it because they have scenes together.” Rudy would make excuses over facetime when he watched your face drop at the mention of her name. “Yeah, you’re probably right, nothing to get worked up over.” You responded in a less then convincing tone, “she seemed super cool the couple of times I met her.” “Yeah she is. I think under different circumstances the two of you could have been friends.” He encouraged.

 When the nights started to get cold in LA again you found yourself struggling to sleep. It was at these times you would reread old text messages and look through old pictures of the two you. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you weren’t ready to move on. Chase had extra time to mourn the lose of the relationship while you were still grieving. It was on these cold nights alone in the apartment you shared that you began to wonder if he was thinking about you. Was he sitting next to her thinking about you? Was he wondering whether he should call you or just delete your number?

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 It was early in the morning in North Carolina and Chase was sitting on the patio of his shared apartment with Rudy. The sun was just starting to rise in the distance as he found himself restless yet again. He had been awake for about an hour just laying in his bed when he finally decided to get up. He was careful not to wake the sleeping girl next to him. She felt different next to him compared to you. When the two of you slept together you always liked to be the big spoon. Chase let you, finding comfort being wrapped up in bed next to you. Maddie was different, she preferred to lay her head on his chest, letting the sound of his beating heart lull her into sleep.

 Not soon after Rudy came on the patio too, and Chase cursed him for being a night owl. “Not tired?” Rudy asked pulling out the bong they kept under the table. “No, and I didn’t want to wake Mads’” Chase spoke up tossing Rudy the lighter next to him watching the blonde inhale the smoke.

 “I can’t stop thinking about her.” Chase finally spoke up, keeping a hushed tone just in case. “Oh yeah?” “I shouldn't have left her like that. It wasn’t fair to her I just didn’t know what to do.” Chase explained and Rudy didn’t need to be a love doctor to know he was talking about you.

 “It’s been 2 weeks, she’s okay.” Rudy explained and Chase gave him a confused look. “When you guys broke up, I stayed in touch with her. She was mine friend too, and I felt bad that we all sort of dropped her when you guys broke up.” Chase nodded his head in understanding but was still jealous that Rudy got to talk to you. “Why did you break up with her? Not that I’m judging, I just thought things were going good between the two of you.”

 It was Chase’s turn to have a hit from the bong while he thought of his answer. “Shit man I don’t know. Things just feel different with Maddie then they did Y/N. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.” “Are you sure you’re not feeling too much as an actor oppose to being a person. Sometimes having a love interest on show can be different and confusing.” The blonde tried explaining to him but even he saw the demise of the relationship before Chase start acting with Madelyn. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” Chase asked looking at Rudy and he could tell by the look in his eyes that it was doubtful. “You hurt her man. I think maybe one day, but not right now. I think right now she’s just trying to figure out how to do this without you.” Rudy could see the few tears in Chase’s eyes, and he knew that this wasn’t easy on him ether.

 Chase got up but before leaving he spoke one more time. “If you talk to her again, just tell her that I never meant to hurt her the way I did.” Chase still wasn’t sleepy but the effects of the marijuana did aid in his problem, so he finished off with a shower. He turned the water to steaming hot and then got in. He let the water soak his hair while he wondered what you were doing right now. It only took a few more minutes for the tears to start. Chase stayed another hour in the shower wondering if he made the right decision.

 'Cause this would be one whole lot easier God, I know that's selfish but it's true If underneath some calm exterior You're all fucked up too

 The first few months of quarantine had been rough on you working from home. You also felt alone all the time but seeing Chase’s Instagram post sent you spiraling down another unhealthy path. You had just started to get better. You weren’t drinking as much, and you had let your friends set you up on a group date. You knew you weren’t ready for another relationship just yet, but you also couldn’t hide in your apartment for the rest of your life.

 You had also been talking to Rudy a lot more. He had been your biggest support through all of this. He had flown back to LA a couple weeks ago to help you move to a new apartment. You figured if you were going to move on you had to move from the place you spent the most time with Chase. It was bittersweet because not only did you have good memories at the home with Chase, but those memories extended to your other friends as well. Rudy had ensured you that you would make knew memories in your new place.

 But when you woke up on June 14, 2020 you almost had a heart attack. It had been 3 months and 13 days to the day, and he had already moved on. Now you were stuck trying to grabble with the emotions you were feeling. In some messed up way at first you didn’t want him to be happy. You wanted him to hurt the way you did, but you knew it wasn’t right. There was a small part of you that was happy that he was now happy.

 Then you were reminded that you owed Chase his half of the damage deposit. Rudy had told you they all moved back to LA and were waiting for season one to come out. You debated on just giving the money to Rudy for him to pass along, but you also wanted to face Chase, to show him that you were now okay even it was a lie.

 You took the latter of the chooses and sent him a text. (Y/N) It’s Y/N, I have your half of the damage deposit from the apartment. I can drop it off or you can pick it up if you want. You stared at the text message for fifteen minutes before sending it. It only took five for him to answer and you dashed to look at the phone. (C) Oh shit I forgot about that. I mean if you want to keep it, that’s fine. You scowled at the text. You didn’t need or want his pity money. (Y/N) I’m fine without it, if your busy I can send it with Rudy the next time he’s here. (C) Okay, no that’s fine I can come by today and get it just air drop me your address. You did just that deciding against messaging him back.

 Chase’s heart fluttered a little when he saw your name come up on his phone. He hadn’t heard from you in months, and he assumed it was going to be about the post on his Instagram. He made the decision that Maddie made him the happy he wanted to be and left you. He had just gotten back in town when you told him about the deposit, and he didn’t mind letting you keep the money. It was the least he could do after everything he put your though. His heart sank when you declined his offer but lite back up when you offered for him to come over.

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? With only cigarettes for company? Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 He honestly thought of this as his chance to apologize for everything that happened. You didn’t deserve for him to treat you like that, and he owed you an explanation. He drove over to your house, white knuckled the whole way. You lived in a small, gated apartment building and he remembered Rudy telling Maddie B. about it. He remembered Rudy saying how excited you were for a new place, and he wasn’t sure if Rudy was just saying that to upset him. Every time Rudy mentioned something about you it always made his heart sink underground and he was reminded about the way he treated you.

 Chase started to walk up the stairs to your apartment once you buzzed him in but to his surprise you were waiting outside on the step. You looked tired and had lost weight which worried him because you were small to begin with. “Hey.” He spoke not really knowing what else to say. “Hi.” You said and he could hear how sore your voice sounded almost like you had been crying. You were smoking, which was something new, but he figured this was just as stressful for you as it was him You handed him an envelope with his name on it. “Uh, I cleaned the whole apartment, and nothing was broken so we could all the money back. Your half is in there, so I just need your key to give to the landlord.” You explained looking at Chase. He pulled his keys from his pocket fumbling with the ring.

 “Y’know, I never meant”- “Please don’t” “Please don’t want?” Chase looked at you confused. He thought you wanted an apology. “I can’t listen to it Chase. I know it’s mean, but I’m not ready to hear you apologize. I’m just starting to get better, and I don’t need you to set me back again.” You explained looking him the eyes. He flinched when you said again. He handed the key back to you. “Thanks, I hope everything works out. I’ll make sure to watch the show.” You smiled at him and he didn’t realize how much he missed seeing you smile. He returned the smile before turning on his heels to leave. “For the record Y/N, you weren’t the only one to get hurt in this.” And it was your turn to flinch at his words. “I guess grief looks better on some people.” And with that you escaped back into your apartment sliding down the door letting out a silent cry. What you didn’t know was that Chase was going back to his car to the same thing.

TAGLIST:

@drewstarkeysbitchh @taylathornton @jjmaybankzz @lemur46

[fangirling-allday]

Omg you’re amazing and I love you.

Can you write a Luke imagine where they’re dating in 2020 (reader is Julie’s best friend) and she introduces him to more country music?

(If you don’t know any country music that’s fine you can do folk or pop music you’d want him to learn💕)

Aww, I love you too!! 😘🥰

I love this idea thank you so much for requesting!!

I Want Crazy

Pairing- Luke Patterson x reader

Warnings- maybe like one swear word

Word Count- 1257

Summary- Julie’s best friend is in love with Luke Patterson and country music. But Luke hates it. The reader will comes up with a plan to make Luke enjoy it.

A/N- Did I search through Charlie’s playlist to find a country song, yes. Am I ashamed no I am not. Hope you guys enjoyed!

- - -

Dating a ghost isn’t ideal. However, you wouldn’t want to be dating anyone else.

Luke was like a breath of fresh air. No matter the day you were having, his cuddles would make everything seem alright.

Many nights consisted of just you two in the garage, cuddling as some music played in the background. However, it always seemed to be his favorite music over and over again. One night you were done and wanted to show Luke your music. Even though you loved his music and you shared almost the same taste, a conversation with Reggie earlier that day sparked an idea.

“Hey, y/n would you want a country album from Julie and the Phantoms?” Reggie’s voice pulled you out of your phone.

“Hmmm, I would love to listen to a country album by you guys.” You hadn’t really told anyone, but country music was your favorite genre. Sure, a lot of it was about beer and tractors, but there was also a lot of great songs with an amazing story. You also periodically loved the ones about backroads and tractors.

“No, no, no. Y/n don’t encourage him. We will not do a country album.”

“I don’t know babe, I think you should really circle back on that idea someday.”

“See, she gets it. Just because you have this biased hatred for country music doesn’t mean we should let the rest of the world suffer.” Reggie rambled on, and you just shook your head and laughed.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Let’s just get back to rehearing.” Luke have a small pout as he tried to get everyone back on topic.

“Awww, have we hit a soft spot?” Julie asked, prying to get more out of him.

“Trust is Julie, Luke just doesn’t want anything to do with country music, not matter how hard Reggie tries.” Alex said, pointed his drum sticks to Luke.

Oh really? As the band started rehearsing again, you started to plan a way to get Luke into country, and you weren’t going to give up, even if it’s the last thing you do.

That night, as you layer your head on Luke’s chest, with your hands playing with his hair and the distant sound of a soft rock song that you couldn’t quite name played in the background, you quickly pulled out your phone.

As you scrolled through your Spotify, you tried to look for the perfect song to play. Finally finding the one, you clicked it and the sounds of a guitar filled the air.

“What? What’s this song?” Luke was confused. This definitely wasn’t the rock that he had requested you to play.

“Well, you always said that you wanted to broaden your music choice, so I thought that tonight would be perfect.” You looked into his eyes and gave him a wide smile.

After a few more moments of him listening to the lyrics, his eyes widened.

“No. Is this country?”

You giggled. “Yes and you are going to listen to it.”

“Y/n you know that I don’t like it.”

“Is there and actual reason for that hatred, or are you just being stubborn? Besides, I love country, and as my boyfriend you are legally forced to listen to it. And as your significant other I am legally forced to make sure you enjoy it.”

He scoffed but didn’t argue anymore. When that song ended you put on another.

Humming the opening lyrics, you caught Luke’s attention. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched you quietly sing along. However, when the chorus came, quiet flew out the window.

“Yeah, I wanna feel the sunshine

Shining down on me and you

When you put your arms around me

You let me know there nothing in this world I can’t do.”

As you sang, you got up and started dancing around the garage.

Luke sat up and watched as you sang and danced. A smile lighting up his face.

As the final hook came, you walked slowly up to Luke.

“I wanna love somebody like you

Love somebody like you

I’m ready to love somebody

Love somebody like you.”

You knelt in front of him, and gently grabbed his face in between his hands. Your eyes looked down at his lips then back to his eyes.

“And I wanna love somebody

Love somebody like you.”

Your voice trailed off as Luke leant closer. Your eyes fluttered closed as your lips met.

It was a soft and sweet kiss, but no matter how many times Luke Patterson kissed you, you still felt heat rise to your cheeks and butterflies fill your stomach.

Pulling away, you pecked his lips once more before finding another song.

You smiled as Hunter Hayes’ voice flooded the garage. Turning around, you made your way to Luke.

“I'm booking myself a one-way flight

I gotta see the color in your eyes

And telling myself I'm gonna be alright

Without you, baby, is a waste of time.”

You pulled Luke of the couch and started dancing with him.

You started singing along once the chorus picked up.

“But I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"

I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"

Front porch and one more kiss

It doesn't make sense to anybody else.”

You giggled as Luke spun you around. As you faced him again, you smiled, and whispered, “Yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy

Are you with me, baby? Let's be crazy.”

“Hell yeah.” Luke replied, then gave you another soft kiss.

As you guys danced around some more, you yawned.

“Getting tired baby?” Luke said pulling you back down to the couch.

“Mhm, just a little.” You snuggled back into his chest. You breathed in deeply though your nose, letting your senses be overwhelmed with him.

As the music continued to play, you both sunk into each other enjoying each other’s company.

Luke started humming along to whichever song that was playing through the speakers.

“See. I told you I was going to get you to enjoy country music.” You said, lifting your head up just a little to see his eyes.

Luke laughed, and shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Your hand brushed his hair out of the way and landed on his cheek.

“That you did, huh. Who would’ve thought.” He leant back in and gave you a slow kiss. Pulling away you rested your head back on his chest and closed your eyes.

As you started to wake back up, you heard voices.

“Wow, this is something I never expected to see.”

You slowly opened your eyes and saw that Luke was still sleeping. He looked so relaxed and calm. Turning your head back to the noise, you saw Julie standing in front of the door.

“Who would’ve thought that Luke would enjoy country music.” Julie said giving you a smile.

You laughed quietly as to not wake Luke. But as you moved to look at the girl, you heard Luke groan and his grip around your waist tightened.

“Five more minutes.” Luke slurred, still half asleep.

“No come on Luke, I wanna know what kind of sorcery y/n pulled to make you listen to country.” Julie said, clearly not worried about that fact that it was the middle of the night.

Luke’s eyes quickly opened. He looked around and noticed you looking up at him. He gave you a soft smile, before turning back to the Julie. His face turning serious.

“We aren’t speaking of this again.”

- - -

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added!

@shellbeerocks @sunsetcurve-h @lolychu @meangirlsx @walkingonshunshine @discoverablefeelings @marinettepotterandplagg @captaintightpants58 @lukeys-giggle @itz-jas

[hazard-queen]

Valentine's special ( dorm leaders X reader)

• It was something unfamiliar for him, the whole thing since it was a boys school before you suddenly appeared nowhere now he has to plan something for Valentine's day to make it special.

• He's the most shy person worldwide so the fact he stood in front of you preventing himself from turning into a geant tomato when he said...

• "Ummm would you like to...go out on a...a...a date with me today?"

• "Sure thing, why not?"

• You simply gave him a smile before you made your way out of the doorm!

• First of all he asked trey to make him a heart shaped red velvet cake!, he sat off himself collecting flowers for you, he was so embarrassed someone may see him like that but what he didn't know that everyone was watching him in silence

• "Awwwww isn't he cute?"

• Cater whispered as both ace and duce nodded crying from the cuteness!

• It was time and you wore your best dress ( the one you could get there) and came on time, riddle couldn't hide his blushing face anywhere when he handed you the bouquet, he was so adorable!

• He was wearing a neat suit, doing his hair to one side (yeah yeah like ciel ) he was just so adorable

• "Happy Valentine's day (y/n)"

• He looked away trying not to make any eye contact with you.

• "I also have something for you!"

• You gave him a heart shaped chocolate, you spent the whole day making it for him, happily he took it from you and he can't be more red than how he is now!

• " t thank you, i i love you.....I MEAN I LOVE THEM!"

• You couldn't help it but to giggle

• "It's ok, i love you too!"

• "Ok i like you!!!!"

• You blinked several times unsure if what you just heard was right or your brain just snapped

• "Did you just say you..."

• "I WON'T REPEAT MYSELF! BE READY AT 6 OR I WILL EAT YOU!"

• He left you dumbfounded, shall you get ready or call police? But at the same time you were happy, are you finally gonna see the soft side of leona?

• He totally does not have any idea where or how he's supposed to get flowers and the necessary things for such an occasion...he never neen nice to anyone before so he paid ruggie for help!

• You got ready and waitd for leona at the gate of Savannahclaw dorm gate as he told you but you never expected what you saw next

• Leona appeared wearing a fancy suite letting his chest open to the air, his hair was done into a bun, you were speechless as you saw him.

• He handed you the bouquet but you still didn't move your gazes away from him.. is that the leona you know and see everyday?

• "(Y/n) Are we going to spend the whole day dumbfounded? I know i look handsome which is nothing new for me but let's go somewhere to hang out!"

• You came back to reality and took the bouquet from leona, you took a chocolate box from your bag giving it to leona

• " h happy Valentine's day leona!!!"

• You saw a smirk formed on the corner of his lips as he took it from you, he just love how blushing you got and your effort not to make an eye contact with him is just...what he actually likes!

• "Happy Valentine's day herbivore!"

• Everything in the lounge is ready, tables, check, candles, check, also food is there and he's now waiting for you to come.

• You walked in wearing a red dress, making your hair a ponytail with light make up, azul got speechless as you walked by and took the chair by him.

• " y you look....breath taking"

• Taking your hand on his, he placed a kiss on the which made you giggle

• "Thank you azul, you look also so handsome!"

• Azul blushed by your compliment then he cleared his throat pointing to jade and azul who came and placed plates on the table and by plates i mean plates of your favourite food

• "Hey azul, can i have some of this plate? It looks delicious and I'm hungry!~"

• As floyd spoke jade poked his arm and dragged him away

• "Don't mind my brother, please enjoy!"

• " ehem...happy Valentine's day (y/n)!"

• He gave you a box full of roses with a red teddy bear on the centre of the box

• "Happy Valentine's day to you too,azul! I also got you something

• You handed him a dark chocolate heart shaped minnie brownies, he took them with a worried smile and a thank you whic you could read

• " hehe don't worry! It's a diet recipe with less calories"

• You both laughed at the same time and continued the romantic date listening to music playd in the lounge.

• "Valen...what?"

• Wait, were you expecting him to know about that? It's not kalim at all...the guy has no clue for what you're saying you know....

• "Y yeah it's the day were people can appreciate their love to others....by giving gifts...roses and other many ways!"

• Your explanation was good and everything but he still didn not get the right idea and translated all what you said that he should go get you gifts!

• A minute passed and you felt like if there was an earthquake but it seems that kalim has got a full carriage of gifts to you....and they are all in gold!

• "Taddaaa! Is that good enough?"

• Kalim shouted on the top of an elephant that it was itself carrying something , you cub your hands over your mouth and shouted so he can hear you.

• "I MEAN GIFTS LIKE ROSES AND CHOCOLATE....THOSE SIMPLE THINGS!"

• "Yes i got you flowers, catch!"

• You smiled rising your arms expecting a bouquet but you found a flower shower that you sinked in!

• .......

• "Kalim!!!! Can we go on a trip on your carpet for a valentine date?"

• "Yes sure!!!"

• You took a flight on the carpet all over the place, it was calm and happy moment, you don't have to buy the one you love expensive things to make them happy, only a small act of care would be enough!

• You were deep asleep when you suddenly felt some tickle on your nose, you moved to the other side feeling annoyed but again this soft tickle came back, squeezing your eyes shut slowly you saw a rose!

• "Good morning my lovely dove!"

• You didn't know if you have to feel happy because of the romantic way he wakes you up with or how messy your hair was or HOW ON EARTH VIL GOT IN YOUR ROOM!!!!!

• "U ummm good morning vil....how did you get in?"

• "Oh well it's a long story! I made you breakfast by the way!"

• Your mouth was wide open you you heard that, did he just say that he MADE you breakfast?

• He placed a tray on the bed that has different kinds of fruits and vegetables and sugar free drinks (no coffee?!)

• He was extra kind and nice as ever to you, he brought you a new dress, flowers, all required things to make you happy.

• "I i also brought you something....Happy Valentine's day, vil!"

• You gave him a box of new limited edition perfume that he wanted.

• "Awww my dear, thank you i really love it"

• Vil gave you a hug and took you to have a romantic date (i don't think vil would like to have a dinner) he just made your day from the beginning to the end of the day...

• It was fine by you to think that idia probably would never get out if his room to take you out or anything, you just don't want to make him out of his comfort zone since he rarely get out of his room.

• You heard knocks on your door thay took you from your deep thought but as you went to open it no one was there except a note.

• ' please meet me today at 6, i will be waiting for you...idia'

• You smiled as you read the note, seems like the guy has changed after all!...did he actually do that? Nope! It was ortho!

• "WWWHHHAAAAAATTTTT?!?!?!?!"

• Idia freaked the second ortho told him what he did, it was like almost the end of the world to him

• "You will wear neat clothes and do your hair, take (y/n) out for Valentine date! You don't want to let her down do you?"

• Of course he would never love to! So idia dressed up in something formal, do his hair in a long pony tail and went to take you out.

• "Don't forget flowers!"

• Handing idia the bouquet, he took a deep breath before he got out of his room to your dorm

• He saw you waiting for him there in a cute outfit and a warm smile that melted his fears away

• "H h happy v Valentine's day (y/n)"

• With shaky hands and a blush idia gave you the bouquet

• "Happy Valentine's day idia!"

• You gave him a hear shaped box wrapped on blue wrap

• "I is that for me?...t thank you"

• He was a blush mess but he couldn't hide his smile when you gave him the box!

• You firstly spent the day with a romantic outing and a lovely walk but since you both are gamers this date ended up in the arcade and you both playing together kicking your enemies !

• He heard about that before from lilia but he never thought he was ever going to take someone out or has to say something romantic to anyone since people were always afraid of him!

• He asked you out and you happily agreed, yeah he was abit nervous but he tried to keep calm when he saw you walk towards him

• "Y you look gorgeous (y/n)! Ah i i got you roses...hope you like them....happy Valentine's day!"

• You looked up to malleus and took roses from him smelling it with a smile

• " oh oh! I got you something too!"

• You handed him a box full of different kinds of chocolate

• "Happy Valentine's day malleus!!!"

• He smiled abit taking the box from you and started at it for abit

• "D didn't you like it?"

• " n no! It's not like that....the whole thing is new to me....i mean...nobody lov....."

• "That is in the past now! I'm here and i love you!"

• Giving him the best of your smile you took his arm in yours and took a walk in the forest

• It was some time before malleus was able to feel less stressed and got along with you, he would invite you to dinner and give you his jacket when you're cold! Malleus is a real nice person when you get to know him but most importantly that he loves you

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

this is me trying

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

word count: 3592

[a/n: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to update this and my other story. i’ve been busy with school and work. thank you for your continued patience and support]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20 Year: Dec. 2014 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"How have you been James?”

Bucky looks out the window to his right. Hands grasped together in his lap as he sits on the dark green sofa across from the woman he's been seeing for the last 5 months.

He ponders the question, making sure to answer it honestly. He looks back at her giving her his full attention again.

"Good," he answers truthfully, a small smile planted on his face. Life has been good. School is going incredibly well. My job is going better than I could've imagined. Really learning a lot."

"How are things going with Natasha?" The older lady asks.

“Great. Really great," Bucky says with a slightly bigger smile.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," she smiles back, proud to the see progress James has made since his first visit moths ago.

After the blow up he and Steve had, Bucky fell into a depressive state. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened. It wasn't until his younger sister Rebecca came to talk to him:

"I get you don't want to talk to any of us about what happened last week," she said as Bucky laid in bed looking out the window, his back facing her, "But you can't just stay in bed, hiding for the world. Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything.

"Sulking is only going to make you worse. It's not healthy, Buck. We're all worried. Ma is incredibly worried. She's barely been eating. I hear her wandering the house at all hours, because she can't sleep."

"You don't want to talk to us, fine. But you need to talk to someone. If not for yourself, but for Ma. Please," she begs, before leaving Bucky alone to ponder what she said.

He knew he wasn't coping the healthy way. He hadn't realized how much he was affecting his family by shutting down. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother. So he got himself up, took a shower, ate breakfast with his family. They were surprised to see him come down, but tried not to draw any extra attention to it. Rebecca gave him an understanding nod, which he reciprocated. After breakfast, he began his research. He decided to listen to Rebecca's advice and find someone to talk to someone to help him make sense of what is going on in his mind.

And that's how he ended up in Dr. Abraham's office.

"Have you contacted Steve yet?" She asks.

"No," he answered fiddling with his fingers, "I feel embarrassed about the way I reacted."

"That's normal, James," she assured him, "But in order to repair any damage that's been cost, you need to talk to Steve. To move forward. From what you've told me he's a very understanding person. I'm sure once you've apologized and explain to him the steps you've taken to help your mental health, I'm sure he'd be willing to accept you back into his life."

"I'm not so sure," he looked down at his hands.

"You won't know until you've tried. Listen, I'm not here to tell you what to do or what not to do. I'm just here to help you navigate your thoughts a little better. In a more healthy way. If you're really serious about living a more healthier mental life, I think you should talk to him. You don't want to really throw this lifelong friendship away, do you?"

"No, I don't," he shakes his head.

"Good. Remember to be honest," she tells him, "Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Your feelings aren't a nuisance. it's how you handle them is what matters. I'm not saying you have to talk to him as soon as you walkout of here. I just want you to start making the notion of doing so. Our time is just about up, how about we do this. Some homework for the week.

"I want you to write a letter to Steve. Bring it in next week, you don't have to read it. But I would like to discuss it. What do you say?"

"Okay, I could do that," he agreed.

Christmas week

Steve and Elizabeth flew back home a few days before Christmas. They put their bags in the trunk of their rental car.

The car ride was silent for awhile, both tired after a long flight, now sitting in traffic on their way back to their parents' place. This would be their first time back to Brooklyn since the whole Bucky situation. The road trip back to California was fun, but there was a looming sadness over Steve. It's not like he regrets standing up to Bucky he doesn't. He just wishes thing would've played out differently. He really wished Bucky would've talked to him before he left back to California.

"How are you feeling about being back?" Elizabeth asks, while they sat in traffic.

"I don't know," Steve sighs, "Feels weird going back home and not talking to Bucky."

"Maybe you should try calling him. It's been a few months. I'm sure he'd be willing to hear you out," she said, rubbing his right arm.

"I don't want to push him," Steve said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter.

Bucky had been a touchy subject the last few months. During the first month Elizabeth would ask Steve if he'd heard from him, the answer always being no, followed by Steve shutting down. After that Elizabeth stopped asking, noticing how much it was affecting Steve, but the constant reminder of it wasn't helping. She knew that if Bucky ever did call, Steve would tell her. The only thing she could do was be patient and be there for Steve whenever he needed her.

The holidays kept everyone busy. On Christmas Eve. Steve spent it with Elizabeth's family at her grandma's house. Elizabeth found herself watching Steve play with her younger cousins, she couldn't help but giggle when they roped him into a tea party. She found herself imagining a future where Steve would do the same with their own children. She quickly shook the daydream away. Reprimanding herself a little for even thinking about kids at their young age.

On Christmas morning Elizabeth and Steve spent it with his parents. It was a nice peaceful day just lounging around in their pajamas. For dinner, Elizabeth's parents went over to have dinner at the Rogers' house. It was a nice little send off dinner for their parents who were leaving for Mexico to spend the New Years for a couples' getaway.

Elizabeth and Steve were heading to the Hamptons to spent NYE with Wanda, Thor, Loki, and Scott. They had planned to have a nice, peaceful trip.

While Steve and Elizabeth were at the Hamptons, Bucky and Natasha were spending their NYE at his family's beach cottage in Port Washington.

They were cuddled on the couch surrounded by take out containers, watching the New Years Eve special waiting for midnight to happen.

Bucky got up about 15 minutes to midnight to grab something from the kitchen. He walked back into the room with a new bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Got some champagne," he said holding it up for Natasha to see.

"Um," Natasha awkwardly shifted in her seat, "Actually about that."

Bucky looked at Nat confused, putting the bottle and flutes down on the coffee table before sitting back down next to her.

"What's wrong" he asked, grabbing the tv remote to mute the tv, and give Natasha his full undivided attention.

"So there's something I haven't told you," she says looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

"You're worrying me Nat," Bucky said, grabbing her hands to help ease her nerves

She looked up to meet his worry filled eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

Bucky eyes widen at her announcement, instantly dropping her hands. The look on her face showing she was telling the truth.

"How is that possible?" He asks in disbelief, "We've been so careful. We use double the protection. Condoms and you're on the pill."

"Actually about that," she nervously shifted under his intense gaze, "I haven't been on birth control in a little over two months."

"What?" Bucky yelled, quickly rising from his seat, "What do you mean you haven't been on birth control in a little over two months?"

"I got off of it," she shrugged trying to play it off, "It's my body and I can do what I want with it. And I just wanted to give my body a break, I've been on the pill since I was 15."

"I get it's your body, Natasha, I'm all for you doing whatever you want," he stresses, "but you should've told me. I'm your boyfriend, we have sex frequently. You should've at least had the respect of your sexual partner, letting him know that you were no longer on birth control. So in that case I could've been a tad more careful."

"We were using condoms," she half heartedly defended herself.

"They aren't 100% effective Natasha," he gripped his hair, in complete disbelief over this entire conversation, "You even know that. That also doesn't defend yourself for not telling me. You should've told me."

"I'm sorry. It's not like I was planning for this to happen," she yelled.

Bucky just stared at her like she just grew two heads. How is she not freaking out, he thought. They were clearly way too young for this. Which is why they took precautionary measures.

After a few moments of silence Natasha spoke up, "I'm keeping the baby."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt the room closing in on him. He started having a hard time catching his breath.

"James," Natasha quietly said, getting up to check on him. He raised his hand, silently telling her to stay where she's at.

He headed for the back door, the house felt too suffocating for him. He walked through the the small yard to the gate that led to the beach. Stumbling around.

To a stranger they would just think he's drunk. In reality he was just having a panic attack.

It was all too much. His mind was racing.

She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not ready to be a dad. My dad was shit. God I can't be like my dad. I'm not ready for all of this.

He put his hands on his knees, hunched over trying to catch his breath. But he just couldn't. He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would help.

Steve and Elizabeth were laughing with their friends, waiting for the countdown to begin. Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He moved his shoulder off of the back of the couch, where Elizabeth was cuddled up against.

He pulled his phone out and his heart dropped at the name that appeared. He quickly got up and walked out of the living room and upstairs to the room where he was staying in for the week.

Wanda raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth, who just shrugged her shoulders, equally as confused.

"Bucky?" Steve answered the phone, closing the door behind him. He could hear Bucky hyperventilating on the other side.

"Steve," he tried to get out.

"Buck, what's wrong?" Steve asked, pressing the phone even closer to his ear the sound of everyone downstairs counting down to midnight.

"Steve, I-," Bucky was struggling to get out.

"Buck, please try to calm down," Steve stressed, "Inhale, hold it for a few seconds and then exhale. You need to calm down. I can't help you, if I can't understand you."

Bucky tried his best to calm himself down, with Steve talking him through it.

"Now, can you explain to me what's wrong?" Steve asked, hearing Bucky's breathing leveling out more.

"I-I'm not re-ready Steve," Bucky stutters, sniffling his nose.

"It's okay take your time, I'm here whenever you're ready."

"No, it's Natasha.”

"What's Natasha? Is she okay?" Steve questioned, getting more concerned.

"Yes, she's fi-ine," he stuttered again, trying to say the words.

"Where are you Buck?" Steve asked, looking around for his shoes and keys.

"I'm at the beach cottage."

"I'm in the Hamptons. Is there any way you can meet me back at my place?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Bucky said a bit more calmer now.

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

When midnight struck Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Steve, making sure everything was okay. She could hear him on the phone talking to Bucky, trying to calm him down. She waited outside of the door to give them some privacy.

Twenty minutes later Wanda went to go check on them, to find Elizabeth sitting on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered.

"I don't know," she answered, "I'm waiting for Steve. You can head back down, I'll be down shortly."

"Okay. We're here if you guys need anything," Wanda said before walking back down.

After another 25 minutes Elizabeth heard Steve hang up the phone. She softly knocked on the door, and let herself in. She walked in to see Steve frantically going around the room collecting his things.

"Steve is everything okay?"

"It's Buck. He called me while he was having a panic attack. Something about Natasha," he tells her.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so. I was able to calm him down. I need to get back home," he said putting his things in his suitcase.

"Okay. I completely understand. Do you want me to go with you for the drive?" She asked.

"I don't want you to have to cut your time here short," he says, feeling guilty for bringing this on her.

"Steve, something is clearly going on with Bucky. I want you to go to him, but maybe it's best if I drove. I haven't had a drink in hours, and you seem too frantic. Please let me help," she pleaded, placing her hand on his stopping him.

Steve looked up and noticed the worry on Elizabeth's face.

"Okay," he gave in, "We'll need to leave as soon as we can."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly grabbing her weekender bag and start shoving things in. If they forgot anything's he knew Wanda would bring it back.

They said their quick goodbyes and were on the road within 5 minutes, with Elizabeth behind the wheel and Steve fidgeting in the passenger seat.

Bucky took a few minutes to himself on the beach, trying to make sure his anxiety was at rest before he headed back inside. When he entered the house, Natasha shot up from her seat.

"Happy New Years," she awkwardly said, trying to cut the obvious tension.

"Umm," Bucky scratched his head looking everywhere but at Natasha, "We need to leave."

"What?"

"I mean, you can stay if you want and I'll pick you up tomorrow," he rephrased, "But I can't stay here. I need to go. Steve is meeting me at his house."

"Steve?" She was taken back by that mention, not expecting to hear Bucky say his name. He hasn't mentioned Steve in months.

"Yeah, I called him," Bucky says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well that's good right?"

"Yeah, listen. I really need to go, so are you going to stay or come with me?"

"To see Steve?"

"No. I would drop you off at your place," he tells her, "I'm seeing Steve alone."

"Will she be there?"

Natasha didn't really know exactly why Steve and Bucky weren't talking, at first. Then she heard that Steve and Elizabeth were dating, and it all made sense. The only person that could tear Bucky and Steve apart. She never told Bucky that she knew. Figured it wasn't worth the fight. Especially not now when she was carrying his child.

To an outsider it might seem like she got pregnant on purpose, but that wasn't the case. She knew they were too young for this, at least that's what she thought when she first found out about the pregnancy a week ago. But now that she's sat with it she's taking it as a sign that this is meant to happen. She's just really hoping that Bucky would see it, if not now but eventually.

"Listen, Natasha, I don't have time for this," he looks her in the eyes, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll get my bag," she remarked with a snark tone, walking passed him to their shared room.

A couple of hours later Bucky was pulling up in front of the Rogers' house. 2:15 am read the clock in his car. He looked to his right, out the passenger side window to see a dark figure sat on the front steps of the house.

Bucky took one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

As soon as he opened the front gate Steve stood up from where he was sat on the stairs.

Once Bucky approached him both young men threw their arms around each other. Gripping each other tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for awhile. Relishing in the comfort of being back in each other's arms. Their silent fight no longer important. All they knew in that moment was everything was going to be okay, because no matter what they'll always have each other.

Steve walked into his parents' living room holding two mugs of coffee. As he rounded the couch, he handed one to Bucky.

"Sorry, if I ruined any of your plans," Bucky apologized, "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for taking you away."

'Buck, don't worry about it," Steve waved him off, "She completely understands. And truth be told, I wasn't necessarily feeling in the New Year's mood."

"Yeah," Bucky sighs.

"Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?" Bucky nods his head, placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted his body to the left to face Steve.

"She's pregnant," he announces.

"What?" Steve asked, not expecting that to be the reason, he quickly placed his mug next to Bucky's.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Bucky said.

"What? How?"

"Apparently Natasha hasn't been on the pill in a couple of months," Bucky explains, "And even though we always used condoms, they aren't exactly 100% effective."

"Did you know she wasn't on the pill?"

"Nope," Bucky tells him, "If I knew I wouldn't been a bit more cautious."

"So she told you she was pregnant?" Steve said getting back to it.

"Yeah. She was so nonchalant about it. Like it was no big deal," Bucky stressed,

"How is she just so calm. We're not prepared for this. I'm not ready for this Steve. I can't be a dad. I don't even know how to be a decent human being."

"That's not true Buck," Steve disagreed.

"Come on Steve, we haven't talked in months, and we both know it's not because you didn't try," Bucky says, "I was so caught up in my own jealousy. And selfishness, that I never even considered your feelings or Elizabeth's. And I don't think I can ever make it up to you for treating you like you're nothing to me."

"You were hurt," Steve tried to excuse.

"Doesn't excuse the way I behaved," Bucky says, "I know that now."

"I've been seeing a therapist," Bucky informs him, "I never realized how much my mental health was taking a toll on those around me. So after our fight, I found someone to talk to. To work through the shit that's going on in my mind."

"How's that been going?" Steve asked.

"Good," Bucky gives a half smile, "Really good. She's good. I've realized a lot about myself that I didn't know. Working through all the issues I've had with my father leaving."

"That's good Buck. I'm proud of you, truly," Steve beamed, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry for the way I behaved," Bucky repeated again.

"Buck, you really don't have to apologize again," Steve told him.

"I need to Steve," he said, "I can't believe I acted that way. I should've been happy for you and Elizabeth. I'm glad you two have each other. Seriously. I couldn't imagine her with anyone better, same goes for you. I won't cause any more issues for you two. It's not worth not having you in my life. You're my brother Steve, and I don't want to miss anything."

"Thanks, Buck. It really means a lot to me to hear that," Steve smiles, "Because I don't want to miss anything in your life also."

"Yeah, especially now," he says, the reality of why they're there dawning back.

"How are you feeling now about the baby?"

"I don't know, man," Bucky shakes his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up, like everything else."

"But now you're working on that," Steve reminds him, "And you're not going to be doing this alone. You have people who are always going to be there. I may be in California now, but I'm just a phone call away. You're not alone. But you do have to try Buck. That's all that you can ever do. Try your best, no one's asking you to be perfect, but as long as you're trying your best, that's what's important."

Age: 21 Year: 2015

The sounds of a baby crying woke Bucky up from his sleep in the early depths of the morning. He quietly and quickly got out of bed, making his way to the small New York kitchen to make a bottle.

He walked into the small nursery where the two-month-old baby wailed from hunger.

"It's okay," Bucky shushed gently, picking up the small baby, "Daddy's here."

He adjusted the small baby in his arms before placing the bottle in the baby's mouth.

"There you go," he encouraged the small one, as soon as he heard the sounds of the baby drinking.

Bucky sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, opposite of the crib. He just stared as the newborn drank their bottle, while simultaneously falling asleep. Even though he was completely exhausted, he had never felt more happier. More at peace with where his life was at.

As long as he kept trying his best, he knows he can do this for the rest of his life.

[ibijau]

Suyao’s happy evil life in Japan, because I think they deserve that / also on AO3

warning for jgy having some very condescending views about Japan and its culture

The damn house wasn’t even haunted, Jin Guangyao thought as he performed the ritual. It had been abandoned for a few years, certainly, and it had a certain creepiness still clinging to its walls as a result, but that was nothing that a good deep cleaning and more recent furniture couldn’t solve. 

Not that Jin Guangyao would say as much. If the tradition in Japan dictated that abandoned houses had to be cleansed before they could be used, he’d do just that. Business was business, and it wasn’t impossible that a pre-emptive ritual ensured no future ghosts would appear there. And even if one did, he’d come up with something, blame it on the family, on some fault in the landscape. It wouldn’t even be a lie. This house’s fengshui was a complete disaster… but he wasn’t being paid for that, and he didn’t particularly like this lord. The man had made disparaging comments against Su Minshan more than once, and Jin Guangyao had made note of that.

He wasn’t about to do Awata no Seimei any favours. In fact, Su Minshan and him had already agreed that they’d make the man pay more for the exorcism, even though they didn’t particularly need the extra money, not the way they’d done their first year. But then, in that first year, they wouldn’t have dared to aggravate someone as high ranking as Awata no Seimei, supposing they could even have gotten such a patron in the first place.

It had been hard, that first year, but neither of them were the sort to give up just because things weren’t easy. Besides, they’d had to survive, if only to spite the enemies they’d left behind.

Inflamed at the memory of that shameful flight, Jin Guangyao stomped a little harder than strictly necessary, which appeared to catch the attention of his spectators. Good. Let Awata no Seimei think he was working hard to purify that house he’d bought, it would justify the higher price.

It was mid-morning when Jin Guangyao decided he’d put on enough of a show and could announce that the house was now safe for ordinary humans. As soon as he stopped the ritual, Su Minshan rushed to his side, offering some cool tea, one of the local types that Jin Guangyao had become so fond of. As he drank, Jin Guangyao realised he was parched. It was still early enough in the day, but the heat was rising fast. It would soon be unbearably hot and damp, making Jin Guangyao regret that he’d wasted so long on this empty ritual.

“Master Kin Kouyou, what a splendid ceremony,” Awata no Seimei said in a too deferential tone that Jin Guangyao despised for reminding him of his own. “You have my thanks for your help, I could not have asked anyone else. Truly, there is no one else who would do as well as master Kin Kouyou.”

Jin Guangyao shot him a cold look. Before he could try guessing what Awata no Seimei might want from him next, Su Minshan came to stand between them, arms crossed on his chest, towering over the nobleman.

“Zongzhu just conducted this ritual for your house,” Su Minshan barked. “Please understand how draining this is, the house had been left untouched for many years, and there were traces of a fox spirit in there.”

Well, there were fox droppings in one of the bedrooms, Jin Guangyao thought, biting his cheeks not to grin. He couldn’t laugh in public, not when he was supposed to be exhausted from his great fight against evil, but the look of horror on that noble lord’s face at the mention of a fox demon was priceless.

“Of course I am grateful to master Kin Kouyou,” Awata no Seimei said. “I will make no further requests today. Then, regarding the master’s dues...”

“Don’t bother Zongzhu with that either,” Su Minshan snapped. “Come see me tomorrow, and I will deal with the payment. Zongzhu isn’t to be disturbed with such trivial matters. Zongzhu needs to retire now, unless you have any real reason to keep him here.”

Awata no Seimei didn’t. Between Jin Guangyao’s growing reputation now that the emperor himself had hired him and Su Minshan’s attitude, those nobles knew to keep conversations short. It had worried Jin Guangyao, at first, the way Su Minshan couldn’t bother being polite to these people, but in the end this played to their advantage. People expected foreigners to be a little odd, and the locals seemed to enjoy knowing that however talented those two Chinese cultivators were in magic arts, at least they had better manners.

Having finished their business with this old house, Jin Guangyao and Su Minshan headed back home. Awata no Seimei, quite generously, offered them the use of a pair of kago, which struck Jin Guangyao as rather suspicious. The man definitely had to have another service to ask of them, and probably one they wouldn’t enjoy performing. An onmyouji he’d become friendly with had warned him that some of those important people could become overdependent on divination and rituals, and Awata no Seimei seemed just like the sort who would ask the heavens what he should have for breakfast.

It sounded very annoying, Jin Guangyao thought as he stepped onto the travelling chair, but until Awata no Seimei actually started making requests, he wasn’t above taking advantage of the man’s generosity. The less he had to walk in this heavy, wet heat, the better. And he could tell that Su Minshan was getting uncomfortable, scratching his chest often. Summers were hard on him here, especially with his condition.

Eager to distract the other man from his discomfort, Jin Guangyao started chatting with him while their kago were carried along the streets of Heijou-Kyou, asking what else they had on their schedule for that day.

“Music lessons for the disciples this afternoon,” Su Minshan said, hands clenched over his knees in a futile effort to resist the itchiness. “Aside from that, nothing much.”

Jin Guangyao hummed, letting his gaze rest on the scenery. He’d been told that the city had been modelled after Chang’an, and many people had asked him if it looked as good as the original. Having never visited the capital at home, he always had to invent some polite lie about Heijou-Kyou having its own grandeur, but privately he wasn’t impressed. The original was always better than a copy, except in one specific case… and that case was sitting on a kago next to his own, suffering because of this country's climate.

“Minshan, take the rest of the day off,” Jin Guangyao said after a little while. “I’ll deal with the music lesson, you should have a fresh bath and rest. You’re really feeling bad today, aren’t you?”

Su Minshan looked away in shame, but nodded shortly. If it had been possible, Jin Guangyao would have reached out for him and taken his hand to comfort him.

“I’m fine,” Su Minshan said. “There’s no need to trouble yourself, I can take care of the disciples.”

“And I’d rather you take care of yourself,” Jin Guangyao countered. “I like teaching them, anyway. They’re good children.”

About half the disciples they’d recruited for their new sect were sons of minor nobility, because that paid, and because it never hurt to have connections. But a few were youth of genuine potential, who had in them the making of true cultivators, if they applied themselves.

The noble boys only came to study some of the days, and were sent back to their parents after lessons. The true disciples lived in their house, so they could be taught proper cultivation without inducing jealousy in those spoiled little princes who would never even come close to forming a golden core. Two of those boys Jin Guangyao had straight up bought from their family, something he couldn’t decide how to feel about. But they’d have been wasted as peasants, and they were grateful to their masters, and…

And Jin Guangyao wondered sometimes if this was what it had felt like for Nie Mingjue, picking the lowest person he could see and bringing him higher than others. Knowing you could change someone’s life was a potent drug, and it made Jin Guangyao want to fight to maintain their current position, so he could keep doing it. He’d been on the receiving end of pity for so long, he quite enjoyed being the one who could bestow it upon others at last.

“Do take the afternoon off,” Jin Guangyao insisted. “And I’ll send Haruto to buy some refreshing treats. He’ll be so happy to be of service to you, don’t refuse him that pleasure.”

“But…”

“Don’t refuse me the pleasure of spoiling you, either,” Jin Guangyao said, and with that Su Minshan could only nod meekly, defeated. 

They reached home soon after. A light lunch was served to them, after which Jin Guangyao ordered that a bath be prepared for Su Minshan. Haruto and Minato, the two peasant boys, acquitted themselves of that task before going to prepare for their afternoon class. Jin Guangyao too went to prepare, but only after making sure that Su Minshan had everything he needed, and that the room they shared wasn’t too unbearably hot. Mostly, he enjoyed having someone to fuss over, something Su Minshan always resisted a little out of some fear he’d be relying too much on Jin Guangyao and become a burden.

A ridiculous notion. Out of everyone Jin Guangyao had ever allowed close to him, Su Minshan was the only one whose company had never once felt like a weight on his shoulder. Right from the start they had been equals, their temperament matching, as well as their hunger from more than the world was willing to give them. Jin Guangyao's few loved ones had all held him back, Qin Su with her unfortunate parentage, Lan Xichen with his principles, Jin Ling with the threat he represented... but Su Minshan had always been the perfect person to stand at Jin Guangyao’s side, and now they could do so openly.

The afternoon lesson passed quickly. Due to the humid heat, the boys were a little less attentive than usual, but then again so was Jin Guangyao. He was only too happy to free the boys for the day. Jin Guangyao only took a moment to send Haruto, his favourite student, on a few errands, while he went to do some accounting. 

He’d been carefully managing their finances since they’d arrived in this country, and finally things were looking up. Jin Guangyao hoped that in a year or two they might buy a small house in the mountains, where he was told summers were fresher. Hopefully, he might get parts of the expense dumped onto some idiot prince or other, in exchange for teaching one of their dull witted sons. Back at home it wouldn’t have worked, because people understood money couldn’t buy cultivation, but here… here, any idiot with gold to waste thought they would learn magic.

It was fine to scam these people, Jin Guangyao told himself. Taking advantage of powerful men was nothing at all like those people who had sold his mother fake cultivation manuals. He wasn’t hurting anyone. Or at least, no one that particularly mattered.

When Haruto returned, Jin Guangyao took it as a sign he’d worked enough for the day. He thanks the boy for his effort, and gave him a few of the just purchased treats to share with the other disciples. The rest he took with him as he went to the room he shared with Su Minshan. As always he knocked on the wall to announce his presence, using a certain code between them so Su Minshan would know he didn’t need to cover himself.

When he came in, Su Minshan was sprawled inelegantly on a futon, and desperately fanning himself, his ruined chest glistening with sweat. He looked so miserable like this, though his face lit up when Jin Guangyao put down a box on their low table, and opened it to reveal some fresh shaved ice.

“I could kiss you,” Su Minshan said, all but crawling to the table.

“I hope you will,” Jin Guangyao retorted, picking some of the shaved ice with a spoon so he could feed it to the other man. “I also have some cold noodles, and some rice wine.”

“You are a god among men.”

Jin Guangyao laughed, and started chatting about their students, the ones in which they placed true hope, the ones who were there only for their parents’ fortune. Su Minshan was delighted to hear they might be able to buy a secondary house. With his thousand holes curse, heat and humidity were particularly hard on him, sweat and friction chafing his skin nearly to the point of bleeding sometimes. They really needed that house in the mountain, Jin Guangyao decided. He'd start looking very soon, and maybe drop a word to one of his richer patrons to ask for advice on such a purchase.

For now though, the two men enjoyed their shaved ice, then moved on to some delicious cold noodles. The local food was different from the one back home, but it was something they'd both taken to rather well, unlike that blasted climate. Then, after eating, they started drinking their wine, and the two men found themselves chatting about the place they would always call home, even if they should live in Japan for a thousand years.

“I wonder how A-Ling is doing,” Jin Guangyao mused, staring into his cup of wine. “Poor boy, he must have run the sect to the grounds by now, unless someone more competent got rid of him.”

“Maybe your enemy killed him,” Su Minshan retorted. “If they couldn’t get you, at least they’d get your next of kin.”

Jin Guangyao grimaced. “Probably. After all, they got Qin Su and that little idiot Mo Xuanyu, why not Jin Ling as well? Unless…”

“Unless?”

Jin Guangyao hummed thoughtfully. “I’m still wondering who it could have been,” he said. “I had my enemies of course, but there aren’t many who could have been bold enough to come after me like that. They all hated me of course,” he added with a joyless laugh. “But hate is not enough to go after a man who will slaughter your sect if you stand in his way. It takes a certain type of man to stand up to someone like me.”

“Could have been Lan Wangji,” Su Minshan predictably suggested. “Righteous prick, he didn’t particularly like Nie Mingjue, but he’d avenge him just to feel morally superior.”

“The fact that his lover was brought back certainly is suspicious,” Jin Guangyao conceded, sipping some wine. “And he never particularly liked me, either. To be fair, I don’t think he likes anyone, except that murderer. Still, I’m not sure he would have let Mo Xuanyu kill himself, he does have principles. No, I have another theory.”

“I’m listening.”

Jin Guangyao smiled, and poured more alcohol for both of them, letting the liquid flow as slowly as possible, allowing the suspense to rise a little before he dropped his bomb.

“Jiang Cheng,” he then said.

Su Minshan blinked a few times, frowned, then severely nodded, glaring at his cup of wine.

“It would make sense. Good way to make sure you don’t get rid of his idiotic nephew.”

“Our idiotic nephew,” Jin Guangyao corrected, who had put too much effort into becoming a Jin to disown his last direct relative, even if the boy really took more after his other uncle. “And everyone knows he’s obsessed with finding Wei Wuxian, right? I wouldn’t put it past him to just take things in his own hands and bring back the man who killed his sister, just for a chance to kill him himself, once he was sure no one stood in the way of A-Ling’s inheritance. Too bad he didn’t count on Lan Wangji. Ah, I almost wish I could go back and check on conferences now, it must be quite the show.”

The thought of Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng, who had always hated each other, forced to act half polite even though they both wanted to lock down Wei Wuxian and keep him to themselves… it might have been the wine, but Jin Guangyao couldn’t help chuckling a little. He was so glad that he didn’t have to deal with that sort of mess. For this alone, he was almost grateful to his mysterious enemy.

It was an odd feeling, actually, but Jin Guangyao had come to enjoy his life here, in this foreign land. It wasn’t as good as home, nothing compared to the near absolute power he’d held back then, but… but his eyes fell on Su Minshan, naked from the waist up, looking in a rare good mood, and he smiled. There was definitely something to be said for this simpler life they had here. There was so much less scheming to be done, fewer enemies to deal with, and Jin Guangyao was finally free from the looming menace of Nie Mingjue’s resentful head hidden in his secret room.

Life here really wasn’t so bad.

“You know who it could have been?” Su Minshan asked, grinning like a fool, his cheeks flushed from the heat and the wine. 

“Who?”

Su Minshan beamed, the way he usually did when sharing a nasty story about the darker secrets of Gusu Lan.

“Think about it. Someone who would have wanted to avenge Nie Mingjue. Someone who might have been able to wander around in other sects without attracting attention to collect information, because nobody cares what he does. Someone who Mo Xuanyu might have met before, who was there when Wei Wuxian came to Jinlin Tai to accuse you…”

Jin Guangyao, who had expected his lover to blame Lan Xichen, burst out laughing.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, Minshan. Really? You’re accusing Nie Huaisang now?” Just saying it out loud, Jin Guangyao laughed louder. Nie Huaisang had never had a single idea of his own in his entire life, and didn’t even get along with his brother when he’d been alive. Su Minshan might as well have blamed a very stupid dog. “That poor boy, I bet he would have taken my defence to the end. I almost miss him, you know.”

“No you don’t,” Su Minshan retorted, which made Jin Guangyao laugh again.

“I do! Ah, Minshan, let’s get a cat and call it Huaisang.”

Su Minshan scoffed, and reached out for the wine, only to find they had already finished it. It was probably for the best, if they were so drunk that they could consider the possibility of Nie Huaisang being their secret enemy.

“It’d have to be a fat cat then,” Su Minshan grumbled, stretching in a way that called attention to his chest. It was funny, Jin Guangyao thought sometimes, how he should have been disgusted by the effects of the Thousand Holes curse, but wasn’t at all. “ And one too lazy to even run after mice, or do anything but sleep in the sun, or else the name won’t fit.”

“Minshan, you’re so mean,” Jin Guangyao fondly said, taking the other man’s hand and pulling on it, wanting to go to bed now and enjoy some more this very mean-spirited man he was lucky enough to share his new life with. “Please, never change.”

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Ten ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4422

Warnings: Canon-level violence

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Just so you know, I start playing a little fast and loose with ‘elf-lore’ right about here. Thanks so much for all your responses to the previous chapters! Happy reading <3

We retire early, each of us exhausted from our long journey. Elrond arranged rooms for us in his expansive home, which I found out is the heart of the city. I guess when you found a town, it makes sense that you get the largest estate. At Elrond’s instruction, a female attendant leads me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. She opens a door to my left to revel a large room with a four-poster bed, table, chaise lounge, couch, fireplace, and, through an archway to the side, a full bathroom. Pillows and blankets decorate every available surface and I notice a large selection of books and candles. After two weeks on the road, I want nothing more than to bury myself in this room’s amenities.

“Wow,” I breathe, unable to do much more in my state of awe and fatigue.

“Lord Elrond knows about your fear of heights and has placed you in one of the most innermost rooms of the estate. Your windows will offer you views of our waterfalls but you are nowhere near to the edge. I hope it is to your liking.”

I smile, my already present fondness for Elrond growing. Though, I do wonder which of my friends told him about my fear of heights. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

The attendant nods, leading me to a chest of drawers. “You will find clothing here and bathing provisions in the bathroom. Meals are three times a day and you may join the others in the common hall or request to dine in your chambers. If you require my assistance, I am in the room at the very end of the hall and to the right. I hope you sleep well.” She curtsies deeply and I wonder if I should do the same. Just to be on the safe side, I place one leg behind the other and squat, awkwardly attempting to mirror her movement. She puts great effort into suppressing a smile, but inclines her head in acknowledgment of my efforts before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What am I going to do?

This place is dangerous. It’s terrifying. And yes, I feel relatively safe within Elrond’s walls, but he said it himself—just last month, orcs attempted to infiltrate the city. What if they try again, only this time, they succeed? And with some evil being on the rise? Nope, no way. I don’t think I can deal with that.

I throw myself facedown on the large bed, groaning in frustration. This world that I’ve only just accepted to be real is showing me just how real it is. The honeymoon phase is over. The rose-colored glasses have been lifted from my eyes, and what I see paints a dark, fearful scene.

Yet, even still…I cannot ignore the part of me that so badly wants to stay.

The people I’ve met here—humans, elves—does it really matter? Whatever they are, whatever I am at this point, honestly, does it actually, in the grand scheme of things, matter? Because I like them. I care about them. More than anything, I don’t want to leave them, to go back to a world of people I don’t know.

But danger and my friends are a package deal.

And I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that.

I flip around into a seated position, letting my head flop into my hands.

I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m stressed. And I’m exhausted. Now, I need to sleep. Everything else can wait until morning.

I haul myself off the feathered mattress and drag my heavy feet to the chest of drawers. As far as sleep items go, I find only nightgowns, but they’ll have to do. It’s much better than sleeping in the muddied clothing I’ve traveled in for two weeks.

I change quickly and blow out the candles I rely on to light my room. I crawl into bed, pulling the thick duvet up to my ears. Before I know it, sleep calms my racing mind.

{***}

I wake in the mountains.

A roar, guttural and angry, comes from behind me and I throw myself into a sprint. I stumble over the uneven terrain, catching my foot on rocks and scraping my shins, but I keep going. Whatever I suffer running away is surely better than being at the mercy of the beast that pursues me.

Brown, gnashing teeth cut me off and I shriek, falling onto my back. An orc with its stinking, rotting breath descends on me, dagger cutting into my arm. I cry out not only in pain but in panic, for the blood that falls to the ground is not red — no, it is thick, dark sludge.

I’m underwater.

The sludge suffocates me. It fills my lungs and burns as it slides over my skin. I kick, desperate to get away.

Below me, a honeyed voice sings. It beckons to me, begs me to come deeper, to let myself sink. It promises safety, security.

It promises peace.

“Cosima.”

Haldir’s voice far above me sounds muffled as it travels through the murky waters. I snap my head up. I can’t see anything, only the darkness, but I know that if I can somehow get to him, if I can follow his voice, then I will reach the surface.

“Cosima!” Rumil shouts for me now.

My name, called in turn by each of my new friends, overlaps, drowning out the sweet sounds from below.

My vision darkens. I have gone too long without breath — I have to make a decision.

I kick my legs, propelling myself upwards.

{***}

I break through the surface, sputtering and gasping for air.

Light—harsh and bright orange—momentarily blinds me. As my eyes adjust, I recognize the puffy white duvet, the cool grey of the stone walls, the soft pink flowers cascading from the ceiling. I’m in my guest bed in Elrond’s house. I never left my room. I never lost to an attacker in the mountains. I never fell into the water.

It was just a dream.

Water—the roaring sound of the waterfalls—while muted, is still subtly audible in the background. And my dream—it was nearly exactly what I imagined before waking in Arda. The sound from the waterfalls must have triggered it.

Just a dream, I remind myself, trying to calm my racing heart.

A sharp knock disrupts the silence of the room and sends stabs of pain through my head — bad dreams and a headache, too, I guess. The knock sounds again and I groan, forcing myself to leave the coziness of my covers and pad on bare feet to the door.

It’s Haldir. He stands, hand still raised, in fresh clothes and even more armor than yesterday. His bow is slung over his back, a quiver and sword rest at his hips. I try not to let my thoughts get away from me with overreaction — surely this isn’t necessary for inside Elrond’s halls.

He lowers his hand, dipping his head briefly in greeting. “I—” he seems to notice my nightgown. “Did I wake you?”

I shrug and attempt to lean against the doorframe casually, still mildly disturbed from my nightmare. “I don’t think so.” Then, panic causes me to stiffen. “Have you been here long?” Did he hear anything? Oh, I hope not.

He shakes his head and I relax. “No, I only just arrived.” Whew. “I came to get you — Elrond wants to take a look at your arm. I also wanted to let you know, Glorfindel and I are going to visit a couple of the border stations and see if there are improvements to be made. I will be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” I blink. So he’s leaving. “But you only just got here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t you want a few days to relax?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I have been relaxing — I’ve been on leave from my duties for three weeks now.”

I roll my eyes, recalling his constant state of watchfulness on our journey. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t call the trip we just had ‘on leave from your duties.’”

He huffs, but the beginnings of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “Would you please get dressed so I can escort you to Elrond? Glorfindel and I wish to leave within the hour.”

I fight the urge to make some snarky comment about his impatience and instead shut the door in his face, hurrying to get ready. My arm does sting — perhaps Elrond can do something about that.

The chest of drawers doesn’t offer much in variety, mostly just a combination of long dresses and a few tunic and legging sets here and there. I’ve been traveling in the same clothes for two weeks though, and a change in habit doesn’t sound too bad, so I opt for a sleeveless pale blue gown with a gossamer cape at the shoulders. I don’t look as ethereal as Lavandil would, but I suppose it will do. Using my fingers, I brush down the frizz in my hair as much as I can—a lost cause, really—and throw on a pair of cream slippers that no one will see anyway because of the gown. After splashing some water over my eyes and brushing my teeth, I throw open the door to find Haldir standing to the side, back to the wall, watching the coming and going of everyone who passes down the hallway. Always on duty. He acknowledges me with a stiff nod and gestures down the hall, falling into step beside me. When we reach the bottom of the staircase, he leads me to the right and through another open-air hallway.

He breaks the silence. “Is your room to your liking?”

I think back to my plush bed, trying to separate it from the dread and fear of my nightmare. “Oh, yes. As much as I liked sleeping under the stars, it’s nice to have a proper bed and all the blankets I could want. And a door.”

He huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “That is the true indication of luxury.”

“And yours?”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “It is the height of visitor season here in Imladris, so I am sharing with Rumil. Aside from constantly putting up with my younger brother, it’s perfect.”

I freeze, turning to him. “Wait, you have to share? But you’re the one who’s supposed to be visiting, that’s not right. You or Rumil can have my room, I’ll stay with Alex—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he interjects quickly, jerking his head to indicate that I should continue walking. “I only meant to joke. I do not mind sharing a space with my brother.” Before I can respond, he changes the subject. “How is your arm?”

I raise it, feeling the skin stretch over the cut. “Stings, but it’s healing.”

“Elrond will be able to speed along the process.” He indicates that we should turn left down a new hallway. He leads me through a nondescript archway on our right and we enter a moderately sized semicircular room.

Elrond sits at a mahogany desk near one of the walls, writing furiously on a piece of graying parchment.  Upon our entry, he looks up, and the lines of stress on his brow melt into an expression of warm welcome. “Good to see you again, Cosima, Haldir.” He nods to each of us in turn and motions for us to join him at his desk. When we approach, Haldir bows his head respectfully, so I do the same. It’s strange to be in Elrond’s presence. He carries such authority that I feel small in comparison, yet he also leads with such kindness that it is impossible to not want to be around him. Based on all the visitors Haldir mentioned, I surmise that I am not alone in this assessment.

Elrond vacates his chair and gestures for me to sit. He comes to stand at my left and gently takes my arm in his hands. “I am sorry for the injury you suffered during the attack. That must have been quite jarring.”

Haldir rests a hand absently on the hilt of his sword, watching us from the other side of the desk. Likely, he too is remembering the ferocity of the attack — the lives he had to take. It must be hard, even if they were the lives of those trying to kill us.

“It was,” I agree, wincing slightly when Elrond unwraps the bandage encasing my upper arm. “As far as I know, my home doesn’t have anything like that.”

He smiles almost indulgently, crouching to more closely examine the gash. “But you would not remember if it did, no?”

I swallow. I hadn’t considered that. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks into my eyes then, and I feel so very young. “Every world has its perils. And every world has its joys. You cannot have one without the other—such is the way of life.”

I exhale shakily, turning my eyes to the ceiling. That’s sobering.

Elrond lays his fingers over my torn skin and mutters something in that language I so often hear.

I try to concentrate on the sounds, but can’t make out any specific words. “What is that?”

Since Elrond is still chanting, Haldir answers for him. “An Elvish healing incantation. Combined with the power in Elrond’s spirit, it should close up the wound.”

Tingles race through my upper arm and converge on my cut. I crane my neck, trying to see around Elrond’s hands. A second later, he pulls away. I gasp. All that is left of the cut is a thin, raised scar.

“What,” I murmur, prodding at the skin. Not painful, not even tender. What was just a two-day old wound now seems as if it happened and healed ages ago. “That’s impossible.”

Elrond nearly smirks, straightening to full height. “Open your mind, young one, and you will see that what is impossible to you is commonplace here.”

“I—” but I have nothing to say to that. Though I cannot possibly wrap my head around what just happened, the fact remains that it did. I’m not sure if I’m ready to confront what that means. So I push it away for later. “Thank you.”

Elrond inclines his head. Everyone around here is so dang respectful. “You are welcome.” With a twinkle in his eye, he turns his focus to Haldir. “Do not give my guards too hard a time. I imagine they are wary of your arrival.”

Haldir gestures for me to follow him to the exit. “I only plan on pointing out strategies for improvement. Suggestions, really.”

With a noise that clearly communicates his disbelief in Haldir’s statement, Elrond returns to his desk, smiling softly and shaking his head. “Be safe, Marchwarden. And Cosima?” I stop and turn, one hand on the pillar leading into his study. He gives me a level look and I have the distinct impression that he is acutely aware of the conflict raging within my head. “My door is always open.”

Mutely, I nod, a little stunned by the gravity in his gaze. I must have been staring, because it takes Haldir gently tapping my elbow to remind me to follow him from the room. Once in the hallway, I feel a little more clear-headed. “So was that magic?”

Haldir shrugs, striding down the long corridor. “Humans would think of it that way I suppose. Magic implies something special and ‘more than,’ though, and it’s not like that for elves. It is to be respected, yes, but it is simply the power in our spirits doing the work that calls to them. For Elrond, his spirit urges him to heal, so when he acts on it, he is more powerful than others who aren’t called to healing. I should mention that we say ‘spirit’ for your benefit. Elves use the term ‘fæ’. Simplified, it serves the same purpose as a spirit, but for elves, it plays more of an active role in our lives.”

I mull that over. It sounds reasonable enough. “So then what’s yours? What does your spirit—fæ want you to do?”

“Keep people safe. And if that means fighting, so be it.”

That seems consistent with what I know about him. Every action he takes seems driven by the desire to protect those around him. “What would happen if you ignored it? Say you wanted to be a healer like Baranor or Elrond.”

Haldir chuckles, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walks. “I have tried before and I was not near as successful. I can perform the basics of healing—anyone can—but there’s no power within me to speed up the process or heal especially severe injuries like Elrond can. If I tried to attend to your arm in the same way he did, maybe it would have healed slightly faster? But as you saw with Elrond, he is capable of doing it in minutes.”

I begin to catch on. “Okay, so you can all learn whatever skills you want but the power to perform above and beyond at those skills lies in your fæ.”

He nods once. “Exactly.”

We turn a corner. “But what if you wanted to be a healer but you were born with the fæ of a fighter? Could you change it?”

Haldir takes a deep breath, his steps slowing slightly. I realize we are nearing the staircase that will take me to my room. “Short answer—no. An elf’s fæ is incredibly personal and incredibly fragile. Really, only two things can change an elf’s fæ: marriage and death. Long answer—you can ignore the desires of your fæ and nothing bad will happen to you so, technically, if I wanted, I could shun the need to keep my people safe and heal them instead. But I wouldn’t be any better at it than anyone else and I would feel unfulfilled because I wouldn’t be giving my fæ what it needs. Does that make sense?”

I nod, but something he glossed over jumps out at me. He said marriage can change an elf’s fæ, but from what I know, marriage isn’t always forever. People can separate, people can die, people can cheat. What then? “Marriage and death change a fæ how?”

A faraway look comes into his eye. “The two are basically interconnected. When elves get married, their fæs bond together in a way that cannot be undone. When it is—through death—the half of the fæ belonging to the dead elf essentially wilts and leaves the remaining fæ damaged.”

That sounds awful. “But what about divorce? Is that kinder to a fæ?”

Haldir smiles ruefully. “Divorce is something unique to humans. Elves live forever and we love only once. When we do decide to love another, the two fæs are literally entwined forever. So divorce is a physical possibility — the two can be separated, yes. But it would cause their fæs so much grief that it almost never happens. Spiritually though, the two are entwined until death, some argue even beyond then.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “So, if one dies and the fæ is damaged…”

“The other fades. It is not just a physical death, but a spiritual one. They lose the will to live and eventually pass into nothing.”

I look at the ground. Haldir carries a pain in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s seen this happen before. With over three thousand years behind him, it’s likely that he has.

I attempt to veer to a safer subject. He said elves only love once and, as far as I know, Haldir isn’t married. I try to tease him a little to lighten the mood. “So you’ve never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, jerking his chin in my direction. “Have you?”

I shrug, climbing the staircase. “I wouldn’t remember.”

“I think you would.” We’re at the top now and I turn to see him looking not at me, but out one of the gaping archways showcasing the falls.

I let out a slow breath, thinking on his words. Would I, though? I mean, what if I’m here gallivanting with my new friends and I have someone at home mourning my loss, missing me? Do I owe it to him to make it back?

Feeling a weight settle on my shoulders, I take small, hesitant steps towards the archway, bringing me closer and closer to the fortified stone railing. I don’t look down—that would be too much—but I do rest my hands lightly against the wood, staring straight ahead at the curtain of frothy white and blue. Guilt as well as fear from being so close to the edge churn in my stomach. Am I a bad person for not remembering my love? Do I even have one?

I let out a shuddering breath, knowing I need something — reassurance or condemnation, I don’t know. I choose to give voice to my fears and trust Haldir to decide.

When I speak, my voice is not as solid as I would like, sounding instead shaky and fragile. “But what if I didn’t?” I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “What if there’s someone in my world waiting for me and I can’t remember him?”

The sounds of boots clicking against stone echoes. A few seconds later, Haldir appears next to me, resting his hands on the railing, mirroring my viewing of the waterfall.

“An elf’s fæ gives them a measure of awareness. If you are really attuned to someone—love them, have a strong bond with them—your fæs will have a consciousness of each other, almost like they’re in communication. For example, I can see Rumil’s light and I know that he is content. I can feel Orophin’s joy practically bursting and I know how happy it makes him to be here with his love. And, while a human’s fæ isn’t as strong as an elf’s, you do have one. If I concentrate, I can see it. It’s faint, but it is there. All this to say,” he shakes his head slowly, turning his gaze to me. “If you had a love back home, your fæ would know.”

I slump in relief, leaning against the railing and closing my eyes so I cannot further frighten myself. If I had someone that I was bonded to, I would remember him — more than that, I would feel it in my soul. So, staying here…if it weren’t so dangerous…maybe it wouldn’t be bad.

“Haldir, Lady Cosima.” A confident voice at the end of the hall catches our attention.

Glorfindel, golden and gorgeous as ever, strides up to us, bowing deeply. He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to its back, then straightens and winks—at me or Haldir, I can’t tell. “A human custom I thought I’d try. Not my cup of tea, but I do say I’ll try anything once.”

I bark out a shocked laugh, having not expected Glorfindel’s bold entrance. “Am I one of your experiments, then?”

“If you’d like to be.” He pumps his eyebrows suggestively, though, if what Haldir just explained to me is true for all elves, Glorfindel is only playing around.

Haldir rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

With a flair, Glorfindel gestures to his armored form. “So it seems. Is the Lady going to accompany us?”

I huff, not liking being cut out of the conversation. “No, ‘the Lady’ hopes to stay here and find breakfast.”

“Ah, it is on the path to the stables! Allow us to show you the way.” With that, Glorfindel strides down the hallway as quickly as he arrived.

Haldir shakes his head—whether in amusement or annoyance, I don’t know—but follows.

The three of us wind up in a large outdoor pavilion sheltered only by a wooden lattice rooftop woven with blue and white flowers. This must be the common dining hall Elrond mentioned last night. It’s relatively late in the morning but too early for the midday meal, so the pavilion is empty. I’m grateful—I’m not sure I could handle meeting a whole city’s worth of elves before I’ve gotten some food in me.

The use of the word causes a brief spark of shock to jolt through my chest. I just referred to them as ‘elves’.

But I cannot deny it any longer—somehow, it clicked. I am in a different world, and the people of this world are not all human. My friends are elves.

This decision to believe—though it is only one of many I must make—releases a weight from my chest. I suddenly feel much lighter, nearly giddy with freedom. I push forward and turn around to face the two ellyn who led me here, nodding with a measure of finality.

“You are elves.”

Glorfindel looks perplexed, but Haldir, for the first time since I’ve met him, looks surprised. His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his lips part from each other. I grin, very much enjoying the feeling of catching him off guard. He narrows his eyes slightly, seeming to inspect me for signs of teasing or a joke. I smile up at him, confident in my decision.

Glorfindel looks back and forth between what probably looks like an impromptu staring contest. “Yes…it must be time for you to eat. How often do humans need to eat, anyways?” He chatters on, leading us through the pavilion and into an auxiliary room — the kitchens. “I’ve heard horror stories of new humans needing to eat upwards of six times per day. How do its caretakers get anything done?”

As Glorfindel darts through the kitchen collecting what I assume to be leftovers and provisions for the trip, Haldir comes up beside me, looking almost unsure.

“You have accepted it, then?”

I nod, exhaling quickly. “I have. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Somehow I lived in my world and now I live in yours. And, though there’s no way for me to wrap my head around it, my new friends are elves.”

He smiles softly, hesitantly, and dips his head in acknowledgment of my statement. “I am glad.”

But, despite my momentary feeling of freedom, unease settles in my gut. Many more decisions lie ahead.

A/n Ooo so what do you think??? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me happy! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Also, if you’re bored, pop into my ask box and tell me something that makes you happy -- I’d love to know!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

[disastermages]

[read it on ao3]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Wen Qing isn’t in the kitchen by the time Meng Yao walks back in, though her voice does call out to him when he passes by a door that’s always been previously closed. He doesn’t expect her white coat, nor does he expect the way it makes him feel smaller than her, though she sits in a chair, one leg crossed over the other. Her jeans and boots ruin the picture of her as a doctor, but she’s pulled her hair back, making her look professional from the knee up.

“Can I help you, Miss Wen?” Meng Yao won’t let the confusion sound in his voice, though he still holds onto the doorway. Wen Qing looks meaningfully at the chair across from her, but Meng Yao won’t take the bait until she asks him to. For a long few seconds, Wen Qing seems content to wait him out too, studying her short, unpainted nails and writing things down on the clipboard she balances on her knees.

“Mrs. Yu asks that every member of the household undergo a monthly check up. I’m not doing this for fun.” Wen Qing says finally, clicking her pen once, twice, three times while she frowns up at Meng Yao, “Please have a seat so we can get the questionnaire done.” Meng Yao sits down across from her without further fight, but he doesn’t stop himself from looking around.

“Why have I never seen this room before?”

“Because you aren’t Wei Wuxian and you don’t insist on climbing every tree you can find.” Wen Qing answers, but doesn’t look up from where she’s printing his name onto the form, her hand heavy and sure as it carves out the letters. “You have your office upstairs, and I have mine down here.”

At second glance, Meng Yao sees the piles of books laying just behind a cluster of mugs and glasses, though no plates lay in the office. There’s no examination table to be found, and Meng Yao is grateful for it. “Your birth date and year, please.”

“February 20th, 1964.” Meng Yao answers easily, his hands sit carefully on his own knees, but his fingers still want to tighten and pull at his pants. His chair was already uncomfortable.

“Can you tell me what today’s date is and where you are?”

“The date is May 16th, 1988, and I am at Jiang Manor.” The questions were simple ones, Wen Qing even nods approvingly to herself, but Meng Yao can guess what’s coming. Doctors always asked for complete patient histories, though nothing Meng Yao told her would leave the office, he’d shut the door behind him after he’d finally come in. She would ask eventually, and Meng Yao would have to answer her. He couldn’t lie completely, just in case she already had his records, but he could tell the same lies that were already in those records.

Still, she asks all the questions she should, moving down a list as if he were sitting down inside of an actual doctor’s office. No, he does not smoke, nor does he drink more than the occasional glass of wine. No, to his knowledge, heart disease does not run in his family.Yes, he is sexually active. Yes, he is using protection.

Meng Yao hadn’t missed the flicker of amusement in Wen Qing’s eye when she’d asked the last two questions, but she’s still playing at being professional, so Meng Yao will play along. “Why does Mrs. Yu ask that we do this?”

“Hypochondria by proxy.” Wen Qing says it with a snort, but then her eyes widen and snap up to Meng Yao’s face, her mouth growing hard for a moment before she sighs and sets the clipboard aside. “Don’t repeat what I said, it’s not even an official diagnosis.” Wen Qing pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers and when she takes her hand away, the spot between her eyes is pink and irritated. “Yanli’s illness is autoimmune, but that doesn’t stop Mrs. Yu from worrying that we’re all going to bring in something that’s going to kill her. She’s getting better.”

Meng Yao isn’t sure who Wen Qing means. The whole house had been treating Jiang Yanli delicately since her fainting spell, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t feeling better. If Yu Ziyuan were getting better, why would she still mandate his check up? He doesn’t ask, he’d have to wait and see.

They go back to playing professionals after that, with Wen Qing shining a flashlight in his eyes and knocking a plastic hammer against his knee caps. She doesn’t ask him to test his grip strength on her fingers.

“You have a broken wrist and three broken ribs on your file, following a fall down a flight of stairs, could I see the flexibility in that wrist? I’ll want to take a look at your ribs, too.” His wrist only ached when it was cold, Meng Yao tells her as he bends it back and forth and rolls it easily. There’s still a clicking sound, but the pain of it has long since faded.

“I’ll be quick about this.” Wen Qing promises as Meng Yao removes his button down and then his undershirt, pressing her cold fingers into his ribs harder than Meng Yao deems necessary. “How did you fall?” The question is neutral, and Wen Qing’s voice is calm, but the voice of the triage nurse had also been calm while she took down his information. He hadn’t been able to write it down himself, he’d driven himself to the emergency room one handed.

“I was at my father’s house, I tripped.” Meng Yao chooses the words carefully, just like he had the night it happened. The doctors and nurses at the hospital had been willing to take his word for it then, but when he glances down at Wen Qing, he sees something hard and cold in her eyes. It doesn’t fade as she sits back into her chair, giving him room to dress again.

“You’ve healed well.” Wen Qing offers it up without roughness or warmth, as if she already knew the truth and she could accept his lie as some sort of gift. It was a gift Meng Yao is willing to take, though, better the gift of acceptance than the charity of pity.

Her examination is complete, but Wen Qing still doesn’t set Meng Yao free, her small, pale hands coming to rest in her own lap as she sets the clipboard aside for good. “You have to understand, Meng Yao, that Yanli has grown very attached to you, very quickly. She’s friendly with everyone, but even with me, she didn’t share everything right away.” Wen Qing does not touch him, but she looks as though she’s thinking about it, her eyes going dark and still, “She considers you a friend, please don’t make her regret that choice.”

There were a dozen things Meng Yao could say to defend himself, but when he opens his mouth and Wen Qing looks up at him again. He realizes then that she’s asking him for a favor, and he nods along with it, swallowing thickly.

“Something else before I let you go, Meng Yao,” Wen Qing nods and looks away from him, pulling herself back together while she wrestles an envelope from the stack of papers on her desk, “my uncle has found out that you’re here, he’s asked me to pass along his letter of recommendation to you, should you ever need it.” For a long moment, the letter hangs between them, and Meng Yao’s mouth hangs open like a fish.

Wen Ruohan and both of his sons were supposed to be in three separate maximum security prisons, Meng Yao had only worked for them for a year when the offices and three of the houses had been raided. Meng Yao had been spared implication by eight months. Misfortune had reached for him and grabbed Wen Ruohan and his sons by the collars instead.

“I thought…”

“He’s still allowed to write to family, Meng Yao, but I wouldn’t doubt they check his letters.”

No matter how badly he wants to, Meng Yao won’t tear the letter open in front of Wen Qing, instead, he nods his head once more and turns to leave, listening to the scratching of Wen Qing’s pen as the door nearly shuts behind him.

“You’ll find a shoe box full of condoms in the third drawer of my filing cabinet, should you need them. Mrs. Yu makes me keep those, too.”

Wen Qing tosses it over her shoulder as if it means nothing, but Meng Yao feels his cheeks color as he hurries away from her office as quickly as he can without running. He’s grateful that she doesn’t like him enough to ask him for details. Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian either didn’t know, or didn’t care, and Jiang Yanli was too kind to ask, she only hinted and grinned when Meng Yao’s cheeks colored, when she wasn’t passing along gifts from Wen Qing’s hands.

Still, part of him wants to tell someone, so it’s more real than the small, cold square of his bedroom or stolen kisses in the woods while Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian ran ahead of them to push each other into the river. Part of him wants to know if Lan Xichen would mind such a thing, or if he intended on keeping what lay between him and Meng Yao more of a secret than it already was.

Bile and worry rise up in his throat, but Meng Yao chokes them down. He wouldn’t go there. Lan Xichen hadn’t given him any kind of indication that he wanted to keep what’s between them the kind of secret one keeps locked in the basement or in a closet with skeletons, he’d only told Meng Yao to be careful of Yu Ziyuan, that she wouldn’t fire either of them, that she would just plant herself between them if she saw them getting too close. Lan Xichen didn’t strike him as cruel, so he couldn’t be. He’d always been kind, even when he stole into Meng Yao’s room, even when he was forced to wrangle Wei Wuxian or Jiang Wanyin.

Lan Xichen is kind. Meng Yao would allow him to be.

The taste of something bitter and cruel is just leaving Meng Yao’s mouth when he sees him, the same boy from the woods, wearing the same clothes and lingering at the edge of the Jiang’s property line, one hand resting on a tree, while the other holds a knife, an amused smile on his face, even as Meng Yao turns and hurries back to the kitchen, uncaring if anyone hears him run now.

Jiang Yanli whirls around with a knife still held in her hands when Meng Yao scrambles into the kitchen, an apron protects the gray-white of her dress from whatever it is she’s cooking. “Do you see him?” Meng Yao asks, turning the lock on the back door and latching it.

For a moment, Jiang Yanli only looks at Meng Yao, before she turns to look out the window, and then she pales further. “Xue Yang.” Her voice doesn’t climb above a whisper as she backs away from the window, the knife still held in one hand while the other grabs onto Meng Yao’s elbow, holding him tight as they both back out into the dining room. “You have to go get A-Xian and A-Cheng.” Jiang Yanli’s voice is tight as she gives her orders, her grip tightening still, “He’s tried to hurt A-Xian before, but A-Cheng’s temper… I don’t want either of them going out there. Where is Wen Qing?” It doesn’t feel as though Jiang Yanli is going to let him go long enough for Meng Yao to collect her brothers, but he still backs her further away, until he’s sure she’s out of sight from any of the kitchen windows.

They both back into the same chair, but Jiang Yanli is the one who threatens it with her knife, her shoulders high and tight.

It takes Meng Yao nearly five minutes to guide Jiang Yanli back to Wen Qing’s office, but the door is locked when they get there. Meng Yao doesn’t stop himself from pounding on it with the flat of his hand. He doesn’t see the boy, Xue Yang when he dares to glance at the window, but that meant nothing at all, not when Wen Qing still hadn’t answered them.

Meng Yao’s hand almost meets her nose when she finally opens the door with a jerk, a question already halfway out of her mouth when she sees the knife in Jiang Yanli’s hand, for the first time, Meng Yao sees that there’s still broccoli stuck to the blade. Wen Qing insists on calling the police after she’s gotten Jiang Yanli to sit down in the same chair that Meng Yao had occupied earlier, but the knife lays on the desk, just within her reach as Meng Yao turns to try and call Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin down, but he gets no response.

Licking his lips, Meng Yao glances back once, his eyes meeting Wen Qing’s while she stays on the line, one of her hands has already found its way onto Jiang Yanli’s cheek, one show of affection already bigger than what Meng Yao had already seen. Without a word, she frowns and nods, wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear to wave him out of the room.

He didn’t have to ask her to lock the door, and she didn’t have to tell him she was going to. Jiang Yanli would be safe with Wen Qing, at least until he could find her younger brothers and herd them into Wen Qing’s office too.

Meng Yao keeps clear of the windows, calling them again, even as he starts down his short flight of stairs. Wei Wuxian’s workshop was mostly soundproofed, they might not have heard him call because they were in there with the door closed, but when Meng Yao opens the door without knocking, everything is still and dark. It makes Meng Yao’s skin prickle, Wei Wuxian’s workshop wasn’t meant to be still, Meng Yao knows that much.

“Jiang Wanyin! Wei Wuxian!” Meng Yao doesn’t shout for them, but he lets his voice become sharp as he climbs the stairs two at a time. He should have grabbed something. There were knives to spare in the kitchen, but Jiang Yanli wouldn’t forgive him if he lost one or damaged it, it was better to leave them where they lay in their drawers. “Your sister and Miss Wen want the both of you downstairs.”

Meng Yao isn’t foolish enough to pretend he has any authority over them, if Lan Xichen had been present, Meng Yao might have invoked his name too, but Lan Xichen would be home with his family by now. What would they do with them when they did get them downstairs and herded into Wen Qing’s office? They couldn’t stay there all day and night, there’d hardly been enough room for Meng Yao, Jiang Yanli, and Wen Qing in the office. Five people would be unforgivably tight and nervous while they were stalked by Xue Yang in the yard.

Meng Yao should have grabbed something, even if it were just the fire poker, like Yu Ziyuan had done. It would have been a constant in his hands. It might have done something.

He opens the doors without care now, stopping for only a handful of seconds to look before he moves on again, anxiety climbing up his throat and bringing that bitter-sick taste back into his mouth.

Calling again, Meng Yao rounds the corner that leads to the west wing of the house without realizing it until the chill surrounds him. He doesn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around himself, he won’t acknowledge that he can see his own breath, not now, not until he finds Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian.

“I won’t ask again, come out and come downstairs with me!” Finally, Meng Yao allows his voice to become stern, though who knows if they’d think anything of it, if they did hear him. He’s just about to turn around and start searching downstairs when the creaking of a door makes Meng Yao walk too quickly towards it, his hand catching the knob and pushing inside before he can think better of it.

“Your sister wants you downstairs, the police are on their way, please come down with me now, before she starts to worry.” Frustration had kept him blind for a moment, but when Meng Yao looks, the room is empty and colder than the hallway had been. His breath is clinging to his lips in steady, white clouds now, and his hand leaves the doorknob.

The door wastes no time in slamming shut the second his back is turned, the knob refusing to turn no matter how many times Meng Yao rattles it or tries with all his strength. “Let me out.” Meng Yao tries to gather what’s left of the sternness before, but his throat is starting to feel thick. “Jiang Wanyin, Wei Wuxian, now isn’t the time for pranks, let me out and I won’t tell Miss Jiang what you’ve done.” He’s not pleading, Meng Yao tells himself, he’s bargaining. If he bargains, they might let him out with the cruel laughter only teenage boys are capable of.

Meng Yao pounds one fist against the door now, the other still rattling the doorknob, as if someone might hear him and let him out from the outside, shivering all the while. He doesn’t dare glance behind himself, even as he hears another door in the room swing open. He tries to tell himself that he’s imagining the fingers curling around his neck, his voice raising as he finally lets himself plead to be let out, but no answer ever comes. No cruel laughter ever echoes through the halls and no footfalls of Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian ever sound as Meng Yao squeezes his eyes shut.

A voice Meng Yao has never heard before calls out to him, and air, still colder than before, nags at his ear and at his upper arms while the voice pleads for him to turn around, to turn around and look. He won’t pretend he can’t hear the grin in that voice, it makes him too sick to ignore. Laughter rings out around him, changing the voice from high pitched and grating to something lower and closer, but madder all the same, the hands at his throat squeezing tight once more before they’re gone and the door swings open, dropping him onto the hallway floor while Meng Yao coughs and sputters.

His vision is still blurry when two shapes come running to him, both of them dropping down to their knees and calling out to a third, smaller shape behind them. He has to blink and cough a while longer before his eyes focus on the faces of Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, even as Jiang Yanli comes to kneel between the two of them, her face wild and afraid.

“Where were they?” Meng Yao asks Jiang Yanli instead of either of her brothers, his throat still feeling rough, but he doesn’t dare reach for it, Jiang Yanli’s hands are already on his shoulders, stopping Meng Yao from trying to stand up on his own.

“A-Xian and A-Cheng were in the downstairs west wing,” Jiang Yanli says calmly, trying hard to control her face, even as both of her brothers sit back and look away, or at each other, “they said they heard a door slam and someone start screaming right above their heads.” Meng Yao wouldn’t call what he’d done screaming, but he still swallows and nods, though his throat aches. “What happened?”

Jiang Yanli’s voice isn’t accusatory, but she does look over Meng Yao’s head and into the room, a frown on her face and her hands holding Meng Yao tighter. “The door was open, I thought your brothers might be in there, but when I went in to look, the door slammed shut and wouldn’t open again.” Meng Yao doesn’t tell her about the hands, or the laughter, not yet, not in front of the other two.

“It gets drafty up here.” Jiang Wanyin supplies weakly, and Jiang Yanli shakes her head.

“You know that’s not what it was, A-Cheng.” One hand leaves Meng Yao’s shoulder and presses against Jiang Wanyin’s cheek, tilting his head up from where he’d lowered it. Jiang Yanli does not smile, but she nods her head and strokes her thumb underneath her brother’s eye. “A-Yao, the police are searching the woods right now, and Wen Qing is waiting on the porch for them, I’d like to get you downstairs where we can look at your neck.”

Meng Yao knows the tone that Jiang Yanli is using now, he’d heard her use it dozens of times with both of her brothers, and even more rarely, with her mother or Wen Qing. She’s plying him with a sweet tone of voice, and Meng Yao lets her, though he insists on getting up on his own.

All three Jiang Siblings clump around him on the stairs, keeping him safe in the middle, with Jiang Yanli leading and Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian bringing up the rear.

Meng Yao lets it be.

For now.

[deakydeaky]

HC of you meeting of of the boys(preferably Ben or Joe) before COVID and when it hit you stayed with them because you were far from home. Is this too much? Btw I love your posts and just want you to post more again 💀

How it started:

You were traveling around a lot before it was finally after the holidays

You were in New York, staying in a hotel when the news about COVID was getting big

In your final days you were going to a shop everyday, just to grab what you needed for the day

That’s when you ran into Joe. You knew you knew him from somewhere but didn’t say anything until you saw him there the next day

“Are you stalking me?” You would ask as you grabbed a bag of chips. He would let out a loud laugh as he looked at you

“Yeah actually, what gave it away?” People sworned around them.” This is crazy huh?”

“Yeah, I gotta get home soon if this keeps up.”

“Or stay in New York? Maybe run into each other before we turn into zombies?” He joked. “Totally.” You would agree and leave it at that

You two saw each other a few more times and gave flirty smiles through out the week and some small talk. He told him about his place and you talked about where you lived

A few days later when you realized that things weren’t going to get better you packed your bags. You first stopped at the shop to grab a few things because you didn’t know what the airport could be like

When you walked in, you saw Joe with a big shopping cart

“Oh my god, I totally started the zombie apocalypse.” Joe said when he saw you

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” You told him as you walked down the isle

“Are you going to be comfortable staying in a hotel?” You would give him a weird look. “I’m heading to the airport.” You told him with a laugh. “All of the airports shut down. No flights anywhere right now.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You would start to call every hotel as Joe was checking out. Everything seemed to be booked or they were taking anyone new. How caught you outside as you stood by the cab, calling places

“You okay?”

“Everything is booked, Damnit!” Joe would hate to see it. “S-stay with me.” You gave him a look. “You could be a murderer.” You told him before he laughed. “I’m not and I’m serious. You can’t be on the streets right now and I have another room. And I think I have more reason to be worried, get in the cab crazy.”

You stayed in the guest bedroom, and even alone you felt awkward. You thought you should just try to call someone willing to drive all of the way to get you but you couldn’t ask anyone to do that and you didn’t think they would

The next morning you woke up to him pouring coffee. As he gave it to you and started small talk you stopped him.

“Stop. This is super nice but weird. I will call someone and leave. I- I think I should leave but this is great. If you start a bed and breakfast I will def give a good Yelp review.” He would laugh at you.

“Please don’t. Just stay until something opens up and you can safely be on a flight or a hotel. It could be fun. You could tel you kids about it one day or something. I swear I’m not a creep and I really would feel bad if I left you ok your own.”

Staying:

You called your family and told them you were staying with a friend and to not worry

It was awkward at first because either of you knew how to be comfortable with the other but it got better

Making breakfast for each other, being a good house guest, watching a few movies together a week, all around stuff

After two weeks of being in a house together, you thought it time to know each other and started to cook dinner. But horriblely messed up and Joe called his mom for cooking tips

“Mom I’m not joking, no she didn’t add water.” You blushed heavily as he talked to her. He ended up cooking for you which made you feel even worse

“Why were you cooking anyways?” He questioned. “I wanted to be something nice. We’ve been in the same house now for two weeks straight and I don’t know you. You could still be a murderer.”

“I’m an actor actually, pretty sure you knew that. I’m a Virgo, I play bass-“

“And you like long walks on the beach? Real stuff Joe! Also, I guessed Virgo, your earth sign energy is crazy, what’s your moon?”

“I- I don’t know. Ask me something then, anything.”

“Do you like coffee?”

“You crossed the line.” He told you, making you both laugh

Through out quarantine:

Going through 2020 together was the most chaotic thing that happens to you

Watching just about every show on Netflix

Everyday something worse happens you two take a shot and then put a tally on a peice of paper

Having 2020 bingo cards, literally

Ordering a lot of games to pass time

Making bets about what next month will hold

Getting to know Joe in weird ways

Having to explain to where you work that you’re now working from New York

Joe being the most chill person, even with the things that are happening

Him trying to make the days better

Joking about separation anxiety with each other but lowkey if one of you goes to the store for too long the other ones is worried

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.” Joe would question everything he’s done all week but can’t remember a single thing

Becoming rather close and very chaotic

“This is everything we need to do after it’s over.” You would tell him

“An aquarium?”

“Well it’s that or we could get high and watch Jaws, your choice.”

“I’m glad we aren’t those people that go on walks and zoom with their families, that’d make us seem way to normal.”

Trying your best to pass the time, April and May being the worse

Getting a lot of little arguments

“You called me a child when I bought them, and then you took HALF!” You would yell

“You’re fighting with me about this?”

“Yes because you made fun of me. You either get more or we fist fight.”

Neither of you know how to shop for food in the beginning because everything was being taken from the shelves

“You bought two packs of energy drinks?”

“Everyone was taking the water and soda, I had to act fast.”

Catching yourself falling for him

How could you not? He took you in, cooks dinner, helps ease your pandemic anxiety

Him being the biggest goof

“Joe, it’s 1am, I’m not making a fort with you.”

“Why not?”

When the summer came you two held out hope for better things to come but they just seemed worse

Meeting the boys over zoom

“Sorry, we’ve all been really surprised when we heard the story. It’s very Joe but we were scared some weird things would happen.”

“Yeah, I don’t watch him sleep or anything like that.”

“Really? I’m a beautiful sleeper.”

Making him tea

Hearing him over sing in the shower

After the summer with numbers rising again, going home seemed like a dream

You didn’t want to risk your family getting sick but staying with Joe more seemed too much

Wishing you had met at another time because it seemed too weird to make a move. You were getting almost a middle school feeling crush. This ended up in a debate with yourself, talking about pros and cons and leaving and all of the things you have wanted to say since March

“You can do this. You are a strong woman, you are to the point and the worst thing he could say is no and that’s okay, you’re still that bitch.”

“Who’s saying no?” Joe asked you as he came in

“No one, maybe you, I don’t know, wanna watch a movie?” Joe would look at you as you stood awkwardly.” Don’t look at me like that.”

“What’s happening right now.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not you. It is but it’s like your fault but I also have some blaming but you did it.” Joe would nod his head, trying to make sense of anything that was happening.” I have developed, a sorry of, very tiny and minor, crush. That I’m sure it just because another man hasn’t looked at me since March but at the same time I think it’s because you’re a really great person and now I’ve made this awkward and we won’t talk about it ever again.”

“A crush?” “I just said we won’t talk about it.”

It worked out because he ended up liking you back but it was definitely weird for a little

You two felt more in the way or each other than living together

But after a few weeks you two realized how weird you were being and figured out it was nothing

“Trump got COVID.” “Shots?” “Yep!”

As you two were drinking you looked at each other and laughed, spitting the drinks everywhere.

“Wanna order in? Act like this week didn’t happen?”

“Yeah.”

Felt like you were living out a literal movie

Making the best of 2020 although it was weird

Dating:

The same as before but now it’s this new part of Joe

He’s more romantic but still funny and himself

Having “date nights” once a week. That just meant he would light candles and turn the lights out and pretend it was a fancy restaurant

Finding out a lot about each other

Him telling his family about you and how it’s been with you. Making you freak out a lot on the inside

The boys all telling him they were calling it

“You can’t just threaten to lock yourself in the bathroom just because I said I didn’t want pasta tonight.”

“Watch me!”

Still tiny agruments but nothing serious, ever

“It doesn’t matter why! He just did!”

“Then where did the hammer go when he left! He took it with him but when he came back old all he had was the shield!”

Planning out where you two would travel next

You two having the weirdest comfort level with each other

Talking about what would have happened between you two of the pandemic didn’t happen

Game nights becoming twice as better now that you’re both more comfortable with each other

Making both of your guys friends join a zoom to play with

Flipping coins to see who makes dinner

Whenever you don’t eat what he makes he always threatens to never cook again

“Have peanut butter and jelly everyday, I don’t care. You’re missing a real Italian man right now!” He said, coping an accent

Coping each other all of the time just to see what the other one will do

Having the most fun you’ve ever had with him, even with you two stuck in a house

Realizing the a pandemic made you find the love of your life

[pastelwitchling]

Brother in Arms Chapters: 1/2

Also on ao3 ❤

***

               It was past midnight at the Pony when Alex got the call.

               Michael was at the counter, coming in and out of Isobel and Maria’s conversation as he scanned the bar, looking for one particular man who said he’d try to come in late. Because they did that now. Offhandedly mention whether or not they were likely to see each other. It was a nice change of pace.

               Michael straightened in his seat when he saw Alex finally come in, his hair windswept, his shoulders scrunched against the cold outside. He caught his eyes, and Alex smiled softly, weaving through the crowd towards him.

               “Hi,” Michael said.

               “Hey,” Alex murmured, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. They held each other’s gaze for several long seconds before Alex looked down, tugging off his scarf. Progress.

               Michael cleared his throat and adjusted himself slightly on his chair, subtly scooting closer to Alex, to get a whiff of his vanilla scent, to feel the roughness of his jeans against his own. Alex seemed to notice and he turned slightly so that his left knee just barely grazed Michael’s.

               Michael began to smile until he noticed the slight tension in Alex’s shoulders, the pinch of his brows, the pensive purse of his lips.

               He looked back over his shoulder at Isobel and Maria, and when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, said, “You okay?”

               “Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Just feel a little off, don’t know why.”

               “Maybe you’re just tired from work?”

               Alex hummed, unconvinced. “Maybe.”

               For the next half-hour, Michael tried getting Alex to smile in earnest. He kept close to him, listening to his day and telling him all about his own. He pretended to swoon (absolutely not actually swooning on the inside) when Alex mentioned his team following his orders, and made a sexual innuendo about Alex’s commands and authority. At one point, he even got a laugh from Alex that made his heart flutter in an embarrassing way that he swore never to mention aloud to anyone.

               Michael was sure he looked like a lovesick idiot, smiling at Alex like he did when they were seventeen and he had managed to make the emo kid giggle, but he didn’t care. Moments like these, when they got to just be happy to have each other, weren’t as common as Michael wanted them to be. Some words were still too hard to say, and some confessions still stuck in Michael’s throat, keeping him frozen when he longed more than anything to cling to Alex and never let him go.

               But if he’d known the kind of call Alex would get in the next few minutes, he would’ve held on and kept him on that stool, kept him from picking up. He would’ve taken him to the airstream, and they would’ve gotten lost in each other’s touch, a night they probably wouldn’t have talked about the next morning, if only to give him one more night of peace.

               But how could he have predicted, when Alex’s phone had rung, the way Alex’s smile would dim at the sight of the caller on the screen? The way panic would cross his expression, however trained he was to hide it? The way his jaw would clench and he’d mutter an excuse under his breath to take his call outside? How could Michael have predicted coming out onto the Wild Pony’s back porch to see Alex sitting on the front step, numbly writing out a date and address in Nashville?

               “Okay, Katie,” he said into his phone. “Yeah. . . . Eleven. . . . Mm.”

               Michael heard crying on the other end of the line. Alex listened silently, staring at the address he’d written, mindlessly underlining it over and over, the pen tearing into the paper. Alex didn’t seem to notice.

               Michael heard muffled voices, Alex responded with, “I’m going right now. I’ll see you in the morning,” and he hung up.

               Michael swallowed. “Alex?”

               Alex didn’t looked around at him. “Air Force buddy,” he said, and sniffled. “That was his sister.”

               Michael’s shoulders fell. There was only one reason Alex’s military buddy’s family would be calling. He came to sit down beside him.

               “Private –”

               “I need to pack,” he said, standing. His eyes were dry, his tone calculating. “Get some things ready.” He was already typing something on his phone, and Michael followed to find a list of flights to Nashville.

               “O-Okay,” Michael tried. “I can drive you –”

               “If anybody asks, can you just tell them I’ll be out of town for a few days?” he said, eyes on his phone, his other hand stuffing the piece of paper into his pocket.

               “Uh – yeah, but, Alex –”

               “Thanks, Guerin,” he said, climbing into his car. Michael’s mouth hung open on a silent sentence as Alex drove away.

               *

               It was a freezing late morning in Nashville, as if even the weather was lamenting the loss of a great man. Alex sat a few chairs down from Katie and her mother, both pairs of blue eyes filled with tears. The sun caught off Katie’s blonde hair, turning it gold, just as Scott’s used to be.

               Scott had joined the military a week before Alex had. He had been a ball of light and energy the day he’d arrived, catching Alex’s eyes with a smile and sticking by his side ever since. Alex, who had wanted to keep his head down and get the work done, to rise in ranks with the sole purpose of defeating those who thought they could beat him down, was taken hostage by this man’s piercing blue eyes and his kind voice.

               “You and me, Manes,” he’d said that first night, taking the bed beside Alex’s, “we’re brothers.”

               “I don’t need another brother,” Alex had murmured, glad for the dark that hid his blush.

               Scott had smiled. “Then I’ll be more.”

               And he had been. It felt strange to go through the months of basics, feeling like part of him was missing unless Scott was there. This blond, disastrous, one-man hurricane had been the same way; always a little more out of control, always a little easier to slip up, always scolded more by the sergeant unless Alex was there to reel him in. He’d been, in every way, Alex’s opposite. As they had lain on their stomachs one night, Alex had told him as much.

               “Which makes it all the more incredible how much we connect,” Scott had said. He’d had a fondness in his eyes then that Alex had pretended not to notice. “That’s us, Manes, just like I’d said we’d be. More.”

               When Alex had left, they’d kept in touch as much as they were able. A call here, a letter there. Neither of them ever feeling like they were separated at all. No “I miss you”s, just ventures relayed and heartaches confessed.

               “Next time I see you, I’ll have a word with that cowboy of yours,” Scott had told him on their last discreet phone call. Alex had laughed and asked him when that visit would come.

               “Soon,” Scott had promised. “I’ll come running home to you, brother.”

               As Alex watched them lower the black coffin into the ground, those words echoed on repeat in his head. Scott’s team stood, saluting as the bugle played and Alex heard faint sniffles and cries behind him, all turned to background noise.

               It felt wrong. Knowing a force of nature like Scott Mason rested in a wooden box, the American flag folded and handed to his mother who clung to it now as if it was her son himself. Alex didn’t take his eyes off the coffin until it was thoroughly buried. People around him began to disperse, but Alex sat there, his fingers quickly growing numb with the cold.

               He buried his chin deeper into his scarf, Scott’s laugh in his ears. He would be returning to Roswell in a few hours.

               Would that be okay, Scott? he thought, hoping his friend could read his thoughts as he always managed to do, and answer him. If I left?

               He had yet to shed a tear, and felt a strange tingling in his chest, like something was building up to be released but couldn’t quite make it through the surface. He wondered if he should stop by his buddy’s favorite burger place around the street before he left, get a double cheeseburger with fries, and dip them in a milkshake.

               “Try it,” he’d encouraged him on their first leave. “You’ll thank me.”

               Alex blew a tiny breath, a white cloud forming before his face. He muttered, “Thanks, brother.”

               “Alex,” someone gasped, “what’d you do?”

               Alex looked up, blinking out of his thoughts. He realized almost everyone around them had gone, and Katie stood next to him now, her blue eyes looking down with worry. He followed her gaze and saw that he’d carved into the back of his hand with his thumb, a faint line of blood trickling down the torn skin.

               “Oh,” he said. He wiped his hand against his jacket as he stood. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

               Katie searched his face. Her lower lip trembled as she opened her mouth. “I –” she cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine what he meant to you.”

               Alex nodded. It’s not real, he thought. Scott’s fine. He’s not the kind of man who dies. I’m just having a nightmare. I’ll wake up, and my brother will be fine.

               Still, even as he thought so, he said, “Your brother loved you, Katie.”

               Her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffled as she roughly wiped her face. “He loved you, too.”

               Alex held out his arms, and Katie fell in against him, hugging his waist tightly enough to bruise. Alex only wished he could feel any of it.

                 There was to be a reception. Alex had insisted he would help take care of things while Scott’s mother, Ashley, tried to relax. She’d been frighteningly quiet since Alex had arrived two days ago, but Katie assured him that she spent the nights crying.

               “She’s letting it out,” she assured him. “Wears herself out half the time. I just don’t think she’s really processed it yet, but she’s getting there.”

               Hours later, after guests had gone, Alex found himself sitting amongst Scott’s immediate family. His mother and sister, his uncles and aunts and a few of his first cousins who were able to fly back into town on short notice.

               An untouched cup of wine sat in front of Alex on the table as his family laughed through their tears, recounting stories about Scott, memories of him as a kid, funny letters he’d send back so that none of them would ever worry about him.

               “He was a good man,” his uncle said gruffly, keeping his head down to hide his glistening eyes.

               Alex nodded, his heart still tingling strangely, not quite letting him breathe. “He was a hero,” he said, and was met with nods and “Hear Hear!”s and more tears. Alex wished he could cry. Why couldn’t he cry?

               “I remember when he brought you home, Alex,” Ashley said hoarsely, her smile faint. “I was so sure we were going to get some big news.”

               Katie scoffed half-heartedly, leaning her chin on her palm. “Mom made Scott’s favorite ribs and chocolate cupcakes. She was so proud he finally found someone. Then Scott told us you were just his friend, and she kept huffing through dinner.”

               The corner of Alex’s lips quirked up. “Sorry.”

               Ashley grasped Alex’s arm and gave it a tight squeeze. “Far as I’m concerned, sweetheart, you were the only one Scott ever really loved. I felt it in my bones.” Her smiled faded, and her chuckles turned to sobs. Her forehead came to rest on Alex’s shoulder, and he put a hand on her head, keeping her steady against him.

               The rest of the group dissolved into sniffles for the next hour. When Ashley had worn herself out and fallen asleep on the couch, Alex stood and grabbed his jacket.

               “You have a flight back to Roswell already?” Katie asked, stretching.

               He nodded. “I need to get back.”

               She managed a smirk. “To your cowboy?”

               He scoffed. “Anything else Scott told you?”

               “Just that you never wanted to go back to Roswell during your leaves,” she said. “Said you didn’t think anyone would care. You still think that?”

               Alex considered it, and it gave him a headache. He exhaled a soft chuckle. “I can’t think of much right now.”

               Her eyes were kind. “I understand.” She heaved a groan that cracked at the end. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fast forward to next year? When all of this is just a bad memory?”

               “No,” Alex said, pulling her in for another hug. He sighed against the top of her head. “It’s not bad at all.”

               “Don’t be a stranger, Alex,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You’re family, too.”

               A lump lodged itself in Alex’s throat. Try as he might, he couldn’t swallow it down. He said nothing as he held Katie tighter.

               *

               Michael, Gregory, and Flint met Alex at his house the day he came back to Roswell. Michael sat on the back of his truck as Gregory and Flint leaned against Gregory’s car. Flint’s arms were crossed, Gregory was checking his phone for calls, and Michael was pretending not to be nervous about Alex as he’d been days ago. He tapped his finger on the trunk bench, remembering that morning days ago when he’d come to Alex’s doorstep at the crack of dawn to offer a trip to the airport, and found the airman had already gone.

               He had no idea what to expect now. Isobel, Liz, and Maria had wanted to come see him, too, but Gregory had told them that it was better they not crowd him. Michael had gotten to come along for sheer insistence that he wouldn’t leave until he got to see Alex was safe and back in Roswell.

               “You heard from him since he got off the plane?” Flint asked at some point.

               “No,” was all Gregory said, and the brothers fell silent again. There seemed to be a weight that Michael couldn’t grasp, couldn’t touch and felt pushed down by anyway.

               A familiar car rounding the corner into the driveway yanked Michael from his thoughts. He came down from the bench, putting it up as he kept his eyes on Alex behind the steering wheel. He couldn’t discern his expression, even as he parked, opened his door, and pulled out his suitcase.

               “Hey,” Michael said, trying to keep his voice light. He was the only one to speak.

               Alex managed a press of his lips, his eyes spacing out almost at once. Michael held out his hand for his suitcase, and Alex seemed to realize too late that it had been taken from him. He touched Michael’s arm in thanks.

               Gregory and Flint seemed to know what to do better than Michael did, which apparently wasn’t much. Gregory patted Alex’s back with a sigh while Flint stayed behind them. Michael didn’t understand why until they’d gotten to the porch, Alex fishing for his keys, and his eyes suddenly fluttered. He swayed and Flint readily caught his arm, steadying him as if he’d been expecting it.

               Michael opened his mouth in a gasp, but Flint shook his head minutely. Don’t talk about it, he seemed to be saying. He won’t be able to answer you.

               Michael hesitated, fighting against every fiber of his being that longed to carry Alex inside himself so that he didn’t have to take another step on his own.

               Flint released Alex as soon as he was on his feet again, and Alex opened the door and walked on inside as if nothing had happened. Michael stayed close and set the suitcase beside Alex’s couch as he took a seat. Flint went to open the windows, letting in the light, while Gregory said he would go make them some tea.

               Michael sat down beside Alex, but Alex was staring into the distance, unseeing, his brows pinched slightly. Michael wanted to trace the path down the bridge of his nose, hoping it would ease whatever storm was raging in his head, but didn’t dare touch him.

               Flint leaned against the wall, looking out the window as rustling sounded from the kitchen. When Michael risked speaking again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you hungry? I – I can go get you something.”

               But Alex was already shaking his head, waking with a deep inhale. “No, no, thanks, Guerin.”

               Flint tilted his head. “If you want him to stay here, Alex, I can go grab –”

               “I don’t have much of an appetite,” Alex said, and went back to staring at nothing.

               Flint nodded, unsurprised. “Yeah.”

               Gregory came back a few minutes later, holding a tray of four mugs.

               “Thanks,” Michael muttered as he handed him one. Alex hugged his with his hands.

               “Hey, hey,” Flint said, setting his cup down and gently prying Alex’s fingers from around the steaming ceramic. “You’ll burn yourself, brother.”

               “Hm? Oh.”

               Gregory sat down in the armchair across from the couch. He rested his elbows on his thighs, tapping a finger against his own mug. A few minutes of silence, then –

               “Alex,” he said, “do you want to . . . talk about –”

               “No,” Alex said at once. “I don’t, I – I can’t.” He didn’t seem angry or upset. Just tired. There was a numbness to his expression that almost scared Michael.

               He hesitated, then put a hand on Alex’s back. Then he dared to rub soothing circles, letting his eyes roam the airman, reassuring himself that Alex was okay. That was when he saw the line of dried blood on the back of his hand, his skin carved into and torn.

               “Alex,” he breathed, holding up his hand. “What happened?”

               “I don’t know,” Alex muttered, his brows furrowed as if just now remembering that this injury was here. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

               Michael gaped. “You did this to yourself?”

               Flint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Leave it alone, Guerin.”

               “Manes –”

               “He’s fine,” Gregory said, his voice calm and intent. “It’s fine.”

               Michael wanted to argue, to demand if they were crazy, if they weren’t seeing what Michael was seeing. But Alex just let his hand fall from Michael’s and patted his shoulder consolingly as if he was the one that had lost a friend. And Michael’s words caught in his throat.

               Alex’s head fell back. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he heaved a deep breath. “I . . . uh . . .” he sniffled, “you guys should go. I know you have work, I don’t want to keep you.”

               Michael frowned. “Alex . . .”

               He thought Gregory and Flint would definitely argue, that they’d refuse to leave their brother like this, but Gregory asked, “And you? You sure you don’t want one of us to get you something from the Crashdown?”

               Alex shook his head. “No, I’m just gonna . . . head to bed. I’m tired after the plane.”

               Flint nodded. “Okay. You have our numbers.”

               “I know.”

               “What? No,” Michael said, moving closer to Alex on the couch. “I’m staying here.”

               “Guerin,” Alex said. “I already told you, I’m –”

               “You’re not fine,” Michael nearly yelled.

               “Guerin –” Gregory tried.

               “He carved into his own skin! I’m staying!”

               “Okay,” Flint said, nudging his chin at the door. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

               Alex watched, only half-there, as Michael stood and followed Flint, hesitant to leave his airman at all.

               The second the door closed, Michael demanded, “He’s not okay.”

               “No kidding,” Flint frowned, a lot quieter than Michael was. “His brother just died, how do you think he’s doing?”

               He smirked humorlessly. “And you two just wanna leave him. Let him fend for himself. After all this time, you still don’t care about what happens to him, do you?”

               Flint tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Who do you think Alex is? Some defenseless kid? You do realize he’s an Air Force Captain, right?”

               “Yeah, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Big tough military man, I get it.”

               “No,” Flint said easily. “You don’t.” He pressed a finger to Michael’s chest. “Don’t pretend you know what losing a brother-in-arms is like, especially for someone like Alex. Someone like us. You have no idea the kind of weight that’s on our shoulders.”

               Michael faltered. He licked his lips. “All the more reason,” he said, “to stay with him.”

               Flint considered Michael, and began to chuckle. “Wow,” he said. “You really think that little of him?”

               Michael frowned. “He hurt himself.”

               “He didn’t do it on purpose,” Flint said, like that was supposed to be a reassurance. “You have no idea what he’s going through, but Greg and I do.”

               “But this guy –”

               “Yeah,” he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Looks like this one was important. But he learned to live with it a long time ago. He’s not as broken as you think he is.”

               Michael couldn’t let it go so easily. He remembered too well a conversation he and Alex had had months ago, in his bunker.

               “I need to believe in a reason to stay.” What if this was it? The last straw? What if Alex was on a countdown?

               He swallowed. “I’m going back inside.”

               Flint grabbed his arm. Michael glared at him, but he was unrelenting. “Listen to me. I know you care about him –”

               “I love him,” Michael said fiercely. Flint’s gaze didn’t waver. Always as prepared for battle as Alex.

               When he spoke next, his words were quieter, but no less commanding. “Then let him breathe. I know Alex doesn’t always say what he means, but he means this. That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

               Michael glared. “I know Alex is strong.”

               To his surprise, Flint’s gaze slightly softened. He shook his head, as if Michael had completely missed the point. “That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

               *

               Alex woke at twilight to find he’d fallen asleep on his couch, his clothes and prosthetic still on. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. He looked around, the pale light behind the blinds casting the house into dark shadows.

               He shouldn’t have, but Alex lied back down, staring at the ceiling with one hand covering the other on his stomach. He heard nothing but his own breathing, and then not even that.

               “Hey, Manes, have you ever been in love?”

               Alex closed his eyes against the memory, and immediately, his mind filled with images of himself and Scott laying on opposite sides of his bed, staring at another ceiling.

               He forced himself up again, furiously scrubbing his face. He sat there a second longer, staring at nothing and thinking of a mess of things, from what time he had to wake up tomorrow to errands he had to calls and texts and emails he probably had to answer –

               “Guerin,” he called faintly, and was answered with silence. His shoulders fell. Oh yeah . . . He had asked them to leave. He knew it was for the best, there wasn’t really anything he thought he could say to any of them, but just saying Michael’s name brought him a slight peace that he couldn’t explain and which vanished as quickly as it came when Alex couldn’t find him. That had happened a lot in the past decade.

               Scott’s smile came back to him. “That the cowboy I should be jealous of?”

               Alex exhaled shakily, and pushed past the memory. He changed into his sweats, took his prosthetic off, and curled up in bed. He lay awake under the covers for several minutes that felt like hours, cramming a million other things into his mind to force out the one thought that he knew he couldn’t handle right now, and eventually, the darkness had mercy on him, and sleep took over.

               *

               Michael wanted to be useful. He’d spent the past two days wandering the junkyard, finding things to do that didn’t really need doing, if only to keep moving. He may have broken down several cars and driven Sanders crazy, but he was losing his mind.

               At one point, he’d snapped, gotten in his truck, and made it halfway to Alex’s house before he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road and hit his forehead against the steering wheel.

               “That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

               “I know Alex is strong.”

               “That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

               Michael clenched his jaw. “What does that mean?” he growled through grit teeth. Michael knew who Alex was, what he was. What did that matter?

               Michael all but slammed the gearshift back again, and turned a corner to the Project Shepherd bunker instead. If he couldn’t take care of Alex, he could at least get through some of the files they had waiting there, look into a few leads so Alex didn’t feel like he had to himself.

               The last thing Michael had been expecting when he’d pulled up to the hidden entrance was to find a familiar car parked there already. His heart leapt into his throat, and he almost stepped out of the truck without turning it off.

               He wrenched the door open, and came down the stairs to find the white lights already on. Alex was at the far end of the bunker, typing at a computer. Michael stopped, staring.

               Alex glanced up and gave him a quick, small smile. He was surrounded with open files, more than half of them marked. He shrugged a shoulder. “They gave me a week leave,” he said. “Figured I’d get something done.”

               Michael didn’t know where to start. Are you any better? Have you slept? Did you want me to stay?

               In the end, he managed a quirk of his lips and a light, “Don’t you military men ever rest?” He pulled up a chair next to Alex. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. ‘I don’t know what rest means, Guerin. I can go for weeks, Guerin. I don’t actually need to be on leave, Guerin.’”

               He smiled, but Alex did not seem amused, his eyes unmoving from the screen. “No,” he said simply. “I definitely need it. Way I’m feeling, I might just end up shooting anybody in a uniform.”

               Michael faltered. Alex’s tone was light, but something in his eyes darkened, something frightening that Michael wasn’t used to seeing on his airman’s face. He hesitated, then, because he wanted to do something and didn’t know what, he reached out and covered Alex’s hand with his own.

               Alex didn’t smile or look at Michael. Instead, he turned his hand over in Michael’s and gripped his fingers so tightly his knuckles turned white.

               Michael tilted his head, trying to discern his thoughts. “Alex?”

               He blinked. “Hm?”

               “About . . . uh . . . that Mason guy –”

               “Shh, shhh,” he shook his head, his eyes shut tight. “We don’t have to talk about that, I don’t want to talk about that.”

               Michael stared. If he wasn’t so aware of Alex’s every move, of every inch of the airman’s skin that touched his own, he might’ve missed the way Alex’s fingers slightly trembled in his. But he was, so he didn’t.

               He swallowed and nodded. He pulled Alex’s head in towards his with his other hand, and kissed his forehead.

               “Okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

               Alex’s grip did not loosen, his eyes did not open, his breathing did not calm for two whole minutes. Michael raised his other hand to rest between Alex’s shoulder blades, running up and down his spine, turning his nose into Alex’s hair and inhaling his scent.

               Alex turned his head slightly so that Michael’s lips hovered above his. Michael’s eyes fell to Alex’s mouth, his own falling open. He could feel Alex’s hot breath against his bottom lip. His own breathing quickened as he thought about fitting his mouth against Alex’s, tasting his tongue, running a hand up his shirt and feeling his naked skin as he hadn’t gotten to do in over a year.

               Michael wanted to be useful, and Alex always seemed able to breathe better when they were together. Maybe this would be useful. That, and Michael just really, really wanted it.

               Somehow, as he always did, Alex was able to read his mind. His dark, hooded eyes looked up at Michael through long lashes. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

               “You want to help me feel better, Guerin?”

               Michael’s eyes fluttered as he nodded, entranced. He leaned in, their mouths open. His breathing turned more and more ragged as the soft press of Alex’s lips against his own filled his gut with a fire. It had been too long since he’d gotten to touch.

               Against Michael’s lips, Alex whispered, “Then help me,” and slowly closed their mouths in a kiss.

               Michael’s eyes fell shut and a moan escaped his lips as he kissed Alex again, then again. He reached up, taking Alex’s face in his hands as he tilted his head, devouring his mouth.

               “Baby,” he breathed against Alex’s lips between kisses, unable and unwilling to keep it in.

               Alex whimpered at the nickname, and the sound spurred Michael on. Alex took Michael’s wrists, as if silently begging him not to leave. As if Michael would ever go anywhere.

               “I,” Alex managed, “I want more. Touch me, Guerin.”

               Michael looked at Alex then. His expression was filled with lust, his lips kiss-swollen, making Michael’s cock twitch in his jeans. He bit his lower lip, kissed Alex again, and nodded.

               “Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s get back to the airstream –”

               But Alex was already shaking his head, moving out of his chair. He worked on the buttons of his jeans, and without any hesitation at all, pushed them and his underwear down, revealing his half-hard length. Michael’s mouth fell open, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, imagining the taste of Alex on his tongue.

               “Now,” he panted. “I want you now.”

               Alex climbed onto Michael’s lap, his naked, smooth, hairy skin against the hard fabric of Michael’s jeans. Michael was fully hard now as his hands slowly rose up Alex’s thighs, reveling in the touch of his warm skin and imagining his body against his own. Then Alex undid the first two buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground. He was now completely naked as he straddled Michael, down to his toes. Michael was sure he would die.

               Alex took Michael’s face in his hands, crashing their mouths together. He moaned against Michael’s lips as he grinded into his hardened, clothed cock.

               “C’mon,” he breathed, his nimble fingers working on Michael’s belt. “Take them off. I want you to fuck me hard.”

               “Alex,” Michael groaned, and in one rough tug, managed to tear off his belt. He pushed his pants and underwear down, releasing himself. As soon as his cock rubbed against Alex’s, his eyes rolled back into his head and he all but screamed.

               “I’m ready,” Alex said between hard, wet, open kisses. He ran a hand up Michael’s stomach, his chest, scratching through the trail of hair and digging his nails into Michael’s nipples. “Please, Guerin. Fuck me.”

               “Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.” And he did as he’d fantasized doing for the past year. He aligned his cock to Alex’s hole with one hand, his other coming around to grab Alex’s ass, feeling his soft skin in his hands.

               Alex choked on a scream as Michael took him in all the way, his hands gripping Michael’s face tightly against his neck where Michael got to bite and suck and lick and kiss as much as he wanted. When the airman was ready, Michael thrusted softly, not wanting to hurt him.

               But Alex pressed his lips against Michael’s ear and commanded, “Harder, baby. I want to feel you for days.”

               The thought was enough to erase all other from Michael’s mind, and he wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, his other still gripping Alex’s cheek as he thrusted up hard, Alex coming down just as roughly, as eagerly.

               Alex came a split second before Michael, and only through Michael’s sheer force of will that Alex enjoy it for as long as possible that he managed to keep himself from letting go in those first few seconds. They breathed heavily into the small space between them, and Michael leaned in, taking Alex’s lips in long, lazy kisses.

               Alex was still running a hand through Michael’s curls, making his eyes flutter. When their breaths evened and Alex’s movements slowed, Michael looked up to find his airman staring at his chest, his brows pinched together slightly. His eyes were unfocused.

               Michael felt a fear he’d almost forgotten about climb into his throat now. He swallowed it down, and put his fingers under Alex’s chin, lifting his gaze.

               “Hey,” he whispered, moving his hand to cup Alex’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek. “Look at me, baby. Look at me, I’m right here.”

               “Um,” Alex said and cleared his throat, closing his eyes as if trying to wake himself from his haze. His fists laid curled against Michael’s chest. He brought his head down, his forehead against Michael’s chin as he exhaled shakily. He looked around. “My clothes, I –”

               “I’ve got ‘em,” Michael said immediately, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. He’d wanted to stay with Alex like this, naked and holding each other, a little longer. Instead, he used his powers to bring Alex’s clothes right up to him.

               But before he got dressed, Alex curled in against Michael, pressing his nose to Michael’s cheek, his lips brushing the cowboy’s jaw. Michael wrapped his arms around him, taking his chance to press light kisses to Alex’s bare shoulder.

               Alex seemed to need a second to straighten his spine and brace himself before he grabbed his clothes from midair and pulled them on. He gently moved off Michael so that he could do the same, and when they were both dressed, Michael grabbed a file, not knowing what else to do. He kept glancing at Alex who was staring at his computer screen, his fist against his lips as he seemed too distracted to keep doing whatever he was doing.

               Finally, Michael couldn’t take it anymore, and he said, “Tell me what to do.”

               He knew he sounded desperate, his demand more of a plea, but he didn’t care. Because Alex wasn’t acting like Alex, and he was breaking, but he wasn’t breaking, and it was all very scary and not where Michael wanted his airman to be.

               Alex frowned. “Do?”

               “To fix this,” he said, and winced at how stupid it sounded. But he couldn’t stop himself. “O-Or make it . . . I don’t know, easier. Tell me what I have to do, I’ll do anything, Alex.”

               Alex’s look was unreadable as Michael held his gaze. Then something shifted, something turned sadder, and suddenly, it was Alex who held Michael. “I feel like there’s a hole in my chest, Michael. And it’ll never heal.” His lips quirked in a soft, helpless smile. “And there’s no fixing that.”

               Michael watched, speechless and unable to do anything as Alex closed his laptop with a sigh, put his hands in his pockets, and made his way out of the bunker.

               *

               Alex finished scrubbing down his counter, and looked up, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The kitchen, like his living room, bedroom, guestroom, and bathrooms, was spotless. The sky outside the window was pitch black, the wind still rustling through the empty branches and the yellow, dead grass. The world still turning, and not turning at all.

               Alex’s phone on the table behind him buzzed, the screen lighting with new messages. Alex picked it up, scanning the texts. Flint said he would meet him at the Pony tomorrow night after they were both done at the base for drinks, Gregory said he’d be bringing over lunch so they could eat together, Clay left him a voicemail, telling him to call when he had the chance. It was Liz and Maria who asked if he was okay, if he needed them to come over right away.

               Alex asked them not to. His brothers hadn’t asked if he was okay. He was grateful; he didn’t have an answer right now. He felt like he never might.

               “Miss me already, Manes?”

               Alex shut his eyes. The edges of his phone dug into his palms. The last phone call he and Scott had had, what had they said? He didn’t remember the exact conversation. Shouldn’t he have remembered?

               But no. There was a moment from their last meeting that stuck in his mind.

               “Start counting down, brother,” Scott had told him, a whispered eagerness in his voice. “I’m coming to Roswell next. You just tell me who I need to beat up.”

               “What’re you coming here for?” Alex had said. “I’ll come see you wherever you want. Just pick anywhere else.”

               “No,” Scott had said more softly. “No more running, Manes.”

               “A drive,” Alex said, hoping the sound of a voice, even if it was his own, would keep the memories at bay. “I need a drive.”

                 The drive wasn’t helping. Alex had the window open, the icy wind biting his face and burning his eyes. Alex’s hands were clenched painfully tight around the steering wheel, his fingers numb with cold. His jaw was clenched, that small trickling in his chest turned to painful hammering now.

               Scott’s letters. I’ll never get them again. His secret phone calls. That phone will never ring now. And he had been planning to come to Roswell. I should’ve brought him sooner. All the days on leave, I should’ve brought him. Roswell would’ve been better with him here.

               “I should’ve brought him,” Alex said, his words breaking in his own ears.

               Alex clenched his jaw, and pressed harder on the gas pedal. Scott would never see Roswell now, would never meet his friends, or know Michael. Places Alex could’ve taken him, the stars he could’ve shown him. They were brighter in Roswell than anywhere else in the world. And now his brother would never see them.

               Headlights. Alex saw a pair of headlights far ahead, the large truck driving, for some reason, on the wrong lane. Or was Alex on the wrong one? It didn’t matter. He didn’t move. The gas pedal was on the floor of the car now.

               As the truck neared, the headlights growing larger, brighter, the thought kept coming to Alex; if he could see Scott again, if all the pain and loss would finally end, it would all be okay. That was what he wanted, right? To stop the pain?

               BEEP BEEEEEEP!

               “No more running, Manes.”

               Alex gasped, the realization of what he was doing hitting him like an explosion, and he wrenched the steering wheel aside at the last second. The car slowly came to a stop as the angry trucker’s honks faded into the distance behind him.

               Alex’s trembling hands fell off the steering wheel as he slumped in his seat. Tears streamed down his face, his own ragged breathing like thunder in his ears in the silence around him.

               He didn’t want to do this alone. Not this time. His hands still shaking, Alex turned the ignition back on.

               *

               Michael couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing in his bed the past several hours before he’d given up on the idea of resting, and he went down to his bunker to tinker instead. He kept running into dead ends there, too.

               When he’d tried and failed to solve a calculated projection for the eighth time, he’d had enough. His mind was flooded with thoughts of Alex, his dark eyes, his quiet words, his naked body and the way he’d curled against Michael, eager to stay close.

               Michael let the pen fall from his hands. He needed to go to the Pony. Maybe he could get really drunk and forget that, somewhere in his house, Alex was probably locking himself out of his own mind, breaking apart and unwilling to let anyone near him. Because that was what it meant to be a military captain, right? Weather the storm alone? Prove that you were tougher than everyone else? Alex just didn’t need anybody because he’d been through so much worse, was that it?

               The thought had him shaking. He pulled his shirt over his head as soon as he’d made it up the ladder. He thought he’d throw any somewhat clean clothes on and go drown his sorrows in a glass . . . then a car pulled up into the junkyard.

               The low beams dimmed as the driver’s door opened. It was Alex. The lights turned off, and the moonlight revealed his tear-streaked face, his lower lip trembling, his chest rising and falling as if he could barely breathe. And Michael could see and think of nothing and no one else.

               A sob escaped Alex’s lips, and Michael exhaled sharply before running to him. They met in the middle, Alex’s arms around Michael’s shoulders as he cried into the crook of his neck. Michael held him tightly enough that it should’ve hurt, but he didn’t care. He brought a hand up Alex’s neck to rest in the soft strands of his hair, his body trembling. Michael held him tighter.

               “I’m right here,” Michael whispered into his neck. “I’m right here, baby.”

               Alex wept as Michael had never heard before, his nails clawing into Michael’s back. Michael closed his eyes, reveling in the sting. Because it meant Alex was here, with him, safe and far away from what had taken his brother-in-arms.

               “I – I want to see him,” Alex cried. “Just one more time, I want to see him.”

               “Shh,” Michael said, rubbing his back soothingly. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

               Alex buried his face against Michael’s skin, the sounds of his cries in the dark, silent night shattering Michael’s heart, one crack at a time.

                 In seconds, Michael had the bonfire started. Long after Alex had turned silent, Michael swaying them left and right, he led the airman to a chair and let him soak in the flames. He had his elbows rested on his thighs when Michael came back out, after hurriedly shoving a shirt on, and handed him a bottle.

               Alex took it with a murmur of thanks and downed half of it in one gulp. Michael pulled his chair closer and sat down next to him. And he waited.

               After a long while of staring into the fire, the gold and orange flames reflected in his dark eyes, Alex quietly said, “I never know what to say. When this happens.” He shook his head. “It’s a repeat, but none of them are the same. You know? Scott wasn’t . . .” he faltered, and closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

               His eyes glistened and he wiped the back of his hand against his nose before he went on, “They’re not lumped in together, you know? I remember each of their faces, I remember everything. And I felt it, I – I felt it coming. I know you don’t think it’s possible, but I did. Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

               Michael swallowed. “He sounded special.”

               Alex’s eyes filled with tears that fell before he could stop them. “He was so good. So brave.” He huffed a sad chuckle. “You would’ve liked him. I mean –” another sniffle “—he hit on me all the time, so I don’t think you would’ve loved him, but . . . you would’ve really liked him, Guerin.” He shook his head. “I should’ve introduced you, I should’ve done so much more for him.”

               Michael reached over, gripping Alex’s forearm. “Hey. That’s not on you.”

               Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, it is, Guerin. You live with that. Knowing that your family’s on a time limit that’s usually a lot shorter than most people’s. And when it comes, all you can think of is the time you wasted. You don’t know what the good side is anymore, and eventually, they all become enemies because they all kept you apart.”

               He huffed, ducking his head as another tear fell. “It’s . . .”

               “A lot of weight to carry,” Michael finished, remembering Flint’s words. How much Alex had on his shoulders . . .

               And suddenly, as Michael watched this beautiful man, carrying himself only by the memories of the people that had become a part of his heart, by the love he had for this family he’d created for himself, he realized how far apart he and Alex actually were.

               He leaned in as a tear rolled down Alex’s cheek, as he was too weary to wipe it away. Michael kissed it, and Alex looked up.

               “You’re so . . . grown up,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do. Please, Alex, tell me what to do.” Tell me what to do to keep you.

               Alex’s considered him. Then he tugged at Michael’s arm until Michael was against him. Alex rested his head against his shoulder. “Just let me touch you,” he breathed, “for a little longer.”

               Michael wrapped Alex in his arms and held him tightly, one hand going up and down his arm, his other hand sliding into his hair. Alex’s hand came up Michael’s chest, as if eager to feel under his shirt, to have that skin-on-skin contact that reassured them like little else did.

               “Let me keep you,” Michael whispered into Alex’s hair.

               Alex turned his face into Michael’s shoulder. His grip tightened on the cowboy’s body, and for a second, Michael thought he would say yes. Then –

               “I should get back.”

               Michael’s face fell. “I – I take it back,” he said quickly, “I just want you to stay the night –”

               But Alex kissed his jaw softly, then the corner of his mouth, then his lips, effectively silencing him.

               When he pulled back, he was cupping Michael’s cheek. “I have work tomorrow,” he said. “All my things are back at the house. Okay?”

               Michael nodded, and kissed Alex one more time before letting him up. “I’ll drive you,” he said.

               Alex managed a smile. “My car’s here.”

               “Then we’ll go in yours.”

               “Then you’ll be stuck with me.”

               “Yes, please,” Michael breathed, taking hold of Alex’s waist again.

               Alex huffed a laugh which quickly turned to a cry. He turned away, covering his face with one hand. When he looked up again, his smile was weak and his eyes were rimmed red.

               “I – uh – think I just need to be alone.”

               Michael wished he could be angry, frustrated. But instead, all he felt was fear. Alex didn’t seem stubborn to him anymore, just . . . far away. Why? What had changed?

               “Hey,” Alex said softly, and pulled him in for another kiss. “I’ll be back. I need you, too.”

               Michael swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. But I have no idea how to help you. I don’t even think I know who you are.

               “Alex, I . . .” I love you. He’d almost said it. He’d wanted to. But Alex was heartbroken and lost, and that wasn’t what he needed to hear right now. Instead, Michael pulled Alex in one more time, kissing him hungrily.

               “I’d do anything for you,” he panted against his lips when they pulled apart again.

               Alex nodded, his forehead pressed against Michael’s, and he roughly wiped at his eyes with his forearm before he turned to leave. Michael watched him walk away, already freezing at the loss of his touch. What was wrong with him? What was it that felt so off this time?

               “Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

               Was that what this was? No, it was different. Michael couldn’t begin to list the ways, but it was different. Alex gave him a soft smile before he climbed into the driver’s seat and disappeared.

               The man that made music and smiled blushingly whenever Michael kissed him, and the man that held the world on his shoulders, always one crack away from shattering completely. They’d always been the same to Michael, but something had changed now.

               He had once confessed that he couldn’t get used to seeing Alex in his uniform. At the time, he’d played it off as a joke, though something in his heart had stung at the image. And he’d never understood why. Now he did.

               “He’s mine,” he said before he could help himself. The silence of the night threatened to engulf him, to keep him quiet. Alex, after all, belonged to a different world. He had a life and identity outside of Roswell, outside of Project Shepherd and music and aliens that had no place for a temperamental, telekinetic cowboy.

               Michael didn’t care. He didn’t know where he fit in with all of this, and the painful thudding of his heart served to betray his true fears of never being allowed to belong to the airman, but he didn’t care.

               “He’s mine,” he kept repeating, hoping that the words would be enough to make it real. “Alex belongs with me. He’s mine.”

***

I’m exhausted! I might be sharing an IG with y’all soon for my writing/reading. Just in case anyone would like to follow something like that 💖

[lils-writes-stuff]

A Thin Line

spencer reid x reader 

Best years part 4 | part three | part two | part one

summary: the team takes on a case in California involving home invasions. the reader has a surprise for her when they get back. 

warnings: normal criminal minds things, mentions of racism and sexism (are those warnings idk)

A/N: based on season 7 episode 15; this ones cute ngl 

“I think you should tell Spencer,” Penelope said turning in her swivel chair to Y/N who was sitting behind her. 

“Tell him what, ‘Hey Spence, guess what, this girl who tormented me through my college life has come back to haunt me.’ Yeah, okay,” she said, shaking her head. She took a sip of the coffee in her mug, “And besides, there’s nothing really to tell him, she could just be trying to scare me, she loves to play mind games.” 

“Well, you should at least tell him what’s going on, you’ve received two more notes from her since the night that you called me, and it’s been almost a month,” Y/N sighed knowing that Penelope was right. “And you guys have been going out for that long now, so I’m sure he’ll understand if you don’t want to tell him all about your past right away.” 

“You’re right,” Y/N said, her finger trailing along the rim of her mug as she thought about when she should tell him. 

“And you should also tell Hotch.” 

“Tell Hotch? Why would I need to tell him?” Y/N asked looking up at Penelope. 

“I think it would just be smart, you know in case something happens,” Penelope responded with a small sigh, remembering back to the whole Emily situation and what happened when she didn’t tell them.

“I’ll tell him if I get another note.” 

“Okay, good,” Penelope said, then she smiled and began to get really excited. “So, you have to tell me, how have you and the good doctor been doing?” 

Y/N giggled as she watched her friend get excited about her relationship. “It’s been going good, we’ve gotten to know each other a lot more on our dates, the other night we went to this museum, and at first I didn’t think that would be a cool place to go on a date, but then it turned out really romantic,” Y/n smiled as she thought back to the night of the date. Spencer’s hand grasping her’s as they roamed the halls of the museum. Her eyes trained on him as he spoke about the parchments in a case or as he explained in depth about the artifact on the wall.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so adorable!” Penelope exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Have you two kissed yet?” 

“No, we haven’t, but I’m not rushing this, I don’t want to rush it.” 

“Oh my- that is so mature, look at you, you're all grown up,” Penelope said, taking Y/N’s face in her hands squeezing her cheeks together. “I remember when you first joined the team, your 26-year-old self all antsy and ready to catch some serial killers. Now, look at you! 27 and so grown up I-” 

“I’m 28 actually,” Y/N corrected Penelope with a laugh. 

“Did we miss your birthday?” Penelope asked with a guilt written face. 

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it, birthdays are just days,” Y/N said trying to reassure her friend. 

“Don’t worry about it? You and Spencer both, he did the same thing awhile back on his birthday,” Penelope said referring back to when Spencer had turned 30. “And they’re not ‘just days’, it’s the day that you were born, they are wonderful days! We need to do something for it, when was it?” 

Y/N just shook her head with a laugh before standing, “It was last week, but we really don’t have to do anything.” She tried to explain to the bubbly woman in the chair. 

“No, we do, we are going to have dinner together as a family, and you are going to like it,” she stopped her rant when she saw her case alert go off and a text from Hotch. “Right when you get back from this case.” 

--------

   Y/N walked into the round table room smiling at her co-workers then making eye contact with Spencer. “Hi,” she said with school-girl glee as she took a seat next to him. 

“Hi,” he said back, the light blush on his face growing. 

“Y/N and Spencer, sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-,” JJ began to sing the schoolyard rhyme.

“Shut up,” Y/N said giggling looking at the blonde who just laughed at her. 

“Alright let’s get started,” Hotch said, taking his seat Derek and Emily following closely behind him. 

“San Bernardino, California,” Penelope began as everyone opened up their tablets with the case file. “Two home invasions in less than a week, only a block apart, exact same M.O… Both houses were burgled, power and phone lines cut, and they broke in through a back window.” 

“In each case, the entire family was shot and killed?” Spencer asked, eyebrows raised at the thought. 

“Yes, that is right. I present to you the Mitchells and the Lewis family,” Penelope grabbed her remote from beside her, pulling the pictures of the family up on the screen. 

“They took out the power and phone so what, they could feel isolated?” Y/N asked. 

“The alarm system wouldn’t work and they couldn’t call for help,” Rossi explained the probable reasoning for why the power was cut. 

“Most modern alarm systems have a backup generator and a cell phone connection to the security company,” Spencer said wondering why this didn’t happen in this scenario.

“Yeah, but the Mitchells had an older system, and the Lewis’ were behind on their account, so it was inactive,” Penelope explained. 

“An assailant was killed in each case?” JJ asked, looking at Penelope next to her.

“Affirmative, but the sheriff hasn’t I.D.’d them yet.”

“So both families were armed, and fought back and shot one of their attackers,” Emily said looking around the table. 

 “Is that a coincidence or a connection?” Derek asked looking over to Emily. 

“What concerns me is the frequency of the kills,” Hotch said looking up from his tablet. 

“Only four days apart,” Y/N said looking at the dates. 

“Alright, it’s a long flight, we better get going, wheels up in 30.” Everyone stood up and headed out of the room to grab their go-bags. 

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

“Brian Mitchell was an avid hunter and Matt Lewis was an Iraq war vet, so it doesn’t surprise me that they both owned guns,” Y/N said looking up from her tablet. 

“Last year, southern California’s inland empire ranked fourth in the nation in foreclosure rates. Typically, as the economy falls, the crime rates will rise,” Spencer said. 

“Times are tough, desperate people do desperate things,” Rossi said, agreeing with Spencer’s statement. 

“Greetings all,” Penelope said as she appeared on the screen. “Your herald bears tidings.”

“What you got, Mama?” Derek asked as he turned to the screen. 

“The sheriff I.D.’d both the dead home invaders,” Penelope began to type on her computer pulling up some of the files. “First up is Alex Collison, twenty. Made an impressive list of bad life decisions before he croaked, included but not limited to...possession, a couple of drug charges, a card-carrying member of the Verdugo heights boys.”

“They’re gang members,” JJ realized as she listened to what Penelope was saying. 

“Oh, he was, but slow your roll, home-girl,” Penelope said before she told of the next victim. “Because next up is Ronald Underwood, 19. Zero records, unless you want to count some volunteer work. Straight-A student, putting himself through school.”

“Not exactly the home invasion type,” Emily said. 

“Both from a poor area of town, grew up a mile apart,” Hotch said while he looked down at the tablet in his hands. 

“Hard to actually tell from the crime scene photos of how many assailants there actually were,” Y/N said as she swiped through the photos. 

“Well, if it was gang-related, there could be a lot of them,” Emily said looking at Y/N.

“The homes that got invaded were on the other side of town, a predominantly white area full of middle-class families,” JJ explained the demographics.

“Hey, guys,” Penelope said, bringing the attention to her. “The M.E. report just came in, both of them had high levels of oxycodone in their system.” 

   “That’s strange. Violent crimes like these are normally associated with stimulant drugs,” Spencer said puzzled as to why that was. 

“Like meth?” Y/N asked turning her head to look at Spencer next to her. 

“Yeah, like meth.” 

 “Underwood’s as straight as an arrow,” Derek began. “Collison’s a garden-variety gang-banger. I grew up with knuckleheads like that, high-risk break-ins, and oxy, that’s not their M.O.”

“Regardless, we need to get ahead of it. The press has got a community on the verge of panic,” Hotch explained. “JJ and I will coordinate with the sheriff’s office, I want the rest of you at the crime scene.” 

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

Y/N walked into the home of the Lewis’, inspecting all the blood on the walls. It almost felt like she could hear them scream for help and she so desperately wanted to go back in time and save them from all this. The shattered family photos and the torn-up house just made her feel so unsettled. 

 Y/N turned as she had finished with the room she was in and headed out meeting Emily in the hallway. 

“You alright?” She asked as she saw Y/N’s sad face.

“Yeah, just family annihilators, they always hit me differently, you know?” She said as they turned and walked down the hall towards the stairs. 

“Ballistics confirmed that the rest of the Lewis family was shot with the same 357,” Spencer said as he turned and watched Y/N and Emily walk down the stairs together.

“So if it was a gang, there was only one shooter,” Rossi stated after processing the information he had just received. 

“The second and third victims were Trisha Lewis and six months old Blake,” Emily said. 

Spencer shook his head at the thought of a six-month-old being killed. 

“The injury patterns suggest that Mrs. Lewis tried to shield the baby with her own body,” Y/N said with a sigh trying not to let herself get worked up. 

 “Matt Lewis was found right here,” Rossi said with his hands pointed to the floor. “Ronald Underwood just over there-” he pointed to the blood spot to his left- “Underwood was shot eleven times in the head and abdomen.”

“But Lewis himself only had a single gunshot wound to the head at almost point-blank range?” Spencer questioned.  

“How did someone get that close?” Y/N asked looking between Rossi and Spencer. 

“He could’ve been subdued first,” Emily proposed. 

“The M.E. didn’t find any signs of a blitz attack or struggle,” responded Spencer. 

“Well, it had to be an ambush of some kind,” Derek said as he inspected some of the walls with blood spatter. “Probably when he was confronting Underwood.” 

“But that’s almost impossible based on where the body was found,” Spencer said looking over at Derek. 

“It’s right in the middle of the room,” Emily said as she looked at the bloodstains. 

“It’s too out in the open to surprise somebody,” Y/N said agreeing with Emily. 

“Matt Lewis wasn’t shot here,” Rossi said as he pointed to the spot where the body was found. 

“No, but someone moved the body to make it look like he was,” Spencer said. 

“Forensic countermeasure designed to make us think that these guys died in a gunfight that never occurred,” Derek said as he realized what probably happened. 

“Bullet and blood everywhere, too messy for an accurate reconstruction,” Rossi said. 

“Okay, so the unsub gets the drop on Matt Lewis,” Y/N said as she pointed to where Matt Lewis was found. “He then kills the rest of the family, and then leaves behind a drugged-up patsy to cover his tracks?” 

“This wasn’t a burglary at all. There was a higher purpose here, they’re staging the crime scene as some kind of message,” Spencer said. 

“This guy’s trying to make it look like black kids from the hood are killing white families, in white neighborhoods,” Derek said. 

“Pretty powerful message,” Emily said.

“No kidding,” Y/N added as she shook her head. 

The five finished up in the house and decided to head back to the station

“You good?” Spencer asked her as they walked out of the house, noticing how she was looking a bit upset. 

“Yeah, yeah, I just can’t believe what happened in there really, family annihilators you know they just get to me, this one more than the others,” she explained to him. 

“Yeah, this one is sad, I get it,” he said as he looked at her. “But we’ll catch him like we always do, and if you’re lucky you’ll get to put the cuffs on him.” The last statement was a hope to make her smile because he loved her smile so much.   

It worked. 

A smile crept up to Y/N’s face. “I might just do that.”

-----------

 Y/N sat in the station the next morning. Head laying on her arms as she looked at the crime board on the wall. Another family had been killed last night, so they had been added to the board.

 She stared at the victims of the first two families, they looked so much like hers. She saw herself in the shoes of the young girls, the memories of her childhood overwhelmed her. She lifted her head up and rubbed her face with her hands lightly, not wanting to rub the makeup on her face off. 

The feeling of a warm hand on her back made her pull her face out of her hands. She looked beside her and saw Spencer as he sat down after taking his bag off, a coffee in his hand. 

“You didn’t bring any for me, I see how it is,” Y/N said with a fake hurt expression on her face as she leaned into the back of her chair. 

“Actually-” he pointed to her right side- “I did think of you.” 

Her heart fluttered, “You sure know the way to my heart Spence.” She grabbed the large coffee cup and took a sip from it. The warm liquid running down her throat soothing her. 

“Hey love birds, we’re about to give the profile,” Derek said leaning into the room they were in. The two stood up and made their way to where the rest of the team was.

 “We believe we’re looking for a white male, in his late twenties to early thirties,” Hotch said, beginning the profile. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” A deputy said quickly. “I’m sorry, I thought we were looking at black gang-bangers?” 

“The unsub has been staging the crime scenes to make it look like black gangs and undocumented immigrants were responsible,” Derek said to the deputy.

“Why would anyone do that?” The deputy asked. 

“We think he’s trying to create some racial conflict,” Y/N said hoping that was the best way to answer. 

 “In 1969, Charles Manson orchestrated the Tate-La Bianca murders, in the hopes of creating a race war between the blacks and whites that he referred to as Helter Skelter,” Spencer explained. 

 “A name he stole from a Beatles song,” Rossi added, the comment only being funny to the team since they knew that Rossi’s friends with Ringo.

“Members of the Manson Family left watermelon rinds at the scene of the crime and also painted panther paws on the wall in blood in the hopes of convincing authorities that the black panther was responsible,” Spencer continued on his explanation. 

 “Hate groups like the Aryan Nation believe that race war is not only inevitable but necessary,” Hotch said looking over the see of officers. 

 “Our unsub may be a member of one of these groups,” Emily added. 

“Aryan gangs have a strong presence in prisons, so he may be an ex-con or even possibly related to a convict,” Y/N said. 

“We think he may also be some kind of zealot,” Rossi began. “He believes his war is already being fought, and these murders are a mission to him.”

“And like a soldier, he is willing to put himself in harm’s way,” JJ added. 

“The unsub may also be vulnerable somehow, weak mind, or even lonely. His cause gives him a sense of power and belonging,” Spencer said giving more depth to who the unsub might be. 

“He’s physically fit enough to move dead bodies, so he’s probably young,” Derek said. 

“But not too young as to be impulsive,” Y/N added quickly.

“These attacks took planning and focus. So, he’s disciplined,” Rossi said. 

“He uses oxycodone to drug his unwilling partners,” Spencer explained. 

“He does this without killing them, which shows that he is knowledgeable about dosages,” Y/N said. 

“And oxy is expensive, so look at medical care professionals and caregivers, anyone with access to prescription drugs,” Emily said. 

“This unsub is dedicated and driven, it makes him especially dangerous. Surrender is not likely part of his strategy,” Hotch said as the profile came to a close. 

---------

“Hey Hotch, Y/N,” Derek said as he walked over to the two that were sitting at a desk going over some geographics to help Spencer with his profile. “There’s a mayoral race in town, and there’s a guy named Clark Preston all over the news.”

“Looks like he’s running a close second,” Y/N said as she looked at the tablet in Derek’s hand. 

 “Yeah, and check this out,” He scrolled down and clicked on the video. 

“These vicious home invasions are a sign of the times,” Clark Preston said in the video. “As demographics change, so do crime rates. Now we may not be able to slow the browning of America, but we can sure as hell take our city back. And if you elect me, I’ll lead that charge.”

“The browning of America?” Y/N asked with astonishment. 

“That’s a damn near hate speech,” Derek said as he looked at Hotch.

 “He’s using the murders to further his campaign and I guess people are rallying behind it,” Hotch said. 

“So what if our unsub is nothing like Manson? Manson never got his hands dirty, what if our unsub is more like his followers?” Derek proposed. 

“You think he’s being manipulated?” Y/n asked pulling her legs up in the seat she was sitting in. 

“Maybe even unintentionally, but either way, rhetoric like this could fuel his fire,” Derek said. 

“We should talk to Preston,” Hotch said, nodding to the tablet. 

“I already sent a car,” Derek told Hotch. 

“Good,” was Hotch’s short response. “Y/N, do you mind talking to him with us, your knowledge in political science might help,” Hotch said turning to the woman in the chair. 

“Sure,” she said with a nod. 

“I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here gentleman,” Preston said, not even acknowledging Y/N in the room. “Maybe now someone will stop these savages, what can I do to help.” 

Derek looked at Y/N with one raised brow in question, after noticing that the politician in the chair wouldn’t even look at her. She just shook her head while she shrugged her shoulders and listened to what Hotch was saying. 

“We were hoping to talk to you about some of your rhetoric,” Hotch asked as he looked at Preston across from him. 

“My rhetoric,” Preston said, it wasn’t a question just him repeating what Hotch said hoping he heard him right. 

“We believe the recent murders maybe hate crimes,” Derek said walking closer to Preston. 

“Some of the things you say, well they maybe be construed as inflammatory,” Y/N said while she moved spots to stand behind Hotch.

“Agent Y/L/N’s referring to some of your recent campaign speeches and the references to the murders,” Hotch explained.

 “We believe that whoever’s responsible for these crimes is impressionable and may be responding to the vitriol,” Derek said. 

“You think I’m responsible?” Preston asked, turning to look at Derek. 

“Nobody said that,” Y/N said crossing her arms. Preston never even looked at her when she spoke. 

“If this person is motivated by racist sentiments, then what you are saying publicly may be affecting him,” Hotch explained making Preston turn his attention towards him.

“You’re profilers right?” Preston asked. 

“Right,” Hotch responded. 

“You study behavior, not actual facts,” Preston’s comment made Y/N sigh. “And then you come up with theories.” 

“It’s really, not that simple,” Y/N said as she looked at the man. For the first time, he looked at her, and then he rolled his eyes at her statement.

“I’m sorry, who are you a secretary or something?” The blood in Y/N’s body boiled with rage at the question. She then watched Preston turn to Derek, “I’ll bet you had to work extra hard to get in the bureau, didn’t you? Probably still have to prove yourself on a regular basis. I respect that. I wish there were more like you.” He took small pauses in between each statement.

The man stood up from his chair and began to head towards the door. “I’ll cut back my media appearances, for now. But I suggest you start proving some of those theories of yours. And get some of those hard-working men to arrest those punks doing this.” 

The way he said men made Y/N want to punch him so bad that she had to fit the urge to walk over to him and do just that. 

“You gentlemen enjoy your day,” Preston then let himself out, once again not acknowledging Y/N. 

 “We should check out his list of contributors and his staff, it might be somebody in his camp,” Hotch said standing up from his chair.  

“We need to check him out, too,” Derek said. 

“No kidding,” Y/N said stilled enraged by the man. “Did you see what he was doing? Or more like wasn’t, he wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence and than he dared to ask me if I was a secretary.”

“The guy is no doubt a racist and is also very sexist,” Derek said.

“Oh yeah for sure,” Y/N said as she walked over to Derek by the door. 

  “Come on Pretty girl, don’t let him get you all riled up,” Derek said to her as they walked out of the room. 

“I know, I know, it just makes me angry,” Y/N said as she and Derek walked over to the area where the rest of the team sat.

“What makes you angry?” Spencer asked as she sat down beside her. 

“Clark Preston, not only is he a racist, and let that be known when he spoke to Derek, but also he is majorly sexist,” she grabbed a paper cup from the middle of the table and then poured herself some water. “The whole time we were speaking to him, he didn’t even look at me, and the one time he did he rolled his eyes and asked me if i was a secretary.” 

“Are you serious?” Emily asked with disbelief.  

“That’s ridiculous,” Spencer said while he shook his head. 

“Uh-huh, you know Derek if he is a part of this, you know what would make me so happy,” She said as she turned to Derek. 

“What’s that?” He asked her. 

“If we got to arrest him, but I want to put the cuffs on him, just to let him know that a woman has power over him,” she said with authority.

Derek laughed before agreeing and promising her that if Preston was a part, they would do that. 

The team sat scattered at various desks around the station they were at. Y/N stood next to Emily and Spencer as they looked over some maps of the area. Rossi sat at a large desk to left and Derek in a desk behind them towards the right. 

“Hey, talk to me, doll face,” Derek said answering his phone to talk to Penelope, everyone’s attention now drawn to Derek and the woman on the phone. 

  “I got some dirt on your mayoral candidate, Clark Preston,” she spoke. 

“He’s a politician, that shouldn’t be hard,” Rossi said as he walked over to be closer. 

“Yeah, he’s a real estate lawyer who ran for city council last year and lost,” Penelope explained. “And he’s rich, as in if money was dirt he’d be filthy. He quadrupled his net worth in the last ten years, mostly from real estate.”

“So he managed to thrive despite the area’s economic downturn,” Spencer said in realization. 

“What do you mean by mostly?” Y/N asked leaning closer to Derek’s phone so that she could be heard. 

“Well, he is on the board of several financial institutions. Hedge funds, pension funds, oh, he likes to shuffle his money around. Even found some offshore accounts of his, I did,” she said giving what other dirt she could find on Preston.

 “You only do that if you’re trying to hide it,” Emily said.

“What about his staff and contributors?” Spencer asked the woman on the phone.

“Uh-uh. No, they’re clean,” she said.

 “Alright thanks, Garcia,” Derek said before he hung up the phone.“Preston’s a part of this, me and Y/N both think so.”

“Yeah you should have seen him in there,” Y/N said as she turned to Emily. 

“He’s sexist, racist, and a little shady, maybe, but a murderer?” Emily asked as she looked between the two.

“It may be just a feeling, but I know he’s in this, we just need to figure out how,” Derek explained.  

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

The next morning the team arrived to bad news, as another family was killed earlier that morning. Surprisingly this time, the guy the unsub would have left for the blame got away.

 “His names Ramon Gomez, he’s an undocumented immigrant from Mexico City and he’s pretty freaked out,” JJ said as her, Y/N, Derek, Spencer, and Emily stood in front of the room Ramon was in. 

“That’s pretty understandable,” Y/N said while she folded her arms over herself. 

“Was he able to give a description of the unsub?” Spencer asked as he looked at JJ. 

“Uh, just of the vehicle, his English is not that good,” JJ explained. “We put an APB out.”

 Emily nodded her head, then turned to walk into the room with Ramon in it. “Hole, mi nombre es Emily Prentiss,” she said to Ramon. 

The four others stood outside and watched as she interacted with the man sitting at the table.

“This poor guy,” Y/N said as she looked at the frightened man sitting at the table. 

The three beside her hummed in agreement as the continued to watch and somewhat listen to what Emily was saying to Ramon. He pulled his arm out showing scars on his arm. He then got a look of realization on his face as he remembered more.

Emily then thanked him and walked out of the room to the other four. 

“He remembers hearing a train and then loud music,” she said as she came to the four standing. 

“That’s something, let’s get started,” Y/N said and the five began walking towards the area they had been working in. 

“There are approximately two hours between Ramon’s abduction here-” Spencer pointed to one spot on the map- “and his escape here. He crossed the train tracks here. Now, given the time and distance parameters, there’s no way the unsub could have ventured outside this radius.” 

“Okay, so he said the train was close, and he heard laughter and loud music,” Emily said. 

“I looked at points of interest next to the train tracks and there really isn’t much. There’s a warehouse, a taco stand that would have been closed, and a bar called the drunken dog ” Spencer explained.      

“Why stop there? He need a drink?” Rossi asked. 

 “He doesn’t seem like the drinking type,” JJ said. 

“Yeah, he’s not impulsive or sloppy enough,” Y/N said sticking her hands into the back pockets of her pants. 

“I live to serve you, sir,” Penelope said as she answered Hotch’s call. 

“Garcia, what can you tell us about a bar called The Drunken Dog?” Hotch asked.

“Ooh, I like it already. Let’s see- uh- it’s been around thirty years. It was opened by a warehouse worker named Manny Gresham, upon his death six years ago it was bought by a hedge fund company called First Advantage.”

“Why would a hedge fund company want a bar?” Emily asked. 

“Let’s see. Well, they bought it for a song,” Penelope began. “And, poor man, his medical expenses bankrupted him, I guess that’s why-- shut the front door.” 

“What is it?” Y/N asked. 

“Clark Preston is on the board of First Advantage, which explains why the bar is on a shortlist of local businesses that support Preston for mayor,” Penelope answered.

 “Of course it is,” Y/N said as she sat down on the desk behind her.

“Okay we missed something, we need to go back over his staff and contributors again,” Emily said looking at Spencer beside her. 

“They all came up clean,” JJ said.

“Garcia, look up DMV records and find every registration in the area that matches the description on the unsub’s vehicle,” Derek said to Penelope over the phone. 

 “Okay, 79 names and I’m way ahead of you, none of them match anyone Preston’s team-” she stopped. “What the what? Oh. I’m good at my job. Pamela Mills donates monthly to Preston’s campaign. Her son Trevor, his car matches the description, and it’s registered in his name.”

“Got a photo and an address?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, I do. I also have a place of work for Trevor. He is a part-time messenger, I’m sending it now,” Penelope said pressing ‘enter’ on her keyboard aggressively. 

“Alright JJ, Morgan, and Prentiss take the workplace, we’ll take the house,” Hotch said dismissing everyone to go off. 

  ---------

“What do you have, Garcia?” Hotch asked as he sped down the road, lights on in case they were stopped. 

“Sir, I found the connection between the Mills family and Clark Preston. Ten years ago, the Mills were the victims of a home invasion. Robert Mills, the father, and 10-year-old Julie were killed. Pamela was raped, and now she has a lot of brain damage, that has left her in a near vegetative state,” Penelope said explaining the sad story of the family. 

“What about Trevor?” Spencer asked. 

 “He hid in the closet and when it was over, he called 911,” Penelope answered. 

“That’s why he stuffed that boy in the closet,” Hotch said referring to the last family that was killed.

“He was reliving his own victimization.” Y/N said in realization.

“He didn’t do that to the other children he murdered because he didn’t relate to them,” Rossi said. 

“Garcia was anybody convicted of the crime?” Hotch asked.

“Yes, a Ronnie Green and Carlos Jackson. Both African American, both serving like in Folsom,” Penelope said before she continued with her story. “And then after the murders, Preston, he financially supported the family almost entirely. “ 

“So they’re close, he’s known the family for years,” Rossi stated. 

“That must be how they’re paying Pamela’s medical expenses,” Spencer said. 

“Yeah, it would be really hard to cover with Trevor’s part-time messenger salary,” Y/N added looking to Spencer beside her. 

‘Yeah, I mean, it’s a top-flight policy,” Penelope said reading the health care bill.

“So Preston is playing the savior,’ Rossi said. 

“And it looks like that monthly donation, that Pamela makes to Preston's campaign, is her disability check,” Penelope added.

“My guess is Trevor authorized that because he feels beholden to Preston,” Rossi said piecing together why that would happen. 

 “He probably Idolizes him,” Y/N added. 

 “So Preston is manipulating the Mills family to further his own agenda, he’s behind everything,” Hotch said coming to the conclusion that Preston was part of it all along.

 “He took advantage of Trevor in a vulnerable state and made him trust and then brainwashed him,” Y/N said. 

“Turned him into a killer,” Spencer added. 

 “Uh, guys,” Penelope interrupted. “There’s something else, Preston bought the Mills home after the invasions.”

The tires came to a screeching halt as Hotch pulled up to the Mills house. The four hoped out of the car, taking out their guns and walked to the front door. 

 Hotch pounded on the door, “FBI!” 

When no answer came, Hotch pushed the door in and entered the threshold of the house. Y/N stood between Rossi and Spencer as they walked into the house. They then split up and looked around the house, Hotch and Rossi downstairs, Spencer and Y/N upstairs. 

  Y/N held her gun out in front of her as she entered a small guest room. She made sure the room was clear before walking out and meeting Spencer in the hall. 

“You find anything?” She asked while she holstered her gun on her hip. 

“Yeah, this note,” Spencer said as he inspected the note in his hand. 

“Come on, let’s go find Hotch and Rossi,” She said before they walked downstairs. 

 “He’s not here,” Y/N said as she walked into the room with Hotch and Rossi. Spencer close behind her. Pamela Mills was seen laying in the bed not moving but looking at the four by her door.  

“I found this in his bedroom,” Spencer said holding out the letter he found. “It’s addressed to her,” he said referring to Pamela.

“ ‘The price of peace is sacrifice, and I’m prepared to pay that price, no matter how high. I hope you’ll still love me.’ This is a goodbye letter,” Rossi said after reading the letter. 

“Or a suicide note,” Hotch countered. 

“He doesn’t profile as suicidal,” Spencer said in a hushed tone not wanting to disturb the woman in the bed. 

“No, but he knows this could be his final mission,” Rossi said. 

“He may want to go out in a blaze of glory,” Y/N said as she glanced at the woman in the bed. 

“It’s all about the election, he’s only got one move left, we need to secure Mayor Wennington, I’ll have the rest of the team find Hilary Ross,” Hotch said pulling out his phone to call Derek. 

They headed back out to the car and got an address for Mayor Wennington heading over to his house. Y/N walked up the front door, the three men with her following behind closely. 

“Mayor Wennington?” She asked when the door opened and a white-haired man in a loose-fitting tie answered.

“Yes,” he responded. 

“Hi, I’m Agent Y/N Y/L/N, this is Agent Hotchner, Rossi, and Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI,” she said introducing the men behind her. 

“Is this about those recent murders?” The Mayor asked with concern. 

“Yes, sir, we have reason to believe you might be in danger, would you come with us,” she said gesturing to the car in his driveway, 

“Yes, of course, let me grab my coat,” he turned around and walked ten steps to a coat rack to grab his jacket before he headed out the door with them. 

“Yeah, Morgan,” Hotch said answering his phone while they walked to the SUV.

“We’re on our way to Hilary Ross’ house now, she’s still not answering her phone,” Derek said.

 “All right, call local police, he’s not going to go quietly,” Hotch ordered.

“You have Mayor Wennington?”

“Yeah, keep me posted,” Hotch said before hanging up. 

----------

The next day, Y/N pulled into Clark Preston’s campaign office parking lot with Rossi ready to arrest him. 

“You want to do the honors kid?” Rossi asked Y/N as they exited the vehicle they were in.

“Absolutely,” she said with a smile, her wish from the previous day coming true. 

“I hope this is a good enough birthday present,” Rossi said with a smirk looking at Y/N.

“Who told you? Penelope? I thought she would’ve dropped that by now,” she said with a laugh as she opened the door to the office.

The two agents walked back to the room where Preston was sitting. 

“Clark Preston you’re under arrest,” Y/N said as she walked over to the man sitting at his desk. She pulled him out of his seat and placed her handcuffs from her pocket on him. 

“For what?” He asked defensively. 

“For orchestrating the murders of the Mitchells, Lewis’, and others,” Rossi said as he and Y/N began to lead Preston out of his office. 

“What proof do you have?” He asked trying to find a way out of the situation. 

“Voicemails left by Trevor Mills,” Y/N said shoving him when he stopped walking.

“Voicemail messages? That’s ludicrous, that boy is mentally unstable, always has been,” Preston said. 

“Clark Preston you have the right to remain silent,” Y/N said, not only because she had to but because she really didn’t want to hear his pathetic excuses anymore.

“I’m Innocent!” He tried to protest. 

“And please feel free to exercise that right,” Rossi said grabbing Preston’s other arm as he tried to move out of Y/N’s grasp.

“Anything you say can, and will be used against you in a court of law, you have the right to an attorney, if you can’t afford one, one will be appointed to you,” She continued as Rossi opened the door and led them out. 

--------

“Come on, Spence please tell me where we are going,” Y/N asked, her arm linked with Spencer as they walked down the street. 

“I can’t do that Y/N, you know that,” he said as he led her further down the road. 

“Can you tell me if this has to do with my birthday?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, come on, I told Penelope that we really didn’t have to do anything,” Y/N said as she shook her head. 

“Well, I learned that you need to let them have their moment with you, cause they’re the closest thing you’ve got to family here until you have your own,” Spencer explained to her as he looked at her with a smile.

Y/N sighed in defeat, knowing Spencer was right. 

“Oh look we’re here, can’t believe you didn’t notice where we were going before,” he said as he turned to Y/N’s favorite dive-bar in the downtown area of D.C. Spencer began to pull her inside but she stopped him before he could walk up the small stairs to go inside. 

“Wait- Spencer, before we go in, I have to do something,” she said pulling on his arm making him turn to her. 

“What is it?” He asked facing her with a curious look. 

She replied by placing her lips on his in a gentle kiss. It was a kiss that made both their stomachs do flips. His hands reaching up to grab her face as hers gripped the front of his coat. A year and a half's worth of bottled up feelings were expressed as Y/N deepend the kiss. 

“I just really wanted to do that,” she said to him after they pulled apart. A smile came on Spencer’s lips and he pulled her in again for a shorter but just as meaningful kiss. 

“I really like you Y/N,” he said face still close to hers. 

“I really like you too, Spencer,” she said back with a smile. “Come one let’s go in.” 

The happy couple walked into the bar seeing their friends standing in a corner to the left of the door. 

“There’s the birthday girl!” Penelope said as she saw Spencer and Y/N walk in. 

“Happy Birthday!” They all said. 

Y/N blushed as she approached the table, “Thanks, guys.” 

The team laughed, drank, and danced till the late hours of the night. Even Hotch laughed and gave Y/N a hug as they all danced to the music. A smile stayed on Y/N’s face the whole night as she danced with all her friends and drank happily. 

Spencer watched the woman he was beginning to fall in love with belt the lyrics to a Coldplay song that played through the speakers and dance with Penelope and JJ. Y/N looked over and saw Spencer staring at her at her and walked over to him. 

“You know it’s rude to stare,” she said with a giggle.

Spencer laughed, “I wasn’t staring.” The blush on his cheek told Y/N otherwise.

She quickly grabbed his arm and started to pull him onto the dance floor.  

“Oh no, I don’t dance really-” he tried to protest but Y/N wasn’t having it. 

“You do tonight!” 

She brought him to the dance floor Penelope and JJ yelling ‘Hi!’ over the music as they started to dance again. Y/N tried to help Spencer move less awkwardly and he eventually started to get the hang of it. Taking Y/N’s hand in his he spun her around and danced with her. A smile formed on their faces hoping the moment would never end.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome​ @word-scribbless​ @nintendumbfuck​ @confused-and-really-hungry​ @justine-en​

[guqin-and-flute]

Jin Guangyao supervises a-Fu and a-Ling's first sleepover while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are night-hunting

[Well, this was SUPPOSED to be just fluffy, but that’s a little hard inside of JGY’s head]

A-Fu bounded his way into the room and flung himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms with such force that it nearly knocked him over. “Oof--my child, please--” he chuckled as he caught him and A-Fu rubbed his face all over the embroidered Sparks Amidst Snow peony on the front of his robes, likely wiping his snot off on it. His clothes were still cold and damp from their flight.

“We--” A-Fu reared his head back, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “Are gonna stay up all night!”

A-Yuan appeared to have stayed behind by Lan Xichen’s side, because the pair made their entrance at a more measured pace as Lan Xichen reminded, patiently, “While the rules of Carp Tower may be different than Cloud Recesses, staying up all night is not good for you.” 

Rather shyly, A-Yuan bowed in greeting to Jin Guangyao and he nodded back, smiling down at the boy. It had always been vaguely amusing to him that A-Yuan had more patience and decorum than A-Fu, who was born a Lan. One had to wonder if it was the influence of the slightly more rowdy Nie Clan exposure or simply innate. “Seeing how I am the one watching you and I cannot stay up all night, I’m going to have to disagree with you, Fufu,” Jin Guangyao slotted his gentle negation right alongside Lan Xichen’s and braced for the inevitable pout.

Instead, he received a sunny smile. “Oh, okay, then you’ll just go to bed at the Lan time and we’ll stay up to help the sun rise!”

A-Yuan was looking between the adults with a rather furtive smile, as if trying to silently communicate that he did not, in fact, condone this plan and would not like to be a part of the repercussions. Jin Guangyao grinned and hefted A-Fu over to his side to brace him on his hip, his back beginning to complain. “Ah, what a creative set of ears you have, Fufu--we say ‘you’re not staying up all night’, and yet they hear ‘you’re allowed to stay up until sunrise’! Truly remarkable.”

Quite dramatically, A-Fu sighed and smushed his hands up onto Jin Guangyao’s face, smearing his cheeks around. “Dieeee, don’t be a party pooper, it’s our first Jin sleepover with all of us!”

Gently, Jin Guangyao shook his face free of his cold fingered grasp and turned toward Lan Xichen to receive the kiss to his forehead. Despite A-Fu beginning to wiggle, he leaned into it, let himself inhale the scent of ozone-sky, clean wind, and sandalwood that clung to his robes and hair. The habitual tension torqued at his core loosened, like a sigh. “Easy trip? You’re not too tired after carrying them both, are you?”

Lan Xichen chuckled, slid to kiss his temple. “I’m fine, A-Yao. I’m sorry again for the short notice--Wangji is off on his own night hunt and this cannot wait.”

Shaking his head, Jin Guangyao smiled. “It’s no trouble. A-Ling is very excited.”

“And you?”

“Also very excited--ah!” A-Fu made a lunge off of his hip, not being content to simply wiggle his displeasure at being kept from pelting about and Jin Guangyao had to stoop to catch him before he hit his head on the ground. “A-Fu!” The boy froze, guiltily, and let himself be lowered down to his feet. Jin Guangyao crouched down and straightened his robes and headband with little tugs to lessen the sting of his scolding, brushing his hair back over his shoulder. “Patience is valuable. You’ll hurt yourself that way.”

As soon as no more admonishments came, A-Fu brightened immediately. “You wouldn’t drop me. A-Yuan!! Let’s go find A-Ling!”

Darting away, he seized A-Yuan’s wrist and dragged him out and down the hall, already excitedly chattering about the plans of the night as Lan Xichen chuckled and shook his head, winding an arm about Jin Guangyao’s waist when he rose. “Good luck. He couldn’t keep still the entire trip and told me the same thing when I reminded him that dropping from my arms in the sky was a bad idea.”

“Aiya,” he shook his head and, since they were alone, turned inside his embrace and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he murmured against him. “But you will be careful, yes?”

“Mm,” Lan Xichen tilted his head, pressed a firmer, more complete kiss against his lips, slipping his arms fully around him before pulling back to smile down at him. “I always am. Da-ge will be with me.”

With practiced ease, he swept aside the tangle of anxiety, old hurt, regret, and darker things the mention of Nie Mingjue bubbled inside his gut and smiled back. “Of course.”

The boys were already fighting by the time Jin Guangyao found them in Jin Ling’s toy room down the hall--something about the colors of toy swords--but quieted down fairly quickly when he mildly suggested that perhaps they wouldn’t need more sugar after dinner because they were already so lively. Eating went well, as both A-Ling and A-Fu were too busy inhaling food like they were starving and A-Yuan was making like a good Lan child and not talking during meals. He contented himself watching them dart around afterward, announcing in grandiose little voices the various heroes they were and what monsters they were battling. Without direct adult interference, A-Yuan grew a little more vibrant and playful, and though he never reached the same volume of the other 2, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Soon, Jin Guangyao faded into the background for them like so much furniture. He smiled as he watched them play. It was funny how sometimes it worked on children as well as adults. 

That is, until A-Ling twisted around like he suddenly realized something. “Hey, you’re a hero of the Sunshot Campaign, right, shushu?”

Jin Guangyao blinked and smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say all that.” Modesty was a good trait to teach your children. In any case, his father would certainly agree with his hedging and Madam Jin would certainly take exception if her grandson began calling such a bastard a hero in her presence. “Most people of my generation were a part of the Sunshot Campaign. Why do you ask, A-Ling?”

“Well, you just seem so normal.”

Jin Guangyao did not let the slightly darker, wry humor he felt coil in his chest bleed into his perfectly reasonable smile. “I’m pleased that you think so.”

“But heroes aren’t normal, though, they’re heroes,” A-Fu seemed to understand whatever A-Ling was failing to adequately explain. “They aren’t moms and dads and stuff.”

“What should they be instead, then, A-Fu? Simply stories?”

His son squinted his eyes at him, like he was solving a particularly difficult equation and looked over at A-Yuan and back. “But...you didn’t have...like...sleepovers and things, right?”

Jin Guangyao was silent for a moment, keeping his expression perfectly balanced. There had never been another child to whisper the night away with. No adult in the corner to watch him play. Nights were not a time for fun. “No, A-Fu, I didn’t. But plenty of others have.”

A-Fu cocked his head. “Why not?”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Why don’t we see if the cook has any sweet buns leftover? I know she baked them fresh this morning.”

After the hunt and acquisition of their prize and after the children had licked their hands clean, A-Fu looked up at him with a few crumbles of sugar stuck to the tip of his nose and said, “You can be part of the sleepover if you want, though, die, ‘cause this is our first one all together too!”

Heart pinching, flooding with warmth, he reached out and brushed the little crystals off with his thumb, tilting his head. “So thoughtful, xiao-Fu. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“You’re fun, die! Right, A-Yuan?”

With a shy smile, A-Yuan nodded. “I liked when you taught us about the plants in the woods, that one time.”

The time in question had been more than 2 years ago when they were quite a bit younger, not too many months after the boy had recovered fully from his illness to be well enough to leave the Hanshi where he was staying with Lan Xichen and A-Yuan for extended periods of time. Even as A-Fu screwed up his face in confusion, the strange buzz of realization that he lived in the minds of these children in ways he did not control rushed through Jin Guangyao. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this, cognitively or as if this wasn’t true of everyone, but...when they were small and unsteady on their feet, still learning the ways of the world and the words for things, one forgot to consider them people on the way to becoming themselves. Recording and collecting moments that were inconsequential to their grown ups. When he considered his own childhood, there wasn’t a boy who lived there, but himself, as he ever was, reflected back through time, the story written and unyielding. He had never felt particularly like a child.

And yet, here was a boy who remembered him fondly from an insignificant walk from some recordless day for pointing out a few edible plants along a path. 

He found himself wondering if his mother had ever been taken out of her own head for a moment, watching him watch her, not knowing the picture she painted across his memory. For good or for ill. 

Always good.

He blinked back to himself and made sure to smile at A-Yuan. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t remember that,” A-Fu complained just as A-Ling said, “I didn’t get that! Shushu, tell me about plants!” 

That startled a genuine laugh out of Jin Guangyao and he knelt down. “I’m no expert, but in the morning, what if I took you all out to the gardens and told you about some of the plants that we have growing here in Carp Tower? Would you boys like that?”

The answering, competitively loud yells of YES from both A-Fu and A-Ling had him wincing but A-Yuan’s eager nod made him smile. 

There was whining and stalling at bedtime, misuse of soap, and a hastily declared armistice of a mutinous pillow fight because there are lanterns in here, A-Ling, you know better, but, finally, they were tucked in, 3 dark little heads on the pillow with the blanket pulled up to their chins. “Are we going to greet the sun?” Jin Guangyao asked with knowing patience, kneeling beside their bed, leaning with his elbow in his own nightclothes.

“Nooo?” A-Fu widened his eyes, as if his own father didn’t know when he was trying to be innocent.

Smoothing a palm over his forehead, bare of its headband, Jin Guangyao raised his eyebrows. “What happens if I find you trying to stay up to greet the sun, A-Fu?”

“Youuuu...join us!”

Jin Guangyao blinked slowly, smile still fixed on his face. A-Fu sighed grumpily. “I probably have to clean dishes for a month or something.”

“Or something,” he agreed. “I’ll leave it up to your blue father.”

A-Ling snickered as A-Fu stiffened. “Nooo, don’t tell him!”

“Then I will advise you, Fufu, to not do it at all,” he replied indulgently, stroking his thumb between his eyebrows.

Tucked in the middle so the other two didn’t fight, A-Yuan piped up, saying, “I won’t let them, bo-fu.”

When A-Yuan gave him a smile, he felt his own soften without his say so--but here, with uncalculating eyes and sleepy shadows, he supposed that was alright. He reached over and patted A-Yuan’s round cheek, resisting the illogical parentally-encoded impulse to pinch them. “Thank you, A-Yuan.” Then, he reached farther to do the same for A-Ling. “Goodnight, boys. Sleep well.”

As Jin Guangyao rose and moved to the door, A-Fu chirped, “Love you.” He paused as the other 2 echoed the same words, like A-Fu had reminded them of an important ritual. 

Drawing in a deep breath around his suddenly tight throat, he turned back and smiled. “Love you, too.”

[fallen029]

Basement Ghosts

"There's ghosts in the basement."

Laxus considered this, as he did most things, with a stoic face and long, cold stare, the likes of which could make even the toughest of men cower. But he wasn't facing a man, in that moment, but rather what he'd considered, up until that point, his rather reasonable girlfriend of only a tentative few months. Mirajane Strauss, a staple in the guild he'd loved his entire life, was known for her flights of fancy and frequent vocal daydreams, but he knew her on another level, same as he knew the guild. The man was aware that Fairy Tail, for all it's fabled history, toiled in a lot more darkness than the average observer might realize. For the woman before him in that moment, much or the same could be stated.

She'd gone through a lot in her short few decades of life. From the loss of her parents and excommunication from her home all the way to current day, dealing with the death and revival of her younger sister, Mira hardly had a simple life. She was complex. Everyone was to a certain extent, fine, but her above all.

The past few months, as she and the guild's most fearsome dragon slayer began, for the first time in their life, to truly dig deeper into one another, begin to understand what the draw was, that had always been between then, just beneath the now exposed surface, he truly thought he was beginning to get to know her. The deeply guarded her, that no other had seen. It had felt like they were forming a bond, these past few months. Though it hadn't been long, Laxus was finding himself becoming rather attached to both the idea of the woman and learning more about her.

Then she has to go say stupid shit like that and ruin it.

"Well," Laxus began finally, tone as void as ever, "guess I should be heading out the."

"You're that terrified of ghosts?" Mirajane asked with a slight frown.

"Nope," he answered with a subtle shake of the head. "Just not interested in entertaining nonsense, is all."

"You think I'm being nonsensical?"

Mira asked this in surprise, her down turned lips turning to form something else instead as her gaze hardened. It was hardly something any woman enjoyed, the slight telltale signs of mockery in the face of unconventional lines of thought, and she hated it even more, the way her boyfriend tossed a hand up, as if in defense.

"Look, it's fine, alright?" He even shrugged. "I was just going to look at your pipes as a courtesy. You said Elfman usually does it? Call him over. But I-"

"You're being a jerk."

"How?" His tone changed then, as he as the one on the defensive. "Just because I don't wanna play into your stupid ghost claims?"

"Stupid," Mirajane repeated softly and it was a word of contention, frequently in her line of work, but Laxus didn't transition into preventative measures. Only narrowed his eyes a bit as she questioned, "Why would you say that? You know that I-

"Try again, demon," he remarked with a hardness not typically used on a woman in apparent dismay. "You've told me before about how you can turn the waterworks on and off."

She glared through her tears as, not even wiping at them, she only remarked, "It's still mean, Laxus. To call someone stupid."

"I didn't."

"You might as well have." Huffing some, the woman took to crossing her arms over her chest as she looked off.

The pair were having this argument in her kitchen, where she'd taken the man not soon after he entered the Strauss home that afternoon. It wasn't unusual in those days for the slayer to spend some of his extra time in Magnolia there, but it there had been an intended purpose for his summoning to the old house that day. Mirajane had requested he come down and look at a leaking pipe in the basement. After confirming that, no, this wasn't a euphemism, she actually wanted him to go down into the basement and look at a pipe, they found themselves having this conversation.

She'd intended it as nothing more than a simple warning. A reasoning for her own inability to head down there.

The basement ghosts.

It all felt very reasonable to the woman and, were it another she was speaking to, they'd have probably allowed her to continue on in this delusion. Not the dragon though. Oh no. He wasn't so sure yet if he was trying to spend the rest of his life with this woman, but he was surely beginning to scope the potential that they had together. Part of that included calling the woman out when she played into her trumped up role at the hall a bit too much. She delivered the same in kind, to him, when he got a bit too brooding and judgmental.

But he was expected to take her light ribbing and outright behavioral corrections while the woman, in turn, was not.

"If you don't really think there's basement ghosts," she challenged suddenly, looking back to the man suddenly, "then you go down in the basement."

"I mean, I was planning on it," Laxus told her. "To fix the pipes. Remember?"

"At night," she specified as her eyes began to narrow. "You go down into the basement, at night. And stay down there. And you'll see."

Laxus huffed some, his chest puffing as he did so, before telling the woman simply, "Fine. If that's what it'll take to prove to you-"

"It'll only take one night," Mira challenged back, "to prove it to you."

.

The Strauss basement was an unfinished, stuffed to the gills storage place it seemed for all of the junk Mirajane couldn't fit in the attic. There were boxes upon boxes that Laxus could only imagine were, truly, junk and now he had two reasons that he should find a way to end things with the demon.

A horder and a loon.

It was night now, as he'd agreed to only head down there after sundown, but Laxus still intended to check on the leaky pipe she'd originally told him about. Along with his toolbox though, the slayer also carried a sleeping bag and fully intended on spending a night down in the drafty basement.

Honestly, it would hardly be the worse place he'd laid his head.

Mirajane wouldn't venture down with him, instead only waving goodbye to him from the top of the stairs. This was annoying to Laxus who'd hoped she'd at least go down so he could play big, strong protector when the pipes chirping or shutters fluttering or whatever was causing her to hear noises at night appeared.

Alone though, Laxus only tossed his sleeping bag down before fishing out a flashlight and looking over the piping in one corner. It was easy enough to find where the drip was coming from and it was an easy enough fix. Just a bit loose, was all the pipe was, and after a few quickly twists of a monkey wrench, all was well.

"There," Laxus sighed some. "That- Hey! I someone down here?"

He hated to be so spooked, so soon, but he felt it then. Sensed it. A presence. Eyes on him. As he spun about though, shining his flashlight around, all he could catch were shadows from the numerous boxes.

"Laxus," Mirajane called down from the top of the stairs. "Are you okay down there?"

"Peachy," he called back as the man merely rolled his shoulders and decided he was just psyching himself out. Clearly. "Fixed your pipe too."

"Great!" Mira even clapped. "Now are you sure you're going to spend the night down there? Or are you ready to admit that the basement ghosts are real?"

"I will literally never, ever do that, Mira."

"Well," she sighed some, "I'm going to have to close you in, then. I'm tired and have work in the morning. You can come up and join me at any time- But you'll have to admit that the basement ghosts are-"

"I'm not," he reiterated for the woman, "doing that."

"Fine." And the light at the top of the stairs started to dissipate as the woman, slowly, began to close the door. "Be safe."

"Be fucking safe," he grumbled only once he was certain the door was fully closed and the woman had gone off, to start on her before bed routine. "From what? Huh?"

Laxus was a bit of a night owl, to be honest, but he didn't have much to do down in the dusty old cellar other than wait for the not coming ghosts, so he figured it was best to just begin setting up his sleeping bag. Maybe go ahead and hunker down for the night. Then he could rise around the time that the demon got up to leave for the guild each morning, even earlier maybe, just to shove in her face that no, there were absolutely no such thing as 'basement ghosts'.

He was fearful that the woman would counter with some bullshit about them just not showing themselves to him. And he wasn't quite sure how he could counter that in a way that would avoid him having to spend the night down in the basement again.

Because while Laxus was willing to spend one night in the dark, dank basement to prove his devotion to his girlfriend (as well as shove in her face just how wrong she'd been), he wasn't so certain that he was willing to do it a second time.

Or a third.

Or fourth.

Part of him was worried that the demon had just trapped him down in the basement or something. Or at least that's where his mind wondered to, as he had a fitful time drifting off to sleep that night. The ground felt lumpy and his sleeping bag smelled a bit, or was it just the basement, and he kept catching weird shadows hiding behind boxes and oh gosh, what if something was down there with him? What if she was right? What if in the world of reanimated masters and magical beings, there was such things as ghost and they were going to devour him in the night?

Cannibal ghosts.

Or...would they not be cannibals now that they were no longer living beings?

Needless to say, some of these questions were answered in his dreams, others left to interpretation. Over all though, he did get a good few hours in there when he truly was asleep.

And then something awoke him.

It was a low creak, from the top of the basement stairs. The a louder creak, multiple now, from the stairs now as the old wood whined at even the lightest of pressure applied. Laxus, though somewhat dazed, immediately thought that it was his girlfriend, maybe, either coming down to check on him or realize how ridiculous this all was and bring him upstairs.

He hoped it was the second.

Or if it was the first, that he could trick her into the latter.

Rolling over, Laxus kicked out of his sleeping bag with a loud yawn, calling out as he climbed to his feet, "Come to get me, eh, demon?"

There had been a soft light, a flashlight maybe, a tiny one, that the person coming down the steps was carrying and as they raised it to shine into his eyes, blinding the wincing man, they called out themselves. Only it wasn't Mirajane.

"Laxus?"

"What the- Lisanna, get that out of my face? What are you-"

"Oh, god, are you naked?"

"No! I'm my briefs."

"You're what?"

"They're- Stop shining that light in my face!"

There was a strange moment where Laxus, now shamed for his underwear choice, took a step back, as if to shield himself, while Lisanna did lower the light, but was clearly snickering a bit as his state. The moment would have passed, as all do, and Lisanna might have made some sort of excuse as to being down there while Laxus would have only dove back under his smelly sleeping bag cover, but this opportunity was dashed as another person in the basement made themselves known.

"Oi, boss, I can take you being a total creeper, sleepin' down in my basement and all, but you're not sexually harassin' my girlfriend, are ya?" came a booming accusation from behind a pile of boxes.

"Are ya?" added a resounding echo as a soft, green glow of light also highlighted the boxes.

Laxus jumped at the sounded, whirling around while growling, "What the shit?"

It was Bickslow back there, making himself known as he stepped out from behind a fortress of forgotten junk hands on his hips, out of his typical gear, not even a visor. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if he'd been sleeping as well, honestly.

"Bickslow," Lisanna complained with a glare his way. "Why did you tell him that?"

"We were caught, Lissy," he assured the woman simply. "You don't free yourself from a trap by flailing wildly; you look to the trapper right in the eyes and challenge him."

"Challenge him?" Laxus frowned at the assertion. "And what the hell are you even doing here? In the basement? Are you… Trying to rob the Strausses? Or something? I'm...really having a hard time understanding why else you'd be-"

"Ain't obvious?" And he came closer then, Bickslow did, to find his place beside the still glaring Lisanna. "I'm bonin' one of 'em, same as you."

He took a step back again, Laxus did, blinking some. Blinking some more. Stunned. Dazed.

Very convinced this was just a strange dream stemming from his awkward sleeping situation.

Still, after a deep breath, Laxus took to nodding some, accepting the nonsensical pairing for a very brief moment before questioning, "Why were you hiding in the basement?"

"Kicked out of my apartment. Wanted to be with woman." Bickslow raised an eyebrow at his typical idol. "You?"

But Laxus didn't answer questions that didn't fall from the mouth of his demon.

"Yeah, why are you down here?"

Or her little sister.

"I," he told them both with a frown, "was sent to spend the night down here by your sister, Lisanna, because she thinks that there's ghosts down here. And I can only guess who could be causing her to think that."

Nodding, Bickslow decided, "The rats."

Laxus, frowning, rushed to bend down and snatch up his sleeping bag (this actually worked to cover his body), complaining loudly, "There's rats?"

"No!" Lisanna turned her glare on him. Then she took a pause and thought. "Well-"

"Can't a man hide out in his girlfriend's basement because he can't afford rent because he's been avoiding taking jobs because he wants to be around said girlfriend?" Bickslow shook his head as his floating babies scoffed on his behalf. "What's the world comin' too, eh?"

Laxus stood there, sleeping bag in hand, glancing back and forth between the two people in front of him before deciding, "I'm going to tell Mirajane."

"No, Laxus, don't." And Lisanna rushed to grab his arm then, the man glaring down at her as she dropped the flashlight and it rolled away from them. "Please."

"Why shouldn't I?" he questioned. "This is fucking weird, Lisanna. "This is fucking weird, Lisanna. Bickslow is fucking weird."

"Oi, boss." He'd gone to snatch the flashlight back up, but did send a sorrowful glance over his shoulder to his idol. "You wound me."

"How long has this even been going on?" Laxus went on. "Huh? Not this weird...basement stuff, but… Lisanna...are you actually dating him?"

"W-Well-"

"You need to talk to your sister."

"You don't get it." She clung tighter to his arm. "Laxus, please-"

"Please what? Don't tell my girlfriend that her little sister is meeting with a strange man in the basement to...to… This isn't my business. Or interest. So I'm going to go get Mira and-"

"She ruins things."

"What?"

Lisanna released his arm as the man wasn't moving forward then, only nodding some as he stood agape at her.

"Mira...and Elfman… They both think of me as a little kid. A lot. And I'm not. I'm only a year and a few months younger than Elfman! Not even a full three from Mira." Lisanna shook her head. "But especially now, after the whole...escaping death thing, they both treat me like a complete child. And any time I've tried dating someone, they ruin it. Not on purpose, but by being overbearing and weird."

"Your sister is overbearing or weird with or without a death," Laxus pointed out.

"Then you understand how much harder it is with a death," Lisanna insisted. "You saw how it was, Laxus, two months ago when I brought that guy home to dinner? And they scared him off?"

As someone who'd had an unfortunate invite to that shitshow, he could recall Elfman and Mirajane asking rather pointed questions and making some not so veiled threats, or at least claims to immense power that could be contorted into threats.

Laxus was sure his presence, brooding and annoyed over how slow the dinner was going, hadn't been much help at all.

When Lisanna got broke up with the next week, it was just as well for her siblings, who got to pat her on the head and dry her eyes, as well as Laxus, who was just glad he wouldn't have to sit through another dinner with that guy.

It never occurred to him that, should all the dinners continue going that way, then there would just be an endless string of bringing a guy home for the first time and, damn, he was never not going to hate those.

"In what way is Bickslow the answer to any of that?" Laxus griped to the woman then and Lisanna could only sigh.

"He's not." She glanced over at him then, watching as the seith held the flashlight out, onto a clear wall, for his babies to flutter around, casting spooky shadows in the otherwise dark basement. "But I do really like him. And he really likes me."

"And you're having him sleep in your basement because-"

"He fell behind on his rent and I was trying to be a good girlfriend and give him a place to stay."

"Lisanna." And Laxus hated to have to be the one to explain this to her. Leaning closer, he said softly, "If you've only been dating a guy for a short amount of time and he defaults on his debts, it's a sign you should cut him loose, not stow him away in your basement."

"I have ears, boss," Bickslow complained as he glanced over at the pair of them.

"Yeah? So does my precious demon who is scared to death of coming down here." Laxus remembered that, actually, he had a very good reason to be annoyed by this entire situation and it had nothing to do with protecting poor innocent, previously dead Lisanna's innocence. Because fine, maybe he scared that guy off too. Because no one should just get to date his girlfriend's little sister without proving themselves worthy. "She's terrified that her house is haunted."

"I mean, it is." Bickslow went back to watching his babies gleefully fly through the light. "There's fucking ghosts down here, dude."

Lisanna shrugged some. "It's a basement. Of course there are."

"I," Laxus said simply as he hiked his sleeping bag up higher and took another step away from Lisanna, "Don't have time for this. For any of this. This...Strauss nonsense. You're all insane. In fact, I think your brother might be the sanest one among you, which is actually killing me to say, you have no idea."

"Laxus, don't tell Mira," Lisanna pleaded with his back now as he headed up the stairs with a shake of his head. "Please?"

He didn't answer her.

But he also didn't go to her sister's room to break the news either.

Instead, he went to stretch out on the couch and just...process all of the information he'd just learned.

He and Bickslow would be having a huge talk about all of this.

Well, he would have a huge, one-sided yelling match at the nitwit and send his ass back out on jobs and to not neglect his duties for some woman.

Even if that woman was a Strauss.

Because he definitely understood the motivation.

That morning, he awoke to the sound of someone milling around in the kitchen, humming, and this time, it was without a doubt his demon.

Laxus was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when he found her in there, doing more than she usually would to get ready in the morning as she seemed to making him breakfast. Laxus recognized the signature, over-sized omelet she loved to serve him anywhere. In the corner of the kitchen, Lisanna was there as well. She was hunched over the coffee maker, clearly tense and nervous. For all the times that he'd spent the night at the Strauss house, Laxus had never known her to be an early riser without provocation, but he imagined there wasn't much for sleeping when you were dreading what was to come.

"Morning, dragon," Mirajane called all the same, hardly glancing over her shoulder at him. "Sleep well?"

And Lisanna stood upright then, turning to watch them, a stricken look on her face. She'd been glad, no doubt, to find Laxus snoozing on the couch that early morning, but now would be just as good a chance for him to ruin everything for her, she knew, and it was with a held breath that she watched the man come to wrap his arms tightly around his girlfriend, hugging her from behind.

"No," he remarked simply, nuzzling his head into her neck as the woman giggled. "There's ghosts in the basement."

"See!" Mira giggled as she folded the egg mixture in the pan. "I told you."

"Yeah." Laxus eyes though where on Lisanna, who he'd have to talk with as well as. Make her realize that she had to tell her sister and brother, eventually. Him keeping her secret, for now, hinged on the fact that very soon there would be nothing to keep. "Shouldda listened to you."

Lisanna bowed her head, in his direction, smiling and clearly pleased, but Laxus only went back to snuggling his demon, watching his food cook from over her shoulder.

"I bet though," Laxus told his girlfriend, "that within the next, oh, few weeks? Days? I can get someone down to the basement to exorcise any ghosts. Free you of them. If you want."

This statement caused Lisanna's joy to immediately flee, but Laxus ignored her as Mira only hummed, mulling over this idea a bit, before shaking both her head and herself free of him.

"No."

"No?" Laxus complained, watching as she moved to transfer his omelet to a waiting plate on the counter top. "What do you mean? Why not?"

"All basements have ghosts, Laxus," she told him simply. "And all ghosts have basements."

"You're not making any sense."

"I," she said as, finished with his breakfast preparations, she turned to head out of the room and no doubt get ready for the day, "own this house, so I get to decide what ghosts linger and which don't."

"Yeah, well," he complained to her back as she left the room, "this dragon lives in an apartment. So where do my ghosts linger, huh? Demon?"

He got no reply and that was fine as he only sent to slouch over at a kitchen table chair, stabbing at his food with a heavy frown.

Lisanna, seizing the moment, rushed to go to a seat across from him.

"So," she began, "you're not gonna tell Mira about-"

"Look, kid." He hardly glanced up at her. "Your boyfriend isn't going to stay in the basement, being a bum forever. I'm making sure of it. Starting today. And you need to grow some backbone about all this. Understand?"

Scoffing, she remarked simply, "Mira said that the ghosts can stay."

"Mira says a lot of things." He tossed up a free hand. "And I go along with them because I love her."

And Lisanna forgot about her own troubles for a moment, just to giggle at the usually stoic man's expense.

"You what her? Laxus?" she asked with a glint in her eyes.

"I," he assured the woman's younger sister, "love her."

"Awe."

"And if that means enabling some of her less pleasant qualities, fine." He looked at Lisanna fully then. "But no one makes my demon look stupid. And stowing away your boyfriend in the house that she owns isn't going to cut it. Understand?"

Lisanna slumped then herself, sighing as she remarked, "I just… I just want something that's mine. Not Mira and Elfman's. And I know that you think that Bickslow's a big joke and that he's your...lackey or something-"

"Bodyguard."

"You're not that famous, Laxus." Lisanna had never rightly felt the fear others did around the man. Even before her sister charmed him. "No one gives enough of a shit about you for you to need one of those."

"Hey-"

"I like him." Lisanna shook her head then. "I don't know why. But I do know that it'll all get ruined, if everyone finds out. You just don't understand."

Staring at her for a long moment, Laxus replied, "You think that I didn't feel the same way? About your sister? You chumps up at the bar ruin everything. Constantly. And yeah, they'll probably ruin you and Bickslow too. But me and your sister made it through. If you're meant to be together, you're meant to be together. And look at it this way, after you tell them, yeah, for a day or two, maybe a week, it'll be an item of interest, but then something new will blow through the hall. It always does. And if you're thinking about getting serious with Bickslow-"

"Serious?"

"Like...looking at him as marriage material and-"

And she laughed. Loudly. Genuinely. As Laxus only stared blankly, Lisanna simply shook her head.

"I'm only twenty-one, Laxus." She frowned at him. "I'm not thinking about marrying anyone I date. Ever. Gross. Ew, are you gonna marry my sister?"

"Lisanna-"

"Are you thinking about it? Does she know?"

"Knock it off."

"Big brother Laxus?"

"I'm gonna go tell her about Bickslow."

"She must be something special," Lisanna kept up, even still, as she leaned over the table just to poke the man's cheek, grinning cheekily herself. "My sister. For you to be thinking so heavily about that and all."

"She is." Laxus grabbed her finger then, tightly, as he looked the younger woman dead in the eyes. "To me. "And I won't see her taken advantage of. Do you understand me?"

Jerking her finger back, Lisanna nodded slightly as she sat back in her own seat. Softly though, she said, "Thank you. Laxus."

"Yeah." He went back to his food with a bit of a grunt. "Don't mention it."

[nerd-takes-pony-town]

So... Dergun Town's gone, at last - Temp. Tester Rant.

To be frankly honest, I was waiting for it to end. I stopped playing after the weird ass Pet update and sudden, unnannounced Hair Change due to “legal reasons” because the game was just getting utterly confusing, a mess of minigames with clunky customization options and systems, and whatnot. Plus, my time as a tester was when I hit the breaks on the game and realized "man... they really are dicks".

I never ranted about it because I knew if I did, they'd definitely come for me and ban me from the game or from the server because "I shittalked about the game" or “I’m unveiling the tester server”, but now that it's over - it's time for a rant.

So, think it was around May 2020 that I decided to go for Tester to better prepare myself for the future updates, the chat itself was basically... like the lobby, just mainly memes and the Dev fanatics, who will defend them 24/7, chatting with the Devs.

One of the first few things that was asked for is the Timezones so that we could test the server together - the Timezones thing is literally thrown out the window after the very first test. From there on, what they would do is ping the Testers to announce an update - at the time, we had no changelog, no proper bug report channel, it was all crowded in one place, and because they disregarded the Timezones, imagine if you will the chat being both filled with players spamming the chat with all the new shit like some happy toddlers, and another half are people who are reporting to be in class, asleep, dinnering, ect.

A chaotic mess that makes it near impossible to actually report something. Eventually, they added a bug report but once again, no proper check list - if any, the changelog and the checklist only appeared around the Argoras or Minigame Update (June-July). And, as always, the checklist was never updated, so you'd be testing something that's already been checked and other listed things wouldn't be checked at all. Organization, which is something a Tester needs, was never a fucking thing in that horrid mess. They would occasionally do polls, one of which was if the Update should release now, nearly everyone said No - they released it anyway. :^)

Then, there would be some bugs where they’d blame us for it - the /hitme was a command that was restrictedly used in the test server because the Devs somehow don’t know how to add a small quantity of resources to all of us, so he instead made a command that gives, what? Over a million of each of the resources? We ALL made sure that wasn’t toggled on the “beta” server, and yet, somehow, it got released with the commad functioning, and instead of admitting their fault, they blamed the Testers for practically saying folks not to use it - one of the testers was literally STRIPPED OFF of their Gil and other resources, and mind you, they didn’t even used the command at all, all they did was accidentally say the command.

The Moderators would also be rather cruel, everyone likes memes, that's granted, but it shouldn't mean you can willingly change our nicknames like that. Imagine switching over to the chat only to find out your name, along with all the other testers, has been changed to "Todd Howard"; you rename it, and a couple of days later, they change it yet again without your permission or consent. This isn't fun, this is just annoying. I had to walk around with "Stop changin my name" on my nickname because of them.

And like how it has been told, these Devs cannot take criticism at all. The Argoras Update will haunt me down as the Update where I was literally fighting against other testers and the Devs over something that needed to be changed. In the Test Server, the Skill Points had a Clover table, meaning you used clovers for Skill Points, the thing is in Pony Town, the rewards are remain unlocked even if you go down the unlocking mark - Dergun Town does not. So players who are unaware of this would've wasted 1k Clovers and then realize that their prizes have been taken away because they're no longer above the unlocking mark. So as a Tester, it should be my duty to warn the Devs about it and come with suggestions.

I told them without mentioning Pony Town at all (because they have a stupid policy of “if it’s close to PT, we can’t do it”) about how the Clover option will result in players losing their reward if they go below 1k and 500 Clovers respectively, which is the equivalent to hundreds of players putting all those days collecting Clovers to waste. They would ABSOLUTELY rant  about it in Bugs or Help Desk. I suggested them to either:

Make the rewards unlocked still even if you left the mark.

Remove the Clover option

Add a warning when about to select Clover

Those are the ones on top of my head, what did they do?

Tom just kept ignoring what I said on the first suggestion and exclusively focusing on the second one, as if it was the only option available. Meanwhile, Q was guilt tripping me into bidding to their commands, "37,500 gil per skill if you the 50 points pure,," it's horrible, sure, but do you really want to deal with a hoard of players coming to the server to scream about how the Skill Point system stole their Clover rewards? And having to deal with a patch or two to make them happy, or worse, having to ban more players because they’re angry WITH REASON that their prizes were taken away because you idiots refuse to add something that allows the players to keep their rewards while below the mark?

You know they would do that, everyone knows they would do that. And worse is with exception of one or two Testers, the other users, specifically folks like J*y and D**r, just kept defending the Devs even though I was literally helping them prevent a future problem that everyone knew it would fucking happen. What's the point of testing a game if the Developers will fucking refuse to take your advices?

They did removed the Clovers from the options, but kept the Dandelions and the Bones, which, you guested it, STILL DIDN'T HAD THE PRIZE LOCKING! And the best part - NO WARNING REGARDING THE LOST OF THE PRIZES WAS ADDED EITHER! So players who had the Dandelion Rune and the ability to get the special items from the Bone would end up in losing them without them knowing - though it’s not as bad as the Clovers, a resource that restrictedly spawns in areas with Clovers as opposed to be map-wide and the last prize needs 1k of those, and the recent-ish Spring Update changed the green to a shade that blends with them.

I singlehandedly helped them avoid a hoard of angry players, and not a singular thank you was given.

The Quest Cap is also a thing, if the mobile users are in such a disadvantage with the Clovers being gone, then why are you adding the Cap anyway? Everyone knows that if a game is relying on the player to grind, it should not cap the Quests to a fucking T - only 20 Quests per hour?! And the NPC's Gil is both dependant on Bootleg Flight Rising Dominance... and dependant on a Clan that YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY CHANGE even if you request for such?! It's like if in Flight Rising, because Fiona has Light eyes, Light Flight would gain extra bonus treasure from here as if Dominance wasn't enough. "It's to balance the Economy", how is that going to balance, it just restricting the mobile users even further, as if the shitty battle controls on mobile that makes it impossible to battle wasn't enough.

The game was also just turning into a weird, funky, Flight Rising bootleg - fitting how the game that Q also worked on was a bootleg hybrid between Dragon Cave and Flight Rising - the release of pets with these genes and barely any use but to literally do the exact shit you do in FR. In FR, you exalt Dragons to gain a upper hand at Dominance, in DT, a rather recent-ish? Update allowed you to sell the Magikins (the gened pets, the other pets are literally useless) for Clan Tokens, giving you a boost to gain Dominance. It’s exactly like FR, I’m surprised no one ever bothered to contact the FR folks about this ripoff. The pets did had a use and it was to gain more gil but a nerf was done because, once again, they released an update were we made SURE that wasn’t happening, but somehow, it happened - the Pet-Gill Machine Glitch that allowed you to gain infinite Gil.

My pets got bugged because of it - the level got reset (it’d only reward 1-2 gil) but the price of the upgrade did not (750 gil) - I asked if that was a nerf or a bug, and as expected, they said it was nerf when it was clear as days it was a bug given how people had pets that requried 700+ gil and rewarded 30+ gil.

The game’s just a mess of minigames and FR Ripoff, I could go on and on with just how bad the game is, but the Devs are even worse.

It's really bad when they're once straight up muted someone for speaking their fucking opinion.

(You may need to zoom)

(From PMs)

This user would constantly bring the flaws in their shit without insulting, they'd argue with reason, give suggestions, everything, in hopes of improving the game. and they instead just argued back, if not, criticized them for even bringing an opinion and tried to justify themselves as to why they didn't need to change - and the users would absolutely defend the Devs like literal ass kissers, to the point of being happy they got muted.

As the user rightfully said in PMs:

I wanted to make contributions that could help improve it, but it seems like the staff just want people to do as they say without question instead of looking for ways to improve. And they desperately need to understand that the game is not just about what they want, what kinds of designs they think players should make. It should be encouraging players to try new designs and be creative, but all the devs want to do is shut that down.

I just wish they didn't have absolute power over the server. If they were accountable to their community in some way, it'd be possible to convince them to make changes when it's really necessary. Not all the time, just when their stubbornness is getting in the way of something that absolutely everybody except them wants.

The fun in these games has always been in the community. If you stifle that, you stifle the game. And unfortunately, I now can't say any of this. Making demon combat even harder for those without skill points was wholly unnecessary, too. I don't know what their obsession is with making the game so heavy on grinding.

Back when I first arrived, Dergun Town was mostly just Pony Town with more customization options, plus a few special prizes you could earn by gathering items. Nowadays it seems like the devs are more interested in forcing players to grind for literally everything than they are in adding new stuff everyone can enjoy and use.

But worse than that is how they always respond to criticism. The mini-events were the biggest example of that. Players didn't like being forced to spend all day on Dergun Town just for any chance to win an award in mini-events. It was damaging people's ability to have a life outside the game, and a lot of users complained. How did they respond? They basically threatened to remove the mini-events altogether and make all the items from them unobtainable, rather than improving on anything. This is how the staff responds to all complaints and suggestions. It's either the exact thing they want or nothing, and if they make a mistake big enough that everyone complains, rather than admitting fault, they basically punish the community for being unhappy. Their entire mentality is "play by my rules or I'm taking my toys and going home".

Reminder that when the garden update broke and erased a ton of players' houses and items, they blamed the players and said they had to do all the work to get everything that was lost back themselves.

I swear, all of this "you complained now you get nothing" and "we work hard, so be thankful to us even for terrible content" we hear in the user suggestions channel is just conditioning their player base to accept being taken for granted and mistreated. They're basically trying to induce Stockholm Syndrome.

Someone who’s also on Tumblr got banned for saying that the new design of the hairs made their characters look ugly - it was a change that was NEVER ANNOUNCED, specially considering it’s a change regarding “legal issues”, the playerbase should’ve been warned about this before they updated it. But instead, they got pissy that some people have complained about the drastically changed hairs and once again, shit down on them for complaining.

Dergun Town is an excellent example of how some people are not and never were meant to run a game - the guilt tripping, the “accept this or get lost” attitude, the behavior they had and occasionally have regarding Pony Town (search “Let’s Talk About Dergun Town” and you’ll get the document), to the point of banning the actual word “to avoid drama” aka keep folks from talking about their real fucking nature.

I am honestly happy that Dergun Town got shut down while Pony Town keeps improving and growing, karma was indeed well served.

[shyvioletcat]

hey it’s my birthday today and it’s been a bummer in quarantine. you got a rowaelin fluff up your sleeve?

Happy Birthday! I’m sorry your quarantine birthday is a bummer, I too will end up with a quarantine birthday this year so I can commiserate. And yes! I’ve always got Rowaelin fluff up my sleeve! Especially for birthdays.

I also snuck this into my Striking Matches au

~~~~~

After everyone had found out about the engagement they had insisted they all go out to celebrate. So here they were at their usual bar, Rowan with his team and Aelin with her friends, all celebrating their impending nuptials. She had ended up in one of the booths in the corner where every so often loud bursts of laughter would ring out, while Rowan and his friends occupied some standing tables a little ways away watching the sport screens.

Rowan was having a more subdued night, he was the one driving the two of them home afterwards and had to work tomorrow. All of his team were doing the same.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Fenrys said almost wistfully, looking over at the booth.

“Don’t even think about it,” Lorcan grumbled next to him. “I don’t need you throwing up half the morning tomorrow.”

Fenrys raised his hands in surrender, “I wasn’t.” Then Fenrys’ eyes lit up as his eyes shifted to something over Rowan’s shoulder.

“Here we go,” Vaughan mumbled into his glass.

A small, warm hand rested on his forearm and Rowan was about to dismiss whoever it was with a few stern words, but then he turned and saw that it was in fact his fiancé that stood beside him. He smiled at her and she smiled right back.

“You’re pretty,” Aelin said and then she giggled.

“Thank you,” Rowan said turning to face her more fully.

Her fingers dragged up to his bicep and her eyes widened. “Are you a body builder? These things are massive.”

Rowan heard his friends try and hide their laughter. Rowan could tell Aelin was fairly drunk, but decided to play along with whatever game she was playing.

“No, I’m a firefighter actually,” Rowan said.

Aelin’s smile turned a bit wicked. “Even better.” She lent her elbow on the tall table and propped her chin on her hand. “So Mr Fighterfire, you single?”

Rowan choked on his laugh, “Sorry love, I’m engaged.”

Aelin’s face cracked, all bravado and mischievousness gone. “Oh... um...” tears were building in her eyes and her lips were wobbling.

“Why are you crying? Rowan asked, a very mild panic rising in him.

“‘Cause you’re engaged,” Aelin explained, taking one single step away from him. “Congrats on that.”

Now Rowan was just confused. He looked over at the booth where her friends were gathered and saw Lysandra and Elide dying of laughter as they watched their friend. They looked wasted as well, and if Aelin was about to start crying because she thought he was engaged to someone else she must be well and truly smashed.

Rowan reached out and took her left hand in his and held her fingers up to her face.

“Engaged to you, dumbass,” Rowan’s voice was shaking with his restrained laughter.

Aelin blinked, her eyes becoming clearer. “I’m engaged?” Rowan nodded, her expression turning to one of pure bliss. “To you?” Rowan nodded again, his arm snaking around her waist and she smiled again. “I hit the jackpot.”

It seems no one could hold their laughter in anymore and his team all burst out laughing.

“That’s right!” Aelin exclaimed then kissed his cheek, her arms looping around his neck. When they started to drift to his shoulders, her nails scraping through the fabric of his tshirt, Rowan knew it was time to leave. When her lips pressed against his neck he definitely knew he was right. Gods help me he thought to himself.

“Alright drunky, lets get you home,” Rowan said.

He said goodbye to his friends and then went over to the booth to collect Aelin’s things. Lysandra and Elide were still laughing, everyone else was looking highly amused.

“He was already mine you liars!” Aelin said pointing an accusing finger at them.

Rowan rolled his eyes and picked up Aelin’s bag. “Thank you for this,” he said to no one in particular.

“You’re welcome,” Lysandra sang back before she started cackling again.

Rowan kept his arm around Aelin’s waist as she waved goodbye over their shoulders.

~~~~~

Getting her into the car had been a slow effort. She was well and truly gone and Rowan did not begrudge her the headache she would have tomorrow morning. It had taken her all about 5 minutes to fall asleep on the ride home, her head leaning on the window. When they got to the car park of their apartment building Rowan went around to her side to help her get out. Aelin hadn’t woken up so he knocked on her window and she startled awake. That allowed Rowan to open her door and undo her seatbelt before Aelin stumbled out of the truck, Rowan easily catching her.

She went all of three steps before Rowan sighed and just scooped her up in his arms so she didn’t end up hurting herself by tripping over her own feet in those heels. Aelin snuggled into him, almost purring like a contented cat as Rowan started the trek up the flights of stairs.

“Ro?” Aelin whispered.

“Yes, Aelin?” He said.

“I’m sorry my friends convinced me I wasn’t engaged to you and that I should go hit on you. That was mean, huh?” He paused to look down at her as she looked up at him.

“It was a little mean, but that’s alright. I can take a joke,” Rowan told her then started walking the stairs again. “Sorry I called you a dumbass.”

Aelin hummed against his neck. “Hmm, but I’m your dumbass.”

By the end of the second flight of stairs Aelin was already asleep again, snoring softly in is ear. That had him smiling.

Miraculously Rowan managed to opened the door while still holding his dead to the world fiancé in his arms. He took her straight to the bedroom and attempted to lie her down on the bed but she somehow managed to keep a vice like grip around his neck. Rowan managed to extract himself from her grip and then pulled off her shoes. With those off sleeping intincts kicked in and she rolled over, grabbing for her pillow.

Rowan watched her, hands on his hips and a smile on his face, he was just now catching his breath. Once he did he got ready for bed himself and lay down beside Aelin. Although unconscious she reached for him and Rowan pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. She may have momentarily forgot about their engagement and made him carry her up six flights of stairs but Rowan loved this ridiculous woman with all his heart.

~~~~~

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